The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1875-11-26
THE BAD LANDSv.
AIarveis of Natures Architectnre-A Vast
sepuichre of Extinct species az Animal


sepuichre OF Extinct species ~ Animal
Life. 13loo
correspondent of the Chicago Trib-
une who accompanied the Black Hills
surveying party on its recent expedition
gives an interesting account OF the ex-
r,orations of that wonderful locality
known as the "Bad Lands" Moving
along this high, level prairie, says the
writer, we came to sudden stop on the
rim OF a deep basin, several miles in ex-
tent, directly in our course. To reach
the bottom one must plunge down an
abrupt steep, from 200 to 400 feet, to a
bottom composed of clay mounds and
domes, ranging in size from a large hay
stack to great church-building, and
separated from each other by narrow
walks made by water. To attempt to
descend into this portion of the Bad
Lands would be folly, and, even If once
down there in safety, not even horse
could travel A few miles to the east
ward stood row of spires and minarets,
slender as needles, dainty piercing the
clouds and just beyond were great,
mosque-like domes, decked out around
the margin of their swelling roofs, with
fringe of scrub-cedar. This row of
spires seemed to be. the extremity of a
partition between two different parks Of
Bad Lands and on this partition We
moved, until we were again brought to II
compulsory standstill on the edge of an
other deep basin-not so bad as
the frst-which we found it necessary
to descend. Joe, after scouting around
for time, found a place which he said
must do, and preparations were made for
the descent. This was done by first re-
moving the greatest inequalities of hard,
dry clay and forming rock with picks
and shovels; and then, attaching ropes
to the wagons, and putting on brakes,
thirty men let them down, one at time,
without tipping over one OF the three
that composed our train. 1t was won
derful place to let down wagons; but it
had to be done, and therefore it was
done well. Once at the bottom, we
found ourselves walled i'll on every side
but pass to the eastward. Therefore,
proceeding over great ridges of glass
like silicious deposit, broken into frag-
ments and left in great piles by the dis
solving of the clays beneath, and then
crossing and recrossing dry watercourses,
white as chalk, and then strips of land
growing buffalo grass and cactus, that
seemed to have taken root and formed a
soil amidst this scene of waste and DESC
lation, we made our way toward the
eastern gap, composed of standing pillars
and columns of gray and ash-colored
clay, baked hard by the sun. They stood
in all shapes, sizes and attitudes; fash
toned by the winds and rains into mas
sive cathedrals with hundred spires;
mosques and turrets; three-cornered
pillars, two hundred feet high and only
twenty feet across the base; great
cones supporting arches on which
grow the cactus and scrub cedar. In
fact, every shape that the creative genius
of any human mind could conjure up,
was here. The ghost of the past was
here, clothed in the clay and sediment of
long gone, rolling, surging seattle
sole inhabitant of the cities whose
strange, barbarous splendors dazzle us
when seen by the light of a setting sun,
when all the fiery cloud-pictures cast
their reflections upon tower and NINA
ret, mosque and sculptured column.
Here was the dense solitude of death !;
here was grand home of the dead; a
vast sepulchre of species forever extinct
species that, for size and shape, puzzle
the scientist of to-day-all gathered here
in one common grave, marked, not by
marbled slabs and pillars upreared by
the puny hand of man, to be shattered
by the first rude breath of Nature, but
by the grandest monuments of clay, de-
signed and executed into the quaintest
of forms by the hand of Nature itself.
Let the winds blow, and the rain fall and
beat upon this clay, and it changes in
form only, for it does not disappear.
Let che column disappear, and the rain
has quarried hundred more. Thus has
Nature, in her desolate grandeur, made
provision for the constant honor of her
silent dead. Hundreds of centuries
have rolled their weary lengths since the
fossilized bones found here were clothed
in flesh and seated in the marshy swamps
of this tropical tertiary sea, whose mud
and clay have preserved them perfect
and whole to this day.
No one can properly describe the pc
culiar sensations experienced when
standing for the first time amidst this
manifestation of one of Natures strang
est freaks. All is desolation-all is dead.
Nothing grows. 1t is the same ash gray
clay on the milk-white floor, where
glisten in the sunlight silicious fragments
resembling glass. You experience sick
ening sense of dread and impending evil,
and long for the sight of some living
creature. You look for bird, or even a
coyote, who, you imagine, ought to in
habit some of the holes in the vast wall
that surrounds you; but you look in vain.
The birds do not light here, where is no
food and water; and the scavenger of
the plain, the coyote, will not waste his
time among the tombs of so long ago.
You wander along listlessly, breathing
an atmosphere new, strange, and un-
canny. You then climb to the top of
one of the clay monuments, and gaze
into the distance, upon miles aud miles
of this reign of death, marked by its
arched, fluted, and many-columned
domes that stand in attestation of the
excellence of Natures handiwork. You
feel that, ii you were to die, you would
not choose this as the spot where you
would make the exchange of your tene-
ment of clay for one of doubtful and in