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 TIIK 
 
 CALUMirr OP Till: COTHAU, 
 
 AND OTHKR 
 
 POETICAL LI'GliXDS OF Till: BORDliR. 
 
 ALSO, 
 
 A GLOSSARY OF INDIAN NAMFS, WORDS, AND 
 WESTERN PROVINCIALISMS. 
 
 TOGETHER WITH 
 
 A GUIDE-BOOK 
 
 OF THE • 
 
 YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK. 
 
 By p. W. NORRIS, 
 
 MVn YHARS SUPERINTIJNnUNT OP T„« YMLLOWS ICNK NATIONAL PARK. 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 J, B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 
 1883. 
 

 Copyright, 1883, by P. W. NuKRIS, 
 
M 
 
 w 
 
 ''I 
 1 
 
 I 
 
 To my early and dear friend who lonjr ago l.y the Miami of the 
 Lakes, in the wilds of \„ithw^ tern Ohio, stren.,'thcned my youthful 
 ambitiun, J am indd)ted f.,r the impulses vJdch from time to time 
 found expression in jjoetic fancy. 
 
 As a reminder of tlio.se days, so frau-hl with pleasure and profit, 
 and as a sliglit token of |,rratitudc to one wliose character I admire 
 and whose friendship I cherish, the following legends are dedicated 
 to the 
 
 HoNORAiii.K MORRISON R. WAITE, 
 
 C/u',/ Jiisfue of the United States. 
 
I SING IN SONGS. 
 
 4^ 
 
 1 SIN« in songs of ^li'liii"; lays 
 Of forest scenes in Ijordcr days; 
 Of lipplinjr lills in valleys yreen, 
 Anil niinored liil!> in lakelet slieen ; 
 Of niountain-i)eaks be»;iit with snow, 
 And flowery jiarks, pine-j^irt below; 
 Of darinj; deeds of border braves, 
 On dashing steeds, to gory graves; 
 Of brawny breast 'neath painted plume, 
 On warrior's crest, in dash to doom ; 
 Of light canoc on dashing shore, 
 And daring crew, who'll row no more; 
 Of goblins grim and canons grand, 
 And geysers spouting o'er the strand ; 
 Of Mystic Lake, of Wonder-Land. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Tmk production of tlic stanzas which compose tlic fol- 
 h)\ving narratives of incidents, legends, and traditions of 
 horder-life are not tlie result of any preconceived plan 
 or elaborate preparation, but arc the spontaneous out- 
 growth of circumstances and events as diverse and pecu- 
 liar as the strains in which they are written or the scenes 
 which they portray. 
 
 Tender affection and filial regard for a disabled soldier 
 sire of Pilgrim descent, an affectionate mother of Welsh 
 birth anil lineage, and a numerous family of young and 
 dependent sisters, im[)elled my boyish footsteps from our 
 frontier cabin of love to the toils and dangers of a trap- 
 per's life along the great lakes, rivers, and amid the 
 mountains of the pathless Northwest, in order to assist 
 one parent in his increasing age and failing strength, 
 and the other in her efforts with the rude weaver's shuttle 
 in providing for the comfort and education of my sisters. 
 From this revered Welsh mother I doubtless inherit an 
 ardent love for mountain and song. The stern realities 
 of border-life strengthened the one and wellnigh strangled 
 the other; and under the opinion, still retained, that the 
 poet's fLinlastic visions rarely accord with the cool calcu- 
 
 9 
 
to 
 
 /.\ Ao/>tr77o.v. 
 
 I 
 
 l.itions rcqiii^ite for business sucrcss, I si-ldom nllowod 
 these (l.iy tlreams eiuoiira^cineiil or reronl. Yet tliese 
 iinhidilen visions were occasionally pencilled l»y the 
 camp-fire, in hours of danger, as a, sohue from <arc 
 or as a tribute to the memory of cherished comra<les 
 gone; but they were sehlom long retained amid my 
 wanderings. 
 
 Those \vhi( h memory cherished were published under 
 the /wm (/(• /</////ir of '* (lien Alpine," my own name, for 
 business rcaso'is, being usually concealed. 
 
 Of these, "Gallant Charley Reynohls," "Cloud-Cir- 
 cled Mountains," and especially "The Union of the 
 Valleys," published soon after the Custer massacre, were 
 encouragingly received. Since that time the remaining 
 poems have b^w-n written, usually with pencil only, when 
 and where occasion called them forth, and preserved, 
 which was generally all accorded them during my five 
 successive years of arduous duties as superintendent of 
 the Yellowstone National l\irk. Pending the adjustment 
 of my accounts in connection with this duty, and the 
 l)reparatiohs for those of Kihnological research among the 
 mounds and other prehistoric remains in the Mississippi 
 Valley during the past season, these fugitive j)oems were 
 gathered up, revised, and, with explanatory notes and a 
 glossary, somewhat arranged, and now, together with a 
 few additional legends, and a maj) and guide for the 
 Yellowstone National Park, prepared for publication. 
 
 It must be evident that persons associating in youth 
 with comrades of many nations, speaking dissimilar Ian- 
 
rVTKODiCT/O.y, 
 
 II 
 
 giiagcs, tlic tjuttural jargon, or cinitloyiii^; j^igns as a nvxle 
 oi communication, could hardly cHcn|)c acfiuirin^ lantin^ 
 lial)ifs of s|»cc( h and a style of writing very iinliki* tlwir 
 native tongue ; liciui*, despite < han^'e in the construe lion 
 of verses, and the atldition of («)nne(ling words in many 
 of these Stan/as, abniulant evidence renuiins to prove 
 they were written tinned with an idioni ( learly distinct 
 from ortiinary l-jii^lislj. Tliis is rcj^ielted, ami earnest 
 efforts luive been nuule for its modification in tlie recent 
 use of words and construction of sentences. Thus tire 
 want of grammatical accuracy in this work is not as in 
 those of some auliiors, an inlenlion;il provincialism, hut 
 the inherent defects of the early training of the author; 
 and hence it is ho[)ed thai liiis c:otisideration may somc- 
 wliat turn aside the shafts of imfriendly criticism. 
 
 Perhaps it may be conceded that this ailmilled lack of 
 style and finish in the verses is in part counterbalanced 
 by the truthful des( ription of tlie marvels in the Goblin 
 and Wonder- Lands, ami the ever-chan;;ing scenes of the 
 border, in wliich the author has largely parlici[)ited, and 
 the faithful recital of t'.o legends or traditions of the days 
 agone. 
 
 Nor has the autlior sought to invade the sacred pre- 
 cincts of classic literature, or trespass upon the trodden 
 fields of poetic fame, but as a tireless pioneer and path- 
 Inder, he has exi)lored the route, blazed the trail, and 
 brought away, rough-hewn and mipulishcd, some of the 
 countless gems hidden upon the rolling coteaus, the 
 snow- and cliff-encircled parks and lovely valleys of an 
 
•■^Il^ 
 
 X2 
 
 INTRODUC'llON. 
 
 empnc now in the closing throes of transition from a 
 race of stoic Ictliurgy to that of resistless energy and 
 progress. 
 
 If, by the publication of these gliding narratives of 
 slaughter, of sorrow, of heroism, or of hope, the author 
 shall have rescued from im[)ending oblivion a few of the 
 thrilling scenes and unknown actors of this momentous 
 era, anil thereby encouraged others to fill future poetic 
 volumes of authentic history, he will feel that recalling 
 and publishing these camp-fire recollections and sketches 
 of a life upon the border has not been utterly in vain. 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 TiiK Cai.l'mkt of the Coteau 
 
 'I'lIH (ioiil.lN-LAND 
 
 Thk Mystic Lakk of Wondkr-Land 
 
 Tiir, Faithful Lovkrs . 
 
 GAF.LANr Charlky Rkynoijjs 
 
 Pilgrims of the Yellowstone . 
 
 Captive Maiden .... 
 
 The Wonder-Land 
 
 Bold Hero of the Border 
 
 Stalwart Yeoman 
 
 Go Where Duty Calls Thke . 
 
 The Dying Mandans . 
 
 The Dying Trapper 
 
 15o/.EMAN Bold .... 
 
 'J'he Cloud-Circled Mcjuntains . 
 
 Where Else on Earth? 
 
 Bradley the Brave . 
 
 From Big-Horn's Bleak Mountains 
 
 Mystic Land 
 
 The Granger Song 
 
 Border Brave 
 
 The Tattooed Artist 
 
 The Mosquito 
 
 Frightened Hans . 
 
 The Winding Dell 
 
 Afar from the Cities and Hamlets of Men 
 
 Oh, is there in this World so Drear? 
 
 To THE Tie at Home .... 
 
 The Warrior's Grave .... 
 
 I Sing in Songs 
 
 2 
 
 PACR 
 
 17 
 40 
 
 45 
 50 
 60 
 
 63 
 67 
 
 70 
 
 n 
 75 
 77 
 79 
 81 
 84 
 
 86 
 88 
 90 
 92 
 
 94 
 
 96 
 
 99 
 
 lOI 
 
 no 
 112 
 114 
 117 
 119 
 121 
 123 
 125 
 
M 
 
 TAIU.E OF CONTENTS, 
 
 Blaze Urighii.y, () CAMP-riKi:! . 
 Union ok thi, Vaii.kys 
 Oil, FOR Hard to Truly Trkasukk 
 Rustic nRii)i;K and Crystal Falls 
 llKiJi 'rowKRs iiiK Crai;gy SuM.Mir 
 
 l.ONLLY GLKN 
 
 Klynolds's DiKcr, 
 
 Yks, i»k ri" Thus . 
 
 In Cabin, Camp, or Council 
 
 Vls, Evkry On i: a Man 
 
 TiiK Artist Siam.ky . 
 
 Min-nk-ha-iia 
 
 LOVKLY RiVliR 
 
 Burial Tr.Ei'Lii 
 
 Bold Traitkr of thk Cami'-firf 
 
 TiiK Warrior's Dirok . 
 
 Cyi'Rkss Shadows . 
 
 I'vii Traii.i-.d thk Proud Columhia 
 
 Ho, Wakin! 
 
 Northern Clime .... 
 
 1)E Soto 
 
 Notes 
 
 (Ilossary 
 
 Guide-book of the Yellowstone Na 
 
 tional Park 
 
 l-AUB 
 
 127 
 
 129 
 
 'J2 
 
 •35 
 
 137 
 
 138 
 
 139 
 140 
 
 141 
 
 145 
 146 
 
 147 
 148 
 149 
 
 iSo 
 >52 
 «53 
 '57 
 159 
 162 
 171 
 223 
 
 23s 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 I. The Cliff and Quarry of tiik Pii-kstonk or Sacrkd 
 
 P4cn 
 
 Calumkt Fronli 
 
 2. TiiF Indian Council 
 3 Custkk's Battle-ground 
 
 4. Tiik Gohlin Labyrinths 
 
 5. The Daring Maiden 
 
 6. The Dyinc; Trapper 
 
 7. Rustic Bridge and Crystal Falls 
 
 8. Map of the Yellowstone National Park 
 
 9. Mammoth Hot Springs 
 
 10. Map of the Upper Geyser Basin 
 
 11. Bee- Hive Geyser .... 
 
 ■spifce 
 
 24 
 
 37 
 43 
 56 
 82 
 
 m> 
 
 23s 
 
 245 
 
 255 
 257 
 
p 
 
THE CAL-U-MK'I' OF THE COTEAU. 
 
 'Say, hast thou seen the cal-ii-met* of pink or purple 
 
 bright, 
 A pipe-bowl in the council, a hatchet in the fight? 
 And heard the Indian legend, all of a deUige grand, 
 Of time agone uncounted o'er the Da-ko-ta land ; 
 When a remnant of the red men upon a rocky crest 
 Were gathered where the eagle had built his lofty nest, 
 And the rising waters swallowed all save a virgin lone, 
 Who clung to the war-eagle and nestled in his home ; 
 When from receding waters the rocky crest arose, 
 liO ! turned to shining jasper were mingled friends and 
 
 foes? 
 
 Then hovered the Man-i-touf to view the horrid scene, 
 
 A cliff of rocky warriors above the coteau green : 
 
 " This rock," he cries, *' is sacred ; no warrior here shall 
 
 stand 
 With bended bow and arrow, or battle-lance in hand ; 
 No war-whoop here shall echo, no scalping-knife shall 
 
 gleam. 
 But o'er the rolling coteau shall glide a crystal stream. 
 And emerald pools shall sparkle along the lovely vale. 
 For cleansing baths of warriors, where foes shall not 
 
 assail ; 
 
 * Cal'u-mct, the sacred pipe of peace. 
 
 f Man-t (pronounced c) -tou, tlie Mysterious Spirit, or God. 
 /> 2* 17 
 
i8 
 
 THE CAI.-UMET OF HIE COTEAU. 
 
 Ihit all shall meet in fricndsliip around the rocky crest, 
 Where the weak shall dwell in safety and the 'weary 
 be at rest.' " 
 
 Thus spake the proud Man-i-tou unto the mongrel brood 
 Of the maiden and war-eagle, who stern around him 
 
 stood, 
 Who on the crest an altar of shining jasper made, 
 And sacrifice of bison upon it reeking laid, 
 As pledge of coi.ipact sacred, when, lo ! from cal'mct- 
 
 bowl — 
 The wand of the Man-i-tou — the flames of heaven roll 
 From the stem to waiting altar, as lightning from above. 
 And incense sweet from bison seals pledge of peace and 
 
 love, — 
 From altar, then, Man-i-tou quick carves a cal'met bright. 
 And how to smoke it taught them, then vanished from 
 
 their sight ; 
 But the Was-sa-mo-win* flashing transpierced the eagle's 
 
 nest, 
 And glazed to hardest adamant the towering jasper crent ; 
 But the foot-print of the eagle deep in the rock remains. 
 And the blood of slaughtered bison the crag a crimson 
 
 stains. 
 
 Forth went the stalwart red men, and wandered o'er the 
 
 earth. 
 Each clan with purple cal'mets carved at their place of 
 
 birth. 
 To smoke on each occasion of council for a peace. 
 When all who smoked to totem pledged massacre should 
 
 cease ; 
 
 * Was'sa-mo'win, lightning. 
 
