39 CHAPTER I

.

THE BEGINNING.

DOES anybody like the beginning of anything? To our mind the well-known French proverb about the first step bears a deeper meaning than is usually attributed to it, and is intended not so much as an encouragement to doubters as for a Hafiz-like warning against the folly of ever beginning anything after the inevitable annoyance of beginning one's life. The beginning of a dinner, of a ball, of a play, of a day, of an acquaintance, of a book, of a pair of boots, does anybody like any of these? Even the beginning of a love, can it compare with its earliest noontide? And as for the beginning of an end, whether of lives or empires, who can doubt that Ariadne's death-blow fell when Perseus cast his first wistful glance toward the open sea, and that Moscow was a feller stroke to the great Emperor than St. Helena.

So let us hasten over the beginning of our journey toward the Golden Gate, artfully promising for those who shall patiently begin and continue as we began and continued, richer and fairer things are reserved in the end.

Briefly, then, we state that, passing from the chilly 40 18 gloom of an April night of this present year of grace into the terminus of the N.Y. Central R.R., twelve somewhat wearied, somewhat nervous, very expectant persons, accompanied by the friends to whom William Vanderbilt Rex had issued an ukase permitting them to pass the dismal gates which ordinarily divide, rigidly as that of death, the outward-bound passenger from those he loves and leaves, found prepared for them a special and magnificent car, named by Mr. Wagner for the Chief of our party, took possession, went through the round of leave-takings, from the tremulous silent embrace and last, deep look, to the cheery, careless hand pressure and gay parting word, heard the conductor's warning cry of "Time's up," and were off, amid the reverberating roar of the fusilade arranged by Mr. Wagner as a parting compliment to his friends, and the hearty cheers of the escorting party left upon the platform.

A few tears quietly brushed away, some clearing of suddenly husky throats, and the travelers begin to look about them at the quarters already representing home and home comforts to wearied minds and bodies. And here let us suggest, that added inducements to timid and conservative tourists could be held forth by changing the name of such a cosmos as this car of ours from "palace" or "drawing-room" to "home" cars, or some equivalent titls, for who that has wintered in Italy would be tempted to accept a palace as his perpetual residence, and who would desire to sit for a week in a drawing-room, clad in body and mind as be-fits the ceremonious reception of the world, with one's 41 19 mask well tied on, and one's skeleton safely locked away!

So the charming little residence in which we found ourselves shall be called a home, and very soon assumed the pleasant aspect suggested by the word, as the bouquets, shawls, rugs, sofa-cushions, and various personalities of the three ladies of the party were developed and arranged upon or around a table in the central division of the car, which was to represent the general salon , our end being partitioned off by curtains to serve as bowers for such of the party as had given hostages to society in the shape of husband or wife; while the other end, also screened by curtains, became a pleasant Bohemia where the artists, litte´rateurs and photographers of the party sleep and work.

Bed seems a good place to everybody at an early hour in this beginning evening, for bed is one of the few exceptions to the great rule laid down in our first sentences, and to a weary traveler it is pleasanter to lie down at night than to rise up in the morning; unless, indeed, at the Yosemite, and that is not yet.

So we watch with interest the lowering of the ornametal panels behind which are stowed capital mattresses, gay blankets, sufficient pillows and snowy linen, admire the deft dexterity of the pleasant official who, with these, converts our sofas into cozy, curtained couches, and presently retire to find within their shades the sweet sleep which never comes too soon or stays too late.

The conductor has warned us we shall find our breakfast at Rochester about half-past ten in the 42 20 morning, and although the gay Bohemians at the other end of the car have seized an earlier opportunity of breaking their fast, we, the graver portion of the party, decorously restrain our unwonted appetites until the appointed hour and place, when we are rewarded by so enjoyable a meal that, whether it were the lateness of the hour, the merit of the viands, or the unusual fatigue and excitement which gave it zest, deserves and shall receive a red-letter mark in these annals.

At Rochester our car is switched off and connected with a train bound for Niagara, and presently the Suspension Bridge and mighty Cataract are in view. Of course we pause to visit the Falls, for some of our party have never seen them, and the rest are but too happy to see them as often as possible. Passing quickly through the poor little town, whose closed hotels and desolate shops look forlorn and hopeless in this dull season, we reach the Park, and presently stand beside the mighty mass of moving waters, whose slow, resistless sweep, "not hasting or resting," calm in the magnitude of their power, relentless as death to those who affront them, careless as Destiny of those who do not venture within their grasp, solemn as eternity, terrible and beautiful as life; so the vast waters pour their ceaseless flood century after century, while generations of mortals stand beside them, gaze, wonder, make their idle comments, and pass away to die and be forgotten, while still the mighty flood sweeps on and down changeless and immortal.

It is finally conceded that the best effects of color 43 21 are to be obtained at Prospect Point, close beside the American Fall; there one may admire the profound blue-green, like the finest turquoise, of the deep and narrow stream; the clear, cold beryl tint of the Fall itself, and the snow-white steam and vapor and spray lighting up the whole.

Just to the right of the Fall, at its foot, lay a great, rounded hill of ice, the accumulation of the Winter's frozen spray, and close beside this hill runs down, at an angle of thirty-three degrees, the steep plane of the inclined railway. We took passage in its queer cars, arranged like a series of carpeted stairs, and were wheeled down at terrific speed to a point where an admirable upward view of the Cataract was to be obtained, but as the snow still lingering on the ground was of a melting and penetrating mood, we did not linger long, but, crossing over the Suspension Bridge to the Canada side, the familiar view of the Horseshoe Fall came in sight, and we looked down into the blue depths of the channel, two hundred and four feet at this point, according to our driver.

Upon the Canada side it is quite easy to distinguish the voices of the two Falls--the deep, thunderous roar of the Horseshoe Fall, and the more rippling and silvery voice of the American; and after one has passed the wonder and excitement of a first visit to this great marvel of Nature in listening silently and alone to this vast antiphony of the two wonderful voices, and in contemplating the mighty march of the unhastening, unresting flood, now sliding along a solid mass of sapphire waters, just flecked here and there with foam, 44 22 and anon hurled into the abyss below, whence the voice of its torment for ever ascends, while in the dense cloud of glittering white vapor above, one may fancy the wailing spirit of the flood to shroud herself from mortal gaze.

No wonder that Niagara is, or should be, the despair of painters: they may give its height and width and form, even its coloring, but they cannot even suggest that slow majesty of motion, that wonderful harmony of sound.

Returning to our Wagner home we cast fond and searching looks toward the hampers provided for our refreshment by attentive friends, and from them are presently produced a chicken, some ham, beef, and various accessories; the table is spread and our artist dispatched in search of bread. I say our artist, for, although several are with us, H-- is ours, parexcellence , not only because he has grown up beneath the eye of our Chief, but from his thoroughly sympathetic nature, combining the ability of a man with the winning qualities of a boy; the enfant gaˆteˆ of our office--the enfant terrible , occasionally, of our party.

