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Radiogenic Isotope Geology
Third Edition
The third edition of Radiogenic Isotope Geology examines revolutionary changes in geochemical thinking that have
occurred over the past 15 years. Extinct nuclide studies on meteorites have called into question fundamental geochem-
ical models of the Earth, while new dating methods have challenged conventional views of Earth history. At the same
time, the problem of global warming has raised new questions about the causes of past and present climate change.
In the new edition, these and other recent issues are evaluated in their scholarly and historical context, so readers can
understand the development of current ideas. Controversial theories, new analytical techniques, classic papers, and
illustrative case studies all come under scrutiny in this book, providing an accessible introduction for students and
critical commentary for researchers.

Alan P. Dickin is Professor of Geology at McMaster University.

“The Dickin text provides an excellent introduction to radiogenic isotope geochemistry. I read a previous edition cover-
to-cover during preparation for the general knowledge exams in graduate school, and I still suggest that graduate
students do the same in preparation for their exams. It continues to be a key reference for teaching and in the classroom
and in the laboratory.”
– Matthew Jackson, University of California, Santa Barbara

“Isotope geochemistry is hugely influential in the development of new approaches and ideas in the Earth sciences. New
data challenge models for the formation of the Earth, the evolution of the continental crust, and climate change. An
understanding of the basic principles of isotope geology is important in a wide range of the sciences, and this welcome
third edition of Radiogenic Isotope Geology builds on the success of the previous editions. It is scholarly and accessible,
and it combines an all too rare historical context with a comprehensive introduction to a wide range of radiogenic
isotope techniques. Written by one of the world’s most respected authors in this field, this textbook will be invaluable
for undergraduate and graduate courses, and it is an excellent reference text for scientists in other fields.”
– Chris Hawkesworth, University of Bristol

“For teachers and students in both low- and high-temperature geochemistry who need ready access to geochemical
concepts and techniques, Alan Dickin offers an up-to-date, well-written medium-level textbook on isotope geochemistry.
A pleasant, handy, and useful book for your shelf.”
– Francis Albarède, Ecole Normale Supérieure de Lyon
Radiogenic Isotope Geology
Third Edition

Alan P. Dickin
McMaster University
University Printing House, Cambridge CB2 8BS, United Kingdom
One Liberty Plaza, 20th Floor, New York, NY 10006, USA
477 Williamstown Road, Port Melbourne, VIC 3207, Australia
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Cambridge University Press is part of the University of Cambridge.

It furthers the University’s mission by disseminating knowledge in the pursuit of
education, learning and research at the highest international levels of excellence.

www.cambridge.org
Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9781107099449
DOI: 10.1017/9781316163009

C Alan P. Dickin 2018

This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception

and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements,
no reproduction of any part may take place without the written
permission of Cambridge University Press.
First published 1995
Second edition published 2005
Third edition published 2018
Printed in the United States of America by Sheridan Books, Inc. 2018
A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data
Names: Dickin, Alan P., author.
Title: Radiogenic isotope geology / Alan P. Dickin, McMaster University.
Description: [2018 edition]. | Cambridge : Cambridge University Press, 2018. |
Includes bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2017023083 | ISBN 9781107099449 (alk. paper)
Subjects: LCSH: Isotope geology. | Radioactive dating. | Geochemistry. |
Paleoclimatology. | Environmental archaeology.
Classification: LCC QE501.4.N9 D53 2017 | DDC 551.9–dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017023083
ISBN 978-1-107-09944-9 Hardback
ISBN 978-1-107-49212-7 Paperback
Additional resources for this publication at www.cambridge.org/dickin3
Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy
of URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication
and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain,
accurate or appropriate.
To Margaret
and to the memory of Stephen Moorbath,
isotope pioneer
 Contents in Brief

Preface and Acknowledgements page xvii

1 Nucleosynthesis and Nuclear Decay . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

2 Mass Spectrometry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13

3 The Rb–Sr Method . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40

4 The Sm–Nd Method . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67

5 Lead Isotopes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99

6 Isotope Geochemistry of Oceanic Volcanics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134

7 Isotope Geochemistry of Continental Rocks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 167

8 Osmium Isotopes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 194

9 Lu–Hf, Ba–La–Ce and K–Ca Systems . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 218

10 K–Ar, Ar–Ar and U–He Dating . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 240

11 Noble Gas Geochemistry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 274

12 U-Series Dating . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 306

13 U-Series Geochemistry of Igneous Systems . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 333

14 Cosmogenic Nuclides . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 363

15 Extinct Radionuclides . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 407

16 Fission-Track Dating . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 444

Appendix 1: Chart of the Nuclides 465

Appendix 2: Meteorite Types 468
Index 471
 Contents

Preface and Acknowledgements page xvii

1 Nucleosynthesis and Nuclear Decay . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

1.1 The Chart of the Nuclides . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1
1.2 Nucleosynthesis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2
1.2.1 Stellar Evolution . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3
1.2.2 Stages in the Nucleosynthesis of Heavy Elements . . . . . . . . . . . 4
1.3 Radioactive Decay . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6
1.3.1 Isobaric Decay . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7
1.3.2 Alpha and Heavy Particle Decay . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8
1.3.3 Nuclear Fission and the Oklo Natural Reactor . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8
1.4 The Law of Radioactive Decay . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10
1.4.1 Uniformitarianism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10

2 Mass Spectrometry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13
2.1 Chemical Purification . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13
2.1.1 Ion Exchange Separation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14
2.1.2 Sm–Nd . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
2.1.3 Lu–Hf . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
2.1.4 Lead . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
2.1.5 Analytical Blank . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16
2.2 Ion Sources . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16
2.2.1 Thermal Ionization . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16
2.2.2 Plasma Source Mass Spectrometry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17
2.3 Mass-dependent Fractionation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19
2.3.1 Mass Fractionation in TIMS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19
2.3.2 Mass Fractionation in MC–ICP–MS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21
2.4 Magnetic Sector Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22
2.4.1 Ion Optics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22
2.4.2 Detectors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24
2.4.3 Data Collection . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25
2.5 Isotope Dilution . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26
2.5.1 Analysis Technique . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26
2.5.2 Double Spiking . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27
2.5.3 Pb–Tl Double Spiking . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28
2.6 MC–ICP–MS Solution-based Applications . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28
2.6.1 Hf–W . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29
2.6.2 Lu–Hf . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29
2.6.3 U–Th . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29
2.6.4 Pb–Pb . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29
2.6.5 Sm–Nd . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29
2.7 LA–ICP–MS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30
2.7.1 U–Pb . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30
2.7.2 Lu–Hf . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31
2.8 Isochron Regression Line Fitting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32
2.8.1 Types of Regression Fit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32
2.8.2 Regression Fitting with Correlated Errors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32
2.8.3 Errorchrons . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33
2.8.4 Probability of Fit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34
2.8.5 Isoplot . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35
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x CONTENTS

2.9 Probability Density . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35

2.9.1 Detrital Zircon Distributions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35
2.9.2 Isochron Data Distributions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36

3 The Rb–Sr Method . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40

3.1 The Rb Decay Constant . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40
3.2 Dating Igneous Crystallization . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41
3.2.1 Sr Model Ages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42
3.2.2 The Isochron Diagram . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42
3.2.3 Erupted Isochrons . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43
3.2.4 Meteorite Chronology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44
3.3 Dating Metamorphic Systems . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45
3.3.1 Mineral and Whole-Rock Isochrons . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45
3.3.2 Blocking Temperatures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47
3.4 Dating Ore Deposits . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48
3.5 Dating Sedimentary Systems . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49
3.5.1 Shales . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50
3.5.2 Glauconite . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51
3.6 Seawater Evolution . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52
3.6.1 Measurement of the Curve . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52
3.6.2 The Cretaceous–Tertiary Seawater
Curve . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54
3.6.3 Seawater Sr and Glacial Cycles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55
3.6.4 Modelling the Fluxes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56
3.6.5 Quantifying the Hydrothermal Flux . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 58
3.6.6 The Effects of Himalayan Erosion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 60
3.6.7 Glacial Cycles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61
3.6.8 Stable Sr Isotopes in Seawater . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 62

4 The Sm–Nd Method . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67

4.1 Sm–Nd Isochrons . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67
4.1.1 Meteorites . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67
4.1.2 Precambrian Mafic Rocks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 68
4.1.3 High-Grade Metamorphic Rocks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70
4.1.4 Garnet Geochronology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70
4.2 Nd Isotope Evolution and Model Ages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72
4.2.1 Chondritic Model Ages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72
4.2.2 Depleted Mantle Model Ages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73
4.2.3 Nd Isotope Mapping . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75
4.3 Model Ages and Crustal Processes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78
4.3.1 Sedimentary Systems . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 79
4.3.2 Meta-Sedimentary Systems . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 79
4.3.3 Meta-Igneous Systems . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 80
4.3.4 Partially Melted Systems . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81
4.4 The Crustal Growth Problem . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 82
4.4.1 Crustal Accretion Ages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 82
4.4.2 Sediment Provenance Ages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83
4.4.3 Archean Depleted Mantle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84
4.4.4 Early Archean Crustal Provinces . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86
4.5 Nd in the Oceans . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 88
4.5.1 Modern Seawater Nd . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 88
4.5.2 The Oceanic Nd Paradox . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89
4.5.3 Ancient Seawater Nd . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90
4.5.4 Tertiary Seawater Nd . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91
4.5.5 Quaternary Seawater Nd . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 92
 CONTENTS xi

5 Lead Isotopes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99
5.1 U–Pb Isochrons . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99
5.1.1 U–Pb Isochrons and Decay Constants . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 100
5.1.2 Uranium Isotope Composition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 100
5.1.3 U–Pb Isochrons and Timescale Calibration . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101
5.2 U–Pb Concordia Dating . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102
5.2.1 Lead Loss Models . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103
5.2.2 Air Abrasion and Direct Evaporation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104
5.2.3 Chemical Abrasion and Annealing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105
5.2.4 Concordia Ages and Decay Constants . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107
5.2.5 Inherited Zircon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 108
5.2.6 In Situ Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109
5.2.7 Alternative U–Pb Dating Materials . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111
5.3 Pb–Pb Dating . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 112
5.3.1 The Age of the Earth and Pb Paradox . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113
5.3.2 Meteorite Dating and the Total Pb Isochron . . . . . . . . . . . . . 115
5.4 Pb (Galena) Model Ages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 118
5.4.1 The Holmes–Houtermans Model . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 118
5.4.2 Conformable Leads . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119
5.4.3 Open-System Pb Evolution . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 120
5.4.4 Plumbotectonics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121
5.5 Whole-Rock Pb and Crustal Evolution . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 122
5.5.1 Archean Crustal Evolution . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 122
5.5.2 Paleo-Isochrons and Metamorphic Disturbance . . . . . . . . . . . 124
5.5.3 Proterozoic Crustal Evolution . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 124
5.6 Environmental Pb . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125
5.6.1 Anthropogenic Pb . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 126
5.6.2 Pb as an Oceanographic Tracer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127
5.6.3 Paleo-Seawater Pb . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 129

6 Isotope Geochemistry of Oceanic Volcanics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134

6.1 Isotopic Tracing of Mantle Structure . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134
6.1.1 Contamination and Alteration . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134
6.1.2 Disequilibrium Melting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 135
6.1.3 Mantle Plumes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136
6.1.4 Plum Pudding Mantle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137
6.1.5 Marble Cake Mantle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138
6.1.6 Mantle Convection and Viscosity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 139
6.2 The Nd–Sr Isotope Diagram . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 140
6.2.1 The Mantle Array and OIB Sources . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 140
6.2.2 Box Models for the MORB Source . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141
6.2.3 Nd–142 and Early Earth Differentation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143
6.3 Pb Isotope Geochemistry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 144
6.3.1 Pb–Pb Isochrons and the Lead Paradox . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145
6.3.2 The Kappa Conundrum . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 146
6.3.3 The Third Lead Paradox . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149
6.4 Mantle Reservoirs in Isotopic Multispace . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 150
6.4.1 The Mantle Plane . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151
6.4.2 The Mantle Tetrahedron . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151
6.5 Identification of Mantle Components . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 154
6.5.1 Depleted OIB Sources . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 155
6.5.2 EMII . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 155
6.5.3 EMI . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 156
6.5.4 HIMU . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 158
6.5.5 The DUPAL Anomaly . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 159
xii CONTENTS

6.6 Island Arcs and Mantle Evolution . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 159

6.6.1 Two-Component Mixing Models . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 159
6.6.2 Three-Component Mixing Models . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161

7 Isotope Geochemistry of Continental Rocks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 167

7.1 Mantle Xenoliths . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 167
7.1.1 Mantle Metasomatism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168
7.2 Crustal Contamination . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 170
7.2.1 Two-Component Mixing Models . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 171
7.2.2 Melting in Natural and Experimental Systems . . . . . . . . . . . 172
7.2.3 Inversion Modelling of Magma Suites . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 174
7.2.4 Phenocrysts as Records of Magma Evolution . . . . . . . . . . . . 178
7.2.5 Lithospheric Mantle Contamination . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 178
7.3 Petrogenesis of Continental Magmas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 179
7.3.1 Kimberlites, Carbonatites and Lamproites . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 179
7.3.2 Alkali Basalts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 181
7.3.3 Flood Basalts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183
7.3.4 Precambrian Granitoids . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 185
7.3.5 Phanerozoic Batholiths . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 187
8 Osmium Isotopes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 194
8.1 Osmium Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 194
8.2 The Re–Os and Pt–Os Decay Schemes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 195
8.2.1 The Re Decay Constant . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 195
8.2.2 Meteorite Isochrons . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 196
8.2.3 Dating Ores and Rocks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 197
8.2.4 Os Normalization and the Pt–Os Decay Scheme . . . . . . . . . . 198
8.3 Mantle Osmium . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 199
8.3.1 The Bulk Silicate Earth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 199
8.3.2 Lithospheric Mantle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 200
8.3.3 Primitive Upper Mantle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 201
8.3.4 Asthenospheric Mantle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 202
8.3.5 Enriched Mantle Plumes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 204
8.3.6 Subduction Zones . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 205
8.3.7 The Core Osmium Signature . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 206
8.4 Petrogenesis and Ore Genesis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 206
8.4.1 The Bushveld Complex . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 207
8.4.2 The Stillwater Complex . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 208
8.4.3 The Sudbury Igneous Complex . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 209
8.5 Seawater Osmium . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 210
8.5.1 Osmium Isotope Evolution . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 210
8.5.2 Os Fluxes and Residence Times . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 212
8.5.3 Quaternary Seawater Osmium . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 213