TIIK CM. C MET OF THE COTEAU. 19 
 
 But the pijjc with bludc of hatclict, and stem witli eagle's 
 
 plume, 
 And i)aint of bright vermilion, are smoked as call of 
 
 doom ! 
 For eagle's plnme on hatchet-stem was the totem of the 
 
 sire, 
 Which warriors made in battle, and stoics in the fire; 
 While the bowl of peaceful maiden was smoked for war 
 
 to cease. 
 That each shonUl meet as kindred, and all should dwell 
 
 in ])eace. 
 
 lUit lost were maidens* cal-u-mets, wiiile the warrior's 
 
 hatchet new 
 Was ever carved more gorgeous, as savage habits grew ; 
 And, as virtue ever suffers by compromise with crime, 
 So the eagle's bloody hatchet hewed the maiden's i)ipe in 
 
 time ; 
 And when her children wandered far to the cal'mct land, 
 Lo ! too hard was rock to make them with tool in human 
 
 hand ; 
 In sore distress, the Wa-kon, as mother of the race, 
 With sacrifice and prayer, was sought to show her face ; 
 When lo ! in cloud she hovered above the eagle's nest. 
 And sweet- voiced like the zephyrs, her children thus 
 
 addressed : 
 
 ** Oh, children ! my children ! your prayers I hear, 
 Go forth on the coteau and gather the deer, 
 The elk and the bison, and antelope fleet. 
 For slaughter and offering as sacrifice sweet ; 
 = l^ut the bison, so lofty, so fleet, and so white. 
 Oh ! mar not his beauty, but follow his flight ! 
 
20 
 
 THE CAI.-U-MET Oh THE COJEAC. 
 
 I 
 
 Wliorc liis lioofs tmii the rocks on the trail of tlie slaiti, 
 III that crimson-stained rill seek for pipe-stone again, — 
 (\irvc and smoke from the (jiiarry by l)U)0(l rendered soft ; 
 Live in peace with eacli otlier, — I'll view from aloft ! 
 'I'hat the eagle may sanction this compact divine, 
 ^ These five eggs I leave for your witness and mine; 
 * Lo ! beneath are two grottos for Wa-root-ka's home, 
 To watch all yonr doings wherever I roam. 
 I-arewell, my dear children ! I'm goddess at home ; 
 IJut tile proud eagle governs the warriors who roam 1" 
 
 .i« 
 
 i<} 
 
 I 
 
 Thus spake the mother Wakon, beneath her floating hair 
 Of waving spray an«l rainbow, then vanished into air. 
 Adftwn into the valley they trailed the bison white, 
 When near the eggs (now adamant) beheld a cheering 
 
 sight ; 
 Of cal'met ro( k a fnigment by bison hoof upturned, 
 In stream of blood from sacrifice, upon the coteau burnetl ; 
 The (piarry fountl, deep in the ground, beside the crystal 
 
 stream, 
 Ever retains those crimson stains, matchless to carve and 
 
 gleam ; 
 Whence alone have cal'mcts jnirple for all the Indian race 
 Quarried been beneath the waters, which bear a crimson 
 
 trace. 
 
 Full soon were pilgrims gathered, from Win-ne-ba-go band, 
 And Chcr-o-kee and Choc-taw, from sunny southern land ; 
 The Mo-hawk and Wy-an-dotte, from eastern timbered 
 
 vales, 
 Brule, Flat-head, and Wa-lu-la, amid the western dales; 
 The Sem-i-noleand Eu-taw, 'mid creeping southern vines, 
 Bold Chip-pe-wa and Hu-ron, from tow'ring northern 
 
 pines ; 
 
rill'] cM-r MET Oh riiE cotf.au. 
 
 21 
 
 The Tc-qiiod and Mo-liic-iin, from Atlantic's granite 
 
 shore, 
 With (\i> use and Nis-([iKdda, frcjui the Umd I'a(iri<:'s roar; 
 The lbn-no( k and Sho-shon-e, (hill Ute and crafty Crow, 
 5 iioUi Chey-enne and Da-ko-ta, the latter called bi-oux. 
 
 IJrave ?a\v-nee of the prairies, Pi-ute from Lava Plains, 
 A-rick-a-rec and Man-dan (whose fields Missouri drains); 
 Pilgrims from each were gathered, friends here, though 
 
 elsewhere foes I 
 In pools removed was war-paint, plunged hatchets, lance, 
 
 and bows, 
 As brothers all united to gather, carve, and smoke 
 Cal-u-mets from (juarry sacred, and Man-i-tou's love 
 
 invoke; 
 Yoimg warriors with ambition the " Leaping-Rock" to 
 
 press, • 
 
 Found horrid death in failure, and honor in success; 
 Mn jasper cairn they buried the maiil and warrior gone, 
 And bright their totems painted ui)on the walls of stone. 
 
 O, lovely days of beauty and happy niglits of peace 1 
 All countless are the bison, the elk are slain with ease ; 
 The Man-dan round his earth-lodge his garden tills secure. 
 The yellow trout, and speckled, fill dashing streamlet i)ure; 
 'The woolly-sheep and big-horn skip near the crests of 
 
 snow, 
 Unnuml)cred in the valleys are the shaggy buffalo ; 
 Swift antelope and black-tails bedeck the treeless plains, 
 And swans with snowy plum:ige the glades Missouri drains; 
 In light canoes the Chip-pe-was their Mon-o-nim* secure, 
 These countless gifts of providence to nature's God allure. 
 
 * Mon-o-nini, wild rice. 
 
23 
 
 ?///■: CI /•{..]//: 7 or the coteau. 
 
 ( )I), these Missful (lays arc waning, and hilter days begun, 
 Willi tl)o (oniing of the pale-face athwart the rising sun I 
 Their *• big canoes" with ea^le-wings arc matchless in 
 
 the ra<i , 
 'I'errific are the warriors with bearded throat aiul face, 
 'lieslride fleet hornless bison, resistless in the strife, 
 And from their side oft Hashes a long and flaming knife ; 
 I'VoM) bosom gleams bright totems, war-bonnets shield 
 
 their eyes, 
 Kach war-lance darling liglitning, their ihunders rend 
 
 the skies ; 
 Flames from their monster cal-u-mets bla/e like a meteor 
 
 star, 
 And unseen barbless arrows are deadly from afar. 
 
 The artless ( hild of nature in silent wonder gazed, 
 'Then from the ** Mighty Medicine" in terror fled amazed. 
 Scarce had these tales of wonder traversed the mighty 
 
 lakes, 
 ICre echoing new thunder, primeval silence breaks; 
 Nor hissing bolts of murder pursue for human gore, 
 '"Pure Hen-ne-pin and Du-luth visit for good the shore; 
 And through untrodden forests they seek the boundless 
 
 West, 
 "Till the Prairie Min-ne-tan-ka their wanderings arrest, 
 When lo I amid the pastures of mingled flowers and 
 
 green, 
 High o'er the Min-ne-ha-ha, St. Anthony is seen. 
 On halo crest of rainbow that spans his canon walls 
 He with his own name christens the Mis-sis-sii)-i)i Palls, 
 And hails the wond'ring Frenchman, in accents clea? 
 
 and strong, 
 *'Adown this mighty river in safety glide along 
 
THE CM.-l'-Ml.t O/' HIE CO THAU. 
 
 ^S 
 
 From tlu- lake-land of the pinc-trcc to llic ryprcss by tl»c 
 
 8ca, 
 lint aloii^' its western borders arc a jjeople Iirave and free. 
 No pale-facc foot in sa<rilej,'e may press Dakota's j)lains, 
 l'"or ihns onr Wa-kan-tan-ka the sacred riglu ordains. 
 Willi (nrling snu)ke of <:al-u-met they'll greet yon to iheir 
 
 shore, 
 lint all advance the tomahawk will terminate in gore." 
 With kind intent the warning given, in birclK'n-!)ark 
 
 canoe, 
 Like Chipi)ewa, St. Anthony cpiick vanishes from view. 
 
 Full soon the sojis of natnre in mighty c:onn( il meet, 
 To pledge the roving pale-face as brother all to greet. 
 '■"With pnri)le pipe the chieftain first heavenward points 
 
 above. 
 Then east, and west, and north, and south, for witnesses 
 
 to prove 
 The friendshij) that he proffers, u[)ward with curling 
 
 smoke. 
 Prove ever true and lasting, or the Wa-kon*s curse invoke I 
 With one long puff from sacred pipe, each passes it along, 
 'Mid bold harangues of warriors and mingleil dance and 
 
 song, 
 Till all have pledged Man-i-tou each as a friend to know, 
 While sun and moon shall circle, or crystal waters ^i^w. 
 
 Thus, where the Min-ne-so-ta the Mis-sis-sip-pi meets. 
 And fairy Min-ne-ha-ha in matchless beauty sleei)s, 
 Warriors of Man-i-to-ba and from Mis-sou-ri's strand, 
 Foxes of Mil-wau-kee and the Mi-am-i grand. 
 Chieftain of Min-ne-o-la, on crcstetl helmet sheen, 
 Runners of Min-ne-o-pa, from rolling coteaus green. 
 With fiery Mish-e-wau kee pledged the Man i ton (lod 
 That coteaus of Da-ko-ta by whites should ne'er be trod; 
 
«4 
 
 Till. CM.L'Ml.r 01' I III. COTEAl 
 
 l! 
 
 
 Hut tlu' roaring Min no t.m-ka a bordir hciuo ^hall bo 
 Hclwixt the native rovers anil those fr«)ui o'er tlic sea. 
 Firbt i)ale-f.ue then from the t(jun{;il atU)\vn llie river 
 
 passed ; 
 lly the fate of Indian nations, happy had they been the 
 
 hist I 
 
 
 ,^'^^ .-Tf 
 
 s;, }. -s'-'^- »-V«, 'V, 
 
 Tin: INDIAN COUNCIL. 
 
 Too soon, alas ! the I-ong Knife upon his charger came j 
 Anew they smoked the cal'met, and friendship pledged 
 
 again ; 
 
 But no Lc Sueur or Jo li-ette, with hearts of truth and 
 
 love : 
 'Twas now a band of traders, robbers where'er they rove. 
 
7///; CAL-V'MET Ot TllE COTIiAU, 
 
 as 
 
 Wiih hotuyed words, l>ut htMrt» of lust, they protiUHtl 
 
 hilt t 
 
 (> win, 
 
 Pnnlisi'd vile arts on innoi cnco, proud revilliiif; in sin ; 
 CiicMling alike in what they bought, ami gaudy trinkets 
 
 HoUl ; 
 I'lvery rraft was jiistified to ^'arner furs and gohl ; 
 The flowing cup of sorrow they luring hold in sight, — 
 I'clf saiK tifies the weapons, — "Huctxss is ever right." 
 " Naught < are they for the sufferings, the hunger, thirst, or 
 
 i;o 
 
 Id 
 
 Of agonizing vie tiins, so witli gore they g.ither gold. 
 
 At first they taste with caution, then drink and drink 
 again, 
 
 lake flock of simple goslings, soon sense wilh bottle 
 dr.iin ; 
 
 'I'lien dance, and laugh, and swagger, — men, not maid- 
 ens, kiss, then fight. 
 
 Reeling, they fall while boasting; for, to ait tlu demon 
 right, 
 
 Needless stage, or school, or coUe^^e ; for lo ! one l)ollle 
 fiill 
 
 Of liquid fire ruin brings to wisdom, wealth, and soul. 
 
 Slaying alike all nations, — the merry sons of Franc:e, 
 
 The sturdy sons of Krin, or Hrule with scalping dance. 
 
 I'roud slaves it makes of votaries, who freedom ne'er re- 
 gain,— 
 
 The viler gall the fetters, the sweeter seems the chain. 
 
 Thus with the simple red men: entranced by poison vile, 
 HHiile to their old friends cruel, they on the traders smile. 
 And in their revels barter, not furs and health alone, 
 IJut wife and ilaughter's virtue, to trader, viler grown. 
 And when the coteau-mother, her simple lace to save, 
 Invokes the Ivigle chieftain, him too she finds a slave 
 
26 
 
 'THE CA/.-U-MET OF THE COTEAU, 
 
 Of ',\issior. vile and cruel — oh, horrid tale to tell ! — 
 His daughter, young and lovely, to trader seeks to sell, 
 '••For wife to grace the harem, and firm mite his race 
 With chieftain of the Long-Knife and smiling bearded 
 face I 
 
 Behold the mother Wa-kon, upon the coteau crest. 
 In agony imploring for her i)c()])le sore oppressed : 
 
 " Man-i-tou ! oh, ^T m-i-tou ! save us 
 
 From the foe that would enslave us j 
 
 From the pale-face ever smiling 
 
 On the maiden he's beguiling, 
 
 And from ancient brave confiding, 
 
 Robs the pinto he's bestriding. 
 
 To the warrior proud and daring 
 
 Cup of Minne-bo-ta bearing, 
 
 Thus the fount of sorrow nursing, 
 
 Soon a flood of crime and cursing ! 
 
 "Now, my chief, once true . nd loving, 
 
 From my arms is ever roving, 
 
 And for fount of fiery water 
 
 Seeks to barter (Girling daughter; 
 
 Oh, night of woe, and morn of sorrow. 
 
 Dark the day and drear the morrow ! 
 
 Oh, my .stricken form is quaking, 
 
 And my yearning henrt is breaking ! 
 
 Oh, Man-i-tou ! save my daughter. 
 
 And chief and race from crime and slaughter !" 
 
 Where the lovely Mississippi unites with Pepin Lake 
 's Tower high o'er crystal waters huge crags of crumbling 
 slate ; 
 
THE CAL-U-MET OF THE C07EAU. 
 
 27 
 
 In fiiiry grove, 'mid prairie,— hard by,— stood pale-face 
 
 den, 
 And tlierc pure Min-ne-ha-ha was to have wedded been ; 
 But ere she left tlie fairy falls wb.ich honor still her name, 
 She to her Min-ne-o-la jiledged faithful to remain : 
 Then down the stream in birch canoe he vanishes unseen 
 To Pepin's hidden grotto, and there awaits his queen ; 
 With life and hope and nimble step, if fate allow her to. 
 If not, to leap from towering rock, and die with lover true. 
 
 The spirit of the Eagle, with hatchet, plume, and lance, 
 Was ever for the war-path, the reeking scalj), and dance, 
 While the nature of the maiden through all these ages ran 
 With tenderness to woman and fellowship with man. 
 Tho' wars were fierce and bloody upon the distant plain, 
 O'er all the sacred coteau there spouts no crimson stain, — 
 And in its vale of refuge beneath the rocky dome 
 Are ever peace and safety as in a parent's home; 
 But red men on the river have evil grown apace, — 
 The doings of the Long-Knife have ever cursed the race. 
 
 The trader's speckled harem of every tribe and hue. 
 
 Of wrangling whelps and pappoose, and maidens ever new, 
 
 'Twas there pure Min-ne-ha-ha was sought for a queen 
 
 awhile, 
 '^Then thrust aside degraded, to delve in kennel vile ! 
 Strange if with such example she fails to see the snare, 
 Or seeing, preferred dying; but first a maiden's prayer: 
 '* Man-i-tou 1 oh, Man-i-tou ! grant hunger, thirst, and 
 
 toil. 
 Faint, paddling in the rapids or delving in the soil. 
 Share the sufferings of our people, the perils of our race. 
 But wed me not to pale-face, — pray spare me that dis- 
 grace,— 
 
28 
 
 THE CAL-U-MET OF THE COTE A U. 
 