The bread is produced, but where are the plates? Echo answers, where! but paper is voted an excellent substitute, and, at least, we are rich in knives and forks, for did not our Chief himself visit the Meriden Britannia Co., on the day of our departure, and, with his own hands bear home the shining parcel, now hopefully, and now despairingly, sought for in bags, valises, baskets, even in shawl-straps and pockets, 45 23 and finally decided to be in a trunk on its way to San Francisco.

And here let me pause to say a word to my long-suffering sex bound upon voyaging, near or far: do not consent to share bag or valise with any man unless you wish to find collars, cuffs, and ruffles crushed into a corner beneath a pair of boots, your tooth-brush saturated with liquid blacking, and the contents of your powder-box distributed throughout the whole, ready to fly out at any moment, proving that even your complexion is not a right that anybody is bound to respect!

The merry pic-nic was just concluded when the conductor appeared, loaded with plates, knives, forks, etc., and it was speedily voted that the repast already taken was but a lunch, and all found appetite, after an amazingly short interval, for a dinner fit, as some enthusiastically declared, for the Gods on Mount Olympus.

ON THE ICE UNDER NIAGARA FALLS. Page 21.

46

CHAPTER II

.

THE TAGUS AND LAKE ERIE.

ONE would not wish to be unpatriotic, but certainly the approach to the City of Toledo, Ohio, does not compare favorably with that of its namesake upon the golden-sanded Tagus. Mile after mile of ragged woodland, mile after mile of roughly cleared fields dotted with charred stumps, mile after mile of sawmills and lumber-yards, brought us finally to the town, over which hung a cloud of dull brown smoke, with great buildings looming out of it, which we were informed were the largest grain elevators in the United States, built upon piles on the shores of the lake, or rather of the estuary leading to it.

This mode of building seems nearly as popular in Toledo as in Amsterdam, and so large a portion of the environs of the city seems wading out into the adjacent swamps and marshes that one looks for malaria and similar evils, as a matter of course, but is informed by the inhabitants that their excellent system of drainage obviates the trouble entirely. As we walked through the town, which, although only about twenty years old, boasts 55,000 inhabitants, we were struck by the air of alertness and busy prosperity everywhere visible, even at the uncomfortably early hour of our promenade, and while our companions noted with approval the blocks of handsome warehouses and shops in the main street 47 25 we pondered pensively on the apothegm: "It is the early bird that gets the worm"; with its appropriate retort: "And serves the worm right for being out at such an hour!" The morning wore on, however, and in due time we presented ourselves at the establishment of the Toledo Blade . The building is fine and imposing, so also is its editor-in-chief, Dr. Miller; and after an interchange of courtesies and compliments we were indulged with a sight of that wonderful sword with its Toledo blade, presented by his Supreme and Royal Highness, King Alfonso, of Spain, through his Royal Commissioners to the Centennial Exposition, to the representative journal of America, all of which information and much more, we found inscribed in stately and graceful periods of the purest Castilian in the testimonial accompanying the sword, which was ceremoniously unfolded from a gorgeous Spanish flag whose brilliant red and yellow seemed gairish and tawdry within-doors, although so rich and imposing when draped above a balcony filled with dark-eyed Senoritas, and waved by the perfume-laden breezes of its native land.

The sword itself seems in size and weight better fitted for the hand of Orlando, or Charlemagne, or Cœur de Lion, than any less stalwart champion, but the hilt was magnificently incrusted with gold and silver, and the blade was proved to possess the marvelous suppleness and tenacity traditionally belongng to its family, and although we insisted that Dr. Miller should not run the remotest chance of accident by putting it to the test of bending the tip to 48 26 touch the hilt, we are firm in the faith that it could have been triumphantly achieved.

Leaving Toledo at one o'clock, we sped into Indiana and gained our first impression of prairie, or, as Westerners like to call it, per-air-ry, country, and, while here, record a conclusion arrived at after seeing whatever lies between the Atlantic and Pacific, that the prairie, like the Red man, requires to be seen in a state of savage nature to be at all interesting, and that neither is to be thus seen without considerable risk of life to the spectator. Cultivated Indians are loathsome, cultivated prairies are stupid; and the scenery of northern Indiana is cultivated prairie. We dined at Elkhart, and found a bit of an oasis in the shape of a host, whose cultivation and refinement pleasantly prepared us for an interview with his wife, whose appearance and manners would have graced any Fifth Avenue drawing-room. She kindly invited us into her private apartments, which proved models of taste and elegance, although the house itself was neither better nor worse than the average Western railway refectory, The table was served by young women, and among them one of so striking and Juno-like an aspect that "our artist" sacrificed his dinner to the pleasure of sketching her, while she willingly abandoned her usual duties to serve as model.

Toward night, we catch a glimpse of Lake Michigan and its foam-crested waves dashing against the stone wall which restrains their incursions upon the city, and could fancy that we saw the broad Atlantic stretching before us, instead of merely and inland lake. And now 49 27 we are in Chicago, and at the Grand Pacific Hotel, and, after eagerly devoting a few minutes to a basin of fair water, which none but travelers can appreciate, assemble in the supper-room, a superb hall--light, bright, and marvelous in frescoing and gilding. As for the meal itself, a week of such sumptuous fare would be enough to derange one's digestion for life.

Tired Nature's sweet restorer was sought with wonderful unanimity at an early hour, and the next morning, having breakfasted as admirably as we had supped, we made ready to explore the wonders of Chicago; for, like most other Americans, we knew less of our own country than of many others, and we determined to correct our ignorance without delay.

We found the fashionable avenues, Wabash, Calmut, Prairie and Michigan, wide, straight, and interesting as drives, from the number and diversity of handsome private dwellings, generally detached, and built in all varieties of styles and ornamentation; even the frame buildings are costly and ornate, and the brick richly decorated with brown-stone copings and carvings. A favorite material, also, is a soft, creamy, yellow stone, similar to that so popular in Paris, and, possibly, the association, recalling the good-natured satire that good Chicagoeans, when they die, go to Paris, may have added to the pleasing effect.

The wooden pavements of the streets, although smoother to drive upon than stone, are the cause of a great deal of dust; and there still exists a difference of opinion between street and sidewalk, as to level, necessitating a system of steps, descending from the 50 28 latter to the former, a little startling to evening promenaders. This, however, is in course of alteration, as the entire level of the city is being raised several feet since the fire, and a great many streets of fine warehouses and shops have been erected on the new basis.