9 The Lu–Hf, Ba–La–Ce and K–Ca Systems . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 218

9.1 Lu–Hf Geochronology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 218
9.1.1 The Lu Decay Constant and CHUR Composition . . . . . . . . . . 218
9.1.2 Dating Metamorphism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 220
9.2 Modern Mantle Reservoirs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 221
9.2.1 Depleted Mantle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 221
9.2.2 Enriched Mantle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 223
9.3 Ancient Hf Evolution . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 226
9.3.1 Early Work . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 226
9.3.2 Detrital Zircon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 227
9.3.3 Hf Model Ages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 228
9.3.4 Archean Depleted Mantle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 229
9.4 Seawater Hafnium . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 230
 CONTENTS xiii

9.5 The La–Ce and La–Ba Systems . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 232

9.5.1 La–Ba Geochronology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 232
9.5.2 La–Ce Geochronology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 232
9.5.3 Ce Isotope Geochemistry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 233
9.5.4 Seawater Cerium Geochemistry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 234
9.6 The K–Ca System . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 235

10 K–Ar, Ar–Ar and U–He Dating . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 240

10.1 The K–Ar Dating Method . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 240
10.1.1 Analytical Techniques . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 240
10.1.2 Inherited Argon and the K–Ar Isochron Diagram . . . . . . . . . 242
10.1.3 Argon Loss . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244
10.2 The 40 Ar–39 Ar Dating Method . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244
10.2.1 40 Ar–39 Ar Measurement . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244
10.2.2 Irradiation Corrections . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 245
10.2.3 Step Heating . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 246
10.2.4 Argon Loss Events . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 247
10.2.5 Excess Argon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 249
10.2.6 39 Ar Recoil . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 250
10.2.7 Dating Paleomagnetism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 251
10.2.8 Laser Microprobe Dating . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 252
10.3 Timescale Calibration . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 254
10.3.1 Magnetic and Astronomical Timescales . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 254
10.3.2 Intercalibration of Decay Constants . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 257
10.4 Thermochronometry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 259
10.4.1 Arrhenius Modelling . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 259
10.4.2 Complex Diffusion Models . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 261
10.4.3 K-Feldspar Thermochronometry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265
10.5 U–Th–He Dating . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 268
10.5.1 Production and Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 268
10.5.2 Annealing Behaviour . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269
10.5.3 Cosmogenic Helium Paleothermometry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269

11 Noble Gas Geochemistry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 274

11.1 Helium . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 274
11.1.1 Mass Spectrometry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 274
11.1.2 Helium Production in Nature . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 275
11.1.3 Terrestrial Primordial Helium . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 277
11.1.4 The ‘Two-Reservoir’ Model . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 279
11.1.5 Helium Box Models . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 281
11.1.6 Crustal and Mantle Helium . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 282
11.1.7 Oceanic Sediments and Interplanetary Dust . . . . . . . . . . . . 283
11.2 Neon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 285
11.2.1 Neon Production . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 285
11.2.2 Primordial Neon in the Earth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 285
11.2.3 Sub-Solar Neon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 287
11.2.4 Atmospheric Neon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 288
11.2.5 Nucleogenic Neon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 289
11.3 Argon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 289
11.3.1 Terrestrial Primordial Argon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 290
11.3.2 Atmospheric Contamination . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 291
11.3.3 Argon-38 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 293
11.4 Krypton . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 294
11.5 Xenon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 295
11.5.1 Iodogenic Xenon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 295
11.5.2 Fissiogenic Xenon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 296
xiv CONTENTS

11.5.3 Radiogenic Xenon Reservoirs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 298

11.5.4 Non-Radiogenic Xenon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299
11.5.5 The Barium–Xenon System . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 300

12 U-Series Dating . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 306

12.1 Secular Equilibrium and Disequilibrium . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 306
12.2 Analytical Methods . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 307
12.2.1 Early Work . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 308
12.2.2 Mass Spectrometry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 308
12.2.3 Half-Lives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 309
12.3 Daughter-Excess Methods . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 309
12.3.1 234 U Dating of Carbonates . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 309
12.3.2 234 U Dating of Fe–Mn Crusts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 311
12.3.3 230 Th Sediment Dating . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 313
12.3.4 230 Th–232 Th . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 314
12.3.5 230 Th Sediment Stratigraphy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 315
12.3.6 231 Pa–230 Th . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 317
12.3.7 210 Pb . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 319
12.4 Daughter-Deficiency Methods . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 321
12.4.1 230 Th: Theory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 321
12.4.2 230 Th: Applications . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 322
12.4.3 230 Th: Dirty Calcite . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 324
12.4.4 231 Pa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 326
12.5 U-Series Dating of Open Systems . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 326
12.5.1 231 Pa–230 Th . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 326
12.5.2 ESR–230 Th . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 328
13 U-Series Geochemistry of Igneous Systems . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 333
13.1 Geochronology of Volcanic Rocks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 334
13.1.1 The U–Th Isochron Diagram . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 334
13.1.2 U–Th (Zircon) Model Ages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 335
13.1.3 Ra–Th Isochron Diagrams . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 336
13.1.4 Ra–Th Model Ages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 337
13.2 Magma Chamber Evolution . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 337
13.2.1 The Th Isotope Evolution Diagram . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 338
13.2.2 Short-Lived Species in Magma Evolution . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 341
13.3 Mantle Melting Models . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 342
13.3.1 Melting Under Ocean Ridges . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 343
13.3.2 The Effect of Source Convection . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 344
13.3.3 The Effect of Melting Depth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 347
13.3.4 The Effect of Source Composition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 348
13.3.5 Crustal Melting and Contamination . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 350
13.4 Short-Lived Species and Melting Models . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 351
13.4.1 226 Ra and Melting Models . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 351
13.4.2 231 Pa and Melting Models . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 353
13.4.3 Sources of Continental Magmas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 354
13.5 Subduction Zone Processes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 355
13.5.1 U–Th in Arc Magmas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 355
13.5.2 Ra–Th in Arcs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 357
13.5.3 U–Pa in Arcs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 358
14 Cosmogenic Nuclides . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 363
14.1 Carbon-14 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 363
14.1.1 Early Work . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 363
14.1.2 Closed-System Assumption . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 365
14.1.3 Initial Ratio Assumption . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 366
14.1.4 Dendrochronology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 367
 CONTENTS xv

14.1.5 Bayesian Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 369

14.1.6 Pre-Holocene Calibration . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 369
14.2 Radiocarbon and Climate Change . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 372
14.2.1 Radiocarbon in the Modern Oceans . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 372
14.2.2 Glacial/Holocene Ventilation Ages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 373
14.2.3 Causes of Climate Change . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 376
14.3 Accelerator Mass Spectrometry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 378
14.3.1 Principles of Accelerator Mass Spectrometry . . . . . . . . . . . . 378
14.3.2 Radiocarbon Dating by AMS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 379
14.4 Beryllium-10 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 380
14.4.1 10 Be in the Atmosphere . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 380
14.4.2 10 Be in the Oceans . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 381
14.4.3 10 Be in Snow and Ice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 384
14.4.4 10 Be Production and Climate Cycles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 385
14.4.5 10 Be in Soil Profiles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 386
14.4.6 10 Be in Magmatic Systems . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 387
14.5 Chlorine-36 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 390
14.6 Iodine-129 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 393
14.7 In Situ Cosmogenic Nuclides . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 394
14.7.1 Meteorite Terrestrial Residence Ages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 394
14.7.2 Al–Be Terrestrial Exposure Ages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 395
14.7.3 Al–Be Burial Ages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 396
14.7.4 Al–Be–Ne Ages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 397
14.7.5 Chlorine-36 Exposure Ages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 398

15 Extinct Radionuclides . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 407

15.1 Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 407
15.1.1 Nuclide Production and Decay . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 407
15.1.2 Celestial Objects and Ages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 407
15.1.3 Parent–Daughter Pairs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 409
15.2 Stable Isotopes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 409
15.2.1 Cosmic Building Blocks of the Earth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 410
15.2.2 Solar System Isotope Heterogeneity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 410
15.3 Extant Actinides . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 411
15.4 Iodine–Xenon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 412
15.4.1 The Xe–Xe Correlation Diagram . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 412
15.4.2 The Determination of ‘Delta’ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 413
15.4.3 Pu–Xe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 414
15.4.4 I–Xe Chronology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 415
15.5 Al–Mg . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 415
15.5.1 26 Al in the Allende Meteorite . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 416
15.5.2 Determination of Delta . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 416
15.5.3 Al–Mg Early Nebular Chronometry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 417
15.5.4 Testing the ‘Canonical’ Model . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 418
15.6 Short-Lived Species in Planetary Differentiation . . . . . . . . . . . 419
15.6.1 Pd–Ag . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 419
15.6.2 Mn–Cr . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 420
15.6.3 Fe–Ni . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 421
15.6.4 Hf–W . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 423
15.6.5 Hf–W Solar System Chronometry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 424
15.6.6 Revisiting the Giant Impact Model . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 426
15.7 The Sm–Nd System . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 427
15.7.1 Early Work . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 427
15.7.2 Chondrites and the Bulk Earth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 429
15.7.3 The 142 Nd Conundrum . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 429
15.7.4 SCHEM or Chondritic Moon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 430
xvi CONTENTS

15.7.5 142 Nd, Core Sulphide and E-Chondrites . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 432

15.7.6 142 Nd in the Archean Earth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 433
15.8 The Curium–Uranium–(Nd) System . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 433
15.9 Spallogenic Extinct Nuclides . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 435
15.9.1 Be-10 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 435
15.9.2 Ca–K . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 436
15.10 Conclusions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 437
16 Fission-Track Dating . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 444
16.1 Track Formation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 444
16.2 Track Etching . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 446
16.3 Counting Techniques . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 446
16.3.1 Population Method . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 447
16.3.2 External Detector Method . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 447
16.3.3 Re-Etching and Re-Polishing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 448
16.3.4 LA–ICP–MS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 449
16.3.5 Automated Track Counting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 449
16.4 Detrital Populations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 449
16.5 Track Annealing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 451
16.6 Uplift and Subsidence Rates . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 452
16.7 Track Length Measurements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 454
16.7.1 Projected Tracks (Semi-Tracks) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 455
16.7.2 Confined Tracks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 456
16.7.3 Track Widths . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 457
16.7.4 c Axis Projection . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 458
16.7.5 Forward and Inverse Modelling . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 459
16.8 Pressure Effects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 462

Appendix 1: Chart of the Nuclides 465

Appendix 2: Meteorite Types 468
Index 471
 Preface and Acknowledgements

The past fifteen years have seen a quiet revolution in iso- Chapters 6 and 7 apply Sr, Nd and Pb, as geochemical trac-
tope geochemistry, as a once-arcane field involving ‘extinct’ ers, to the study of oceanic and continental igneous rocks.
radionuclides in meteorites has called into question funda- This is appropriate, because these isotopes are some of the
mental geochemical models of the Earth itself. At the same basic tools of the isotope geochemist, which together may
time, increasing public awareness of the problem of anthro- allow understanding of the complexities of mantle processes
pogenic global warming has focused attention on the role of and magmatic evolution. These methods are supplemented
isotope geochemistry in monitoring past and present influ- in Chapters 8 and 9 by insights from the Re–Os, Lu–Hf and
ences on climate change. other lithophile isotope systems, which arise from their dis-
The third edition of Radiogenic Isotope Geology attempts tinct chemistry.
to place these and other recent developments in scientific Chapter 10 completes the panoply of long-lived isotopic
thinking in their overall scholarly context. dating systems by introducing the K–Ar, Ar–Ar and U–He
The approach to the subject matter is historical, for three methods, including their applications to magnetic and ther-
main reasons. Firstly, to give an impression of the develop- mal histories. This leads us naturally in Chapter 11 to the
ment of thought in the field so that the reader can under- consideration of rare gases as isotopic tracers, which give
stand the origin of present ideas; secondly, to explain why unique insights into the de-gassing history of the Earth.
past theories have had to be modified; and thirdly, to present Chapter 12 introduces the short-lived isotopes of the ura-
‘fall back’ positions lest current models be refuted at some nium decay series, covering classical and recent develop-
future date. This approach embodies the scholarly principle ments in the dating of Quaternary-age sedimentary rocks.
that knowledge of the classic work in the field is the starting This prepares us for the complexities of Chapter 13, which
point for current research. examines U-series isotopes as tracers in igneous systems.
The text is also particularly focussed on three types of lit- Short-lived processes in mantle melting and magma evolu-
erature. Firstly, it attempts to give accurate attribution of tion are the focus of attention here.
new ideas or methods; secondly, it reviews classic papers Chapter 14 examines the most important of the cosmo-
which have become standards in their field; and thirdly, it genic isotopes. These represent a vast and growing field of
presents case studies that have evoked controversy in the lit- chronology and isotope chemistry, which is especially perti-
erature, as examples of alternative data interpretations. nent to environmental geoscience. In particular, the radio-
The organization of the book allows each chapter to be carbon method is a vital dating tool in archaeology and a
a relatively free-standing entity covering one segment of the tracer of the ocean–atmosphere system involved in climate
field of radiogenic isotope geology. However, the reader may change.
benefit from an understanding of the thread, which, in the Chapter 15 represents a comprehensive review of the
author’s mind, links these chapters together. ‘extinct nuclide’ systems in meteorites that have recently
Chapter 1 introduces radiogenic isotopes by discussing raised questions about the cosmic context of terrestrial geo-
the synthesis and decay of nuclides within the context of chemistry. This overview deals with all of the major extinct
nuclear stability. Decay constants and the radioactive decay nuclide pairs, and discusses their significance for the origins
law are introduced. of the solar system and the Earth.
Chapter 2 provides an experimental background to many Lastly, Chapter 16 examines the specialized field of (radio-
of the chapters that follow by discussing the details of mass genic) fission track analysis, originally developed as a regular
spectrometric analysis (TIMS and ICP–MS), along with a dis- dating method, but increasingly applied to thermal history
cussion of isochron regression fitting. analysis.
The next three chapters introduce the three pillars of The text is gathered around a large number of diagrams,
lithophile isotope geology, comprising the Sr, Nd and Pb many of which are classic figures from the literature. I grate-
isotope methods. Emphasis is placed on their applications fully acknowledge the many authors whose original data and
to geochronology and their evolution in terrestrial systems. diagrams form the basis for these figures. Author acknowl-
Chapter 3 covers the Rb–Sr system, since this is one of edgement for all figure sources is given within individual
the simplest and most basic dating methods. Chapter 4 figure captions, and corresponding titles, journal names, vol-
covers the Sm–Nd system, including the use of Nd model umes and pages are contained in the list of cited references
ages to date crustal formation. Chapter 5 examines U–Pb at the end of each chapter.
geochronology and introduces the complexities of terrestrial
Pb isotope evolution in a straightforward fashion. Each chap- Alan P. Dickin
ter ends with an examination of these isotopes as environ- McMaster University
mental tracers, focussing particularly on the oceans.
 Chapter 1

Nucleosynthesis and Nuclear Decay

1.1 The Chart of the Nuclides

In the field of isotope geology, neutrons, protons and electrons can be regarded as the fundamental building blocks of the
atom. The composition of a given type of atom, called a nuclide, is described by specifying the number of protons (atomic
number, Z) and the number of neutrons (N) in the nucleus. The sum of these is the mass number (A). By plotting Z against N
for all of the nuclides that have been known to exist (at least momentarily), the chart of the nuclides is obtained (Fig. 1.1). In
this chart, horizontal rows of nuclides represent the same element (constant Z) with a variable number of neutrons (N). These
are isotopes.