 I love my Min-nc-o-la, — oh ! let me share his lot, 
 Or deep beneath the waters be evermore forgot l" 
 
 But frenzied was the Eagle by venom from the still, 
 And to gratify tiiat jjassion relentless was his will; 
 In vain was mother's pleading, unheeded maiden's prayer, 
 His warriors* scowls derided ('twas in the trader's lair) ; 
 With hatchet high uplifted (no passage knew to plain), 
 Vowed she should Long-Knife marry, or mingle with the 
 
 slain 1 
 The daring wife of Eagle, with all a mother's love, 
 '7 The secret passage oi)ens, — quick darts the turtle-dove 1 
 
 '* Love, mother, — oh, my mother ! to you and chieftain 
 
 true, 
 Pure, I'll die with Min-ne-o-la !" and to the crest she 
 
 flew, — 
 No frenzied sire nor Long-Knife, nor lance nor quivering 
 
 dart, 
 Can reach the flying maiden or pierce the fluttering heart. 
 The summit gained, alas ! one glance at earth, then heaven ! 
 Then from the giddy crest she leaped, like bolt by thunder 
 
 riven. 
 Deep 'mid the crystal waters, pure as her truth and love. 
 To arms of waiting chieftain, where mermaids ever rove ! 
 Though ages long have vanished, warriors and nations 
 
 sleep, 
 '^ Still oft in wave-kissed grottos sing they at ** Maiden's 
 
 Leap." 
 
 "All hidden our grotto beneath the blue waters. 
 That requiems murmur as gliding along; 
 
 Nor wrath of the Eagle at queen of his daughters 
 Our refuge shall darken, or fetter our song : 
 
THE CALUMET OF THE COTEAU. 
 
 29 
 
 O VVa-kon ! our motlier, dost spirit still hover 
 Around the bold cliffs and blue waters below, 
 
 While evening's soft zephyrs waft low wails of lover 
 O'er Pepin's pure waters at twilight aglow? 
 
 And while Min-ne-so-ta meanders in sadness, 
 
 Low, murmuring through valley, 'adieu to our race.' 
 
 *'And thou, Mis-sis-sip-pi, bear'st temples in gladness, 
 With loud strains of music their progress to trace, 
 
 Shall plumed Min-ne-o-la, unchanging as lover. 
 
 With paddle scarce dipping, chant boat-song of braves, 
 
 And pure Min-ne-ha-ha, the wild cliffs above her. 
 Make laughing re-echo, our dirge from the waves 1" 
 
 Not humbled by his folly, nor by its woe and cost. 
 But furious at the mother whose love the maiden lost. 
 He sealed with warrior's hatchet the cal'met Wa-kon's 
 
 doom ! 
 Too late drunken Man-i-tou pale.; 'neath his paint and 
 
 plume. 
 The stroke his race has destined, tho' struggling to re- 
 main. 
 Yet sure to fade and vanish. Once in a sober vein. 
 Proud Eagle pleads in anguish,- no Wa-kon hears liis 
 
 calls : 
 No more remorse, but bitterness henceforth his mind 
 
 enthralls, — 
 The mercy of the maiden has fled the copper race, — 
 The vengeance of the Eagle, relentless, takes its place ! 
 
 And now, alas I the Eagle in anger chose a mate, — 
 Not one who fosters mercy, but ever favors hate ; 
 Who like an earthly vixen with jealousy oppressed. 
 Quick soar'd to cal'met coteau, and rent the Eagle's nest ; 
 
 3* 
 
30 
 
 'I HE CAl.-L-MET OI' 'I HE COTEAU. 
 
 Then pcK hcd ii[)on the ciuinciicc, to cool her wrath 
 
 awhile, 
 Hut nursing' roused it hij^lier, with i)uri)f)ses most vile: 
 "This is the IO;i<^le's hcrita^^e, and 1 his favored mate, 
 These, VVa-kon's loving children, their every act I hate; 
 They meet and wash the war-paint in my crystal bathing- 
 
 jjools. 
 They dig and smoke in friendship, and act like simple 
 
 fools ; 
 As tho' our elk and bison were made for them alone, 
 They sing and dance and gabble, wild revelling in our 
 
 home, 
 And plotting with each other against their royal chief, 
 That / am an intruder, War-Eagle but a thief! 
 While they audacious plunder the pillars of our throne. 
 And whittle smoking cal-u-mets from our choicest purple 
 
 stone ; 
 I'll teach them how to chatter, to frolic, sing, and 
 
 dance, — 
 These children of another, — oh, how I'll make them 
 
 prance !" 
 
 Then to the Eagle hastens, near Min-ne-o-la's home, 
 (Lest her untimely absence allow her chief to roam); 
 Like a true stepmother, his willing ear she fills 
 Witii projects grand but simple, to 'scape all earthly ills. 
 'Twas but to borrow thunder, and lance and gleaming 
 
 knife, 
 And steeds of Shun-ka~wa-kan,* and follow their new life 
 Of ease upon the prairies, at cal'met coteau bright, 
 Demanding of these pilgrims by what heritage or right 
 
 * Shun-ka-\va-kan, sacred dog, — i.e., liorse. 
 
THE CAL-l-MET OF THE COTE A U, 
 
 3« 
 
 They live in ease and plenty on onr deer and antelope, 
 
 And dig away our (puirry, or lazily to mope, 
 
 While we from home as strangers wander, — "Oh, my 
 
 chief, 
 Would thou wert Eagle warrior, then were our sorrows 
 
 briefl" 
 
 "Hold, my consort !" cries the Eagle, 
 " Have all as yon will ; 
 I am ready, I am willing, — 
 Revel, rob, and kill. 
 °° Bury [uirple cal'met peaceful; 
 Quench its azure smoke ; 
 Grasp the hatchet crimson recking. 
 Death at every stroke I 
 
 When the simple peaceful pilgrim 
 
 Seeks a cal'met bright, 
 I will burnish, I will furnish 
 
 For a wampum bright. 
 I will slaughter on the coteau 
 
 Till a crimson stream 
 Floods the quarry, drowns the pilgrim, 
 
 And I crown my queen. 
 Then will follow Min-ne-ke-wa, 
 
 Long a trail of gore. 
 From the coteau to the river 
 
 And Lake Pepin's shore !" 
 
 Thus a new era opens, — once his passions roused 
 
 ]}y wine and crafty woman, he with the pale-face housed 
 
 Hostage ample in payment for the murderous tools of 
 
 war ; 
 Then hastens in wild splendor to the coteau of the fair. 
 
3« 
 
 THE CAL-U-MI:T of TI//C COTEAU. 
 
 The pilgrims in amazement gatlicr along the stream 
 
 To view the prancing chargers and of arms the burnished 
 
 gleam ; 
 Nor long were left to wonder, for loud the trumpet calls, 
 And musket peals re-echo along the rocky walls, 
 Above the roaring waters, beside the Leaping-Rock, 
 Which quivers like an aspen from the unwonted shock I 
 
 Soon the War-Eagle summons unto his teepee all 
 (While, Satan-like, his consort prompts menace with the 
 
 call) : 
 *' Why sap ye the foundation of my rocky home and nest, 
 l>y digging for the cal'met beneath its tottering crest? 
 A tribute's mine, — a portion of what you quarry here; 
 One-half of all your cal-u-mets, — sure, that is not too dear; 
 Beside, of deer and bison and beaver of the rill 
 Mine be the furs and robes, — of the carcass eat your fill, 
 Save choice of loin tender, — hence pledged to me and 
 
 mine, 
 Ascoteau's great Wa-kan-da, by a standing right divine." 
 
 In blank and mute amazement the pilgrims stand around. 
 Like claims of crafty rulers people wiser oft astound ; 
 Full soon they break and scatter, departing each his way, 
 The cowards to pay tribute, the bold the chief to slay. 
 But vain on earth is innocence, the weak against the 
 
 strong, 
 For "might makes right," and hopelessly fights right 
 
 against the wrong. 
 Full soon from cowards' tribute, or plunder stained with 
 
 gore, 
 .it ghoul is paid, with usury, and shrewdly trusted more; 
 For slaves of vice and rapine are often from this cause 
 By masters safer trusted than those obeying laws. 
 
THE CAl.-lMET Ol- THE COTEAU. 
 
 33 
 
 "' Tluis soon the Wa-kan-she-rlia \\\(\ cnislicd or slain the 
 
 race 
 Of the evcr-h)vin!; Wa-kon, and a covey reared in place — 
 Fit whelps of the War-Ivigle and his Cay-ou-ta mate — 
 As venomous as serpents, as sly and sure as fate ; 
 In league with vilest pale-face, and through him with the 
 
 de'il, 
 By courage, or through cunning, make all their neighbors 
 
 feel 
 That such a race of robbers resistless soon must prove, 
 And slaughtered are, commingled, or far away remove; 
 Thus all winds seemed to favor the fierce Da-ko-ta clan. 
 Scoffers at the laws of God ! deriders of the rights of man ! 
 
 With the cunning of Mahomet, a religion new they made, 
 To suit their lust and rai)ine, deeming war a holy trade ; 
 Each Sioux born a warrior, the steed his constant friend. 
 His earliest hope the sun-dance, to nerve and courage 
 
 blend ; 
 Thence proudly on the war-trail, a reeking proof to claim, 
 Scalps heli)less squaw or pappoose (all count a coup the 
 
 same). 
 Then yelling to the council, bedaubed with sickening gore, 
 Flaunts maiden's scalp as warrior, — then hastens after 
 
 more ; . 
 Each thought and plan and struggle is for a warrior's fame. 
 Blood-daubed and painted savage, loud glorying in his 
 
 shame ; 
 Sure if his fate in battle be from his steed to die. 
 In bliss to soon bestride him, with plume on bonnet high ! 
 
 Thus the courage of the eagle and the cunning of the wolf 
 Are blended in the Sioux, in their very web and woof; 
 c 
 
34 
 
 •JHF. C.\I..U MET OF 77/ F. C07'F.IU. 
 
 A score of clans they scatter far o'er tlic western jjliins, 
 From the h)vely mountain valleys to the glades Missouri 
 
 drains, 
 liiiild their teepees far in Ih-jlain and their lodges 'long 
 
 the IMatte, 
 While professing peace anil friendship ravage like tiie 
 
 mountain-cat ; 
 With deep regret the chieftain gathers his clan, to know 
 'J'he guilty, — all are innocent, — "Sure," says the culprit, 
 
 ** 'twas the Crow." 
 With outward grief but secret sneer at pale-face want of 
 
 sense, 
 Rations and arms they thus secure ("poor lambs!") for 
 
 self-defence ! 
 
 Then, basely, from the council, they revel as of old. 
 In slaughter of the ranch-men, and pilgrim seeking gold; 
 The Crow and the Shoshone, and the treaty still sustain. 
 As firmly binding others, while they its terms disdain ; 
 Their gorgeous tents and teepees loom grander every day ; 
 With reservation i)lunder, or from murder on the way, — 
 To lairs beyond the prairies, far o'er the sterile plaii.s. 
 Amid the rolling coteaus the mighty Big-Horn drains, 
 Along a smiling valley beneath a rocky crest, 
 Wiiere Sioux squaw and warrior in teepees seemed at rest; 
 When Custer from the Rose-Bud, adown a streamlet came. 
 Not scouting well for ambush, but boldly seeking fajjie. 
 And rashly scattering warriors, which united were too few, 
 Charged fearless 'mid the teepees where leaden arrows 
 
 flew. 
 Grim smiled the taurine chieftain, as the war-whoop in 
 
 the vale 
 Shrill, knelled the fate of Custer, and his country left to 
 
 wail ! 
 
 n 
 
THE CAL-V-MET OE HIE CO TEAL/. 
 
 35 
 
 Oh, chosen hiir of ;un!)ush ! oh, fatal charge of braves 1 
 No inorcy for the living, and for the dead no graves! 
 For vain were deeds of daring, 'mid cotnuless hosts of foes 
 
 Commingled in the torrent which red wit 
 
 h carnage Hows, — 
 
 Or on the coteau struggling for victory or retreat, 
 
 With sword and carbine oi)ening a route through pintos 
 
 fleet, — 
 'Mid lasso, lance, and hatchet, tiie conflict soon is o'er, 
 In slaughter of our vet'rans who foe siiall meet no more ! 
 And when tlie evening shadows would hitle the scene of 
 
 shame, 
 liright gleams the knife and hatchet by blazing teepee's 
 
 flame ; 
 And fiends with reeking troi)hies, each marred with bloody 
 
 stain, 
 Arrayed in gory garments and tresses of the slain, 
 With shout and strut and swagger and screeching ambush 
 
 yell, 
 Mimic the groans of dying, on scenes of scalping dwell, 
 Till hungry ghouls grow eager, and venom, conquering 
 
 age, 
 Joins plumed and plumeless savages in revelry and rage, — • 
 Each boasting of his glory in daring days of yore, — 
 While painting for the war-trail fresh butchery and gore. 
 
 And now from our legend a moment refrain, 
 In this valley to linger o'er dust of the slain, 
 *'And 'mid the wild roses with carnage once red, 
 Oh I chant for our heroes the "Dirge of the Dead," — 
 These heroes whose duties were finished too soon, 
 Rosy morning of promise beclouded ere noon ; 
 Wiien the steed and his rider vain struggled for shore 
 At the ford, where the torrent ran purjjle with gore; 
 
36 
 
 THE CAr.'VMI'.T OF HIE COTEAU. 
 
 I'roin that dark cloud of battle, red field of tiu' slain, 
 
 Sad tidings ri'a( Ii kindtfd, fond hoping in vain ; 
 
 May each mourning parent tliank (iod for a son, 
 
 Whose trotli to his country is faitlifully «lone ! 
 
 ■'On the crest of the coteau once crimson with gore, 
 
 Oh, gather our heroes ! their battles are o'er, 
 
 And the *' long roll and rally" shall rouse them no more I 
 
 Soft zephyrs sweet wlnspcr their sighs o'er the plain ; 
 ** Revered by our country, not fallen in vain, ^ 
 
 Though moulder our ashes and lowly each bed, 
 ''I'is only life's casket which sh:cj)S with the dead ; 
 Our spirits arc basking afar from the grave, 
 In bowers of Kden awaiting the brave, 
 Where the warrior with hat( het ne'er enters for gore ; 
 For ( al'inets of purple arc smoked as of yore. 
 With friends and with comrades in bliss evermore. 
 