There are very few trees, except along Dearborne Street, and the northerly part of Michigan Avenue, where the great fire did not reach, and where the houses are nearly all of wood and detached. On Prairie Avenue we were shown a stately and magnificent mansion of brown-stone, standing in the midst of spacious grounds, and fronting on the avenue from the lake. Our driver informed us that "Mr. Pullman was five years a-building it," and we gratefully hoped that the aggregate comfort conferred on the traveling public during those five years, by hotel and palace cars, had been built and cemented in those brown-stone walls. The piercing wind from the lake, which is at once a blessing and a nuisance to Chicago, tempering the heat in mid-summer, but a little disagreeable in April, especially when laden with clouds of dust, made us glad to turn our backs and return to the more sheltered portions of the city. State Street reminded us of Broadway, although with more uniformly fine and solid blocks of buildings, nearly all of yellow brown-stone. Clark Street is its rival; property-holders in each street vieing with each other since the fire, in the attempt to make their own street the centre of importance. The same rivalry exists between the avenues of private residences, and from this laudable 51 29 ambition, probably, arises the reported fact that every rich man in Chicago is involved in debt.

In State Street we paused at the Corn Exchange, a fine building, per se , but evidently seldom profaned by the use of the scrubbing-brush or broom. The sales for the day were just over, and the brokers and dealers swarming out of the door, and in the lobbies, with the noise and hilarity of schoolboys just released from their lessons. We went into the hall where the sales are made--a fine, large chamber, with a clicking of telegraphic machines on every side, and piles of corn, torn papers and rubbish, inches high in places. From a careful study of the bulletins posted on tall, black frames, here and there, we gathered that "Liverpool wheat was dejected, and corn stiff," and in unsympathetic glee took our leave of the Corn Exchange, and went our way to Feild, Leiter & Co., the Stewarts of Chicago. We found a large, but not imposing establishment, presenting rather an excess of thread and needle and small ware counters, but having a novel and excellent system of checks. The first salesman of whom one makes a purchase, noting it upon a blank memorandum which the buyer takes to the next counter, has the purchase recorded, and so on, until payment of the whole is made at the last counter; thus saving much time, noisy shouting of "Cash!" and the annoyance of awaiting the arrival of the erratic imps generally answering to that cognomen.

Our next visit was to the Academy of Fine Arts, which we found up-stairs in a big stone building, devoted, as it seemed, to almost everything else under 52 30 the sun, and satisfied to squeeze the Fine Arts away in a corner as an after-thought. The establishment is rather languishing, as its patrons, a few of the wealthy men of Chicago, have lately felt unable to do very much for its support, and we all know that the higher and more esthetic needs of human nature are the first to be pinched by a deficiency in the supplies.

The Academy possesses but two rooms, in which students in oils, water-colors, crayons, still-life and portraits are jumbled promiscuously together. There is no life-school proper, although a few were drawing and painting from the model--only the head, however--and most of the drawing is from the flat.

From these rooms we visited a few studios, finding the majority of them not much in advance of the Academy. In one, however, we encountered a lady whose olive-tinted skin and dark eyes proclaimed her of the Latin race. She was working industriously at a pastel head of a beautiful young girl, and with the vigorous and rapid touch of a sure and experienced artist. The imperfect English and marked coldness of the few words our remarks elicited induced us to address her in Italian, and the advance was met by a vivid upward flash of the dark eyes, that wonderful brightening of the skin so much more striking in an olive complexion than the pink blush of the Saxon, and the breathless reply: "No, I am Parisian; perhaps Madame speaks French?" We replied in the affirmative, and then came such a torrent of words instead of the icy monosyllables of the first few moments, and in five minutes we listened to a dissertation on Art in 53 31 Chicago, Art in Paris, Art all over the world, in fact; and then a brief outline of the artist's own personal history, a delicate probing of our own, and finally such handshakings, such tender adieux, and such reluctance to part company at the ultimate confines of the Academy of Fine Arts, that one felt, with a pitying sympathy, how starved the poor exiled soul must have become in its expatriation, when the accents of its native tongue, even from stranger's lips, could raise such a whirlwind of excitement and delight.

Next we visited another studio, also that of a lady, but this time a landscape-painter; the artist herself was absent, but the honors were done by the quaintest little object in life, whom we found encased in an immense pinafore, perched upon a high stool and working away for dear life upon a brilliantly colored picture. He announced himself as twelve years old, although that number of years seemed altogether too liberal an allowance, and stated that the spirit of an artist burned in his bosom, and he was one of Madame's pupils. His idea of art seemed to be the getting over the largest amount possible of canvas in the least possible time, and his faith in his preceptress in this line was unbounded. After a brief inspection of the other treasures of the studio, we took leave of our Michael Angelo in embryo, wishing him, a little sadly, the realization of all his brilliant dreams. He responded confidently, and we left him scrambling up to his perch again, to resume work upon the big, bright picture.

The next afternoon we started for a survey of the 54 32 north end of the city, Dearborn Avenue, the Water Works, and Lincoln Park. The Water Works are new and beautiful, and eccentric in architecture, like most of the town, and with a wild excess of tower and buttress and queer little points and pinnacles everywhere, cheerfully relieving the solemn gray of the rough-hewn granite blocks of the main edifice. From this point we drove along the lake shore upon a road artificially filled in upon swamp land. The lake itself wore a sombre hue, yellowish-gray in color, and rather tea-like in effect, but the waves dashed in very respectable surf upon the sea-wall and the little jetties thrown out here and there.

It was Sunday afternoon, and the respectable bourgeoisie and family men of Chicago were out with wives and olive - branches, in wagons of every pattern and degree, in spite of the piercing wind and blinding dust. The more aristocratic part of the population was not visible, and one wondered whether the New England element in Chicago is strong enough to render Sunday driving unpopular, or whether the e´lite preferred staying at home to dream of the Champs Elyse´es .

The Shore Road led us into the Park, just now in the same embryotic condition New Yorkers can recall as prevalent some dozen years ago in Central Park, and let us hope as glorious a result is in store for the former as well as the latter creation. There is the beginning here of a zoological collection, already quite rich in birds.

On our way home we saw the large frame house which, oddly enough, was the only one left standing in 55

"THE THOUSAND MILE TREE."

56 33 that district, while the flames destroyed everything about it. We saw also the Roman Catholic Cathedral, a superb white marble building, with the padded doors so common on the European continent.

Relics of the fire meet one at every turn; lots piled up with blackened brick and stone and dismal rubbish, and sometimes the picturesque shell of a ruin. We were shown the small block of dwelling-houses used as a hotel after the fire, when every hotel in Chicago was burned.

Aldene Square, probably called square because it is round, is a charming little park, containing drives, trees, flowers, fountains, etc., and nearly surrounded by a series of houses, various in size and construction, but of equal elegance, and all built by a single man.

To sum up the impression produced by a careful study of Chicago, it is a city of magnificent beginnings, a thing of promise. Few American cities can boast so many noticeably handsome dwellings, or such massive blocks of stone along the business streets, but the crudity of youth is as inextricably mingled with the promise of maturity as in a big-boned boy of eighteen, or a blushing girl of thirteen, from whom one parts with resignation for a time, looking pleasurably forward to renewed intercourse a few years later.

We remarked, that physicians' names, instead of appearing on the door-plates, as with us, were lettered in black or gold on the glass light above the front door, and along with the number, a great facility, one would imagine, for those seeking medical services after nightfall, but, per contra , the names of streets 57 34 are mysteriously printed just above, instead of upon, the glass of the gas-lights.