Fig. 1.1 Chart of the nuclides in coordinates of proton number Z, against neutron number N. () = stable nuclides; () = unstable
nuclides; () = naturally occurring long-lived unstable nuclides; () = naturally occurring short-lived unstable nuclides. Some
geologically useful radionuclides are marked. Smooth envelope = theoretical nuclide stability limits. For a more detailed nuclide chart,
see Appendix 1.
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2 NUCLEOSYNTHESIS AND NUCLEAR DECAY

A botal of 264 stable nuclides are known, which have

not been observed to decay with available detection equip-
ment. These define a central ‘path of stability’, coloured
black in Fig. 1.1. On either side of this path, the zig-zag
outline defines the limits of experimentally known unstable
nuclides compiled by Hansen (1987). These species tend to
undergo increasingly rapid decay as one moves out on either
side of the path of stability. The smooth outer envelopes are
the theoretical limits of nuclide stability (‘drip lines’) beyond
which prompt decay occurs. This means that the synthesis
and decay of an unstable nuclide occurs in a single particle
interaction, giving it a zero effective lifetime.
As work progresses, the domain of experimentally known
nuclides should approach the theoretical envelope, as has
already occurred for nuclides with Z < 20 (Thoennessen,
2013). This has been achieved over the past 60 years using
heavy ion accelerators (e.g. Darmstadt) to make exotic species
by collision. Because of the curvature of the path of stabil-
ity (Fig. 1.1), it was relatively easy to populate the proton-
Fig. 1.2 Unstable nuclides with half-lives (t1/2 ) over 0.5 Ma, in
rich side of the path of stability, since these species can be
order of decreasing stability. Geologically useful parent nuclides
made by fusion of lighter elements. Species on the neutron-
are marked. Some very long-lived radionuclides with no
rich side are made by bombarding target material with 238 U,
geological application are also marked in brackets.
creating unstable heavy atoms which immediately undergo
fission to produce very neutron-rich products (e.g. Geissel
et al., 2003). Knowledge about these unstable nuclei will It is widely believed (e.g. Weinberg, 1977) that about 30
improve our understanding of the nucleosynthetic r-process minutes after the ‘big bang’, the matter of the universe (in
which occurs in supernovae (Thoennessen and Sherrill, the form of protons and neutrons) consisted mostly of 1 H
2011). and 22–28% by mass of 4 He, along with traces of 2 H (deu-
A small number of unstable nuclides have sufficiently terium) and 3 He. Hydrogen is still by far the most abun-
long half-lives that they have not entirely decayed to extinc- dant element in the universe (88.6% of all nuclei) and with
tion since the formation of the solar system. A few other helium, makes up 99% of its mass, but naturally occurring
short-lived nuclides are either continuously generated in the heavy nuclides now exist up to atomic weight 254 or beyond
decay series of uranium and thorium, or produced by cosmic
ray bombardment of stable nuclides. These nuclides, and one
or two extinct short-lived isotopes, plus their daughter prod-
ucts, are the realm of radiogenic isotope geology. Those with
half-lives over 0.5 Ma are marked in Fig. 1.2. Nuclides with
half-lives over 1000 Ga decay too slowly to be geologically
useful. Observation shows that all of the other long-lived iso-
topes either have been or are being applied in geology.

1.2 Nucleosynthesis
A realistic model for the nucleosynthesis of the elements
must be based on empirical data for their ‘cosmic abun-
dance’. True cosmic abundances can be derived from stellar
spectroscopy or by chemical analysis of galactic cosmic rays.
However, such data are difficult to measure at high precision,
so cosmic abundances are normally approximated by solar-
system abundances. These can be determined by solar spec-
troscopy or by direct analysis of the most ‘primitive’ mete-
orites, carbonaceous chondrites. A comparison of the latter
two sources of data (Ross and Aller, 1976) demonstrates good Fig. 1.3 Comparison of solar system abundances (relative to
agreement for most elements (Fig. 1.3). Exceptions are the silicon) determined by solar spectroscopy and by analysis of
volatile elements, which have been lost from meteorites, and carbonaceous chondrites. After Ringwood (1979).
the Li–Be–B group, which are unstable in stars.
 1.2 NUCLEOSYNTHESIS 3

Fig. 1.5 Schematic evolution of a large star showing

nucleosynthetic processes along its accelerating life-history in
Fig. 1.4 Plot of absolute magnitude against spectral class of response to increasing temperature. Time is measured
stars. Hatched areas show distributions of the three main star backwards from the end of the star’s life on the right. After
groups. The postulated evolutionary path of a star of solar Burbidge et al. (1957).
mass is shown.

a very large star with 15 times the Sun’s mass may remain in
(Fig. 1.1). These heavier nuclei must have been produced by the main sequence for only 10 Ma.
nucleosynthetic processes in stars, and not in the big bang, When the bulk of hydrogen in a small star has been con-
because stars of different ages have different compositions verted into 4 He, inward density-driven forces exceed outward
which can be detected spectroscopically. Furthermore, stars radiation pressure, causing gravitational contraction. How-
at particular evolutionary stages may have compositional ever, the resulting rise in core temperature causes expansion
abnormalities, such as the presence of 254 Cf in supernovae. of the outer hydrogen-rich layer of the star. This forms a huge
If nucleosynthesis of the heavy elements had occurred in the low-density envelope whose surface temperature may fall to
big bang then their distribution would be uniform about the ca. 4000 K, observed as a ‘red giant’. This stage lasts only one
universe. tenth as long as the main sequence stage. When core temper-
atures reach 1.5 × 107 K, a more efficient hydrogen-burning
1.2.1 Stellar Evolution reaction becomes possible if the star contains traces of car-
Present day models of stellar nucleosynthesis are based heav- bon, nitrogen and oxygen inherited from older generations
ily on a classic review paper by Burbidge et al. (1957), in which of stars. This form of hydrogen burning is called the C–N–O
eight element-building processes were identified (hydrogen cycle (Bethe, 1939).
burning, helium burning, α, e, x, r, s and p). Different pro- At some point during the red giant stage, core temper-
cesses were invoked to explain the abundance patterns of atures may reach 108 K, when helium fusion to carbon is
different groups of elements. These processes are, in turn, ignited (the ‘helium flash’). Further core contraction, yield-
linked to different stages of stellar evolution. It is therefore ing a temperature of ca. 109 K, follows as helium becomes
appropriate at this point to summarize the life-history of exhausted. At these temperatures an endothermic process of
some typical stars (e.g. Iben, 1967). The length of this life- α-particle emission can occur, allowing the building of heav-
history depends directly on the stellar mass, and can be ier nuclides up to mass 40. However, this quickly expends
traced on a plot of absolute magnitude (brightness) against the remaining burnable fuel of the star, which then cools to
spectral class (colour), referred to as the Hertzsprung–Russell a white dwarf.
or H–R diagram (Fig. 1.4). More massive stars (of several solar masses) have a differ-
Gravitational accretion of a star of solar mass from cold ent life-history. In these stars, greater gravitationally induced
primordial hydrogen and helium would probably take about pressure–temperature conditions allow the fusion of helium
1 Ma to raise the core temperature to ca. 107 K, when to begin early in the red giant stage. This is followed by fur-
nuclear fusion of hydrogen to helium can begin (Atkinson ther contraction and heating, allowing the fusion of car-
and Houtermans, 1929). This process is also called ‘hydrogen bon and successively heavier elements. However, as lighter
burning’. The star spends most of its life at this stage, as a elements become exhausted, gravitationally induced con-
‘main sequence’ star, where an equilibrium is set up between traction and heating occur at an ever increasing pace (Fig.
energy supply by fusion and energy loss in the form of radia- 1.5), until the implosion is stopped by the attainment of
tion. For the Sun, this stage will probably last ca. 10 Ga, but neutron-star density. The resulting shock wave causes a
4 NUCLEOSYNTHESIS AND NUCLEAR DECAY

where Q is the energy output and t1/2 is the reaction time of

each stage (the time necessary to consume one half of the
reactants) for the centre of the Sun. The long reaction time
for the first step explains the long duration of the hydrogen-
burning (main sequence) stage for small stars like the Sun.
The overall reaction converts four protons into one helium
nucleus, two positrons and two neutrinos, plus a large out-
put of energy in the form of high-frequency photons. Hence
the reaction is very strongly exothermic. Although deu-
terium and 3 He are generated in the first two reactions
above, their consumption in the third accounts for their
much lower cosmic abundance than 4 He.
If heavier elements such as carbon and nitrogen are
present in a star, the catalytic C–N–O sequence of reactions
can occur, which also combines four protons to make one
helium nucleus:
 
12
C + 1 H → 13 N + γ Q = +1.95 MeV, t1/2 = 13 Ma

13
N → 13 C + e+ + ν (Q = +2.22 Me V, t1.2 = 7 min)
 
13
C + 1 H → 14 N + γ Q = +7.54 MeV, t1/2 = 3 Ma
 
14
N + 1 H → 15 O + γ Q = +7.35 MeV, t1/2 = 0.3 Ma

Fig. 1.6 Schematic diagram of the cosmic abundances of the  

15
O → 15 N + e+ + ν Q = +2.70 MeV, t1/2 = 82 s
elements, highlighting the nucleosynthetic processes
responsible for forming different groups of nuclides. After  
15
N + 1 H → 12 C + 4 He Q = +4.96 MeV, t1/2 = 100 ka .
Burbidge et al. (1957).
The C–N–O elements have greater potential energy barriers
to fusion than hydrogen, so these reactions require higher
supernova explosion which ends the star’s life (e.g. Burrows, temperatures to operate than the simple proton–proton (p–
2000). p) reaction. However, the reaction times are much shorter
In the minutes before explosion, when temperatures than for the p–p reaction. Therefore the C–N–O reaction con-
exceed 3 × 109 K, very rapid nuclear interactions occur. Ener- tributes less than 10% of hydrogen-burning reactions in a
getic equilibrium is established between nuclei and free pro- small star like the Sun, but is overwhelmingly dominant in
tons and neutrons, synthesizing elements like Fe by the so- large stars. This explains their much shorter lifespan in the
called e-process. The supernova explosion itself lasts only a main sequence.
few seconds, but is characterized by colossal neutron fluxes. Helium burning also occurs in stages:
These very rapidly synthesize heavier elements, terminating
at 254 Cf, which undergoes spontaneous fission. Products of
4
He + 4 He ↔ 8 Be (Q = +0.09 MeV)
the supernova explosion are distributed through space and
later incorporated in a new generation of stars.
8
Be + 4 He ↔ 12 C∗ (Q = −0.37 MeV)

12 ∗
C → 12 C + γ (Q = +7.65 MeV)
1.2.2 Stages in the Nucleosynthesis of
Heavy Elements The Be nucleus is very unstable (t1/2 < 10–15 s) and in the
8

