In Winter Quarters 



all just as they are, without asking 

 "whence?" Or "whither?" 



I can interest myself more or less in 

 stratified rocks. They do not suggest 

 hell fires and brimstone, as do their 

 igneous brethren. In fact, I cannot 

 look at those hardened laval products 

 of unthinkable heat, thrown carelessly 

 about as they have been by some un- 

 thinkable power, without shuddering 

 at the terrors they inspire. I can 

 stand for studying coquina or any 

 other cemented sediment that reveals 

 the fauna or the flora of a bygone age, 

 but basalt and obsidian speak of 

 dynamite. 



Fossiliferous limestones are won- 

 derful, if you care anything about 

 your ancestry. Most of us here in 

 America know our mother's maiden 

 name, and some of us could tell you 

 the given name of the paternal grand- 

 father. A few may know where their 

 great grandparents lived, or are said 

 to have come from. A select few have 

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