We sit down to our last meal at the Grand Pacific Hotel, cast a final admiring glance at its cheerful parlors, wide corridors, superb dining-hall, murmur a grateful acknowledgment of the faultless cuisine and perfect system of attendance, which render this hotel one of the most comfortable houses in the country, and then, not without a certain excitement, prepare to resume our journey, now about to develop more characteristic features, since where breathes the man who has not been in Chicago? while only a select few of the sons of Adam have personally compared the crisp waves of the Atlantic with the grander and more rhythmic swell of the Pacific.

GRAND PACIFIC HOTEL, CHICAGO.

58

CHAPTER III.

HOTEL CARS versus EMIGRANT TRAINS.

ON arriving at the station, we find that we have exchanged our beloved Wagner Home for the famous Pullman Hotel Car, exhibited at the Centennial Exposition, and built at a cost of $35,000. We are greeted on entering, by two superb pyramids of flowers, one from Mr. Potter Palmer, and the other with compliments of the Pullman Car Co.; then new-found Chicago friends arrive in rapid succession, to wish us God-speed, and, in the midst of a cheerful bustle and excitement, we are off, able to look about us at our new home. First, we are impressed with the smooth and delightful motion, and are told it is owing to a new invention, in the shape of paper wheels applied to this car, and incredible though the information sounds, meekly accept it, and proceed to explore the internal resources of our kingdom. We find everything closely resembling our late home, except that one end of the car is partitioned off and fitted up as a kitchen, storeroom, scullery--reminding one, in their compactness and variety, of the little Parisian cuisines , where every inch of space is utilized, and where such a modicum of wood and charcoal produces such marvelous results.

Our chef , of ebon color, and proportions suggesting a liberal sampling of the good things he prepares, wears the regulation snow-white apron and cap, and gives us 59 36 cordial welcome and information; showing us, among other things, that his refrigerator and larder are boxes adroitly arranged beneath the car, secured by lock and key, and accessible at every station. At six the tables are laid for two each, with dainty linen, and the finest of glass and china, and we presently sit down to dinner. Our repast is Delmonican in its nature and style, consisting of soup, fish, entre´es , roast meat and vegetables, followed by the conventional dessert and the essential spoonful of black coffee.

We are not a late party that night, retiring at ten, and in the morning are startled by an announcement from the "Sultana," a tall, willowy woman, with dark, almond-shaped eyes, who affects brilliant tints, and lounges among her cushions and wraps of crimson and gold, with a grace peculiarly her own, and with a luxuriance so Eastern, as to have won for her the sobriquet of Sultana. We are startled by the announcement that her rest had been disturbed by the howling of wolves! The young lady who does the romantic for our party turns pale with envy, especially when the brakeman, appealed to as authority, admits that there is a small coyote wolf about the prairies, even so far East, which might possibly have been heard. All day, until sunset, we sweep along over rolling prairie lands of a rich, tawny yellow, with here and there a tiny town, and here and there a lonely settler's cabin, with a little winding footpath stretching up to it.

At Dixon, the train stopped for the passengers' supper, and we stole away for a little exercise and solitude. A storm was imminent, the distant thunder 60 37 muttered ominously, the lightning came in pulses, and from the far, dusky reaches of the prairie, blew a wind stronger and freer, yet softer, than other winds, with a fragrance sweeter than flowers on its breath. Some strange, wild influence in the scene sent a new sensation tingling through one's blood. All sorts of poetic fancies and inspirations seemed hovering close above one's head, when a dash of rain recalled the realism of life, and sent us hastening back to the car, where all the lamps were lighted and the tables laid for dinner.

"What a dismal scene!" exclaimed some one, looking out of the window.

"We are very fortunate to be snugly ensconced, with plenty of lights and dinner in prospect," replied the Sultana, drawing her cashmere about her shoulders.

By breakfast-time the scenery had changed, the rolling prairie giving place to a succession of low bluffs--steep, hilly, brown, and infinitely wild; then came a quiet little lake, dotted over with wild ducks; more hills growing green in the hollows; swamp-willows budding redly; herds of grazing cattle and wild, shaggy horses; until, at last, we roll into a long, flat, straggling town, and are told it is Council Bluffs.

"And why Council Bluffs?" we suavely inquire of the wise man who gives us this information.

"Because, on these bluffs the Indians assembled in council; also because, beneath the shadow of the Bluffs in 1853, a little company of enterprising spirits held a council as to the propriety of building the City of Omaha, upon the opposite shores of the Missouri; also because the Conductor counsels us to 61 38 re-enter the car, as the train is about to start; also--"

"Enough! enough! your last reason is conclusive." And a few minutes later we are rolling over the magnificent bridge, said to be one of the finest in the world, and almost a thousand feet in length. The stream--weak coffee as to complexion, pea-soup as to consistence--rolls sluggishly between its iron piers. As for the bridge itself, its cost, its construction, its ingenuity, is it not written in all the guide-books, all the travels, all the diaries of all the voyageurs ? and to these various sources the statistical reader is referred for information.

Arrived in Omaha, the true beginning, perhaps, of our California trip, we took a carriage, and set forth to view the town. We found it big, lazy, and apathetic; the streets dirty and ill-paved; the clocks without hands to point out the useless time; the shops, whose signs mostly bore German names, deserted of customers, while principals and clerks lounged together in the doorways, listless and idle. This depressing state of affairs is, presumably, temporary, for we were told that, two years ago, Omaha was one of the most thriving and busy cities of the West, claiming for itself, indeed, a place as first commercial emporium of that vast section; and, certainly, its position at the terminus of the three great Eastern roads, and the beginning of the one great Western one, would naturally entitle it to that pre-eminence, when aided by the enterprise and the dollars of such men as have, in twenty years, built a great city from a wayside settlement. 62 39 Doubtless, when the hard times, which seem to affect everybody and everything, from the baby's Christmas toys to the statesman's visions of international commerce, are over, Omaha will shake off the lethargy depressing her at present, and rise to the position her citizens fondly claim for her. We saw some tasteful private residences, with conservatories and stables; the High School building, which might justly be called a palace of learning; the military headquarters, and barracks of the armory of the State; the Grand Central Hotel, a large and imposing edifice, admirably conducted; and also the less imposing, but more remarkable house erected by the brilliant and erratic George Francis Train, who, arriving at Omaha one day, was told there was no accomodation to be had for his party.

"No rooms to be had!" exclaimed he. "Then I'll build me a hotel!"--and he did, within six weeks.

Returning to the station, we found the platform crowded with the strangest and most motley groups of people it has ever been our fortune to encounter. Men in alligator boots, and loose overcoats made of blankets and wagon rugs, with wild, unkempt hair and beards, and bright, resolute eyes, almost all well-looking, but wild and strange as denizens of another world.