A schematic diagram of the cosmic abundance chart is given core of a red giant the Be/He equilibrium ratio is estimated at
in Fig. 1.6. We will now see how different nucleosynthetic 10–9 . However its life is just long enough to allow the possibil-
processes are invoked to account for its form. ity of collision with another helium nucleus. (Instantaneous
The element-building process begins with the fusion of three-particle collisions are very rare.) The energy yield of the
four protons to one 4 He nucleus, which occurs in three first stage is small, and the second is actually endothermic,
stages: but the decay of excited 12 C∗ to the ground state is strongly
  exothermic, driving the equilibrium to the right.
1
H + 1 H → 2 D + e+ + ν Q = +1.44 MeV, t1/2 = 14 Ga The elements Li, Be and B have low nuclear binding ener-
  gies, so that they are unstable at the temperatures of 107 K
2
D + 1 H → 3 He + γ Q = +5.49 MeV, t1/2 = 0.6 s
  and above found at the centre of stars. They are therefore
3
He + 3 He → 4 He + 2 1 H + γ Q = +12.86 MeV, t1/2 = 1 Ma , bypassed by stellar nucleosynthetic reactions, leading to low
 1.2 NUCLEOSYNTHESIS 5

cosmic abundances (Fig. 1.6). The fact that the five stable iso- stars, before a supernova explosion, the core temperature
topes 6 Li, 7 Li, 9 Be, 10 B and 11 B exist at all has been attributed exceeds 3 × 109 K. This allows energetic equilibrium to be
to fragmentation effects (spallation) of heavy cosmic rays established by very rapid nuclear reactions between the var-
(atomic nuclei travelling through the galaxy at relativistic ious nuclei and free protons and neutrons (the e-process).
speeds) as they hit interstellar gas atoms (Reeves, 1974). This Because 56 Fe is at the peak of the nuclear binding energy
is termed the x-process. curve, this element is most favoured by the e-process (Fig.
Problems have been recognized in the x-process model 1.6). However, the other first-series transition elements V, Cr,
for generating the light elements Li, Be and B, since cos- Mn, Co and Ni in the mass range 50 to 62 are also attributed
mic ray spallation cannot explain the observed isotope ratios to this process.
of these elements in solar system materials. However, Casse During the last few million years of a red giant’s life, a
et al. (1995) proposed that carbon and oxygen nuclei ejected slow process of neutron addition with emission of gamma
from supernovae can generate these nuclides by collision rays (the s-process) can synthesize many additional nuclides
with hydrogen and helium in the surrounding gas cloud. up to mass 209 (see Fig. 1.7). Two possible neutron sources
This process is believed to occur in regions such as the Orion are:
nebula. The combination of supernova production with spal- 13
C + 4 He → 16 O + n + γ
lation of galactic cosmic rays can explain observed solar sys-
tem abundances of Li, Be and B. 21
Ne + 4 He → 24 Mg + n + γ.
Following the synthesis of carbon, further helium-
burning reactions are possible, to produce heavier nuclei: The 13 C and 21 Ne parents can be produced by proton bom-
bardment of the common 12 C and 20 Ne nuclides.
12
C + 4 He → 16 O + γ (Q = +7.15 MeV)
Because neutron capture in the s-process is relatively
slow, unstable neutron-rich nuclides generated in this pro-
16
O + 4 He → 20 Ne + γ (Q = +4.75 MeV)
cess have time to decay by β emission before further neutron
addition. Hence the nucleosynthetic path of the s-process
20
Ne + 4 He → 24 Mg + γ (Q = +9.31 MeV) .
climbs in many small steps up the path of greatest stability
Intervening nuclei such as 13 N can be produced by adding of proton/neutron ratio (Fig. 1.7) and is finally terminated by
protons to these species, but are themselves consumed the α decay of 210 Po back to 206 Pb and 209 Bi back to 205 Tl.
in the process of catalytic hydrogen burning mentioned The ‘neutron capture cross-section’ of a nuclide expresses
above. how readily it can absorb incoming thermal neutrons, and
In old red giant stars, carbon-burning reactions can therefore determines how likely it is to be converted to
occur: a higher atomic mass species by neutron bombardment.
12
C + 12 C → 24 Mg + γ (Q = +13.85 MeV) Nuclides with certain neutron numbers (e.g. 50, 82 and 126)
have unusually small neutron capture cross-sections, mak-
→ 23 Na + 1 H (Q = +2.23 MeV) ing them particularly resistant to further reaction and giv-
ing rise to local peaks in abundance at masses 90, 138 and
→ 20 Ne + 4 He (Q = +4.62 MeV) . 208. Hence, N = 50, 82 and 126 are empirically referred to as
neutron ‘magic numbers’.
The hydrogen and helium nuclei regenerated in these pro- In contrast to the s-process, which may occur over peri-
cesses allow further reactions which help to fill in gaps ods of millions of years in red giants, r-process neutrons are
between masses 12 and 24. added in very rapid succession to a nucleus before β decay
When a small star reaches its maximum core temperature is possible. The nuclei are therefore rapidly driven to the
of 109 K the endothermic α-process can occur: neutron-rich side of the stability line, until they reach a new
equilibrium between neutron addition and β decay, repre-
20
Ne + γ → 16 O + 4 He (Q = −4.75 MeV) .
sented by the hatched zone in Fig. 1.7. Nuclides move along
The energy consumption of this process is compensated by this r-process pathway until they reach a configuration with
strongly exothermic reactions such as: low neutron capture cross-section (a neutron magic num-
ber). At these points a ‘cascade’ of alternating β decays and
20
Ne + 4 He → 24 Mg + γ (Q = +9.31 MeV) ,
single neutron additions occurs, indicated by the notched
so that the overall reaction generates a positive energy bud- ladders in Fig. 1.7. Nuclides climb these ladders until they
get. The process resembles helium burning, but is distin- reach the next segment of the r-process pathway. Nuclides
guished by the different source of 4 He. The α-process can with neutron magic numbers build to excess abundances, as
build up from 24 Mg through the sequence 28 Si, 32 S, 36 Ar and with the s-process, but they occur at proton-deficient com-
40
Ca, where it terminates, owing to the instability of 44 Ti. positions relative to the s-process stability path. Therefore,
The maximum temperatures reached in the core of a when the neutron flux falls off and nuclides on the ladders
small star do not allow substantial heavy element produc- undergo β decay back to the stability line, the r-process local
tion. However, in the final stages of the evolution of larger abundance peaks are displaced about 6–12 mass units below
6 NUCLEOSYNTHESIS AND NUCLEAR DECAY

Fig. 1.7 Neutron capture paths of the s-process and r-process shown on the chart of the nuclides. Hatched zone indicates the
r-process nucleosynthetic pathway for a plausible neutron flux. Neutron ‘magic numbers’ are indicated by vertical lines, and mass
numbers of nuclide abundance peaks are marked. After Seeger et al. (1965).

