Phillipsburg herald. [volume] (Phillipsburg, Kan.) 1882-1905, 1890-10-16

novelty OF Jre6paSSer6 IN bnelf DOMAIN.
For within this half mile are the
homes of the fishes with which we are
familiar. This is the realm of the art
full crab and his casemated allies,
skulking In the forests of seaweeds. to
escape the search of the hungry rowing
shark, and his voracious allies. In
this zone hordes innumerable of swim
ming, crawling creatures protect their
hves-the instinct of self-preser-
walton alone is all the sense
they possess = by strategy, and
prolong them, increasing their Joy by
prowess. Now an autumnal chill per-
vades the element which bathes us.
On this su1try day in July, the tenn
pereture of the water was about 70
degrees Fair. now it is below 40. A
dim twilight has settled down upon us.
Looking upward, the day we have
left behind is but a dusky, vel
1owish haze, which overhangs us like a
pail. Clear as the water appeared to
be, the sediment floating from the
land, seen through the watery vistas
of half mile, shuts out the blue sky.
The dust of our Continent to be" is
settling down around us, and in an
other age the pulpy, archaeological sea
bottom will be lifted up into daylight,
Gnd other populations will settle on it
and call it theirs, marve1ing as do we
how this could once have been the sea.
We pass on further. AS we travel
from the shore mile has now been
covered. and a mile of water hangs
over us; the sediment from the land
diminishes, but total darkness shuts
us in; we grope and feel our way, but
nothing is visible, no sound is heard.
There seems to be no life. The species
of organic life which dwell in this
weird twilight do not pass the indef-
nab1e wall of darkness. There are nc
more sea weeds-only diatoms and the
calcareous alge plants, with frames Of
silica, and the curious power of uncon-.
scious locomotion swarming in the
depths, and plants like vegetable lime
stone rooted and branched.
Oh, it is fearful to contemplate the
realm we are now enteringi There
are no enemies to encounter; all the
pitfalls have been buried beneath the
smooth slime which countless thou
sands of years have thrown down.
This is an unfrequented abode of or.
ganic life, an untenanted-aye and
undiscovered--country. There are nc
charts to follow now, no footpaths to
show our way. We know not what
form of life we shall meet. Twilight
is extinguished. The sparse sediment
from the land can no longer be detect
ed; but the forms of living things.
plant and animal, things microscopic
and mulGtudinous, float in clouds
around and above US.
There are charnel houses and dead
forms here, abandoned homes of tiny
creatures, which swarm about in the
sunlight near the surface. Abandoned.
they are now settling down through
the abodes of midnight and silence,
and are strewing the cold sea bot.
tom with white and chalky ooze.
We are now two miles from day
light, shut in by a wall as impervious
as if it were granite. Beyond us stretch
the slopes of the oceans floor, down
three miles beyond; below there are
the abysmal places. They cover hall
the earth's surface. Our thermometer
has sunk to the freezing point. It is
some degrees below freezing, yet no ice
is seen. The pressure is four tons to
every square inch of surface; the dark
ness is total; the silen ce is that of non.
existence. We listen for the roar OF
the waves on the surface above-a
storm is raging there. A stout steamer
is creaking with the strains she can not
bear for long. The mate is crying to
the sailors in an agony of anxiety for
the safety of his iron ship and the hun
dred passengers intrusted to It's
strength. We listen intently, but not
a creak of the ship. not blow of the
wild waves sends q sound into the
abysses where we are buried. Yet but
three miles separate us from the
storm. Can three miles create transi-
tons so vast?