144 BUFFALO LAND. 



clear and bracing. Compared with the previous 

 evening, the little town was very quiet. There was 

 no stir in the streets, although later in the morning 

 a few of the last night's carousers came out of doors, 

 rubbing their sleepy eyes, and slunk around town for 

 the remainder of the day. All nature was calm and 

 beautiful ; it almost seemed as if we might hear the 

 chime of Sabbath bells float to us from somewhere in 

 the depths around. 



One of our sea legends recites that ship wrecked 

 bells, fallen from the society of men to that of mer- 

 maids, are straightway hung on coral steeples, where, 

 when storms roar around the rocks above, they toll 

 for the deaths of the mariners. Was it impossible, 

 we mused, that ancient mariners, with whole cargoes 

 of bells, went down on this inland sea centuries be- 

 fore Rome howled ? The earth around us might be 

 as full of musical tongues as of saurians, and only 

 awaiting the savan's spade and sympathetic touch to 

 give their dumb eloquence voice. If the people of those 

 days were navigators, surely they might also have 

 been men of metal. In the far-away past existed 

 numerous arts which baffle modern ingenuity. Stones 

 were lifted at sight of which our engineers stand dis- 

 mayed. Bodies were embalmed with a skill and per- 

 fection which our medical faculty admire, but have 

 scarcely even essayed to imitate. Is it impossible 

 that vessels plowed this ancient ocean with a speed 

 which would have left our Cunarders out of sight? 

 If human spirits freed from earth take cognizance of 

 following generations, how those old captains must 