The women looked tired and sad, almost all of them, and were queerly dressed, in gowns that must have been old on their grandmothers, and with handkerchiefs tied over their heads in place of hats; the children were bundled up anyhow, in garments of nondescript purpose and size, but were generally chubby, neat 63 40 and gay, as they frolicked in and out among the boxes, baskets, bundles, bedding, babies'-chairs, etc., piled waist high on various parts of the platform. Mingling with them, and making some inquiries, we found that these were emigrants, bound for the Black Hills, by rail to Cheyenne and Sioux City, and after that by wagon trains. A family of French attracted attention by the air of innate refinement and fitness which seems to attach to every grade of society in la belle France , and we chatted with them for some moments. A great many families claimed German nationality, and Ireland, England and Scotland were represented, as well as our own country. One bright little creature--perhaps three years of age--was quite insulted at being called a baby, and exclaimed, indignantly:

"No, no, me not baby!"

"What are you, then? A young lady?" we inquired.

"No, me 'ittle woman. Me helps mammy sweep," replied the mite; and apologizing for our blunder, we handed her some silver for candy, which she accepted with alacrity; and as we watched her setting off on her shopping expedition, a neat, pretty old lady, perched upon a big bundle, said, with much conscious pride:

"That's my grandchild, ma'am."

We congratulated her, and passed on, to visit the emigrant lodging-house and outfitting-shop adjoining the station. The shop, although large, was crowded, and the air insufferably close; long counters ran across the room, and upon them, and upon lines stretched above, lay or hung, every variety of equipment desirable for pioneer life--clothes, blankets, mats, tins, hats, 64 41 shoes, babies' rattles, impartially mixed and exhibited, while some attention to the æsthetic needs of humanity was shown, in various stuffed heads of moose and deer, with quails perched upon their antlers.

In the eating-room we "assisted," by inspection, at a good, substantial, homely dinner, neatly served at twenty-five cents a plate, and a placard informed the guests that children occupying seats at table would be charged full price; a precautionary measure not unreasonable, as it seemed to us, in view of the swarms of innocents who had certainly never encountered a Herod!

Lodging is the same price as dinner, and the superintendent of this part of the house triumphantly informed us that the sheets were changed every night.

ON THE INCLINED RAILWAY TO THE FOOT OF NIAGARA FALLS. Page 21.

65

CHAPTER IV.

THE UNMENTIONABLE PLACE.

AFTER passing North Bend, we came upon an Indian camp belonging to a portion of the Omahaw tribe. The lodges--five or six in number--were of white skin, and picturesque in shape; their occupants gathered around a small camp-fire--the men, tall, straight, dark and dignified, wrapped in toga-like blankets; the women, dirty and degraded, with their pappooses bundled on their backs, the queer, little dark faces peeping out like prairie dogs from their burrows. Further on we met a second band--half a dozen men on horseback--carrying their lodges bundled up and driving a little herd of shaggy Indian ponies. It was a wonderfully new picture for us, the great plains rolling away on either side in apparently illimitable extent, clad in their richest shades of russet and tawny gold in the distance, and the tender grass and moist black earth close at hand, a wild mass of thunder-clouds crowding up from the south, and the low-hanging trail of smoke from our engine sweeping away northward like a troop of spirits, and this little, lonely band of Omahaws riding slowly away into the storm, casting uneasy glances backward at the flying train. A second picture to place beside that of Niagara in memory's gallery, a second proof that the foremost of human 66 43 artists is, after all, but the feeblest copyist of the Artist whose name is Wonderful.

The old emigrant trail here runs southward beside the track, and we had the luck to pass two real emigrant wagons: one, white-topped and rather neat-looking, had halted for the night, with the horses picketed out to graze, and the camp-fire lighted; while the other, dark, weather-beaten and forlorn, was doggedly making its way forward.

Our train stopped for supper at Grand Island, a considerable place, and, like most Western places, confidently expecting to be larger when the time arrived. We dismounted to look at our first specimens of buffalo grass, a short, dry, tufted herbage, said to be the especial dainty of not only buffalo, but of all grazing creatures, who leave all other food for it, and unhesitatingly as a gourmand accepts fresh truffles. In front of the station was a little inclosure with a most spasmodic fountain, beside which we lingered for some moments and then returned with alacrity to our Pullman Home.

Very early in the next morning we were awakened by the stopping of the train, for the gentle and constant motion had already become as essential to our repose as that of his ship to the sailor. The conductor presently appeared to warn us that the detention was likely to be one of several hours, as an accident had happened to the freight train some five miles in advance, and the track was both encumbered and injured. The prospect was not cheering, as the rain fell in torrents, and the prairie, sodden and gray in the chill 67 44 morning light, had lost all the beauty of its sunset garb, presenting one flat, dull expanse, innocent of house, tree, shrub, moving creature, or any point of interest--a perfect picture of desolation.

The several hours of the conductor extended to eight, and required all the attractive powers of the Sultana, all the condensed result of her husband's journalistic and statistical studies, all the young lady's romantic fervor about the plains, and all the fun of the Bohemians, to fill them pleasantly. However, "All things come round to him who will but wait," and to us came at last the delightful jerk of the train, as the iron horse straightened his traces and, with a shriek of exultation, started again upon his journey.

Arrived at the scene of disaster, we could not wonder at the length of the detention, for a herd of cattle, attempting to try conclusions with a steam engine, had been forced to retreat, leaving six of their number on the field of battle; and so inextricably had the poor creatures become wedged in the complicated machinery of the locomotive, that it was hard to decide where the one ended and where the other began, or which had suffered most in the encounter. The cars lay scattered along the track, all more or less wrecked, and the engine, completely dislodged from the rails, lay beside them, a mass of ruin. During our long delay a wrecker train had been engaged in laying a new section of track, and over this we slowly passed, resuming presently our usual rate of speed, which, however, rarely exceeds twenty-two or three miles an hour, that being conceded as the rate best adapted to economy, safety and comfort 68 45 in long distances, and certainly resulting in a smoothness and ease delightfully contrasting with the rush, rattle and jar of the Lightning Express.

Soon after this we passed through our first snow-shed, very like a covered bridge or wooden tunnel in effect, and were informed that the U.P.R.R. had been obliged to construct hundreds of miles of these, and stone fences at different points of the road, to obviate the drifting of snow banks, capable of not only detaining, but of burying, a train.

And now, not without some little excitement, we arrived at Cheyenne, as it is styled upon the maps, the Magic City of the Plains, the City on Wheels, the Town of a Day, as romancists call it, or in yet more vigorous vernacular, H--11 on Whells, which latter is, perhaps, its most popular name among its own inhabitants. In view of this reputation, our conductor strongly advised against any night exploration, at least by the ladies of the party, of the streets and shops of Cheyenne, stating that the town swarmed with miners en route for, or returning from, the Black Hill, many of them desperadoes, and all utterly reckless in the use of the bowieknife and pistol; or, at the very least, in the practice of language quite unfit for ears polite, although well adapted to a place which they themselves had dubbed with so suggestive a name. This opposition, was, of course, decisive; and the three ladies, as one man, declared fear was a word unknown in their vocabulary, that purchases essential to their comfort were to be made, and that exercise was absolutely necessary to their health. Under such stress of argument the masculine 69 46 mind gave way perforce, and not only the sworn beau of the party, but most of the other gentlemen, indorsed the movement and volunteered to act as escort, producing, loading, and flourishing such an arsenal of weapons as they did so that their valiant charges huddled together, far more affrighted at their friends than their enemies, and piteously imploring that the firearms should be safely hidden until needed; the order was obeyed, and at about half-past nine P.M. the exploring party set forth.