 % 
 
 11 
 
 When from such feast these demons, begrimed with paint 
 
 and gore, 
 T-cave wolves to finish revel, and hasten after more; 
 '•♦Nor bf)ld as men of courage 'gainst remnant on the hill, 
 Ihit prowling 'long the border, tlie innocent to kill; 
 As vultures scent the carrion, each tei'pee of the brood 
 Along the trail to slaughter swarms forth its wheli)s of 
 
 blood I 
 The bold, thrifty yeoman seeks wealth in tlie West, 
 The mate of his bosom a dove from its nest ; 
 Through deserts and dangers they sulTer and roam. 
 Till in sweet sheltered valley they make them a home ; 
 Soon neighbors build round them, all labor in i)eace. 
 Till of strength over-conscious does vigilance cease. 
 
3$ riii\ CM. I MET or rill', coteau. 
 
 iJfslriilc his fleet pinto, over mountain and K'<-''^ 
 Kides tlie proud Sioux < luefiain unto r.ipinc a^ain, 
 Witi> j;li()ul.s from the slauglUer of our ('lister and men, 
 And whelps from thiir kennels in eath v.illey and k'^"» 
 From tlie trests of the mountains white Kli^fnin^ in snow, 
 'I'hesc friends si an this IMen all-cnchantiuii l>elow ; 
 In darkness deMcndiuj^, — fitting' season of crime, — 
 While the orb of tlic evening' refuses to shine, 
 Like the s{ ream of tlie eagle o'er the nest of the dove 
 Is the war-whoop of sav.ige in the valley of love; 
 Like true painted demons, naught is sacretl they fmd,— 
 llapi)y homes are before then^, smoking ruins behind. 
 
 Hut the sword of vengeance tardy, erst gleaming o'er the 
 
 brood 
 Of the Kagle and Cay-on-ta, tnust now be drenched in 
 
 blood 
 Drawn forth for that of pilgrims upon the coteau slain, — 
 Mercy's plea from innocen(e, be now as then in vain. 
 Trom the coteaus of Wy-o-ming and Co-lo-ra-do's plains 
 To Sas-ka-sha-an foaming, that IJritain's forest drains; 
 ='!'From the fairy Min-ne-ha-ha and lover's wailing strand 
 To snowy mountains tow'ring athwart the Wonder-Land, 
 Revel their Indian neighbors ; none their fate bemoan ; 
 Tlie children reap the luuves by cruel parents sown. 
 In gory banquet reeking sinks ^varrior, maid, and <-hild, .^; 
 'Mid blazing tents and teepi i:s, by revelry defiled ; 
 Swells one loud wail of agony from sea of llame and gore. 
 Like scream of dying eagle, then silence evermore 1 
 
 Long the spirit of the Wa-kon fond iiovered o'er her race. 
 Then from a land of horrors she eastward turns her face, 
 To view on sacred coteau the cal-u-met smoked again 
 In hap[»y homes of comfort, 'mid golden lields of grain. 
 
TliF. r// f-\fi:r oh '////.' ro'iF.AV. 
 
 39 
 
 The (hvcIUrs tlvrc ;i people, though paleface to the view, 
 III love and kiiuh»e>s living, «>h, c hceriiiK vision new I 
 High soaring, long she viewH them: "oh, happy people 
 
 blest, 
 Who mingle love an«l valor, anew I'll hniM my nest. 
 Anil in memory of War-Kagle, us in the <lays of old, 
 Ere by Min-ne-wa kan eaplured and to the Long-Knife 
 
 sold, 
 •*()n the banners of this people let his |)inions soar above 
 With my maiilen's tap of Justice, of Liberty, and Love I" 
 
 "i 
 

 '^the GoiiLix land. 
 
 Oh, know yc tlie legend, when waves of the sea 
 Deep rolled o'er the sumniits of mountains to be, 
 Which slowiy but surely upheaved from below, 
 Rose taller and broader, till crested with snow, 
 And bubble-like bursting in throes to go higher. 
 Were sheeted in lava, in sulphur and fire? 
 And fierce was the conflict, and fearful the roar 
 Of cold lashing surf on a seething hot shore. 
 Charge of seas on a land they should swallow no more. 
 
 Long, long roll the ages, and cold the cliffs grow. 
 Cloud-hidden their summits, grove-dotted below ; 
 Wear j)rairies and cotcaus briglit carpets of green, 
 And streamlets enchanting meander between ; 
 ..\nd forests majestic, and vinc-trelliscd bowers. 
 Fringe glens as of Eden, all brilliant with flowers, 
 With roses and daisies, and pale elcnore, 
 Whose nectar the honey-bees gather in store 
 Fur banquets of gods when the summer is o'er. 
 
 
 There finny forms sparkle likt gems in the rills, 
 And elk with broad antlers proud stalk o'er the hills; 
 The goat and the big-horn liigh trail in the snow. 
 The deer and the bison in green vales below ; 
 ""^The black eagle soars round the pinnacle high 
 Till a wiki lamb jierceiving, as a bolt from the sky, 
 In his talons quick bears him for a feast in the glade, 
 40 
 
 Jai 
 
I 
 
 THE GOIUJN^LAND. 41 
 
 Near the lion low crouching, wliose dinner is made 
 Of victor and victim, in tanglowood shade. 
 
 In broad slimy marshes leviathans roar, 
 
 And mermaids are combing tiieir locks by the shore; 
 
 Full deep in green waters the coral reefs form, 
 
 Till ]xdm-shade(l islets defy the wild storm ; 
 
 And sharks, ever famished and eager for prey, 
 
 Devour with their victims the monsters who slay ; 
 
 While o'er the broad ocean the albatross sails, 
 
 'Mid i)orpoise and dolphins and loud-s[)Outing whales. 
 
 And sea-birds, foam-skimming, exult in the gales. 
 
 "'Then man, hairy giant, strode forth in his might, 
 
 Erect like his Maker, with knowledge of right ; 
 
 Inventor of weapons, first builder of fire. 
 
 Lone trader of trophies, with soul to soar higher ; 
 
 Loir. -girded, else naked, majestic in form, 
 
 With mate and their offspring cave-sheltered from storm; 
 
 Terrific his combats with lion and bear. 
 
 For food and for shelter, in glen or in lair; 
 
 But tusk, claw, and talons, and instincts are vain 
 
 'Gainst man and his weapons, on ocean or plain ; 
 
 For man, as his birthright, was destined to reign. 
 
 Ages on ages have circled and fled. 
 And countless the heroes who sleep with the dead ; 
 Earth teems with the millions unnumbered of men ; 
 Fish, beasts, birds, and reptiles crowd sea, sky, and glen ; 
 But man is polluted, and woman is vile. 
 With beasts, birds, and serpents commingling in guile ; 
 And monsters all .hideous, in form and in lust. 
 Stalk forth in the forests, or crawl in the dust, — 
 Earth is ripe for God's vengeance of fire 'neath its crus.. 
 
 4* 
 
I 
 
 42 
 
 7//A' Coni.lX-LAi\D. 
 
 i I 
 
 As cveniny;'s low murnmrs from storni-cloiid afiir 
 
 Grow loiulcr, till ihuiulcr the heavens ajar, 
 
 So moanings, halt-smothered, in womb of the Karth, 
 
 In wailing and trembling, like travail of birth, 
 
 V row louder and fiercer, till the thin crust is rent, 
 
 And lava all seething in biIK)\vs finds vent. 
 
 In vain guilty mortals their revels bewail ; 
 
 Too late, — prayers for mercy are waft on the gale ; 
 
 Unheeded the howling of monsters in pain , 
 
 God's vengeance, outpouring, rolls over the plain ! 
 
 Like harlots of Sodom, all revelled in sin, 
 
 Gomorrahs of brimstone are walling them in ; 
 
 Commingled in matrix of slime, which encase 
 
 3° Men, mermaids, and monsters, each sphinx-like in 
 
 ])lace. 
 And mountains nurlcd o'er them, from Heaven hides 
 
 trace. 
 
 Unnumbered the circles of s>...i and of stars; 
 Terrific the earthquakes, and fearful their scars; 
 Anil tempests, fierce howling, of hail and of snow, 
 And frosts, all eroding, hurl fragments below, 
 Unearthing each monster, each reptile and beast. 
 Nude vixen and warrior gigantic, at feast, 
 Where guests are stone-visaged, all lifeless and cold ; 
 Side-dishes, shell-fossils, as glistening as gold, 
 And viands, charred remnants of comrades of old. 
 
 •T" 
 
 I 
 
 \ 
 
 ' i" 
 
 Still deeper eroded the labyrinths grow, 
 
 And taller the Goblins, with helmets of snow. 
 
 Proud o'er them the eagle, with undazzled eye. 
 
 Scans sheep on the snow-fields, then swoops from the sky; 
 
 The goat and the big-horn there covert oft finds 
 
 In archways of grottos, where the moaning of winds 
 
f 
 
 111 
 
 "«•' 
 
 ■."f 
 
 
 / 
 
 ' ,»■ •^•,«»-»»„ 
 
 "'V'Mlii,'''^;' ;. I-"'^.' ■?■ ^•' ;'•' ■ ^ '"-©aw* ■•?■ •?'i^^''--'- -i-". 
 
 
 V,i:'."\ 
 
 
 
 THK (X)lil.lN" I.AKVKIN TILS. 
 
 
m 
 
 44 
 
 7y/A" GOliLJN-LAND, 
 
 Are requiems chanting, sliarp, changing, and low, 
 Of Hoodoos unearthly 'mid the lava's o'erflow. 
 3' And men of the mountains, of Sheoi)-Kater band, 
 Of game and of plunder make sacrifice grand 
 To monster stone-gods in tlic weird " (Joblin-Land." 
 
 i \\ 
 
 
THI-: MYSriC J.ARl': ok WONDER-LAND. 
 
 I SING of lake, of rippling rills, 
 Of sunny streams from snowy hills ; 
 ()f hissing pools with sulphur tide, 
 In gulches deeper far than wide ; 
 Of foaming falls in canon grand. 
 The M-ystic Lake of Wonder-Land. 
 
 For here, begirt with mountain-chains, 
 Snow-clad mist-clouds hide grassy plains; 
 'Mid terraced slopes, pine-clad and green, 
 Reflected bright on emerald sheen, 
 Of bosom thine, 'neath turret high, 
 Bright-blending water, earth, and sky. 
 
 Thus seen in quiet summer's eve, 
 Eden it seems with naught to grieve; 
 But howling storms and piercing wails 
 Come with autumnal frosts and gales ; 
 3^ And chilling blasts resistless come 
 Adown thy fingers, palm, and thumb. 
 
 Oh, have I not in trying hour, 
 Li craft too frail bewailed thy power? 
 With bending mast and rending sail, 
 And dashing wave o'er icy rail. 
 And foaming surf on rocky strand, 
 To shores of ice on mystic hand ? 
 
 45 
 
46 THE MYSTIC LAKE OF H'OXDERLAS^D. 
 
 Oil, niglit of horrors! on tluit shore, 
 
 Wlicn fire and surf discordant roar, 
 
 And timber, Icnipcst-rcfl and rove, 
 
 Hurled all ablaze up terraced grove, 
 
 And sparks, and snow, and smoke, and sleet 
 
 In angry circles waltzing meet, 
 
 " No tent can stand, no blanket save 
 From biting blasts that round us rave ; 
 With sleepless eyes, compelled to turn, — 
 One side to freeze, the other burn, — 
 We sigh for prayers of friends aflir. 
 And long for laggard morning-star. 
 
 The storm is past, and azure skies 
 The orb of morn greet at its rise ; 
 Soon warming rays dispel the gloom 
 That o'er our senses hung like doom, 
 And joyous hopes and buoyant tread 
 Gild halos bright o'er horrors fled. 
 
 Meanwhile, at dawn, on sullen shore. 
 With gravel filled and frozen o'er. 
 Our bark we found thus saved from wreck, 
 Keel-crushed, but firm her sides and deck ; 
 And quick, with tools and comrades true, 
 In surf the frozen cobbles threw. 
 
 s 
 
 m 
 
 Her hold we bailed with battered pail. 
 Her keel repaired, unfurled her sail ; 
 Our light stores shipped and rifles true, 
 Our rations short, and daring crew : 
 And, thankful for such lovely day. 
 With gentle breeze sailed up the bay. 
 
 "1 
 
 1 i. 
 
THE MYSl'IC LAKE OE ll'OXDERl.AXD. 
 
 IJiil time were short to here relate 
 Our voyage o'er finger, thumb, or strait ; 
 Round (lull mi ng isle, o'er mystic hand, 
 'I'o Indian cove, and thankful land, — 
 Then on(-e again our steeds bestride. 
 And proudly o'er the meadows ride. 
 
 And lierc by lonely rill I find — 
 
 Sad trace of race to pale-face kind, 
 
 But feeble, few, and shy of men — 
 
 A vvick-e-up of brush in glen. 
 
 And (blanket-robed for want of grave), 
 
 T.ast of his band, "Sheep-Eater" brave. 
 
 And now I pause and sadly think 
 Of cruel scenes ne'er traced in ink ; 
 Of kindly words and acts of those 
 We curse and treat as savage foes, 
 ^'♦Yet practice crimes that dark disgrace 
 Our Christian creed and bearded race. 
 
 Thus pensive, wandering o'er the strand, 
 35 Vases and urns from nature's hand, 
 Saucers and cups from hidden graves, 
 1 see come rolling with the waves, 
 And marvel how a cause unknown 
 Could fashion neat such forms of stone ! 
 
 47 
 
 Again, I view along the shore 
 Hot rills from hissing geysers pour, 
 3^ And finny forms beneath the wave 
 For angler's ait hot current brave, 
 To find, alas ! like human fool, 
 A barb concealed and seething pool. 
 
» . 
 
 48 7///^ MYSI/C LAKE OT UOXDER-LAXD, 
 
 Again, a rill from tnclting snows 
 Adown thy turfy terrace Hows, 
 'I'o foam in sulphur pool as hot 
 As So(l(MU*s slime in days of Lot ! 
 '^And thence from nauset)us hissing rill 
 Sweet llow'ry vale with poisons fill. 
 
 ^''And islands thine, rock-ribbed and high, 
 With snowy crests amid the sky : 
 Inverted, mirrored 'nealh the waves, 
 Seem isles to greet 'mid islands* graves; 
 And sylvan forms in fossil groves, 
 With vanished fi lends renew their loves. 
 
 Amid the mists of years to come, 
 With bunting, viol, harj), and drum, 
 Sliall steamer proudly on her way, 
 Or safely moored in cove or bay, 
 IJear artist, poet, priest, and seer, 
 Anil ladies, ever smiling near. 
 
 And will they know or care for those 
 
 Who coasted capes through mists and snows? 
 
 Or j)ressed proud mountain-i)eaks to scale, 
 
 In summer storms or winter's gale? 
 