the s-process peaks (Fig. 1.6). The r-process is terminated by essary to postulate a p-process by which normal r- and s-
neutron-induced fission at mass 254, and nuclear matter is process nuclei are bombarded by protons at very high tem-
fed back into the element-building processes at masses of ca. perature (>2 × 109 K), probably in the outer envelope of a
108 and 146. Thus, cycling of nuclear reactions occurs above supernova.
mass 108.
Because of the extreme neutron flux postulated for the
r-process, its occurrence is probably limited to supernovae. 1.3 Radioactive Decay
However, Blake and Schramm (1976) proposed the exis-
tence of a process that occurred at intermediate neutron Nuclear stability and decay is best understood in the con-
fluxes between the s- and r-processes, which they called text of the chart of nuclides. It has already been noted
the ‘n-process’. This could occur when neutron addition that naturally occurring nuclides define a path in the chart
only slightly exceeds rates of β decay. Although neglected of the nuclides, corresponding to the greatest stability of
for many years, phenomena similar to the n-process have
received consideration in some recent modelling of super-
nova outflows (Meyer, 2005; Wanajo, 2007; Panov and Janka,
2009).
The effects of r- and s-process synthesis of typical heavy
elements may be demonstrated by an examination of the
chart of the nuclides in the region of the light rare earths
(Fig. 1.8). The step-by-step building of the s-process contrasts
with the ‘rain of nuclides’ produced by β decay of r-process
products. Some nuclides, such as 143 Nd to 146 Nd are produced
by both r- and s-processes. Some, such as 142 Nd are s-only
nuclides ‘shielded’ from the decay products of the r-process
by intervening nuclides. Others, such as 148 Nd and 150 Nd
are r-only nuclides which lie off the s-process production
pathway.
Several heavy nuclides from 74 Se to 196 Hg lie isolated on
Fig. 1.8 Part of the chart of the nuclides in the area of the
the proton-rich side of the s-process growth path (e.g. 144 Sm
light rare earths to show p-, r- and s-process product nuclides.
in Fig. 1.8), and are also shielded from r-process production.
After O’Nions et al. (1979).
In order to explain the existence of these nuclides it is nec-
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people were partial to the fat of the bear merely on account of the strength
of the hair that grew on the back of that animal, surely good, wholesome
pig’s fat would be twice as serviceable to them, seeing that that domestic
creature bore nothing weaker than bristles. Consequently, Mr. Farden, sen.,
now turned his thoughts chiefly to the growth of lard and sale of genuine
bear’s grease; and whenever he killed a fat pig, he used to paste up outside
his door a large placard, with “Another fine young bear just
slaughtered” printed upon it; whilst in his shop window he suspended the
body of the defunct porker, dexterously served up in a beautiful bear’s skin
that he always kept by him on purpose, and with a card hung with blue
ribbon round his neck, on which was written, “Real genuine bear’s
grease cut from the carcass, at only 1s. 6d. PER POUND.” As Dick
Farden said, “his governor’s” business was very profitable, but very
unpleasant, for the exhibition of the two savage monsters in the kitchen, and
the domestic animal in the window, raised such a demand for real bear’s
grease in the neighbourhood, that the family had nothing but pork, pork,
pork, for dinner all the year round.
To his father’s business our Dick Farden in course of time succeeded,
but being of a wild and roving turn of mind, he paid little or no attention to
the pigs, and as he said, “he went it so fast that he wasn’t long in going
through ‘Farden’s magic grease,’ ” so that in a very little time, the sheriff
walked into the shop, and seized the two bears in the kitchen, together with
all the wigs, scalps, and moustachios he had on the premises. But this, he
said, he thought he might have got over, had he not unfortunately distrained
upon several ladies’ fronts which he had been intrusted with to bake, and
which he regretted to say, being taken for the benefit of the creditors,
obliged him to fly the neighbourhood, and seek a living elsewhere. After
this sad affair, things went very crooked with him, and he said that often
and often he had been so put to it, that he would have given anything for a
mouthful of the crackling of the fine young bears that he used once to turn
his nose up at; and he said he must have tried, what he called “no end of
dodges,” to earn an honest living, but all to no good, until one day he fell in
with a gentleman over his pipe at the “White Hart,” who persuaded him to
join him in the British smuggling line; for as the gentleman, who seemed to
be a perfect man of the world and to have a wonderfully fine knowledge of
the female portion of human nature, expressed it: “You had only to make
the ladies believe that you had got several extraordinary bargains, in the
shape of cambrics, gloves, or lace, which you could let them have at fifty
per cent. under prime cost, and they would buy cart-loads, whether they
wanted them or not, and never trouble their dear heads as to whether they
were honestly come by.” In fact, he knew scores and scores of enterprising
linendrapers, who had made large fortunes by ruining themselves regularly
once a twelvemonth, and selling off the whole of their stock, by order of the
assignees, for the benefit of the creditors in general, and ladies in particular.
For he said it was well known among the gentlemen in the haberdashery
line, that the ladies would never enter a linendraper’s shop so long as he
asked only a fair profit on his wares, whereas, if he would only make them
believe that he was going to the dogs, and that he was selling off his goods
for full half less than they were ever made for, down they would come in
swarms, as fast as their legs, cabs, and carriages would carry them, and pay
whatever prices the spirited proprietor might please to ask. For the idea of
“ANOTHER EXTENSIVE FAILURE” seemed to have such a charm to the women,
that the only way by which a linendraper could keep himself solvent, was
by declaring himself bankrupt, especially as the darling creatures evidently
looked upon it as a religious duty to attend every “AWFUL SACRIFICE,” for
nothing seemed to them to be so noble as the notion of a man’s immolating
himself at the shrine of Basinghall-street for the love of the fair sex. Indeed,
the angels of women appeared to be the very reverse of those ungrateful
brutes of rats, and instead of leaving a house just as it’s about to tumble to
pieces, they seemed to be more like owls, and love to haunt “ruins,” or
rather, he might say, they were the very image of Cornwall wreckers, and
would, in answer to the very first placard that was hung out as a signal of
distress by the stranded linendraper, rush down in hundreds to see what
remnants they could pick up, or get out of the wreck, before the whole
concern went to pieces.
Mr. Dick Farden then informed me, that upon this advice he had devoted
his labours entirely to the fair sex, and immediately embarked in the
“bargain line.” Knowing that the ladies had a natural aversion to parting
with their money, and preferred exchanging their dear husbands’ left-off
wearing apparel, he made a feeble endeavour to convert old clothes into the
current coin of the realm, by carrying about on his arm a beautiful little love
of a tame squirrel, which he offered to the passers-by, at the low price of a
worn out surtout, and a wonderful piping bullfinch for the exceedingly
small charge of a castoff pair of trousers and a waistcoat. In the winter,
however, he carried with him a basket of Derbyshire Spa chimney
ornaments, with a few glasses and jugs and basins hanging round it. With
these, he said, he managed very well, for he could furnish a sweet pretty
mantelpiece very elegantly for a lady, with a great coat in the middle and an
umbrella on one side, and a mackintosh on the other, while he believed that
through his humble means, several husbands had often washed their faces
in their old hats, and sipped their gin and water out of their worn-out boots.
By these means he raised money enough to purchase a cargo of
contraband goods in the Minories, and succeeded in running them safe into
a public-house in the neighbourhood of Regent-street, the sale of which
goods occupied his afternoon; while, he added, with a stupid grin on his
face, he was proud to say his mornings were devoted to the polishing of our
boots and shoes, and knives; for, thank goodness, he continued, there was
no pride in him, and he was always willing to pick up a sixpence any day,
any how, so that now he could look any of his creditors in the face, and had
no need to be, as he so repeatedly was after his father’s death, non est
inwentus, though, for the matter of that, Mr. Carstairs, who was one of the
most beautiful writers of the day, very truly said—“A nonest man’s the
noblest work of Natur.”
I am very much afraid I’ve been wasting a great deal of my own
valuable time and space, and of my courteous reader’s equally valuable
patience, in giving all I could learn of the history of this worthless man;
only my dear Edward (who is as obstinate as a mule) would have it that
Dick Farden was quite a character, although I must say that if he was a
character, he was a very bad one; and I declare the way in which he served
me and my sweet piano, is quite heart-rending to think of, but I will tell the
reader all about this in its proper place. Though I can’t help adding, that it
was quite as much the work of my dear Edward (who, it pains me to state,
always will have his own way, and of course always must be in the right) as
it was the work of Mr. Dick Farden, (who certainly was one of the clumsiest
and stupidest men that I ever came nigh,) for if Mr. Sk—n—st—n would
only have allowed me to have packed the man out of the house when I
wanted, of course it never would have happened, and I should have had my
sweet Broadwood in my possession at this very minute, but the gentle
reader knows as well as I do, that what can’t be, &c., must be, &c.; so I
shall say no more about the piano, until I touch upon it in the due course of
things; for I’ve quite made up my mind to the loss of the thing a long time
ago, and the least said is the soonest mended; still I can’t help adding, that I
only wish to goodness gracious that I had never set eyes upon that awkward
lout of a Mr. Dick Farden, or that that perverse, headstrong (though good at
times) husband of mine would not go interfering about the servants, but just
allow me to deal with them as I please, and manage my own affairs myself,
for I should be glad to know how he would like me to go meddling with his
clerks, indeed. In conclusion, I can only say that the circumstance affected
me so much at the time that I only prayed for one thing, and that was that
the laws would have allowed me to have had the vagabond transported, as
they ought to have done, or at the very least have compelled the man to
have given me a new piano, value seventy-five guineas, which I was
assured was the cost of ours when it was new, though for myself I can’t
speak positively to the fact, for, to tell the truth, we bought it second-hand.
But, methinks I hear the gentle reader saying, what about the piano? You
are again forgetting yourself, Mrs. Sk—n—st—n, and allowing your
naturally fine, warm feelings to make you wander from your subject. C’est
vrai—vous avez raison, courteous reader.
Well, then, the fact is, I never was fond of needle-work at the best of
times, and really and truly, I never could see the fun of passing the heyday
of one’s youth darning stockings, and cobbling up a pack of old clothes as
full of holes as a cinder shovel. So I longed to have an instrument just to
amuse myself with for an hour or two in the day, or play over an air or two
to Edward of an evening. And it wasn’t as if I hadn’t got any music-books;
besides, I really and truly was sick and tired of doing kettle-holders and
working a pack of filthy copper kettles in Berlin wool with a stupid “Mind
it boils” underneath them, or else working a lot of braces and slippers for
Edward, which, in his nasty vulgar way, he said were too fine by half for
use, or else sitting for hours with your toe cocked up in the air netting
purses and spending a mint of money in steel beads for a pack of people
that you didn’t care twopence about, and who never gave you so much as a
trumpery ring or brooch in return (I hate such meanness). So I wouldn’t let
Edward have any peace until he promised to get me a piano; for, as I very
truly observed, I had been out of practice so long, that I should be very
much surprised if on sitting down to a piano, I didn’t find the cries of the
wounded in the “Battle of Prague” too much for me, and I was sure that I
should break down in the runs in the “Bird Waltz,” even supposing I was
able to manage the shakes. And as for the matter of my voice, I told him I
had serious alarms about losing my G, and if I did I should never forgive
myself, after the money that had been spent on my musical education at
Boulogne-sur-mer alone, and I was sure that if I had to begin anew with my
singing exercises, and was to be put in the scales again, that I should be
found wanting. Besides, I concluded the business by giving him to
understand, that it wasn’t so much for myself that I wanted the piano, after
all, but of course my darling little toodle-loodle-loo of a Kate, in two or
three years at least must have an instrument to begin practising upon, and if
he didn’t get one before that, I was sure I shouldn’t be able to tell the
difference between A flat and a bull’s foot, and he would have to go to I
know not what expense in masters for her, and then he would be ready to
cut his ears off for not having got me a piano when I begged of him.
I am happy to say that Edward for once was not deaf to reason, but
seeing that I wanted the piano more out of love for little Kate than from any
selfish motive on my part, he very properly consented to look out for one
for me, although my gentleman couldn’t let well alone, but must go cutting
his stupid jokes, saying that he was very much afraid that the piano was
only “one for the pot” over again; but I very quickly silenced my lord by
merely exclaiming, in my most sarcastic way, “Fiddle.”
However, of course, as usual Mr. Sk—n—st—n, if ever he does consent
to do a good action must go spoiling it by doing the thing by halves; for
instead of going and ordering me one of Broadwood’s very best new grand
uprights, he must needs go poking his nose into all the filthy dirty
salerooms in London, until he fell in with a trumpery second-hand cottage,
and which I had to have French polished all outside, and thoroughly
repaired and done up in, before I could do anything with it, for I declare
when I came to go over it, half of the keys of the cottage were of no use.
Still, thank goodness, it was a Broadwood, although no one would have
thought it, if they had seen it in the state in which it came home to me; for a
Broadwood, I think it had the most disgraceful legs I ever saw in all my life,
and it wasn’t until I had had the whole thing thoroughly cleaned and put in
order, that it was fit to be seen in any respectable person’s dining-room.
When I had spent nearly a fortune upon it, I must confess that it wasn’t
so bad after all; indeed, no one would have known it again, and I’ve over
and over again seen very many worse in the houses of persons far better off
in the world than ourselves, but whose names, for many reasons, of course,
I’m not going to state. Certainly its tone was heavenly, and, upon my word,
when it came home newly done up, and I ran over “The Soldier Tired,” I
declare it sounded for all the world like the music of the spheres—such
grandeur in the lower notes—such sweetness in the upper ones—such
power when you were impassioned—such plaintiveness when you were
sentimental—that I declare it seemed to go right through me, and be more
than I could bear, for it would move me to tears; and as I playfully ran up
and down the notes, really and truly I felt myself lifted from my seat and
carried, without knowing it, into another region—Oh! it was such a little
duck of a cottage, and such a darling little pet of a dear Broadwood, the
reader can’t tell!
I don’t suppose I could have had the cottage in the house more than a
fortnight before I began to feel that it was a sin to be possessed of such a
beautifully toned instrument, and not give a party just to show it off—for
really the quadrilles upon it sounded quite divinely—and if they did so
under my humble fingers, I said to myself, what would they sound like
under the more skilful execution of those sweet girls and admirable piano-
forte players, the Miss B—yl—s’s, who I knew very well would be
delighted to take it in turns and play the whole evening through for me.
Besides, it wasn’t as if we had been seeing a whole house full of company
every evening; on the contrary, I’m sure we had been living as retired as
owls, and hadn’t given a party for I couldn’t safely say when, and I do think
it is so dreadful to be obliged to sit moping, locked up in a box all day long,
without ever seeing a single soul beyond the people you’ve got about you.
Moreover, as I very properly observed to myself, it really was not left for us
to say whether we liked to give a party or not; but, upon my word, when I
looked at it again, I felt that it was a moral obligation, and nothing more nor
less than a matter of common honesty on our side to do so; for, of course,
having danced at all our friends’ houses, and eaten all our friends’ suppers,
they naturally expected that we should make them some return, as indeed,
in plain justice, we ought to; besides, how could we hope that we should
ever be asked out to our friends again, if we didn’t give them supper for
supper and dance for dance. I told Edward, too, that really and truly it
would be little or no expense, for we should only want such a small supper
that a five pound note would cover it all, I was sure; for I merely intended
just to have a ham and beef sandwich or two for the top and bottom, and a
chicken or so prettily done up in blue satin ribbon, as if it had been had
from the pastrycooks; and then for the matter of confectionary, of course we
might have a trifle from Camden Town for a mere nothing, and that with,
say one or two custards, and a jelly, would make quite show enough for
what we wanted, I was certain; besides, I could easily fill out the table with
a few almonds, and raisins, and figs, and candied lemon peel, for, as I very
properly said, there was no necessity for our going to the foolish expense of
grapes, and surely they could do without crackers for once in a way, and if
they couldn’t, why they wouldn’t have them, that was all I knew. And even
then, supposing that upon second thoughts we didn’t fancy the table looked
crowded and showy enough, why I could easily make a bargain with the
pastrycook for the hire of some of their fancy articles, either a beautiful
elephant in pound-cake, or a love of a barley-sugar bird-cage, and which we
must take care and not press our friends to taste, and then with Edward’s
two beautiful plated candelabras with silver edges, I was sure it would be as
handsome an entertainment as any one could wish for, and if it wasn’t, why
all I could say was, that I wasn’t going to any more expense about the
matter,—no! not if the Queen herself were coming—and there’s an end of
it!
Well, it was all so nicely arranged, and I sent out all my invitations in
such good time, that I think I had only eight refusals, and those not from the
best of our acquaintance, so I didn’t break my heart about them. But, as I
very truly said to myself, I may as well have my rooms full whilst I am
about it, so I packed off a card to some of my friends that I didn’t care very
much for, and whom I had consequently made up my mind not to ask at all,
with a note apologising for the shortness of the notice, and telling them that
owing to the letter having been misdirected, the invitation I had sent them
three weeks back had just been returned to me by the Post-office.
Upon my word, the preparations for the party were almost too much for
me, and I declare to gracious I worked like a common cab-horse, for I
hadn’t even time to sit down and take my meals decently, like a Christian,
and when I went to bed, I can assure my lady-readers, I was so tired, that I
made a vow to myself that even if the whole world depended upon it, I’d
never again be dragged into giving another party,—no, not for ever so
much! But I shouldn’t have minded it a very great deal after all, if it hadn’t
been for Mr. Sk—n—st—n’s shameful behaviour, and total want of
sympathy with my sufferings—for really and truly, if he hadn’t the bare-
faced impudence to tell me that I had only myself to blame for it; for that “I
(I, indeed!) was always bothering his life out about giving a party,” when all
the while the wretch must have known, as well as I did, that it wasn’t for
myself that I wanted any of your parties, but merely to oblige him, by
keeping all his friends and clients together. But, of course, these are just the
thanks one gets for slaving one’s life out, as one does, for the sake of one’s
husband. It’s always the way with those selfish things of men, though. Mr.
Edward, however, wont catch his dear (pretty dear!) Caroline making such a
fool of herself again in a hurry—No! not if she knows it.
As our look out at the back is far from pretty, and to tell the truth never
did please me, (for we had only a view of these S—mm—nds’ trumpery
garden, and they are always washing at-home, and hanging the things out to
dry right under our very noses) why, I thought (as I always had been, from
my cradle, of an ingenious turn of mind) that I might as well ornament our
staircase-window just a little bit, and so shut out that dreadful eyesore
which we had at the back of us, and make the window quite a handsome