Cheyenne proved itself a fresh and vigorous experience of a true frontier town--streets dark and suggestive of all sorts of fierce experiences connected with the swarms of swarthy, rough-clad men, who lounged at every corner and filled every shop, yet never offered to molest the visitors by word, act or look, although evidently "taking stock" and remarking upon their unfamiliar appearance. Our first visit was to an ammunition shop to lay in supplies for a pistol presented to "our" artist upon his journey, that first pistol which is to every young man now-a-days what the toga virilis was to the Roman youth. In this establishment we had an opportunity of examining the outfit deemed requisite for a visit to the Black Hills, in the shape of horribly keen and deadly knives, and firearms of every size and variety. In fact, it was decided by the experts of the party that in this one shop was condensed a larger assortment, and more complete arsenal, of deadly weapons than is to be found in any New York establishment.

From this warehouse of death we passed to more 70 47 cheerful scenes, and noticing, by the way, the curious effect in the dark streets of the transparencies hung out as signs by many of the shops. The druggist's and jeweler's impressed us as by far the best stocked we had seen since leaving home, unless in Chicago. Especially we expressed surprise at the value and beauty of the diamonds and other jewels exposed for sale, and were informed that these found a ready market, not only among the successful miners, who, returning from the Black Hills, are tempted to an immediate enjoyment of their new fortunes, but by the herdsmen, who bring immense quantities of cattle to Cheyenne, en route for the East, and, having made a large and successful sale, are very apt to invest part of the proceeds in gifts to wife or sweetheart--a custom too laudable to be confined to Cheyenne.

Much was confided to us of the history, past, present and future, of this peripatetic and Hadean city, and also many assertions as to the unusual salubrity of the atmosphere and its virtues in all chest diseases; for it stands almost at the highest point of the long ascent we had been climbing ever since crossing the Mississippi, and is, to be statistical, 6,041 feet above the sea level. Certainly there is a fine tingling touch as this rarified air reaches our lungs, and no doubt a residence in it might be beneficial; the per contra being the doubt as to whether we lived at all with the atmosphere so full of glistening blades and whistling bullets as report rather than our experience describes.

It is as well, perhaps, here to put on record the result of certain subsequent investigations of ours in 71 48 Cheyenne, after our return from Denver. Between the two visits we had diligently read some interesting guide-books, which set forth the City built in a Day--so called because most of the houses were trundled hither on wheels from Julesburg as the terminus of the railway advanced--as a moral, decorous, and highly desirable abode; so the second arrival being in the morning, we spent half the day in searching for the City of the Guide-books, as we propose redubbing this child of many names, and found, as we had foreseen, nothing more than the typical frontier town we had glanced at by gaslight; a straggling settlement of wooden houses, minus good streets, and not a private residence worthy the name; the streets crowded with every variety of wild, rough frontiersmen--miners, teamsters, drovers, Mexicans, scouts, ferocious to look upon, but lamb-like in demeanor toward quiet strangers, stepping courteously aside to let us pass, respectful toward women, of whom, by-the-way, there was scarcely one to be seen in the streets of Cheyenne, and even when openly, perhaps rudely, stared at, refraining from returning the incivility. We saw an emigrant train of several wagons starting for the Black Hills, one of the wagons being drawn by eight mules, whose driver managed them by a single rein. A scout in a full suit of fringed buckskin was lounging about--a handsome man with long, dark curls falling from beneath his seal-skin cap, who treated our open and admiring curiosity with true aboriginal indifference. Another galloped by dressed in a blue cloak over a purple jacket, high cavalry boots, and a sombrero, beneath 72

STARTING FOR THE BLACK HILLS FROM CHEYENNE. Page 48.

73 49 which his hair flew wildly back as he dashed past, guiding his horse from the neck in true Mexican fashion.

As an instance of the peaceful order now reigning in the City on Wheels, we may mention that the night before our arrival a murder had been committed by which a wife and children were left desolate; a subscription was going the rounds for their relief, and had already reached one hundred and fifty dollars; another man had been garroted and relieved of seventy dollars, and a large shop robbed of a considerable amount. Our conductor, named Jim Cohoon, in telling of these things, casually mentioned that a few years ago, while fishing in a small creek near Cheyenne, with his two brothers, they had been attacked by Indians, riddled with arrows, scalped, and left for dead. The two brothers were indeed so, but he, with seven arrows in his body and without his scalp, had managed to crawl three miles for help, and had entirely recovered. He was a fine, handsome-looking young fellow, and so arranged his hair that the injury he had received was not apparent. With some diffidence he exhibited his head to the gentlemen of the party, who explained to us that the scalping was not, as we had supposed, on the crown of the head, but considerably below, at the back, and was heart-shaped.

The public buildings of the City of the Guidebook were: A good brick hotel, five churches, a courthouse and jail, a City Hall and schoolhouse, two theatres, and such a number of establishments openly proclaiming themselves concert and gambling saloons, 74 50 that we ceased to count them, and proposed instead to visit them.

Obtaining permission and escort, we first turned our steps to McDaniel's Theatre, conspicuously advertised as offering a "Great Moral Show," but whether permanently or for that evening only was not mentioned. Passing through a bar gorgeous with frescoed views of Vesuvius and the Bay of Naples, and remarkable for its cleanliness, we found ourselves in the parquette, so to speak, of the theatre--a large room fitted up with chairs and tables, for the use of convivial parties, and served by pretty waiter girls. The stage was narrow, the drop-curtain exceedingly gorgeous, and statues of the Venus de Medici, and another undressed lady of colossal proportions, posed strikingly at either wing. At each side of the hall are tiers of boxes, so called, reached by long narrow flights of stairs from the parquette; these boxes are closed in, and have each a window, through which the inmates must project head and shoulders if curious to witness the performance on the stage; but, as they contain tables and chairs, it is possible that a glass of wine or lager and social intercourse may be more the object than spectacular entertainment.

At the head of the stairs is a small bar bearing the notice: "No drinks retailed here"; and above, there is printed in large letters: "Gents, be liberal."

Returning through the bar, we passed into the gambling saloon--a large room, exquisitely clean and orderly, with a bar at the end, and long tables at each side, arranged for Rouge et Noir, Roulette, Keno, and our national game of Biblical memory. Behind each was 75

INTERIOR OF THE THEATRE AT CHEYENNE. Page 50.