 And unknown islands wisely chose 
 
 As safe retreat from savage foes ? 
 
 And oft, perchance, on island here, 
 With panther's tread pursued the deer 
 Or big-horn on the crests of snow. 
 Or grizzlies in the glens below, — 
 3^ For food their flesh, for hunting-shirt. 
 Their vacant coat with belt begirt? 
 
7///; MYS'JIC I. AM'. OF UO.\/)/:k'./.,tX/K 
 
 Alul will they dream tliat garb so wild 
 Screened men of worth, refined and mild? 
 With sense to feel, with souls to love, 
 A lion's courage, hearts of dove, 
 Whose i)lans of life, if understood, 
 Were "suffer self for others' good" ? 
 
 49 
 
 My voy:ige is o'er, its duties done, 
 This crystal shore my praise has won ; 
 In other lands be mine to meet 
 Sucii golden sands and islands sweet, 
 And free from i)elting storms of snow, 
 Ne'er scorching j)its of sulphur know ! 
 A long farewell, — I leave thy strand, — 
 Oh, "Mystic Lake" of "Wonder-Land!" 
 
1 • 
 
 TIIK FAITIIFI I, L()VI:KS. 
 
 In a smiling eastern valley, where the zephyrs dance and 
 daliv, 
 Dwelt a maiden fair and blooming, and a yeoman tall 
 and bold ; 
 'lender were the tears of parting of these lovers at his 
 starting 
 O'er the prairies and the coteaus, \\\ his pilgrimage for 
 gold. 
 
 For she dwells in halls of splenilor, where the heirs of 
 wealth attend her, 
 And her mother, sire, and brother seek with tiiem 
 alliance grand ; 
 IJnt her plighted troth is given, pure, and registered in 
 heaven. 
 That her lover, heir of labor, she'll await from golden 
 land. 
 
 "Love," he lisps, with eyelids quivering, ** cease, oh, 
 cease thy fefirs and grieving ; 
 Hope will sweeten toil and danger of thy lover far 
 away ; 
 Who, with glittering gems the rarest, and of mountain 
 flowers the fairest, 
 Bright will render this thy chamber, as for him thou 
 kncel'st to pray." 
 50 
 
 L, 
 
Tiir. I'MTiira. i.oveks. 
 
 9> 
 
 In ;i vale of crystal founlains, deep ;imi«l llio snowy 
 tuountains, 
 Dwelt this toiler of the [jlacer and this trailer of the 
 doer ; 
 And, allhon^h the painted savage ever lurked to slay and 
 ravage, 
 Still tiiis ranger braved the danger with a soul that 
 scoffed at fear. 
 
 For tlu' nu)untain zephyrs laden whisper cheering wor»ls 
 of maiden : 
 " In my bosom ever loving dwell thy gems, an<l in my 
 hair 
 Cluster wreaths of brilliant flowers, gathered in thy 
 njountain bowers, 
 And at even soars to heaven, for thy safety, fervent 
 prayer." 
 
 Yet the wintry storms are dreary, and tho trusting heart 
 grows weary. 
 When in waning moons no tidings thrill that loving 
 breast so pure ; 
 And within her home of splendor pride and l^ishion still 
 attend her. 
 And a courtly suitor wealthy seeks that love-lorn heart 
 to cure. 
 
 Then from far-off lands came tidings of terrific war and 
 fightings, 
 By the fountains of the mountains, where tlie daring 
 miners dwell ; 
 Doleful darkline pages filling scenes of death and valor 
 thrilling, 
 And a yeoman, slaughtering foeman, last and noblest 
 of them, fell. 
 
$9 
 
 7///; I A mil' VI. LOVEKS. 
 
 ;« 
 
 Not III wonh iiiuimi'ly spokon, but willi loving heart* 
 MtriiJj;s broken, 
 Pales the iniijlen's cheeks so hlootnlnj^, ami in ago- 
 nizing moan, 
 Ileeiling nt)t the gnosts of splendor, nor lier friends' 
 ronsolings tender, 
 Faintly liirohbing, sinking sobbing, bursts her cry, 
 "Alone I alone!" 
 
 Days are come and nights are banished, moons have 
 waxeil, and waned, an<l vanished, 
 When a spectre from that < h iinbcr, pale and trembling, 
 thin and wan, 
 On the arm of loving mother, and beside a tender brother, 
 Slow, but eager, seeks tiie parlor, all to greet her lover 
 gone. 
 
 "Comes he not?" she sighs in anguish ; " for his greet- 
 ing ( lasp I languish." 
 "Oh, my Charlie, waits your Laurie, with the gems 
 you sent afar. 
 Dwell you still beside the fountains, toiling 'mid the 
 snowy mountains? 
 Here I'll meet you, soon I'll greet you, or I'll wander 
 where you are." 
 
 Lost were all their arts of cheering, kindly words and 
 acts endearing ; 
 Only lover, daring rover, would her wandering dreams 
 reveal ; 
 All his bold, unselfish daring, all its fruits with Laurie 
 sharing, 
 And her cheering his appearing, could her clouded 
 senses feel. 
 
'I III: !• Mill I'd. i.on:h\s. 
 
 5S 
 
 Kulcs the fever, slowly biir!\iiig, tingetl iho cl»eek with 
 lualth ri'liirnit)^, 
 And her vision, (omjiitring reason, on its throne is 
 crowned again ; 
 When the vesper < hiines are pealing, faintly through the 
 twilight stealing, 
 Came the story and the glory of her ilaruig lover nlain, 
 
 Slowly rallying, health regaining, soon, alas! with hectic 
 waning, 
 I'rove the riven dart was driven to its feather in her 
 sold ; 
 And the lli( kering hope remaining of its earthly hope 
 retaining 
 Was a jotnney to some valley wlnre the western billows 
 roll. 
 
 Needless tale of prcjiaration, nameless vale of destination, 
 r'aithfid brother, would-be lover, [)ress their wealth and 
 tenderest care ; 
 Zephyrs froui the prairie blooming, lake of brine or 
 mountain loonung, 
 Hope sustaining, health regaining, till they reach a 
 valley fair. 
 
 TJy a rill at cvc reclining, 'neath the blooming roses 
 twining, 
 T.owly kneeling, love api)ealing, comes the youth, the 
 brother's friend. 
 ** Hist!" she cries, "these stars in heaven witnessed my 
 betrothal given ; 
 Only Charlie will I marry, till life's pilgrimage shall 
 end." 
 
54 
 
 TIIK J A nil I'LL /A)J7':A'S. 
 
 Vain his tears, his i)raycrs and si^^hing; few, but firm, 
 her words replying : 
 " While on earth, or yet in heaven, liis alone my life 
 remains." 
 Rifles ringi.ig, bullets singing, sudden death and terror 
 bringing; 
 Lover falling — sight a[)palling ! — spouting gore her 
 beauty stains. 
 
 Shrill the war-whcop thrills the valley; sharp the escort's 
 answering rally ; 
 Steeds are dashing, sabres flashing, friends and foes 
 commingled fall ; 
 Lasso whirling, cr'el slaying, blood-streams o'er the roses 
 playing,— 
 Daring brother, wounded lover, cheer the remnants, 
 few and small. 
 
 Hand to hand they thrust and parry, and the fainting 
 maiden carry 
 To adobe hovel lowly ; but the foe is there before. 
 Soon the swinging hatchet reeking, gleaming knife the 
 trophies seeking, 
 Demon yelling, scalp-lock swelling, witness grim the 
 fight is o'er. 
 
 Hark ! as sv/oop of eagles screaming, dashing steeds and 
 sabres gleaming, 
 " RaUy 1 rally !" shouts in valley, down the savage ride 
 and thrust ; 
 First a plumed and stalwart range, charging grandly, 
 scorn irg danger. 
 Warriors meeting, chieftain seeking, plume ii.id bonnet 
 kiss the dust. 
 
THE FAITIII'UL LOVERS. 
 
 55 
 
 Savage, ere his safety seeking, carves from slain the 
 troi^hy reeking ; 
 Gory chieftain, clasping maiden,—'' Mine," he cries, 
 " this golden hair !" 
 Hatchet arm by blade is riven, and in breast to hilt is 
 driven, 
 JJy the stranger belted ranger, whose arm sustains the 
 sinking fair. 
 
 Heeds he not the dying rattle, savage chief, or shout of 
 battle. 
 Only seeing maiden clinging to his breast for refuge 
 givei. 
 Beaming eyes again are meeting, loving lips again are 
 greeting,— 
 "Oh, my Charlie!" — "Darling Laurie!" — met on 
 eartH instead of heaven. 
 
 Oh, that stalwart brave is quivering, and in Laurie's arms 
 is sinking, 
 For an arrow to its feather, vile, has pierced that 
 manly form. 
 "Laurie, love, we've met and parted," faint he whispers; 
 broken-hearted, 
 Courage-nerving, maiden loviiv^ stanches crimson 
 spouting warm. 
 
 Painted brave, from hidden cover, leaps to slay the sink- 
 ing lover ; 
 All in horror, as the warrior comes, with bright and 
 deadly blade, 
 
S6 
 
 Tin: I'AIIIULl. I.OIERS. 
 
 In lier robes of maiden, loving, glares she as a A'arrior 
 daring j 
 On he dashes — pistol flashes — chieftain at her feet is 
 
 laid ! 
 
 I 
 
 ' 
 
 .. r;. T^ ^ ••.<tTr«r*"L:.. . ,t w, . - "y 
 
 ■ '<iX 
 
 
 TIIK DARING MAIDEN. 
 
 Quick she rends the shirt of leather, quick withdraws the 
 cruel feather, — 
 " Tis your Laurie, oh, my Charlie!" — on his lips her 
 kisses pours ; 
 Then with silken bandage holy, through the rents of 
 buckskin lowly, 
 Checks the eboing tide of crimson, and the sinkinj. 
 life restores. 
 
 IL. 
 
THE FAIIIIFUL LOVERS. 
 
 57 
 
 When the bloody fray was over, and the dead they needs 
 must cover, 
 Found the brother dead, but lover, scalped and gory, 
 lingering slill : 
 ** Die I cannot ere confessing crime my guilty soul dis- 
 tressing, — 
 Listen, Charlie! pardon, Laurie!" thus his moaning 
 accents thrill. 
 
 "Laurie, when I watched thy chamber, missive came 
 from mountain ranger; 
 I, in envy, love, and frenzy, took and bore it to my 
 room ; 
 Well I knew the manly writing proof he lived, and hence 
 the blighting 
 Of my planning, guile, and cunning, and defeat my 
 certain doom. 
 
 ** Villain I then I read the story of his daring deeds and 
 gl( ry : 
 How the savage slay and rn^nge, how from gaping 
 wounds he fell \ 
 But amidst the yells appalling \\i escaped by crafty crawl- 
 ing; 
 Hence these thrilling pages filling to the maiden loved 
 so well. 
 
 ''Then with love and envy swelling, perjured ooul to 
 Satan selling, 
 I as brother kind and tender told in strains of fondest 
 love 
 Tale of sickness short and trying, Laurie's love, and 
 peaceful dying. 
 And to lover message tender that in bliss they'd meet 
 above. 
 
58 
 
 THE FA /Til JUL LOVKKS. 
 
 n 
 
 "From that hour I writlicil in torture, with grinning 
 • fiends will be my future, 
 
 Unforgiven, cursed of heaven !" words iiis last amidst 
 his groans ; 
 Startled lovers, backward scanning, see the web of demons 
 planning, 
 And, forgiving, leave the erring with the God who sin 
 atones. 
 
 Days have come and weeks are ended, r.ioons have v/aned 
 and years have blended ; 
 In a valley pilgrims dally, 'mid the field of love and 
 Rore, 
 On a marble shaft ascending names of fallen ones are 
 blending ; 
 Fading echoes from the vespers thrill the tendrils 
 twining o'er. 
 
 And a stately mansion looming, in that vale of roses 
 blooming, 
 Chariots mowing, vintage flowing, o'er uncoimted 
 leagues of land, 
 While a matron bland and comely iid a statesman grand 
 and courtly, 
 With their children tall and blooming, greet their 
 guests with welcome grand. 
 
 Painting, bright as wealth can render, portray in that 
 hall of sjjlendor 
 Belted yeoman facing foeman, hatchet raised in deadly 
 strife ; 
 Tall and lovely maiden clinging, 'neath a reeking hatchet 
 swinging 
 O'er her brother, to her lover Heaven's .engeance 
 guides his knife ! 
 
THE lAlTIIFUl. LOVERS, 
 
 59 
 
 And upon the lofty ceiling, painted with historic feeling, 
 Gory (liieftiiin, lovely maiden, wounded ranger faint 
 between 
 
 Chief, from pistol-muzzle reeling, maiden o'er her lover 
 kneeling, 
 Crimson stanching, withcut blanching, real as in life 
 are seen. 
 
GALLANT CHARLEY RKYNOLDS. 
 
 ^"Once the chosen scout of Stanley, 
 
 Often Ludlow's mountain guide, 
 Then with nie erst true and manly, — 
 
 Thou who with our Custer ilied 1 
 Over all the Big-horn Mountains, 
 
 And beside the coteau's cone, 
 'Mid Missouri's geyser fountains, 
 
 And along the Yellowstone. 
 
 Kind and cheerful was thy bearing, 
 
 Firm and martial was thy tread ; 
 First amongst the brave and daring 
 
 Art thou numbered with the dead. 
 Bravely thou, with Reno valiant, 
 
 And with crafty Bloody-Knife, 
 In the front of charge most gallant. 
 
 O'er the ford of bloody strife. 
 
 60 
 
 Fearless when thy steed was falling, 
 
 Hatchet hewn, and pierced by lance ; 
 'Mid the flood and foe appalling, 
 
 Demon-like was thy advance ! 
 Pistol puff and ring of rifle. 
 
 Flashing knife and hatchet gleam ; 
 Reeking scalp and sinking stifle. 
 
 Dying yell in dashing stream ! 
 
GALLAXr CllAHLEV REYNOLDS. 
 
 (Iluistly strewing last around tlicc 
 
 Painted braves and plumes of lliose 
 Thy carbine slauglitered, still surround thee 
 
 Circling hordes of yelling foes. 
 All in vain were deeds of daring, 
 
 All too swift and sad thy doom ! 
 Earth's last view was savage glaring, — 
 
 The encrimsoned stream thy tomb I 
 
 61 
 
 Stricken in thy youth and beauty, 
 
 Sadly stricken ere thy prime ; 
 Fallen at the ford of duty, 
 
 Lo ! an h-^nored name is tliine ! 
 Charley : may the foe who slew thco 
 
 Ever bear a tainted name \ 
 Reynolds ! all the friends who knew ihee 
 
 Shall award thee lofty fame ! 
 