object; for I must say that of all things in the world for a staircase, give me
a stained glass window. Oh! I do think it looks so beautiful—so rich and
distingué, to see bunches of roses, and pinks, and camelias, painted on
ground glass, just for all the world as if they were growing there. So I set to
work, and having a pair of old worn-out chintz bed-curtains up stairs, I cut
out some of the best flowers that had had the least of their colour washed
out of them, and dabbed some putty over all the panes, until, I declare to
goodness gracious, a glazier himself would have sworn that the glass had
been ground. Then, with some gum I stuck the chintz flowers in the centre
of every one of the panes, and, upon my honour, I can assure the reader, it
was the most perfect bit of deception I ever saw in all my life; and I’ll
warrant, that even the best judges in stained glass would have had to have
passed their fingers over the surface, before they would have been able to
have found it out. As any one came in at our street-door, it positively gave
the house quite a cathedral air. Oh! it was so beautiful, so chaste, and yet so
rich; and when I first saw it from our hall, I couldn’t for the life of me help
exclaiming, with the top of the bills of the Colosseum—“ ’Tis not a picture
—it is nature.” Yet, when I think of what happened afterwards, I declare I
feel as if I could sit down and cry my eyes out—but more of this hereafter.
Well, I got all the plate nicely cleaned, and all the carpets taken up, and
all the papers cut for the wax candles, and the chandelier taken out of its
brown holland bag, and had ordered the rout-seats, and the flowers, and the
chickens, and the barley sugar bird-cage (which I thought would look best
after all, for the man hadn’t a single elephant in his shop that he said would
be large enough to place in the middle of the supper-table, and wanted to
put me off with a trumpery hedgehog, with half its almond quills out, and
which I could very easily see, from the stale look of the thing, had been out
to an evening party every night that week.) The only thing that remained to
be done was to get that lovely cottage of mine up into the drawing-room,
and how the dickens we were ever to manage it, I’m sure I couldn’t tell.
When I asked Mr. Edward about it, as he was decantering his wine at the
side-board, before he went to business, on the morning of the party, and
inquired of him whether he didn’t think Dick Farden could manage it for
me, he merely said, stuff-a’-nonsense, I had better have proper people to do
it, and then I should be sure to have it done rightly; on which I very justly
remarked—“Proper people, indeed! did he know what proper people would
come to? He seemed to be talking as if he had got more money in his
pockets than he knew what to do with; and I should just like to know what
on earth was the use of having Mr. Dick Farden always about the house, if
he couldn’t be trusted to move my cottage just from one room to another.”
This brought him to his senses, for he said, as I seemed to know so much
more about it than he did, I had better do as I liked—only he must go
spoiling it, by adding, in his nasty perverse way, “that I mustn’t go blame
him if any thing happened to it.”—But I do blame him for it all, and can’t
help saying, that it was entirely his own fault, for what business had he to
tell me that I knew more about it than he did, and that I had better do it as I
liked, when he must have known, as well as I did, that I knew nothing at all
about moving cottages, and that something dreadful was going to happen.
Oh! that dear, dear Broadwood of mine. But I must restrain myself.
Well, no sooner had I seen my husband fairly out of the house, than I
rang the bell for Mr. Dick Farden, and when he came into the parlour, I
asked him if he thought he could manage to move that piano of mine up
into the drawing-room. So, after measuring the width of it, and then going
and looking at our first landing, he said, “he was afeard there would be no
getting the thing up the stairs anyhow, for there was no room to turn the
corner with it;” and, on going up and looking for myself, sure enough the
man was right; though as I told him, what on earth could make the people
go building houses in that stupid way, was beyond a person of my limited
understanding to comprehend. Dick Farden said that there were only two
ways of getting over it, one was to take out my beautiful painted glass
window, (which of course I wasn’t going to listen to—though I can’t help
wishing now, from the very bottom of my heart, that I had); and the other to
“hoist it up” outside the back of the house, and so get it in at the French
window in the drawing-room, which, he said, he and a “pal” of his, as he
called him, could do very easily for a pot of beer. I asked him whether he
was sure that it would be perfectly safe; but he would have it that there was
not the least danger, so long as the ropes were good. So I showed him the
clothes lines, but my gentleman wanted to persuade me that it would be
better to have them just a trifle thicker—though of course I knew what that
all meant, and wasn’t going to be foolish enough to give him the money to
go buying new ropes with, indeed, and making a pretty penny out of them,
I’d be bound. So I quietly told him that as those very ropes had been strong
enough to bear the weight of “La petite Saqui,” (and she was no feather,)
jumping and frisking about on them, I thought they might manage to lift my
Broadwood up to the drawing-room window—though, of course, like
master like man, he must go saying, as Mr. Edward did, that I mus’n’t
blame him if anything happened on account of the ropes,—and really, from
their all talking so about something happening, I positively began to fancy
that something was going to happen, (and so it was, too, with a vengeance,)
and what I should do then goodness gracious only knows.
Off scampered Mr. Dick Farden for his friend, and I gave him
permission to bring the beer in with him, for of course he couldn’t do a
thing without tasting his beer first. I declare I never knew such a pig for
beer as the man was in all my life; he couldn’t do anything beyond his
everyday work without looking for something to drink; in fact, if I asked
him to do ever such a trifle, he was always saying, in a nasty begging tone,
“You haven’t got such a thing as a pint of beer about you, have you,
ma’am?”
When he came back, he and his friend, whom he called Jim, carried my
cottage out into the garden; and when they had tied the clothes line all
round it, Jim went up stairs to the second-floor window, and threw out a
string for us to tie the end of the rope to. As soon as he had got hold of it,
Mr. Farden tied what he called the “guider” to one of the legs of my
Broadwood, so as to prevent its knocking against the house as it went up.
When they were all ready, Farden called out to Jim, “Now, pull steady, lad!”
and up went my beautiful cottage in the air, as nicely as ever I saw anything
done in all my life. Just as they had got it well over the area railings, and
nearly on a level with our back-parlour window, that bothering Jim, who
was as strong as a bull, began pulling too hard, and I saw that it was more
than Farden could manage to keep the piano away from the house, and that
in another minute I should be having it going bang in at our back-parlour
window, and perhaps lodging right on the top of the sideboard, where I had
put all the jellies and custards not ten minutes before. So I gave a slight
scream, and ran up to him as fast as my legs could carry me, and seizing
hold of the guider, told him, for goodness gracious sake, to pull the piano
over towards the garden wall. But I declare the words were no sooner out of
my mouth, than away he must tear, pulling away as hard as ever he could,
just for all the world as if my beautiful instrument were made of cast iron,
and he had no sooner got it opposite my beautiful staircase window, than all
of a sudden off flew the leg of my Broadwood to which the guide rope was
attached, and down he tumbled, and I with him; and ah, lor a mercy! I heard
something go bang, smash, crash, and on looking up, oh dear! there was my
lovely cottage gone right through my beautiful imitation-stained glass
window, and dashing backwards and forwards, for all the world like one of
those great big swings at a fair, and knocking against the window, as Jim
kept pulling it up, until there wasn’t scarcely a bit of the frame or glass left
standing. Lord love you, out came all the neighbours’ servants, in a swarm,
just like a pack of bees at the sound of a gong; and I’d be bound to say they
thought it a fine bit of fun, and a sight worth going a mile any day to see.
Farden hallooed out as loud as he could, “Hold hard there, Jim!” but Jim
(the stupid oaf!) being, as I afterwards learnt, rather hard of hearing, only
kept pulling and pulling as fast as Mr. Farden kept saying, “Hold hard there,
will you, Jim; I tell you the rope’s cut!” And sure enough so it had been, by
the broken glass; and as I looked at it, I could see thread by thread giving
way, until at last, when it was very nearly on a level with our drawing-room
window, snap went the clothes lines—and oh! was ever poor woman born
to be so tormented before! down came my lovely cottage, like a
thunderclap, on to the top of our water-butt, which it upset, so that as my
beautiful Broadwood fell smash upon the stones in the yard, whop came
that great big heavy water-butt right upon it, crashing it all to shivers, and
shooting the whole of its contents, for all the world like a torrent, into both
of our kitchens, and flooding the whole place at least two pattens deep I
declare—
 When we went up stairs to look after that deaf scoundrel of a Jim, oh,
lud! if the breaking of the rope hadn’t thrown him back into my darling
little Kitty’s beautiful cradle, and as I said to myself, I am sure it was a
perfect mercy that the poor dear innocent angel hadn’t been sleeping there
at the time, or that heavy lout of a Jim must have killed her on the spot, and
as it was, there were all the wicker work ribs of the thing broken in, so that
it was impossible ever to think of letting her sleep in it again, for really and
truly, it looked more like an old hamper than a respectable baby’s bassinet.
As for the party, it was next to madness to think another moment about
that, for when you hadn’t a piano, or a window on the staircase left, I should
like to know how it would ever be possible to have a nice comfortable
dance; so after I had given it to Mr. Dick Farden well, and told him that I
should certainly make a point of stopping the piano out of his wages, and
after I had packed Mr. Jim off home to his family with a flea in his ear,
there was I obliged in my state of mind to sit down, and scribble off a lot of
story-telling letters to all the friends I had invited, saying, that owing to my
sweet Kitty’s having been taken suddenly and dangerously ill, I regretted to
say that I was compelled to postpone the pleasure of seeing them until some
future period, and bundling Mr. Dick Farden into a cab, told him to make as
much haste as ever he could and deliver them, though I do verily believe,
that from the number of knocks and cabs and hackney coaches that came to
the door that dreadful evening, that he put the better part of the fare in his
pocket, and never delivered many of them at all; and there was I, obliged to
come down every five minutes, from ten till twelve in the evening, and put
on a very long face, and tell a pack of taradiddles about the sufferings of my
sweet little angel of a Kitty, and how we didn’t expect her to live the whole
night through, when actually the little pet was fast asleep in my bed and as
well as she had been ever since she was born; and upon my word, it really
made my heart bleed to have to send the dear creatures home again, when I
saw how nicely their hairs were done, and the expense they had gone to
about their dresses, for they had evidently come out determined upon
spending a very pleasant evening.
Edward, on his return home, I regret to say, forgot himself as a
gentleman and my husband. At one time I thought he had gone clean out of
his wits, for he had the impudence to say, that I seemed to take a delight in
throwing twenty pounds in the dirt, and that it was all my fault, and none of
it Dick Farden’s, and that he would take good care that if ever I wanted any
more music, I might whistle for it; and that as for any more pianos, that the
next one I had, should come out of my own pocket. As I saw that he
wouldn’t be happy until we had had a good quarrel, I thought it best to go
off into hysterics, and laughed and sobbed in such a dreadful way that I
soon brought him to his senses, and made him begin kissing me, and calling
me his dear, foolish, thoughtless Caroline, and telling me to calm myself for
heaven’s sake, or I should be laying myself up. But then it came to my turn,
for I wasn’t going to let him abuse me like a pickpocket one minute, and
make friends with him the next, and I do think that I never should have
opened my lips civilly to him again, if he hadn’t brought me home a
beautiful Gros de Naples dress, and so showed that he felt he was in the
wrong, and was sorry for what he had done.
It was a hard struggle for a person like me, to bring myself ever to look
upon that Dick Farden with any pleasure again; for I declare the next
morning when he came into the house, I thought I never saw such a nasty,
low, vulgar, mean, sly, disreputable looking face in all my life, with his
ringlets dangling at his temples, and which he seemed to be as proud of as a
life-guardsman is of his moustachios; positively the man was always
twiddling either them or his whiskers, and what on earth a fellow like him
could ever have wanted with a couple of corkscrews at the side of his
forehead is more than I can say; and, la! if they were not as greasy as
though they had been twisted round tallow candles! It wasn’t only the
fellow’s looks, too, that I had to complain of; but, drat the man! do what I
would, I could never prevent him from going about the kitchen, or standing
in the knife-house, whistling his “Jim Crows” and “Such a getting up
stairs,” and a pack of other low, unmeaning “nigger” songs, that I’m sure I
never could see either the fun or the beauty of. Again, if ever I gave him
any of Edward’s clothes to brush, there he would be, hissing and fizzing
away over them like a bottle of ginger beer in warm weather; and indeed it
always was and ever will be a riddle to me what those boots and ostlers can
want making all that fuss and noise over their work, as if they were slaving
as hard as steam-engines, and obliged to let the steam off, for fear of
bursting. I declare whenever I hear them doing it, I feel as if I could go up
behind them and give them a good shaking, that I do. It’s nothing more than
“great cry and little wool,” and that’s the plain truth of it.
I can assure the reader it would have been much better for me in the
long-run, if I had packed the fellow out of the house immediately after the
accident, (as indeed I was as near doing as two pins.) Only, of course, in my
stupid, kind way, I must go letting my good-nature get the upper hand of
my judgment, and endeavouring to read the gentleman a strong lesson, just
to teach him how to lift a simple piano for the future, by making him pay a
good part of his wages towards buying me a new one in the place of that
which he had so wickedly broken. For I’ve always made it a rule to make
my servants pay for breakages, as it’s all very fine for a parcel of wiseacres
to tell you that we are every one of us liable to accidents, but my answer to
such stuff as that, has always been, “Don’t tell me, I know a great deal
better—and that servants, one and all, are never happy unless they can be
knocking your things about like ninepins, and the only way to let them
understand that they cost money, is to make them pay for what they
‘couldn’t help’ breaking.” (Couldn’t help it, couldn’t they—I never knew
such couldn’t helps!) Besides, who ever heard of ladies banging the teacups
and wineglasses about, as if they were made of cast iron, or pouring boiling
water into your very best decanters as though they were foot-baths. Now
look at me! why I’m sure that without exaggeration, the things I’ve broken
in my time might be put in a nut-shell—but then I knew that they all cost
money, and consequently, never was a “butter-fingers.”
However, to talk of another object; I’d been having a whole string of
nasty little draggle-tail girls in to nurse my little Kitty for me of a day, but I
declare they were all the very counterpart of that “La petite Saqui,” and as
dirty and slovenly as dirty and slovenly could be—with their nasty, rusty
little old shawl just thrown over their necks, and their cotton gowns with all
the colour washed out, excepting where the tuck had been let down, and
there it was bright enough, heaven knows! Upon my word, too, they were
as careless of my poor little dear, as though it had been a doll made out of
wood; and the worst of it was, they were all of them so sly and deceitful,
and always kissing and fondling the little pet to my face, though directly my
back was turned, they would go knocking it about, and eating up, like a set
of greedy pigs, all the sugar I had given out for the angel’s pap. I declare to
goodness gracious, whenever they took the child out for an airing, it was a
perfect agony to me, for I used to sit upon pins and needles, expecting every
knock that came to the door, would be my little cherub brought home on a
shutter, and I should find out that it had either been run over, or dropped
into the canal, or tossed by a mad bull, or something equally pleasant to a
fond mother’s feelings. So I told Edward very quietly, that for the sake of a
trumpery five-pound note a year, I wasn’t going to be torn to pieces in the
manner I was every hour of my life; and that I had made up my mind to
have a regular nurse, who, at least, would be some credit to the family, and
on whom I could place some little dependence. Besides, I said with great
truth, I was certain we should find a decent, clean woman would be a
positive saving in the long run, if it was only in the matter of the baby’s
washing—which really seemed to be an expense that there was no end to—
for even if I were to put ten frocks on the little angel every day, I assured
him it would be as grubby as a chimney-sweeper’s child, all the same; and
as for the matter of eating, I would back a good strong growing girl, that’s
out in the open air half her time, to get through twice as much, if not more,
than a full-grown respectable woman, any day.
Accordingly, I set about looking out for a nurse, and as I had several
times, when I had gone out to take a walk and look at the shops in Regent-
street, noticed what seemed to me a very nice servants’ institution in
Oxford-street, and although I had never tried anything of the kind before,
still as I knew they professed a great deal, and made out that they were a
great protection to housekeepers against fraud, and said a whole host of
other grand things into the bargain—why, I thought I might as well just try
that means of getting a servant for once—though I couldn’t help saying to
myself at the time, “Fine words butter no parsnips,” but, for the matter of
that, how any other kind of words could, was always a mystery to me.
Besides, it is such an expense putting advertisement after advertisement in
the Times, and certainly the “Institution” would save me a deal of trouble,
as well as four or five rows of postage stamps, in writing, prepaid, to a
whole regiment of A. B.’s, who, after all, might never suit you.
However, before I set about taking any steps towards suiting myself with
a nurse, I made up my mind, that I would have a grass plot laid down in our
garden at the back of our house, where the nurse could let the child roll
about, and no harm could possibly come to it, as I should always have the
little pet under my own eye, instead of being obliged to send it a quarter of
a mile off at least, to that bothering Regent’s Park, where the soldiers and a
parcel of other idle good-looking vagabonds made it quite as dangerous for
the nurse as it was for the child. Besides, it wasn’t as if that garden of ours
at the back of the house was of any use to us, and goodness knows if it
wasn’t useful it wasn’t ornamental, to say the least of it! I declare it was
almost a match for the plantation in Leicester-square, and mercy me! I
never saw such a place as that is—with its grubby shrubbery, and its trees
dingy—for all the world like so many worn-out birch brooms with an old
tea-leaf or two sticking to the end of them—and that sooty statue on
horseback perched up in the centre, and looking just like a coalheaver of the
Dark Ages astride one of his master’s wagon-horses—for who else it can
possibly be, no one can tell, and the only way to solve the mystery would be
to have a chimney-sweeper in to sweep the gentleman, and then perhaps
somebody might find out.
Upon my word, I do really believe that if there was a pin to choose
between Leicester-square and our back garden, certainly the Square had the
best of it. For the fact of it was, that stupid, though respected, mother of
mine would go making me believe when first we came to our house, that
the air up in our neighbourhood was pure enough to grow anything, and that
with the ground we had at the back of us, we might very easily get enough
vegetables to keep the family all the year round, adding, then we should be
sure to have them so sweet, and fresh, and good. Sweet, and fresh, and
good, indeed!—upon my word! the whole of our first year’s crop consisted
of only about four nasty, smutty, two-penny-halfpenny cabbages, that must
have cost us a matter of ten shillings a piece if they did a farthing—and they
were all eaten away, and their leaves were as yellow and full of holes as the
seat of a cane-bottomed chair; so that I began to find out, after we had been
gardening away fit to kill ourselves, for I can’t say how long, that really and