76 51 hung upon the wall a neat placard bearing the rules of the game, price of checks, etc., and, conspicuous by their tasteful frames, the various licenses, costing, as the proprietor pathetically informed us, $600 for every three months. Over the door of this room was printed, in fancy letters, the word "Welcome!" reminding one drolly of the Sunday-school Festivals and similar occasions when such inscriptions are usually met with. But if McDaniel's Theatre and gambling saloon is a whited sepulchre, let us do it the justice to say that it is very white indeed, and nearly the cleanest place, materially speaking, that we were ever in.

From there we went to the Opera House, owned by the same proprietor, and closely resembling the theatre, except in being more nicely furnished and without a bar or gambling saloon. It boasts a band of eight pieces, and a troupe of twenty-five performers.

A little fatigued with our search for the "far-off, the unattainable, the dim," in the City of the Guide-book, we returned to our car, and found the Sultana, unlike her Eastern prototypes, making herself useful as well as ornamental, by the aid of the contents of a little work-box, with whose shining implements she deftly repaired "the rent the envious nail" had made on our last stroll. The sight was homelike and tasteful, and a wholesome antidote to the Great Moral Show we had been witnessing; although inspiring some passing thought of envy and doubt in the mind of one more used to wield the pen than the needle, and just then forced by the pitiless logic of events to confess that although the pen may be mightier than the sword, 77 52 there are moments in life when the needle is mightier than either.

This chapter closes with a transcript of one of the signs of the Magic City of the Plains, which transcript is offered to the study of archæologists and hieroglyphists:

GAMBLING BOOTHS IN THE EARLY YEARS OF THE RAILROADS.

78

CHAPTER V.

THE GARDEN OF THE GODS.

GOING to sleep in Cheyenne we awoke in Denver, our car having been attached during the night to a train upon the Denver Pacific R.R. south from Cheyenne to Denver. We breakfasted, and were still occupied in that pleasing duty when friends old and new appeared, intent upon hospitality, ciceroneship , and the giving and receiving of news. Carriages were in waiting, and with little delay we set out to view the city. It lies broadly and generously upon a great plain, sloping toward the South Platte, with the grand sweep of the Rocky Mountain chain almost surrounding it; suggesting by its lofty and snow-capped summits Alpine scenery in a softer and more genial climate than that of chilly Switzerland. A large number of handsome houses have already been built on the western side of the city, facing the mountain view, and one foresees that when Denver shall be forty, instead of twenty, years old, this will become the fashionable and charming quarter; and, by the way, can any one explain what point of the eternal fitness of things is involved in the western side of so many cities being the aristocratic one? In Denver it will be the Rocky Mountains, but in London, in New York, in Boston, there are no Rocky Mountains, and--but this subject is too wide for further 79 54 handling just here--so we return to our muttons in the shape of rows upon rows of cottonwood trees transplanted from their native groves to the streets of Denver, and kept alive by the system of irrigating ditches beside the street, here seen for the first time, but a noticeable feature in our travels farther west. The streets themselves, as well as the roads leading out of town, are as fine as the drives in Central Park--solid, hard, and never muddy, with the advantage of being perfectly natural; the soil being an apparently indigenous Macadam. The style of building is different from that of the East, it being the fashion to construct bed, dressing and bath-rooms on the ground floor, as well as parlor, library, and dining-room; verandas are popular, and nearly every house has a little garden in front.

The shops are spacious, well stocked, and city like, and there is the usual number of churches, school-houses, city halls, etc., indispensable to a thriving, growing, American city.

We spent the evening pleasantly at the residence of a member of the Colorado Legislature and a prominent citizen of Denver, who had kindly invited a number of the dignitaries of the State to meet us; and these gentlemen, almost without exception, impressed us not only as men of strength, purpose, and ability, but conspicuous for that genial heartiness of manner, and the gentle kindness of feeling which make the Western gentleman a new and charming type of his class. Without trenching too far on private grounds, one may venture, perhaps, to say, that never was this genial manner and 80 55 fine feeling better exemplified than in the Governor of the Centennial State; while his young wife has been gifted with a grand dignity of manner and appearance well befitting her position, and blending gracefully with gentleness and refinement.

The following morning we started with our hosts of the previous evening for a visit to Colorado Springs and its adjacent wonders. Leaving our own car in Denver, we took passage upon the narrow-gauge railway called the Denver and Rio Grande R. R., running south from that city, and immediately began the steady upward grade by which it climbs the "divide" between the South Platte and Arkansas rivers. We soon began to see snow upon the track, and the temperature of the outer air had sensibly changed. At the highest point lies Summit Lake, a narrow little stream of water, lying in the shadow of a great sugar-loaf mountain, with a background of purple foot hills and the snows of Pike's Peak, which dominate all this region, and are the central point of nearly every view. The waters of this little lake run impartially north and south, and in descending from its level we soon bade good-by to the snow, and welcomed the buffalo grass and cactus plants telling of a higher temperature. We were now in the region of buttes, and saw ourselves surrounded on every side by their weird, fantastic forms--turrets, winged castles, needle-like shafts, heaped piles that might have been the home of ghoul or sprite of the desert, and detached columns of red sandstone capped with cold gray rock of every height and proportion, from a toadstool to a Corinthian pillar.

81 56

Colorado Springs, presumably so called because the Springs are five miles away, is not without its attractions. There are five roads leading away from it; Pike's Peak looks condescendingly down on it. The air is said to be excellent for asthmatics, who therefore abound here, and its morals are guarded by the sternest of liquor laws, which is met by the following humorous device. A visitor consumed by illegal thirst is shown into a small, bare room, at one end of which is a closed window, with a shelf inside like a ticket-office, but having revolving properties. The applicant approaches this window, beside which there is a slit in the wall, and passing through this latter ten or twenty-five cents, as the case may be, sighs audibly: "How I wish I had a glass of ale," or, "If I only had some whisky I should feel better," and presto! the window shelf is turned by some mysterious hand, and presently on it rests a mug of foaming ale or a modicum of spirits; the window is then hermetically closed, and law and order reigns supreme.

Manitou Springs, five miles farther on, is a different style of place, for now we are fairly in the region of the beautiful and strange, and at every moment the exclamations of one or other of the party summoned attention to a new point of interest, while the unsatisfied gaze was never ready to turn from the last.

At Colorado and Manitou Springs are the cottages of two of our most cherished American female authors, Helen Hunt, "H. H.," and Grace Greenwood; the former cozy and attractive, with a huge bay window, brilliant with flowers, attesting the taste of the owner, whom one 82

MANITOU SPRINGS, COLORADO. Page 56.

83 57 is glad to know has no longer the right to utter those lonely and longing notes whose music found echo in so many hearts. Grace Greenwood's home is also characteristic and tasteful, with some branching antlers above the door, like a forester's house in Tyrol. Here, too, are the residences of some English gentlemen, where nature and art blend promiscuously in rustic bridges across wild mountain fissures, summer-houses perched upon needle-like aeries, and masses of brilliant flowers contrasting with the savage strength of rock and evergreen. At some little distance from here we heard of the daughter and sons of the late Canon Kingsley making a home in the heart of the wilderness, and, as may be fancied, finding a piquant delight in the vivid contrast of the most artificial grade of English life, and the utter naturalness of the American desert, which may yet be taught to blossom like the rose.