 Peaceful home has me delivered 
 
 From the fate that war attends ; 
 Desert flowers have bloomed and withered 
 
 O'er the bones of mountain friends- 
 Sternly fate — not of our choosing — 
 
 Severs us forever here ; 
 Sadly thus, with memory musing, 
 
 Darkly fades the fated year I 
 
 Other friends along that river 
 Fought and fell to rise no more, 
 
 Yielding their souls to God, the Giver, 
 When the deadly strife was o'er; 
 
 6 
 
6t HA 1. 1. AM CllAKI.EY KI'AXOl.DS, 
 
 When along the Yellowstone 
 Peace and happiness shall reign 
 
 O'er gory fields both lost and won, 
 None shall say they died in vain. 
 
 Can daring deeds of human hand 
 
 Save the soul beyond the grave? 
 And are there in that spirit-land 
 
 Mansions for the true and brave? 
 Oh, God of justice, but of love, 
 
 Judge them by their deeds and light I 
 And in thy blissful home above 
 
 Grant them garlands at thy right ! 
 
♦■PIl-C.RIMS OF THE YKLI^OWSTONK. 
 
 A 15AND of modern pilgrims went prospecting for goUl, 
 And rode or drove their liorses as in the days of ohi ; 
 The Mississippi and Missouri ol)stru(t tlicir path in vain, 
 And they pioneer'd the railway in roving o'er the plain. 
 
 The Platte they left at Laramie, with visions bright of 
 
 mines 
 Amid the liig-horn Mountains or gulches dark with pines, 
 And placers in the caOons, or charming hills and dales, 
 For peaceful homes of plenty amid the fertile vales. 
 
 Then 'long the beauteous coteau, rolling like the waves, 
 'Mid bison, elk, and antelojjc, and, often, Indian braves; 
 The first they chased to slaughter, the latter chased to 
 
 slay : 
 Sometimes they were pursuers, but oft pursued were they. 
 
 Through ever-changing fortune, with caution, dash, and 
 
 arms, 
 They passed the Cacti's Desert and the Indian's fierce 
 
 alarms ; 
 Then mountain above terrace beside their trail arose, — 
 In the last a rocky canon, on the first eternal snows. 
 
 Fountains, bright sunny fountains, dispel their thirsty 
 
 fears ; 
 Mountains, oh, snowy mountains, loud they greet with 
 
 cheers ! 
 
 63 
 
64 
 
 PILCKIMS OF THE YEI lOWSTOXF.. 
 
 Time, toil, ami patience coiuiucr, aiul iVoin tlic frozen 
 
 crest, 
 Dcej) 'micl the Uivu mountains, lliey view a park of rest. 
 
 C\(1ar-l)()r(lcrtMl rivulets (!cs< ended from the snow, 
 Roamed countless on the pa«ni)as the shaggy bufTalo ; 
 O'er all, in autumn's beauty, the mellow sunbeams 
 
 shone, — 
 A matchless vale of verdure along the Yellowstone I 
 
 With game-trout teemed the waters, all bounteous the 
 
 soil, 
 Gold-dust in the placers, awaiting only toil 
 Of fimiished eastern labor, the thrifty and the bold. 
 To rear their rugged cabins and garner up the gold. 
 
 Kager adown the mountain, lured by the brilliant sheen 
 Of gushing valley-fountain, begirt with emerald green : 
 "Oh, liere's the happy valley, this is tiie lovely West ; 
 Here we no longer dally, but buiUl us homes of rest !" 
 
 But since Adam sinned in Eden, and Eve to hide their 
 
 shame 
 Of fig-leaves made them aprons, earth has ever been the 
 
 same : 
 The vales of blooming roses are beset with piercing 
 
 thorns. 
 And death is ever garnering what beauty most adorns. 
 
 Thus to our weary pilgrims peaceful the valley seems : 
 Glowing are their camp-fires, sweet their golden dreams; 
 When shrill the war-whooj) echoes ' sharp the rifle rings I 
 Cruel pierce the arrows, high the hatchet swings ! 
 
 I 
 

 n/AiK/MS Oh nil: Vl.l.l.OWSTONE. 65 
 
 Vainly rouse tlio startled sloi'pcrs ! swift a circ ling j{UMtn 
 Of scalpii^j-kiiifc (Icscciidiiij^', and llu-n the d)inj; scri'Uiu ! 
 (^)iii< k wM'iu lu'd is rtrkin^' trophy, — soon aniid tho (^lootn 
 Coyote ficrcf and famished gi..nt the ^oiy dead a tonib. 
 
 From lluit sickening scone of horror one alone e'er reat lud 
 
 his home, 
 Thence from rural peace and comfort naught again can 
 
 bid him roam ; 
 'Mid tales of gold in Hiack Hills or along the Rosebud 
 
 vale 
 Ghosts arise of friends in " l>ad Lauds," and of gore along 
 
 the trail. 
 
 Mothers dear and sweethearts loving awaited their return 
 
 in vain ; 
 Drear the homes and sad the kindred they'll revisit ne'er 
 
 again ; 
 Long and vain for absent loved ones were their kindred's 
 
 sighs and moans, — 
 Painted braves and dusky maidens alike deride their 
 
 bleaching bones. 
 
 But the fearful fate of Custer on the fated Litlh Llorn 
 All too late aroused our jjcople to uproot the Rosebud 
 
 thorn ;* » 
 
 In the coming tramps and battles fallen friends shall we 
 
 bemoan, 
 liut no peace shall greet the Sioux ere they leave the 
 
 Yellowstone. 
 
 * " Rosebud thorn," SitUng Bull. A Koscbud, or Un-cii-pai)-i)a, Sioux 
 chief. 
 
 e 6* 
 
66 
 
 r/fAiK/Ms or nil': y/iiJ.oiisroxE. 
 
 ThcM lu'sidc the desert roteau ami tlie < rimsoii Little 
 
 Horn, 
 As alon^ the Mystic River of the spouting {;tyser born, 
 Miners wealth in peace shall gather from the placer's 
 
 golden sand, 
 Pilgrims hoallii in joy shall garner in the lofty *• Wonder- 
 
 Land." 
 
 t 1 
 
 ;!i • 
 
I 
 
 lie 
 
 r's 
 
 capi'ivl: maiden. 
 
 ^'Ri.sK, my miisc, sing of a maiden 
 CaiUive on the coteaii wild ; 
 Not with i-olden ringU-ts laden, 
 Ihil trchbcs raven, Nature's child. 
 
 From the camp of slaughtered Cheyenne, 
 Near the crimson Custer plain, 
 
 i^ode she to the border stockade, 
 VVeei)ing in the captive train. 
 
 Long she looked and sighed for lover. 
 Chieftain of a mountain band, 
 
 First in flight, and last to hcner 
 On trail of foe in native land. 
 
 T3ut her longing eyes grew weary, 
 And her loving heart grew faint, 
 
 In a prison, chill and dreary. 
 Child of freedom in restraint. 
 
 When her kindred yield to capture, 
 Weary of the scourge of war, 
 
 Glows her cheek and form with rai)lure 
 At chieftain's totem from afiir. 
 
 67 
 
T 
 
 ii 
 
 C8 
 
 I 
 
 CAPTIVE MA in UN. 
 
 Proud he stood amid the warriors, 
 
 In the glare of council fire ; 
 "First," (juoth he, " release my maiden, 
 
 Or you shall feel luy ire. 
 
 ** I, of mountain clan the chieftain, 
 
 I in freedom chose a mate : 
 Only free she'll wed War-Eagle, 
 
 Be it life or death, my fate." 
 
 »1 
 
 if 
 
 1 
 
 "Trail your totem, yield your pinto, 
 
 Quick disarm your warriors all ; 
 "Mine be teepee," says the pale-face, 
 " And upon our mercy call." 
 
 "This," quoth the chief, " to me, a warrior? 
 
 I disarm ? — be squaw and slave ? — 
 Teepee for friend, for foeman hatchet, — 
 
 From his war-horse dies the brave." 
 
 V/ar-whoop shrill, and mounted warriors, 
 Lance and plume, bedeck the plain ; 
 
 Fierce the onset, long the struggle. 
 The maid to save, — alas ! ih vain. 
 
 i?i \ 
 
 
 Saw the morning carnage ghastly, — 
 Gory harvest on the i)lain ; 
 
 Blanket-strewed and bullet-furrowed. 
 Desert moistened, not by rain. 
 
 Gone the chieftain, gone the remnant 
 Of his warriors, fliint and kw ; 
 
 In court of prison slept the maiden, — 
 Moist her tre.;ses, not with dew. 
 
CAPTIVE MAIDEN. 
 
 Vain had been her pray'r for Ireedom ; 
 
 Guard and bay'net barr'd the door: 
 " This will open gate to prison, — 
 
 MouUler clay and spirit soar." 
 
 Thus she speaks ; then, tall and stately, 
 Bares her bosom, looks above : 
 
 "God of red-man, — oh, Man-i-tou ! 
 Thus I come, a bride of love." 
 
 69 
 
 Qm'ck as swoop of mountain-eagle 
 Heart is pierced by blade in hand ; 
 
 Marks the rill of gushing crimson, 
 Freedom's trail to Si)irit-land. 
 
TUK wondi<:r-land. 
 
 
 ill 
 
 Ho, ye pilgrims, seeking pleasure, 
 
 Or for health in vain, 
 Listen to me, while 1 truly 
 
 Tell where both to gain. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 'Mid encircling snowy mountains, 
 
 Falls and canons grand. 
 Bathing-pools and spouting fountains, 
 
 Of the "Wonder-Land." 
 
 There, enraptured, have I wandered 
 Through the glades and dells, 
 
 Where the big-horn, elk, and beaver 
 Each in freedom dwells. 
 
 Where the azure pools of healing 
 
 Terrace from the snow. 
 Like a glist'ning cascade frozen. 
 
 To the glens below. 
 
 I ( I 
 
 Where the spray from spouting fountains 
 
 Forms a halo crest. 
 Looming up the snowy mountains 
 
 Rainbows where they rest. 
 
 70 
 
 t I 
 
TI/E IVONDER.LAND, 
 
 Where the lialo's quivering shadows, 
 
 O'er the Triple Falls, 
 Tint the canon, where wild waters 
 
 Echo 'long its walls. 
 
 Where the swan with snowy plumage, 
 
 Brant, and cre.-,ted drake, 
 O'er the yellow trout and speckled, 
 
 Skim the crystal lake. 
 
 Where the screams ol' mountain-lion 
 
 Pierce the midright air, 
 Like the fabled Indian warrior 
 
 Wailing in despair. 
 
 Where the moose and curly bison, 
 
 Monarchs of the glades. 
 Like the mammoth loom in roaming 
 
 'Mid the twilight shade. 
 
 Where the ancient forests vernal, 
 
 Now in lava cased, 
 Matchless opal, crystal caskets, 
 
 Ruthless are defaced. 
 
 7J 
 
 Where thin-crusted earth seems bending 
 
 From the fires below, 
 Threat'ning, as of old, the rending 
 
 And lava overflow. 
 
 Where the bowers of Eden, blooming 
 
 'Mid the glens of earth. 
 Nestle, 'neath fierce tempests howling, 
 
 Like creation's birth. 
 
VA 
 
 i 
 
 72 77/E UONDER-I.AXD. 
 
 Where on earth are niatclilcss blended 
 Vernal flowers and snow, 
 
 Eden glens and glens of sulphur, 
 Elysium and woe. 
 
 <^Oh, for wisdom in the councils 
 Of our nation great, 
 To protect these matchless wonders 
 From a ruthless fate I 
 
 11 
 
 PI * 
 

 150LL) IIMRO OF 'IIIK UORDKR. 
 
 m 
 
 (gen. nklsom d. miles.) 
 
 Born in the land of Pilgrims, beside its granite shore, 
 Thy lulUiby of freedom the waves unfettered roar, 
 And, rearing as a yeoman, amid its Northern vales, 
 Thy heart defends thy country when Southern foe assails ; 
 And youthful form waxed stalwart thy trusty sword to 
 
 wield, 
 In craggy pass of mountain or crimson suli)hur field. 
 Till loyal hosts in triumi)h forced treason's clans to yield. 
 
 On furlough brief from battle, thy eager soul did burn 
 To abler serve thy country and worthy laurels earn ; 
 Then o'er the distant prairies and sterile thorny plains, 
 Amid the rolling coteau the Mystic River drains. 
 The wild terrific gulches and snowy mountain-crest. 
 The war-trail of the savage thy daring footsteps pressed, 
 Bold hero of the border, by all its people blest. 
 
 The bold Nez-Perce chieftain, from valley of the West, 
 Descending to the coteau from snowy mountain-crest. 
 Safe crossed the Mystic River, and then Missouri's wave, 
 The matchless mountain trailer, bold leader of the brave, 
 '•''In lair of hidden gulches, in Woody Mountain wilds, 
 On Crow and Ree and Sturgis in proud derision smiles, 
 Yet found on trail to Britain just one too many " Miles." 
 
 For then by matchless marching o'er desert pass and plain, 
 And floods of mighty rivers which snowy mountains drain, 
 i> 7 73 
 
74 
 
 noLD HERO OF THE BORDER. 
 
 TJkc phalanx of tlie (liccian, tluni Icd'st thy vct'ran l)an(l> 
 VVIicic conflicts are dcciilccl in struggle hand to hand ; 
 For tiicrc with sword and hatchet in gulch with no retreat, 
 Each with a worthy foeman who never knew defeat, 
 The Che-nook and the Kagle in final conflict meet. 
 
 \ I 
 
 |i ' 
 
 Each with a prayer for loved ones; the hitter's far away, — 
 The first's in coula hidden, in trembling terror lay, 
 'Mid deadly ring of rifle and scorching sulphur smoke; 
 The reeking lance and hatchet and sword's descending 
 
 stroke, 
 The chieftain's battle-rally and answering l"^.agle*s scream. 
 Commingled coat and blanket in gushing crimson stream, 
 Till bright through storm and carnage white Che-nook 
 
 flag is seen. 
 
 <sThen came the parley herald, — no servile cringing foe, 
 But chieftain with his rifle, the victors' terms to know, 
 To save his wife and children and remnant of his band, — 
 "Surrender!" says the Eagle; "these warriors understand 
 The mercy, truth, and honor I tender fallen foe, 
 Oft takhig to my service the warriors that I know 1" 
 And thus the tide of crimson in mercy ceased to flow. 
 
 And now, bold border chieftain, pray listen to a friend, 
 With matchless nerve and daring may thoughts of loved 
 
 ones blend ? 
 Thy prudence, skill, and courage are themes of praise by 
 
 all. 
 And needed still by country. Beside, wert thou to fall. 
 No laurel wreath of vict'ry could cheer thy lonely home, 
 Hush widow's wails, or orphans', in this cold world alone ; 
 More cautious prove, O chieftain ! when duty calls to 
 
 roam. 
 