truly we were doing nothing more than keeping a small preserve of slugs,
snails, and caterpillars. Do what I would, and slave as I might, I could not
keep the filthy things away. Cupful after cupful have I taken off the plants
of a morning, and yet the next day there they were again as thick as ever. I
declare the better part of my day used to be occupied all through the
summer, with looking after those plaguy greens, (which, water them as I
would, I could not get to be anything equal in colour to the caterpillars that
were always in them,) till, ’pon my word, my poor neck was as sunburnt as
ginger.
As I couldn’t manage any cabbages I thought I’d try and raise a small
crop of peas; but, bless you! then I was nearly driven out of my mind by
those impudent vagabonds of birds, the London sparrows—and catch them
letting any peas come up (even if they would) within five miles of the
General Post-office. As for frightening them away, I declare they were as
bold as brass, for if they don’t care for those mischievous monkeys of boys
in the street, was it likely that they were to be intimidated by a respectable
married woman like myself? Positively, I put up an old bonnet of mine on
the end of a stick, which I should have thought would have scared even a
philosopher off the premises—but, bless your heart! they only came and
perched right on the crown of it, and chirped away as if they were
comfortably at home in their nests in Red Lion-square. And just when my
lovely peas were beginning to break ground and poke their nice little green
heads up out of the earth, I have often gone out into the garden and found a
hundred of the young feathered ogres hard at my beautiful Prussian blues,
picking away, and making noise enough for an infant school; and though I’d
go down to them, sh—sh—sh—, sh—ing away, and shaking my apron as
hard as I could, I declare, it wasn’t until I got within arm’s-length of them,
that the brazen-faced little chits would condescend to take the least notice
of me, and then they’d only just hop up on the top of the wall, where they
would stand, with their heads cocked on one side, and looking out at the
corners of their eyes at me, and chirping away just as if they were saying,
“Peas, peas, peas”—drat ’em!
Though, to be sure, I had this consolation—I wasn’t the only sufferer, for
not one of the neighbours could do a bit better than I did—no, not even
poor Mr. S—mm—ns, and he tried hard enough, goodness gracious knows!
I declare he used to be out in the broiling hot sun all day, digging away in
his shirt sleeves, until his poor bald-head used to look like the top of a beef-
steak pudding—and, what for, I should like to know? just to raise, in the
course of the year, as many radishes, and cauliflowers, and greens, and
rhubard, as he might buy any fine morning in Covent Garden market for a
mere sixpence, or a shilling at most. Though he tried his hardest to force a
cucumber or two, under a broken ground-glass lamp shade, and spent a
little fortune in manure, still the only one that came, of course, was nipped
in the gherkin; and, notwithstanding some of his beds were covered with
old tumblers, just for all the world like a sideboard, yet I’m sure I never
could see the good of them, for his crop of lettuces wouldn’t have made
more than one good-sized salad after all; while the gooseberry and currant
bushes, that he went to the expense of having put all round his garden,
never bore more than a pie and a small pudding in the best of seasons—and
that not till the middle of November. In fact, I’ve made up my opinion long
ago, that gardening in the suburbs of London is a wicked and wilful waste
of time and money. Really and truly the whole atmosphere of the place is so
dreadfully smokey, that, without joking, one might just as well try to rear
cauliflowers all round the top of a steam-boat funnel, as to think of getting
one’s vegetables out of a metropolitan hop-skip-and-a-jump kitchen garden.
Vegetables for the family, indeed! “chickweed and groundsel for fine
singing birds,” more likely.
So, as I said before, I made up my mind, not to go making a stupid of
myself any longer, playing at market-gardening, and turning myself into a
manufacturing green-grocer and fruiterer, by trying to convert a trumpery
band-box full of mould and gravel into a productive orchard. Accordingly I
determined to root up the whole of those rat-tailed stalks of cabbages, and
have the place nicely turfed in the centre, and a few pretty rose-bushes, and
geranium trees, and other odd things, that at any rate would be pleasant to
one’s eye and nose, put round the sides. Consequently I had up Mr. Dick
Farden, and asked him whether he thought he could manage that for me
without spoiling it; but really the fellow was so conceited, and fancied
himself so clever, that, of course, he was as confident he could do it for me
as he was that he could move my piano—(and a pretty mess he made of that
—as the reader knows!) He couldn’t, however, merely give a simple answer
to a simple question, and have done with it, but must go on talking his head
off, and speaking to me as familiarly as if I was one of his pot-companions,
saying that it was very easy to lay the ground out, but he was afraid I should
find it quite as hard to raise a nosegay as a salad “in the first city of the
world.” For, in all in his experience, he had noticed that Cockney roses
were not to be forced beyond the size of grog-blossoms, and he would defy
even Mr. Paxton himself to get London tulips any bigger than thimbles. He
said that the beautiful climate of Brompton itself, which all the house-
agents and physicians cried up as the Devonshire district of London, would
only produce hollyhocks in the flower line, and mustard and cress in the
vegetable ditto,—and from all he had seen in his time, he had come to the
conclusion, that trying to get roses and lilies, this side of Richmond, was
really the pursuit of flowers under difficulties; for it appeared to be as if
Providence had originally designed that the soil of London should bear
nothing beyond bricks and mortar. Though it was not so much the fault of
the ground as it was of the cats—and them he could not, for the life of him,
help looking upon as the young gardener’s worst companion—for as fast
you put in the seed, just as fast would they scratch it up again; and, of
course, nothing would satisfy the creatures but they must go lying in your
beds of a night. Indeed, the Toms of London seemed, like young Love
always to prefer sleeping among the roses. Now, he remembered, he told
me, about the time when Walworth went mad about dahlias, and offered a
prize of a hundred guineas for the finest specimen that could be grown
within two miles of the Elephant and Castle,—he was sure any one might
have heard the amateur gardeners firing at the cats, and the guns going off
there of a night, for all the world like a review in Hyde-park; but all to no
good—for, after all, the prize was carried off by a clever young gentleman,
who had no garden at all, and grew the choicest specimen there was at the
show in an old black tea-pot, out of his two pair back.
However, I wasn’t going to sit there all day hearing him try to persuade
me against what I had set my heart and soul upon, and railing against
everything just like an old East Indian with half a liver, for I could easily
see that all my fine gentleman wanted was, to save himself the trouble of
doing up the garden, and wished, of course, to take our money without
doing a single thing for it; but I wasn’t going to encourage him standing all
day long with his hands in his pockets—not I indeed. So when he found that
I wasn’t quite such a stupid as he seemed to take me for, and was
determined upon having the thing done, willy-nilly, then, of course, he must
needs try his best to advise me to go to the expense of a lot of box-borders
for the place. But I wouldn’t listen to it for a minute, for, as I very plainly
told him, I was sure that oyster-shells would be quite good enough for us,
especially as dear Edward was so fond of having a dozen or two of Natives
before he went to bed of a night, and I knew that I should get a very pretty
border out of his suppers in less than a fortnight.
However, upon second thoughts, it struck me that, whilst I was about it, I
might just as well have a few really good plants put in, particularly as Mr.
Dick Farden said he knew a florist in the neighbourhood, who would do the
whole thing for a mere nothing for me, and attend to it afterwards, either by
the day, month, or year, on the most reasonable terms. So, as I couldn’t see
any great harm in hearing from Mr. Dick Farden’s friend himself what he
might consider “a mere nothing,” I arranged in my own mind that the best
way would be to let Farden call upon him, and send him round to me on his
way down to deliver the letter I intended to write to the director (for there’s
nothing but directors now-a-days) of the Servants’ Institution. Accordingly,
having scribbled a note to the institution—saying that, as I was in want of a
nurse, I should feel obliged if they would send one of their young men
round to me as soon as possible, from whom I could learn the terms and
advantages of the establishment—I told Mr. Dick Farden to take it to
Oxford-street, and, while he was out, to run round and tell his friend the
florist to call on me in the evening, so that I might talk over with him about
the flowers.
When that precious beauty of a Dick Farden came back, he told me he
had brought with him the gentleman I had sent him for, who, he said, had
written down a few of the names of such articles as he thought would suit
me, and which he could recommend, as they had all been in the nursery a
long time. Of course, I imagined the stupid fellow was alluding to the maid
I wanted for my little Kitty, and not to a pack of bothering flowers, as I
afterwards found out, to my great horror; and there was I going on for
upwards of twenty minutes asking all kinds of odd questions of the stranger,
fully believing that he was the person from the Servants’ Institution, and not
that trumpery friend of Mr. Dick Farden’s, who was in the gardening line.
When the man came in, I said to him, very naturally, “My man-servant
tells me that you have brought with you a few of the names of such as you
think will suit me. They have all been in the nursery a long time, I believe;
and what kind of places have they been accustomed to?”
“Oh, a very nice place,” he replied; “about the same as yours might be,
mum. They had a warmish bed, and have always been accustomed to be out
in the open air.”
“Yes, I should want them to be out in the open air a great deal,” I
answered, though at the time I couldn’t help fancying that it was very funny
that the man should allude in particular to their warm beds. “Now I should
like you to recommend me one,” I continued, “that’s healthy and strong,
and likely to remain with me for some time, for it is so distressing to have
to provide yourself with a new one every year.”
“So it is, mum,” he returned. “I think I know the very one you want,
mum. It’s a remarkable fine colour, mum.”
“That certainly is a recommendation. I like them to look healthy,” I
replied, thinking, of course, that the man was only talking about a nursery
maid, and not of some trumpery rose he had got at home.
“It’s a very dark coloured one, mum; indeed, very nearly a black,” he
answered; “and of a summer’s evening smells wonderful, I can assure you,
mum.”
 “Lord a mercy!” I cried out, believing the man wanted to recommend me
a negress. “Oh la! all the blacks do, and I wouldn’t have one of them about
my house for all I’m worth.”
“Then may be, mum,” he continued, “you’d like one a trifle gayer. Now,
there’s a Madame Pompadour we’ve got that I think would just suit you.
That’s a remarkable showy one, to be sure, and likes a good deal of raking.”
“Oh, I see,” I replied; “a French bit of goods. No, thank you; they are all
of them a great deal too gay by half to please me.”
“Well, mum, if that wont suit you,” he replied, “what would you think of
a nice Chinese? We’ve got a perfect beauty, I can assure you—just the very
thing for you, mum—climb up anywhere—run all along the area-railings,
mum—crawl right over your back-garden door—then up the house into
your drawing-room balcony—almost like a wild one, mum.”
“Like a wild one!” I almost shrieked, horror-struck at the idea of
intrusting my sweet, little, helpless angel of a Kate to the care of a creature
with any such extraordinary propensities. “Too like a wild one for me. I
don’t want any such things about my house.”
“But if you object to their running about so much, mum,” he went on,
“it’s very easy to tie them up and give them a good trimming occasionally,
and then you can keep them under as much as you please.”
“I don’t want one,” I replied, “that will require so much looking after,
but one that you know could be trusted anywhere—especially as there will
be a little baby to be taken care of.”
“A little baby! Oh! then, if that’s the case, mum,” he had the impudence
to say, “I should think you had better have a monthly one while you are
about it.”
“A monthly one!” I exclaimed, thinking he was referring to a second
Mrs. Toosypegs, instead of a rose; “what can you be thinking of? I tell you I
don’t want anything of the kind.”
“Yes, but I’m sure you don’t know how hardy they are, mum,” he added,
quite coolly. “I can give you my word, we’ve got one that’s out now, mum,
that went through all the severe frosts of last winter with nothing more than
a bit of matting as a covering at night-time. Though, for the matter of that,
almost all our monthlies are the same, and don’t seem to care where they
are put, for really and truly I do think that they would go on just as well,
mum, even if their beds were chock full of gravel.”
 “I tell you I don’t want anything of the kind,” I said, half offended at
what (thanks to that blundering Mr. Dick Farden,) I thought very like the
man’s impudence.
“I hope no offence, mum,” he replied; “but you see I must run over what
we’ve got. Now, there’s polianthuses. I’m sure you couldn’t have anything
much nicer or quieter than that, mum.”
“Polly who?” I inquired.
“Anthus, mum,” he replied.
“Well, what’s that one like?” I asked.
“Oh! the sort is common enough, mum,” he continued—“not very tall,
and rather delicate, and will generally have five or six flowers in a cluster at
the head—wants a glass, though, if the weather sets in very cold, mum—
and——”
“There, that’s enough,” I interrupted, “I’m sick and tired of those
common kind of things—they wouldn’t have a glass here, I can tell them.”
“Maybe, then, mum,” he went on, “as it don’t seem as we can suit you
with any of those I’ve mentioned, perhaps you don’t want such a thing as an
old man.”
“Old man!” I cried. “No, what on earth should I ever do with any old
man here, I should like to know?” of course, little dreaming that he was
alluding all the while to the plant of that name.
“Oh! I beg your pardon, mum,” he replied, “but I thought yours was just
the place for a very fine, and remarkably handsome one that we’ve got, and
it struck me that you might have a spare bed that you would like to fill,
especially as it would be little or no extra expense for you.”
“No, no, no!” I answered; “I tell you once for all, I’ve no room for any
old man here; and, besides, if I had, a nice thing it would be to have him
dying directly the cold weather set in.”
“Oh, bless you, mum,” he replied, “a good healthy old man will never
die, and look quite lively all the winter through. However, mum, perhaps
you’d be kind enough to step round some day to our place, and then we
could show you what we’ve got, and you could choose for yourself, mum.”
“Yes,” I answered; “perhaps that would be best, and then I can please
myself.”
 When the man had gone, I said to myself: “Well, my fine gentleman, I
shall never trouble you again,” for I declare that of all the servants I ever
heard of, his seemed to be the worst; for, of course, how was I ever to be
able to tell that he was only talking of a set of trumpery plants that he had
got for sale. I’m sure, if he had two grains of common sense, he ought to
have seen that there was some mistake somewhere; though, for the matter
of that, I don’t suppose I should ever have found it out myself, had it not
been for the gentleman from the Servants’ Institution calling to see me,
scarcely half-an-hour afterwards. And then, bless us and save us, if I didn’t
go taking him for the nurseryman, though I certainly must do myself the
justice to say that I couldn’t help thinking that he looked rather grand for a
gardener, with his white cravat, and black coat buttoned up to his chin, and
black kid gloves, with the fingers all out, and looking as crumpled and
shrivelled as French plums.
No sooner had Mr. Dick Farden told me that the other gentleman that I
had sent him for had come, than I had him into the parlour, and told him
that if he would step with me into the garden, I would arrange with him
what I wanted done to it, and he could let me have his opinion about it. The
man opened his eyes, and looked at me as wise as an owl; as, indeed, he
might; for what on earth could what my garden wanted doing to it, be to
him? When we got there, I declare he must have thought me mad, for I took
him right up to the middle of it, and told him, I had made up my mind to
have a nice grass plot laid down in the centre, so that my dear little pet
might play about on it, without coming to any harm. But he only stared the
more, and said, “Very good;” though, of course, if he had spoken his real
opinion, he would have said “very strange.” Then I told him I had settled
upon having some nice flower-beds all round the sides, and said I thought it
would look very pretty; on which he looked at me for a short time, with his
mouth wide open, as much as to say, “Surely the woman must be out of her
mind;” but he only answered, “Indeed.” After that, I asked him what plants
he would advise me to have, and whether he thought the soil would be rich
enough for dahlias? But, without looking at the ground, and keeping his eye
fixed intently on me, he answered, “Certainly;” and then clutching the
handle of his umbrella as tight as he could, he retreated several paces off, in
a way that I couldn’t for the life of me understand at the time, but which—
now that I come to think of it—clearly convinces me that the poor man
must have fancied that I had broken loose from Bedlam, and that he
expected every minute I should seize hold of the spade, which was within
arm’s length of me, and race round the garden after him with it. When I told
him that most likely he was not aware of how hard the ground was, and I
stamped on it two or three times, and raised myself up on my toes, just to
show him that I couldn’t make any impression upon it, the stupid ninny
began jumping about and dancing away, and staring at me, till, I declare, his
eyes looked for all the world like two farthings. Coupling this with the
whole of the man’s previous strange behaviour, upon my word, I thought he
had gone stark raving mad, though it’s quite plain to me now that he thought
the same of me, and was only playing those antics just to humour me. I
seized the spade and he opened his umbrella, and there we stood, face to
face, thrusting away at one another as hard as ever we could, and all the
time jumping and skipping about, like two dancing bears. I gave a loud
scream, and he, poor man, retreated as quick as he could do so backwards to
the door, where he met with that scoundrel of a Dick Farden, who had been
the cause of it all, and whom I no sooner saw than I told him, for Heaven’s
sake, to seize that mad friend of his. Then, lawk a daisy! out it all came; and
I learnt, to my great horror, that I had been confounding the two men. Of
course I apologized to the gentleman from the Servants’ Institution as a lady
ought to, telling him that I was extremely sorry that I had mistaken him for
a gardener and a madman; but the man went as red in the face as a tomata,
with passion, declaring that he had never been so insulted before in all his
life, and vowing that he would make me pay for having dragged him all that
way, through a broiling sun, upon a fool’s errand; and then out of the house
he bounced, like a human cracker.
When the man had left, I declare I was so vexed at having been made
such a stupid of, by that shameful vagabond of a Mr. Dick Farden—for, of
course, if it hadn’t been for him, the mistake would never have occurred,
and I shouldn’t wonder at all if he hadn’t brought it about intentionally, just
so as to have a good laugh at me, out of sheer spite at my stopping his
wages—I was so vexed with the fellow, I repeat, that I had him up then and
there, and told him that he had better not let me see his face within my
doors again, or, as sure as his name was Mr. Dick Farden, I would give him
in custody. Then it was that I found out what kind of a person I had been
harbouring in my house, for although, up to that time, he had been so civil-
spoken and respectful, that one would have fancied that butter wouldn’t
have melted in his mouth, then, of course, because it no longer answered his
purpose to behave himself, he turned round and abused me like a
pickpocket, until I declare I was so mad that, if I hadn’t been a perfect lady,
I should have dusted his jacket and combed his hair nicely for him, that I
should—a nasty, good-for-nothing, double-faced, clumsy, cowardly, foul-
mouthed monster! Augh! if I detest one thing more than another, it’s people
that can’t keep a civil tongue in their heads.
 CHAPTER XII.
IN WHICH I JUST LET THE READER KNOW MY OPINION OF THAT HALF-
WITTED IDIOT OF AN EMMA OF MINE.—MAIDS OF ALL WORK CERTAINLY
ARE NO GREAT GENIUSES AT THE BEST OF TIMES, BUT I DECLARE I DO
THINK THAT GIRL HAD NO MORE BRAINS IN HER HEAD THAN WOULD HAVE
FILLED AN EGG-CUP, FOR I’VE TRIED A GOOD MANY SERVANTS IN MY DAY,
BUT REALLY AND TRULY SHE WAS THE VERIEST BOOBY THAT EVER WENT
OUT TO SERVICE, THOUGH PERHAPS I OUGHT TO ADD, IN JUSTICE TO THE
GIRL, THAT, FOR A WONDER, I HAD LITTLE OR NO FAULT TO FIND WITH HER
IN OTHER RESPECTS.