There are some fine hotels at Manitou, and several Mineral Springs of varying degrees of unsavoriness, as at Saratoga. The one near Grace Greenwood's cottage flows into a stone basin by the wayside, and bubbles joyously over with a musical invitation to the thirsty visitor not justified by the flavor of its alkaline waters.

From here we drive up the Ute Pass, a can˜on popular with those peaceful savages, perhaps for its beauty, more probably for its directness. The narrow roadway climbs up between high walls of red sandstone, zigzaging its way beneath the shadow of stupendous cliffs, with a lovely little stream foaming and brawling far below, leaping down now and again into two lovely cascades, whose voice is the only sound in these eternal 84 58 solitudes. Clumps of dark evergreen, cedar, and fir are fringed with the tender green of budding willows, and the tourist might look for hours in quiet delight at mountain torrent and snowy waterfall and contrasting foliage but for the stupendous and oppressive grandeur of the heaven-piercing crags above, the dizzy abyss below, the glimpses of distant mountain peaks, and an undefined sense of might and majesty everywhere, which makes the beholder feel that humanity is but a mere impertinent intrusion upon the scene--a pygmy, whom the slightest movement of nature might crush in the midst of its impertinent admiration.

No finer effect, no more impressive scene, is to be found among Alps or Andes, and so, by-and-by, the restless world will know, and the Ute Pass will grow as vulgar as Chamouni.

Returning to Manitou, we branch off into a new direction, to visit the Garden of the Gods, whose happy, if not especially appropriate, name has lured us on through days of expectation, now to be rewarded with a fullness seldom vouchsafed to grand and indefinite hope. The hard, red road along which our fleet little horses spatter so gayly, winds suddenly into a wooded hollow, a "park," as the Westerners call it, and we presently pause before a stupendous gateway, formed of two great parallel masses of sandstone--smooth, shining, and glowing in the sun with a vividness of color grandly shown out by the dazzling white of the quartz ridge, which lies like an outer wall of marble just outside all this dull red gold. These colossal gates rise to a height of three hundred and fifty feet, 85 59 and leave an entrance of two hundred feet in width, through which some gorgeous Pharaonic procession may be imagined passing, with chariots and horsemen and barbaric fanfare of brazen instruments, and captive kings, whom some grim enchanter will presently transform into the grotesque figures crowding the scene beyond. But the Pharaonic pageant fades, and gazing through the gateway and across the garden of these strange gods we see Pike's Peak in the far distance, its snow-clad crest glowing like burnished silver against the pure blue of the sky, and close at hand the sharp spires and minarets of the "Cathedral Rocks," while a little further on sits the "Nun," who has strayed out for some open air devotions. The garden contains about fifty acres of land, its floor of finely disintegrated red sandstone partially covered with thickly tufted buffalo grass, and silvery gray sage brush, while the hanging slopes and gentle rises are dotted with evergreen trees whose sombre green adds the shadow needed to sustain this riot of color and warmth and glow, which fairly makes the blood tingle in its excess; for surely never was sky so blue as that which bent above the Garden of the Gods, never was sunshine so yellow, never were snow-clad peaks and quartz cliffs so dazzlingly white, never red sandstone, whether of old or new formation, so richly red and glowing. "A scene for an artist!" exclaimed a litte´rateur , and an artist at his elbow exclaimed, in quiet scorn: "When the Creator wants this painted I suppose he'll make an artist on purpose to do it. He certainly hasn't yet!" But still one longs to plant Gustave Dore´ in the midst of that fantastic 86 60 scene, whose greatest wonder is the vague, half formed ideas, similes, suggestions it awakens in every sensitive mind, and which persons try to communicate to each other, only to find once more how inadequate is human language to represent the human thought.

Our guide, well up in the office, glibly catalogued this and that formation: this was the "Seal" and that the "Scotch Giant," the "Camel," the "Frog," the "Lion"; and pointed out how the strata of the detached rocks followed the same inclination, and ran parallel with the gentle slope of the ground; but having meekly received as much information as our shallow brain would contain, we drew back within ourselves to gaze in silent, ignorant delight, at these petrified forms of wonder--representatives left behind, as it were, by some unremembered age and race foretaste, perhaps, of wonders yet to come, when our age and race shall be the unremembered ones! From dreams like these we are recalled by the Chief's cheerful voice, and again we pass the beautiful gate and enter once more the familiar cold gray of the landscape of the plains, where even the sky is less blue and the sunshine less golden. Twisting our necks for one last glimpse, we photograph on our brain in a never-to-be-forgotten picture, the grand gateway, with its gorgeous color sharply drawn against the vivid blue, the great, snow-clad peak in the far distance, and the hooded Nun who seems bending forward to look after us as we are very reluctantly borne away.

Our next point is Glen Eyrie, a formation similar to, but much less wonderful than, the Garden of the Gods. 87

EVADING THE LIQUOR LAW AT COLORADO SPRINGS. Page 56.

88 61 Like that, it is entered between two gigantic portals, curiously composite in color of garnet, green, crimson and purple upon the outer face, while the inner displays every shade of a warm, yellow green Inside are some grand red sandstone buttes, towering like sentinels, a wilderness of cottonwood and fir trees, a pretty running stream and fine distant views of the snow-clad mountains and purple-tinted foot-hills. This glen is the property of General Palmer, and in its midst stands the handsome villa built to welcome his young bride, under whose direction the house was pulled to pieces several times in the building before it became the ideal home of which every bride may dream, but very few so fortunately possess.

The return from this region of enchantment to common-place Colorado Springs was over the flattest, grayest, most mountainous of prairie country, and in the teeth of such a wind as is only possible upon the plains, where neither tree, nor shrub, nor hillock breaks its force. The chill and exhaustion after a morning of such excitement proved too much for flesh too weak to obey the willing spirit, and by the time we reached the Crawford House, where a good dinner awaited us, the writer was seriously ill, and spent a bad half of an hour while the others dined. But yet, this experience is among the most precious of all that Western tour, for it gave us a treasure rarer than all the gold of the Black Hills--it gave us a friend.

Having already seen and admired her as our hostess of the preceding evening, we had quietly noted in her beautiful house the selection of pictures, engravings, 89 62 books, and objects d'art , which proclaimed their mistress a person of high literary culture, artistic taste, and extended travel; we had marked with admiration the fine manners, the tone of the best society, the ease, cordiality, and aplomb which made every one of her guests the object of special attention, while never neglecting the rest; but now, beneath the touchstone of sickness and suffering we saw developed traits of tenderness, unselfishness, of combined wisdom and gentleness befitting a Sister of Mercy rather than a woman of society; and as her gentle tou