 ^1 
 
STALWART YEOMAN. 
 
 ^NoT from hall of the Washhiirns, 
 
 Who so long have honor'd Maine, 
 ]iut lowly "JJuckcye" cabin 
 
 Our stalwart yeoman came. 
 Not from classic Oberlin, 
 
 Ever in freedom's van,-— 
 Self-taught, with chain and comi)ass, 
 
 Wild border-lines he ran, 
 And from nature's God in wildwood 
 
 Well learned the rights of man. 
 
 Oh, well do I remember 
 
 The days when we were young, 
 On our shoulders trusty rifles, 
 
 And from belts sharp hatchets hung. 
 Such training made us sokliers 
 
 In freedom's darkest hour ; 
 And the confidence of comrades, 
 
 When the bloody strife was o'er, " 
 Gave him the seat in Congress 
 
 Of Dan Voorhees— "Sycamore." 
 
 From the halls of legislation,* 
 When our duty there was done. 
 
 We met amid the mountains, 
 Far towards the setting sun. 
 
 * His duties were thus in the councils of the nation, mine in the less 
 p.omment position of a member of the Legislature of Ohio. 
 
 75 
 
76 
 
 SrAI.U'AKT YEOMAN. 
 
 tt 
 
 !i 
 
 I trailed down the Columbia, 
 
 He traced up the Yellowstone 
 To the geysers of Wyoming 
 
 And lava caHon lone, 
 Where halos lure but poison, 
 
 And turned his footsteps home 
 To distant Wabash valley. 
 
 Thence never more to roam. 
 
 Cold rest the cloils of Wabash, 
 
 Piled on his patriot breast; 
 Chill howl the storms of winter 
 
 Round Mount Washburn's rocky crest. 
 Warm glowed his form with ardor 
 
 When freedom's flag he bore ; 
 Warm thrilled his heart for loved one 
 
 'Mid the desert tempests' roar. 
 Tender their tears of greeting 
 
 When the toils of life were o'er; 
 Sweet 'mid the bowers of Eden 
 
 May they dwell for evermore. 
 
 ^ 
 
 , I 
 
 ■ti 
 
 ■■^^•«i— i.»^ 
 
(in WIIKRK DUTY CATJ^S Tiii-:r:. 
 
 <^ 
 
 Go where duty calls tlicc, 
 Or where hope enthralls thee, 
 
 O'er mountain, lake, or glade; 
 Where the wild man roameth, 
 Or the wild wind moaneth, 
 
 Deej) 'mid the forest shade; 
 Where the turtle cooing. 
 Or the bison lowing, 
 'Neath the wild storm brewing, 
 
 Would I be dear to thee ? 
 In a cavern screening 
 Thee from tempest screaming, 
 
 Wilt thou remember me? 
 
 When by spouting fountains, 
 'Mitl the snowy mountains, 
 In the Park of Mystery, 
 From thy couch of flowers, 
 In enchanting bowers. 
 
 Oft wilt thou sigh for me ? 
 And from halos pouring 
 O'er wild waters roarincr, 
 Like proud eagle soaring, 
 Oh, will thy spirit free, 
 O'er white mountains looming. 
 Or bright prairies blooming, 
 Often revisit me? 
 7* 
 
 77 
 
7-^ 
 
 i I 
 
 (70 U'/lf-lKF. DUTY CALLS THEE. 
 
 VVhcii fierce foes a legion, 
 \\\ some lowly rej^ion, 
 
 Ik'Icague thy inomil.iin ( .uwp, 
 And, from watching tlroary, 
 This loved form grows weary, 
 
 Cold Its turfy couch and damp, 
 In tliy fitful dreaming 
 Will these bright eyes heiwning, 
 Or in sorrow streaming, 
 
 Like angels visit thee? 
 All in anguish quaking, 
 From thy vision waking, 
 
 Oh, wilt thou welcome mc ? 
 
 When from leaden rattle 
 Of terrific battle 
 
 Smoke hides the light of day, 
 And from hatchet gleaming 
 Crimson tide is streaming 
 
 In visions far aw.iy. 
 From the gory lying, 
 Hear the moans and sighing 
 
 Of bosom dear to thee, 
 Lis]) will latest whisper 
 Dearer name than sister. 
 
 And sacred all to mc? 
 
 
 
 
 i 
 
TIIK DVINC; MANDANS 
 
 Brvf.ath tlic rolling rotc.iu, 
 
 Ucsiile liie roaring flood, 
 Dwelt the race of the Man-i-tou, 
 
 Mandans of the better blood.' 
 
 Their earth-lodge homes of plenty, 
 
 iMoni tillage of the soil, 
 Knticed the Sioux robbers 
 
 To plunder and despoil. 
 
 Slaughtered amid the gardens. 
 And driven from the plain, 
 
 Smallpox among the wardens, 
 Missouri's bath was vain. 
 
 Death's last relentless gleaner 
 Swept maidens yomig and fair ; 
 
 Warriors with plume and streamer 
 Lay dying everywhere. 
 
 Where, then, were Clarke and Catlin > 
 Where Irving, Camp, and Stone ? 
 
 With Brule and smallpox battling, 
 They sank and died alone ! 
 
 79 
 
80 
 
 ////•: nv/xi; a/.ix/kixs. 
 
 
 ''M)li, yli.isily sd'Uf of horror 1 
 
 
 Oh, ^{hastly town of doom I 
 
 
 No hope ill <lavvii of morrow, 
 
 ^ 
 
 No halo 'mid tlic gh>om. 
 
 
 TIhis sank the Ree and Mandan, 
 
 • 
 
 Nt) friends to cheer or save ; 
 Thus (UinLT in abandon. 
 
 And for the dead no grave. 
 
 Long years iiave tome and vanished. 
 Crumbling each earth-lodge home ; 
 
 Long have tlic remnant l)anished 
 Ceasetl o'er the site to roam. 
 
 Ily LitlU" Horn's green valley — 
 IJeyond the Yellowstone — 
 
 Sioux, Ihule, and 'IVton rally, 
 The pale-face dead luivc strewn. 
 
 Long years again shall vanish. 
 Ami Custer, Cook, and blue, — 
 
 Their honors none would banish 
 From lists of heroes true. 
 
 And Reynolds, — noble Charley, — 
 And Mandan, — IJloody-Knife, — 
 
 Who ever scorned to parley. 
 But fighting gave their life 1 
 
 1 ■" 
 
 u 
 
 .<L. 
 
TIIK I)YIN(; TRAl'l'KK. 
 
 / 
 
 rF.|.:Ri,F.:ss the park of ft)iintains I 
 
 I'ar, oh, far below 
 Its circhng crests of mountains, 
 
 lU'^irt witli ice and snow ! 
 
 *"nar(l by tliose spouting fountains, 
 Far, oh, far away ! 
 Done with liis frays and scoutings, 
 A dying trap|)er hiy : 
 
 One reared in wealth and kindness,— 
 
 Sad, oh, sad the day ! 
 When i)h"ghted love and blindness 
 
 Allured his feet astray. 
 
 Long years have come and vanished,— 
 
 Time, oh, time has flown ! 
 Si nee rudely scorned and banished 
 
 To tread the wilds alone. 
 
 But on that gloomy morning 
 
 Screams, oh, screams, and yells,— 
 
 Of death and ravage warnino-, — 
 Rang through the glades and dells ! 
 
 8r 
 
Af • 
 
 i 
 
 |: ^ 
 
 ^. 
 
 ^ 1 
 
 1 
 
 » 
 
 
 i 
 
 ■' 
 
 ■ } 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 if-; ' 
 
 '..f. 
 
 
 1; 
 
 / 
 
 
 l( 
 
 X 
 
 L 
 
 ^1 
 
 82 
 
 THE DYIXG TRAPPEl^. 
 
 Gory and scalped around liini, 
 
 Cold, oh, cold and dead ! 
 Wore cherished friends who bound him 
 
 To home and vision fled. 
 
 '\--.. ' 
 
 1^-" 
 
 
 THK DYINC TKAPrKR. 
 
 Remnant soon of comrades rally, — 
 
 Few, oh, few, and sad ! 
 'M>oys," he says, "dark seems the valley, 
 
 Oh, ;; -ntiy raise my head ! 
 
'J'liE DYING 'iK.irrr.R. 
 
 '* Brotliers, Life's crimson tide is llowing,- 
 
 Sooii, oh, soon 'twill cease! 
 Lone through canon dark I'm going 
 
 To gulch of Wee or glen of Peace. 
 
 "Comrades, long we've roamed together! 
 
 Drear, oh, drear, we i)art ! 
 Deadly storms scowl o'er the heather,-— 
 
 Dim's the trail lo IIc,M.-en's Park. 
 
 S3 
 
 J ■■ . 
 
 •■'.'). . 
 
 C:t: 
 
 " ]3ut portrait from my bosom never 
 Death, oh, death, shall part ! 
 
 Piercing arrow does not sever, 
 ]Uit pinions Laura to my heart ! 
 
 " P.y thy beck'ning hand invited. 
 
 Love, oh, love, I come ! 
 Severed in life,— in death united. 
 
 We'll evermore be one !" 
 
150ZKMAN BOLD. 
 
 A TALE of guide, vvlio daring band 
 From Platte led safe through desert sand, 
 Wild Big-horn gulch and canon lone, 
 To mountain g ite of Yellowstone ; 
 No bridge, no boat, no friend to hail, 
 And painted warriors on their trail. 
 
 Mild autumn days are waning fast. 
 Round mountain-peak howls wintry blast ; 
 For sheltered vale of Gallatin 
 Pilgrim and guide are dashing in, — 
 '"Bull-boat and raft, nmstang and mule, 
 5° At war-path ford of Crow and Jhule. 
 
 in rival bands last crest tliey scale 
 
 l]y Bozeman's Pass and Biidger's Trail ; 
 
 " White men and tents," — oh, glorious sheen 
 
 Of murm'ring rill and pastures green ! 
 
 A town they plant, but wait for fame 
 
 Of daring deed to christen name. 
 
 Too soon, alas ! for ranger brave, 
 Pilgrim beleagued, on trail to save. 
 In vision bright, on coteau wild, 
 Saw sainted wife and darling child. 
 " Husband and sire, no longer roam ; 
 In morn thou' It soar to us and home." 
 
 84 
 
noZEMAN BOLD. 
 
 By camp-fire dim on Yellowstone 
 Spake daring guide to comrade lone: 
 " Uj), comrade, up ! grasj) rifle soon ! 
 Swift i)into mount, and dash from doom ! 
 T.eave me to fate, my toils are o'er; 
 Soon friends I'll greet on brighter shore." 
 
 As comrade halts, kind words to say, 
 " Quick, saddle horse, and haste away !" 
 Pie cries; when lo ! adown the glen, 
 On loping steeds dash painted men. 
 With rifle poised he ready stands 
 Till spouting gore stains desert sands. 
 
 Comrade escaped, — sad tale to tell, — 
 Returning, found him as he fell. 
 Rifle and scalp, pistol and plume, 
 5' Sure, phantom-warriors caused thr doom 
 Cheyenne and Crow oft tried in vain, 
 And pass and town bear Bozeman's name. 
 
 85 
 
 8 
 
THE CLOUD-CIRCLia) MOUNTAINS. 
 
 ^"Mv heart's in the mountains, my licarl's not at home; 
 
 Though here chister blessings, I still love to roam. 
 
 My heart's with my pinto, my rifle and belt, 
 
 Where big-horn and beaver forever have tlwelt. 
 
 Oh, my heart's 'mid the fountains and streamlets below 
 
 The cloud-circled n^.ounlains, white-crested with snow ! 
 
 My heart's 'mid the mirage, the lakes, and the plains, 
 The buttes and the coteaus, where wild nature reigns; 
 My heart's 'mid the coulees and canons so grand, 
 And bright-spouting geysers of lone Wonder-Land. 
 Oh, my heart's 'mid those fountains and streamlets below 
 Those cloud-circled mountains, white-crested with snow I 
 
 My heart's by the camp-fres of trappers so bold, 
 The tents and the teepees of warriors of old ; 
 My heart's down the river, whose torrents loud roar 
 In greeting the billows on surf-beaten shore. 
 Oh, my heart's 'mid the fountains, whence trout stream- 
 lets flow^ 
 'Mid cloud-circled mountains, white-crested with snow ! 
 
 My heart's in the valleys and parks of the West, 
 'Mid deer, elk, and grizzly, of all game the best. 
 Farewell to my business, farewell to my home ; 
 Adieu to my loved ones, my fate is to roam 
 'Mid the pure crystal fountains and geysers below 
 The wild-circling mountains, white-glistening with snow. 
 86 
 
 im* 
 
■Jl/r: CrOUD-ClRCLED ArOCArrAlNS. 
 
 ^7 
 
 My heart's 'mid old forests 1)y lava o'orthrown, 
 
 Now crystals of opal and anicthysl-stone, 
 
 Chalcedony casket (for Ma litou's heart), 
 
 And brilliant enamel unrivalled by art. 
 
 Oh, my heart's 'mid such c; verns 'neath the lava o'erflow 
 
 From once fiery mountains, now buried in snow ! 
 
 My heart glows with ardor to gather and learn 
 
 New lessons of science, if spared to return ; 
 
 If mine be to perish, may Heaven bestow 
 
 A tomb in lone grotto deep hidden in snow ! 
 
 Oh, my heart's 'mid the fountains and grottos below 
 
 The cloud-circled mountains, wiiite-crested with snow ! 
 
I SI 
 
 I ■ 
 
 WHERE ELSE ON EARTH? 
 
 S3 Where else on earth does water furnish 
 Rocky evidence so strong 
 Of its power to build and burnish, 
 As tliis terrace, high and long? 
 
 Chorus, 
 
 Where the peerless pools for healing 
 From their ruins 'mid the snow, 
 
 Each, with waters health restoring. 
 Terrace to the glens below. 
 
 h -I 
 
 —^ 
 
 Dim, amid the ages vanished. 
 Snowy waters laughing poured, 
 
 Through the valley, and in canon, 
 Loud, in falls and rapids, roared. 
 
 jjii' 
 
 m 
 
 Then from womb of fires smothered 
 Broad were yawning fissures rent, 
 
 And o'er mists from seething waters 
 Rainbows ever beauteous blent. 
 
 
 'Twas a new creation forming, 
 Geysers, matchless at their birth ; 
 
 Round their hissing funnels buililing 
 Marble forms unknown to earth. 
 
iy//EA'E ELSE ON EARTH? 
 