“I’ve talked and I’ve prattled with some fifty maids,

And changed them as oft, do you see;
But of all the bright beauties, I ever knew,
Miss Emma’s the maid for me.”
Popular Song, with a few slight alterations by
myself, and which I was forced to make, for
positively all the Maids spoken of in
Ballads seem to have been such pinks-of-
perfections, and to have come from
Llangollen, and Athens, and Judah, and a
pack of other such outlandish places, that it
is very difficult to find any that will suit me.

I shouldn’t wonder but there are some bilious, discontented people, who
will perhaps say that I have been devoting more time and space to Mr. Dick
Farden than I ought to have done. But it’s the old fable over again; there
was no pleasing everybody, whichever way the man treated the donkey, so
of course it’s not to be expected that everybody will be pleased with the
account of the way in which Mr. Dick Farden treated me. However, I was
determined to do the man justice while I was about him; and now that I’ve
come back to Miss Emma, I intend to do the same to her. Perhaps this may
meet their eyes some day, and then I dare say it will be a nice blow to them.
For, of course, they never thought they were in the wrong, not they, and will
be rather surprised to find out what I thought about it.
But before beginning my account of that wretched half-witted girl, I
should like the reader to understand that it is far from my nature to blame
any menial for want of those intellects which are not in our power to
command. Of course, poor servants can’t be expected to have had the
inestimable blessings of a finished education, like ourselves, and, therefore,
a deficiency of understanding in them should be rather pitied than blamed.
Though with respect to my Emma, her abominable stupidity was so hard to
bear with, that at times, upon my word, it was as much as ever I could do to
keep myself from flying out at her, and giving it her soundly. Often and
often have I been forced to have a hard battle with myself, to prevent
myself from shaking her well, and trying to knock something like sense into
the stupid’s brain. It’s all very well for a pack of self-conceited men to say
“that a good woman has no head.” I’m sure for the matter of that, my Emma
had none at all, and she was bad enough, heaven knows! But what in my
opinion, deprived the pitiable object of all sympathy was, that she wasn’t
wholly uneducated, and had been taught to read and write, but la! the
benefits of reading and writing were entirely thrown away upon her; and I
verily believe that even if her education had extended to the blessings of the
use of the globes, she would have been as little like a rational creature, after
all. It’s all very well to talk about manuring the soil, but what are you to do,
I should like to know, when there’s no soil to manure? As Edward very truly
said, as for furnishing her upper story, you might have put in the table of
weights and measures and a complete bookcase beside, and even then her
head would have been as empty as ever, for it would all have gone in at one
ear and come out at the other; and, as he very wittily added, the girl’s
knowledge-box was lined with less reading than a hair trunk.
The stupid things the girl would say and do, and the dreadful scrapes she
would get me into, all through her horrible simplicity, were enough to make
the blood of a gold fish boil. Positively, one was always obliged to be
speaking by the card, as Hamlet says in the play, though what speaking by
the card means I really can’t say, for I never knew anybody but the sapient
pig Toby, who was accustomed to do so. If you wanted anything done, you
had to tell it to her in a hundred different ways, or else she would be sure to
make some dreadful blunder or other; for, as for the flowers of speech, bless
you! she paid no more regard to flowers than a cat does! If a double knock
came to the door early in the day, and I had my hair in papers, or was down
in the kitchen, seeing about dear Edward’s dinner, or was in the bed-room,
making up the dirty linen for the wash, or in the drawing-room, dusting the
china, (and consequently not dressed to receive company) and I told her, “I
wouldn’t see them, and that I was out,” down stairs she’d frisk, and say to
whomever it might be, “Missus says she wont see you, and she’s out.” Now
I put it to every respectable married woman (who of course has, over and
over again, been obliged to tell hundreds of white fibs like this in her time,)
whether it wasn’t enough to ruffle a quaker, to have your best friends—
carriage-folks, may be—insulted and turned away from your door in such a
dreadful way?
Again, I recollect just as the evenings were getting chilly, I thought
Edward would relish a round or two of nice hot toast—not cut too thick,
and well buttered—indeed, I thought I could take a mouthful of it myself—
and accordingly, having told Miss Emma to make some, she must needs,
when she brought it up, go setting it down on the slop basin. So I said to
her, “Bless me, Emma, what is that footman down stairs for, I should like to
know?”
“There’s no footman down stairs, I can assure you, mum,” answered the
stupid thing, staring her eyes half out of her head with wonder.
“I tell you there is,” I exclaimed, “under the dresser. At least, all I can
say is, there was this morning—though you know as well as I do, that it’s
no business to be lying there, all among the pots and pans—especially when
I had a hook put up over the fire-place on purpose to have the footman hung
upon. Why don’t you go and bring the thing up directly?” I continued, as
she stood lost in astonishment. “Perhaps you will tell me next that it’s
walked out of the house!”
“There’s been no footman in the house, mum, ever since I’ve been here,”
she answered, sobbing, and wiping her eyes with her apron. “The only one
I’ve seen, I’m sure, is Mr. Simmons’ John, and he was sowing potatoes in
the garden next door.”
“Bless the child!” I cried out, “was there ever such a stupid!” and
actually I had to take her down stairs and teach her that a footman was a
thing made of brass, with legs that would go inside any fender, and used in
the best of families to stand a hot toast before the fire of a winter’s evening
—and that I supposed was the reason why they gave the thing such a name.
I declare it really wasn’t prudent to trust that Emma to do a thing, and
even that little lamb of a Kitty of mine was scarcely safe with a stupid, like
her, in the house. For I recollect once, I had been thinking the simpleton had
a great deal of spare time on her hands, and might just as well do a little
needlework, as sit twiddling her finger and thumb of an evening, so I told
her that my little poppet of a Kitty was growing so fast that all her things
were getting too short for her, and she really wanted a tuck out in her best
frock, and would certainly look all the better for it, so I would thank her to
attend to it that night, and let it be done before she went to bed. In the
evening, I was in the parlour, boiling down some quince pips to make a nice
fixature for my hair, and all the while I could hear that sweet little cherub of
mine down stairs crying; so I said to myself what the dickens can that idiot
be doing with the child in the kitchen at this time of night, when it ought to
have been undressed and in bed a good hour ago? Off I trotted to see what
precious bit of stupidity my lady was at now. When I reached the kitchen I
thought I should have fainted, for there sat that Emma, with my little angel
on her knee, dressed out in its best frock, and with its dear little innocent
face daubed all over with treacle, just as if it had been tarred. “What on
earth have you been doing with the child, Emma?” I exclaimed.
“I thought as you said it was to have a tuck out in its best frock, ma’am,”
she replied, “it could have nothing nicer than plenty of bread and treacle.”
And then to my horror I learnt from her, that when I told her I fancied the
child would look all the better for having a tuck out in its best frock, bless
and save us, if the stupid oaf didn’t imagine that I wished it to have a grand
feast in its Sunday clothes! “Oh, you stupid, stupid thing!” I said, “and what
business have you to go giving the darling all that mess, when the doctor
has ordered me to let it have nothing but slops?”
“Nothing but slops, mum!” she exclaimed, with her mouth wide open
with astonishment.
“Yes, you stupid, nothing but slops,” I answered; “don’t you even know
what slops are now?”
“In course I do, mum,—augh!—oh, la!” she replied; and from the way in
which she turned up her nose, and the wry face she made, I could easily see
that she fancied that the dear babe was to be fed with the grouts of the tea-
cups, or whatever else might be in the slop-basin, when the breakfast things
came down.
Positively, nothing was to be done with the woman, I was convinced.
She was naturally so thick-headed, that there was no making the least
impression upon her; and really I do think one might just as well have tried
to drill wisdom into a barber’s block as to have made her understand even
the most every-day things imaginable. If a body, without thinking of it, used
a word or a phrase with two meanings to it, and one was the right and the
other the wrong, of course the bright genius would go and puzzle her brains
till she found out the wrong one. And the worst of it was, she never would
come and ask, or one wouldn’t have minded, so that I do think, as long as
she was in the house, not one day went over our heads without some
dreadful blunder or other being committed by the ninny. Now, for instance,
Mr. Edward had been saying, in his nasty mean way, as he never had a
pudding or a pie for dinner, he supposed ribbon had got so dear the
housekeeping couldn’t afford pastry; so I thought I would put a stop to his
shabby satire, and let him have a nice “dog in a blanket,” as a treat for
dinner one day—especially as he’s very partial to it; and, certainly, if it’s
made with a nice thin crust, and plenty of good strawberry—or even I don’t
mind if it’s raspberry—jam, I do think it is as nice a dish as can well be put
upon table—only the worst of it is, one’s apt to eat too much of it; and, I
don’t know whether my fair readers find it so with them or not, but to me
it’s rather indigestible, or, I must say, I should let dear Edward have it
oftener.
Accordingly, as, of course, I fancied that silly Emma of mine, blockhead
as she is, couldn’t well go making any mistake with so simple a dish as a
“roley-poley pudding,” and I didn’t feel much in the humour to go messing
with flour in that hot kitchen, I had the girl up, and to guard against
mistakes, I asked her whether she knew what a dog in a blanket was? Of
course the wiseacre did; anybody, she fancied, would know what a dog in a
blanket was.
“Well, then,” said I, “do you think you could manage one for me?”
“Oh! yes, certainly, mum,” answered Miss Clever; “I used to have to do
one every night at my last missus’s.”
“Very well, then,” I replied, though I really can’t tell how I could ever
have been so stupid as to have fancied that any woman—however partial
she might be to roley-poleys—could have managed to eat one of the heavy
things every night of her life before going to bed—“here’s some strawberry
jam for you, and, for heaven’s sake, don’t spare it, but take care and spread
it at least an inch thick upon your crust, or else it’s not worth eating!”
“Oh, thank you, mum!” she returned, as she took it, and trotted out of the
room with what I thought at the time a highly satisfied air, (as well, indeed,