 \\\ the ages slowly passing, 
 
 From these rents of liidden fire 
 
 Spouts the niin'ral-ladeii waters, 
 Terrace ever building higher. 
 
 Till athwart the canon yawning, 
 Firm a rocky barrier rose, — 
 
 With the severed waters forming 
 Mountain-lake uniid the snows. 
 
 5* Long its waves, by tempest driven, 
 Fiercely lashed its seething shore j 
 Fire and flood in conflict fearful 
 'Mid the clouds terrific roar. 
 
 But the power evci' waning 
 Of the smothered Tire o'i woe 
 
 Left the crests with forests circleii, 
 And new funnels formed below. 
 
 53 Then the ever-lashing billows 
 Rent a gap in mountain-side, 
 And the wild escaping waters 
 Carved a canon deep and wide. 
 
 Still the all-eroding waters 
 
 Undermined the crests of snow, 
 
 Hurling funnel, tree, and terrace. 
 Crushed and mingled, far below. 
 
 89 
 
 ''"'Hence these ruins weird and fearful. 
 And the cliffs so \\hite and grand, 
 And these crumbli'^g cones of g-;ysers, 
 Still the pride of Wonder-Lanci, 
 
 8- 
 
. ^fwwL«,j|u^n^t 
 
 IJRADLEY THK 15RAVE. 
 
 " Last of a race of warriors who served their country 
 
 well, 
 In glen of distant mountains foremost thou fighting fell ; 
 The promise of a hero, in thy maiden-march through 
 
 rain 
 In the mountains of Virginia, has proven not in vain. 
 E'en now as then I view thee expand from boy to man, 
 When the opening roar of battle first found thee in the 
 
 van, 
 Ever thy choice of duty where crimson torrents ran. 
 
 When strength of sire was sinking from suffering in the 
 
 field 
 Thy youthful arm waxed stalwart the l)attle-blade to 
 
 wield ; 
 In every post of duty, of danger, or of skill. 
 Matchless was thy endurance, thy iron nerve and will ; 
 Until the flag of freedom, of union, and of love, 
 O'er fiery clans of treason in triumph soared above 
 With the pinion of the eagle and the plumage of the 
 
 dove. 
 
 Then hastening to the border, thou eager sought to know 
 The hidden haunts of Blackfoot, of Sioux, and of Crow; 
 And boldly, with thy vet'rans, in craggy pass or plain, 
 Or valleys of the rivers the snowy mountains drain, 
 Thou fearless trailed the savage, the innocent to save, — 
 90 
 
JiRADr.EY THE liKAVE. 
 
 >» 
 
 Tlioiigh summer's sun is scorching or winter's tempest 
 
 rave, — 
 On all the border honored, l)old leader of the brave. 
 
 But halo days aro ended, and sorrow is come, 
 With the stalwart Nez-Pcrces from setting of sun, 
 In the vanguard of Gibbon, first flash lays thee low. 
 Still thy battle-blade clasping, firm facing fhe foe; 
 'Mid tile heaps of slain comrades tho'rt deluged in gore, 
 Cold and stern is thy visage,— thy conflicts are o'er. 
 And the war-whoop of savage shall rouse thee no more ! 
 
 Far away art thou sleeping in silence and peace. 
 
 Friends and kindred are weeping, — in joy let them cease; 
 
 Thy sore-stricken parents rejoice in a son, 
 
 A hero, whose laurels were gallantly won ; 
 
 Thy State and thy country in gratitude save 
 
 5' From sorrow thy loved ones, and green o'er thy grave 
 
 Twine the myrtle and laurel, O Bradley the brave ! 
 
FROM HKMIORN'S HLKAR MOUNTAINS. 
 
 "From Big-horn's bleak mountains white glistening with 
 
 snow, 
 The Hig-horn's bright fountains tlirougli green meadows 
 
 flow, 
 Or, skipping and tUisliing in rapids or fails, 
 In fury loud lashing their deep cafion walls; 
 Then 'mid the long eoteaus by roses o'ergrown 
 Rush its floods to their greeting the bold Yellowstone. 
 
 In all these green valleys from river to snow, 
 Where autumn long dallies, are cairns of the Crow ; 
 The harvest of battles with Rick-a-ree brave. 
 And Sioux or Blackfoot, their country to save ; 
 Where warm arc the winters and countless the game 
 Of bison and "big-horn," — "wild sheep," — hence the 
 name. 
 
 : i 
 
 But vain were all efforts with Sioux for peace ; 
 Ne'er silent was war-whoop, ne'er signal-fires cease, 
 '"Till Custer from Rosebud saw valley as sweet 
 As glens where the spirits of warriors shall meet, 
 And in his last rally, 'mid plumed crested braves, 
 Led phalanx of heroes to glory, — not graves ! 
 
 Here Bridger and Bozeman, in crusade for gold. 
 Led pilgrims and miners and mountaineers bold ; 
 92 
 
 f **^*rtbw — 
 
rh'OAt /i/G'I/ORN\S lU.F.AK MOUNT.t/XS. 
 
 Fierce figbling llio Sioux — but kind was the Crow — 
 III passes of mountains or valleys below, — 
 '' And Farrer and comrades passed safely alon(( 
 Sweet valley, now famous for slaughter and song. 
 
 93 
 
 O'er all these long roteaus, from mountain to plain, 
 In all these broad valleys that mountain floods drain, 
 Kach park 'mid the forests, and each glen 'mid the snow, 
 Are dwindling the warriors, are fading the Crow ; 
 And soon shall the ploughshare of pale-face turn o'er 
 The sites of their teepees, once crimson with gore, — 
 The bones of a people who wander no more ! 
 

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 Uifil 121 
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 •yuu 
 
 fliotogiaphic 
 
 Sciences 
 
 Corporation 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14SS0 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
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MYSTIC LAND. 
 
 "Oh, tell ine, I pray thee, my comrade and friend, 
 In Mystic Land only do wonders so blend ? 
 liright fountains, bleak mountains unrivalled in form, 
 Commingling, encircling, in sunshine and storm ; 
 And geysers and salses eject from below 
 Hot water and sulphur from regions of woe, 
 With moanings and groanings, like wails of the lost, 
 From funnels of fire encircled by frost I 
 
 ** There big-horn and bison calm graze in the glade. 
 
 Near grizzly and lion, low crouched in the shade; 
 
 Where throbbings and flowings of hot springs and streams 
 
 Build cascades of marble, reflecting in gleams ; 
 
 Cliff-buttressed, tall turrets, white glistening in snow. 
 
 Are mirrored in lakelets unfathomed below ; 
 
 And bendings and rendings of thin crust of earth, 
 
 In quivering convulsions, like .travail of birth ; 
 
 Hot water in chaldrons by cold lake and brook. 
 
 For boiling, still floundering, live trout on the hook. 
 
 *• Where rubies bright sparkle in caskets of stone, 
 Of cedars and balsams by lava o'erflown ; 
 And crystals in grottos e'er glisten and gleam 
 In visions unrivalled save Aladdin's dream ; 
 Near caverns of sulphur as hissing and hot 
 As slime vales of Sodom in legend of Lot ; 
 94 
 
MYSTIC LAM). 
 
 And niist-shccn and echo, from cascades and falls, 
 With beauty and nuisic enliven their walls; 
 And coule and canon, deep-furrowed by time. 
 Are terraced and tinted, iini(iue and sublime ; 
 And rainbow and halo encircle the sheen 
 Of geysers reflected in lakelets of green I" 
 
 95 
 
 '* Hist, comrade I I claim there is not on this earth 
 
 Its rival in beauty, in wonders, or worth; 
 
 For surely here nature has gathered to show 
 
 In marvels commingled all mortals should know ; 
 
 Of planet formation its growth and decay, 
 
 As childhood to m.'nhood, and fading away; 
 
 Where ramble and romance insure from despair 
 
 The victims of sickness, of sorrow, and care, 
 
 And science, in strata, new pages unfold 
 
 Of structure and crystal in forests of old ; 
 
 Lo ! Christians, in meekness, in faith, and in love. 
 
 Seek from wonders below their Creator above." 
 
THE GRANGER SONG. 
 
 '-'On, my ruriil friend and neighbor. 
 If inclined to ro;un, 
 Listen to me while I truly 
 Say, Why stay at home. 
 
 Chorus, 
 
 Kecj) the farm, my rural neighbor. 
 
 Hold the plough or drive; 
 Drain your swamps, read well, and labor^ 
 
 Frugal live an>l thrive. 
 
 In the passing years depressing 
 
 Countless homes are sold 
 On a mortgage for a trifle, 
 
 Lost in search of gold. 
 
 Some in cities seek professions 
 
 Already overgrown ; 
 Others business all unfitting. 
 
 Now their luck bemoan. 
 
 96 
 
 Some the prairies and the valleys 
 Of the boundless West, 
 
 Though alluring, found deceiving. 
 And are sore distressed. 
 
THE GRANGER SONG. 
 
 Oil, the hunger, toil, and danger 
 
 or the thirsty plain, 
 Or in gulches of the pilgrim, 
 
 Seeking gold in vain ! 
 
 Cold the clods and rude tlie coffin 
 
 O'er some loving bri:ast ; 
 Thus unwisely, all untimely, 
 
 Hasten'd to his rest. 
 
 Neither mountain, gem, nor valley 
 
 Should entice to roam 
 From the blessings ever nestling 
 
 'Round an eastern home. 
 
 Oh, ye lassies, early blooming, 
 
 Harbor not the beau 
 Who is witty — niore's the pity — 
 
 From the wine's o'erflow. 
 
 And ye Grangers, seeking knowledge 
 
 In our rural schools. 
 Wisely choose the yeoman college, — 
 
 Tis no place for fools. 
 
 97 
 
 '-•f 
 
 Long and narrow seems the furrow 
 
 As a road to wealth ; 
 Yet pursuing is insuring 
 
 Honor, home, and health. 
 
 E 
 
 Plant the chestnut, yew, and balsam, 
 
 Ash and vernal pine, 
 Arbor-vitce hedge 'round orchard. 
 
 Peach and trellis'd vine. 
 9 
 
98 THE GRANGER SONG. 
 
 Hold the homestead of your father; 
 
 Leave it to your son j 
 Leave it better than you found it 
 
 When your work is done. 
 
 Build your school-rooms, rear your churches, 
 
 And sustain them too ; 
 Be to temperance, truth, and virtue 
 
 Ever just and true. 
 
BORDKR lUlAVE. 
 
 (general N. D. MIM'.S.} 
 
 Vict'ry again, thou border brave, 
 Snatched from the jaws of fate ; 
 
 Through flood or flame to battle save 
 Thou never wert too late. 
 
 Nez-Perce's, chief of gallant ra( e, 
 
 Proud leader on the trail. 
 In Gibbon's charge and Howard's chase 
 
 Proved fearful to assail. 
 
 Through glade and glen in Wonder-Land 
 
 His stalwart warriors came. 
 Tourists to save 'mid geysers grand 
 
 Plead innocence in vain. 
 
 When winding from the snowy crest, 
 
 Or dashing o'er the plain. 
 The crafty Crow, and Sturgis pressed 
 
 Upon his trail in vain. 
 
 Then o'er Missouri's turbid flood 
 
 He all pursuers scorns. 
 Yet on the trail to Sitting Bull 
 
 Found Woody Mountain thorns. 
 
 99 
 
loo 
 
 noF!n/:K /iK.tri-:. 
 
 Tlicrc, trailer thou on nioiiiUain-path, 
 
 And victor of the dales, 
 As screaming eagle swoops in wrath. 
 
 The fearful foe assails. 
 
 Thy vct'rans bold charge as of oKl, 
 *i\Iid storm and leaden rain, 
 
 And daring scout and comrades bold 
 Are numbered with the slain 
 
 *'Not unavenged, for Looking-Cllass 
 And countless warriors brave 
 No more will ambush in the i)ass, 
 But fill a warrior's grave. 
 
 The white flag floats for fight to cease ; 
 
 Then pleads the chief to save 
 The remnant of his band, and peace 
 
 Of gallant liorder Brave. 
 
THE TATTOOKI) ARTIST. 
 
 '■•I siNc; of an artist, scribe, poet, and seer, 
 
 A lover of nature and scofTer at fear, 
 
 Who longed in his childhood, and yearned as a man, 
 
 For a steed on the border, a sword in the van. 
 
 And a couch on the field where the red torrents ran. 
 
 At school oft the figures would marshal as men, 
 
 Fierce braves on the coteau, or scouts in the glen ; 
 
 His brush, as an artist, the lib'es woidd scorn, 
 
 And glory in painting the cactus and thorn, 
 
 Or the crests of his warriors with plumes would adorn. 
 
 As a poet, o'erlooking the beauties of home, 
 His themes are of artists and warriors who roam, — 
 Tall, portly, and stalwart, with long, wavy hair, 
 A hero he seems in the eyes of the fair. 
 And his lyrics the patrons of science ensnare. 
 
 And thus he arranges a tourist to go 
 O'er the plains and the rivers and mountains of snow. 
 To note while he journeys, and write when at rest, 
 And paint the proud warriors and steeds of the West, 
 To publish in journals of science the best. 
 
 With outfit unrivalled, hope buoyant and strong, 
 He hies for the regions of slaughter and song ; 
 All cheerful his parting with patrons and friends, 
 But tears fleck the tokens a fond mother sends, 
 And the cheeks of one dearer, whose locket attends. 
 
 9* loi 
 
103 
 
 77//: TATlOOEn ANTIST. 
 
 Our hero a lislciitr to lectures ha<l been, 
 Which portray the white man as |)riinitive sin ; 
 While, lo ! llie poor Indian is ever in need, 
 IJercft of Ins birthright and robbed of his steed, 
 Safe prey for the pale-face, his lust, anil his greed. 
 
 And Catlin he'd envied, and Cooper perused. 
 
 On their tales and their paintings in sympathy mused, 
 
 'Till love for his race as a people had fled ; 
 
 No fear on the border save of those who had said, 
 
 *' The only good Indians are those who are ilead." 
 
 ! I 
 
 Thus blithe from the portals of science and lore, 
 He hies to the regions of ambush and gore ; 
 On a craft of the rivers, released from restraint, 
 In tracin, " nature, wild, brilliant, or quaint. 
 He revels . . brushes, pen, pencil, and paint. 
 
 "Oh, ho!" says our artist, "quick land me again," 
 As a village of teepees he spies on the plain ; 
 " I'll show you the spirit of Catlin survives. 
 And fears not the warriors, dog-soldiers, or wives !" 
 "They're i)ainters all, too," quoth a scout, "and have 
 knives." 
 
 While the steamer is puffing to round a great bend, 
 Does our artist with vigor the coteau ascend ; 
 The warriors perceive him, and quickly prepare 
 'I'o tender a greeting warm, brilliant, and rare, 
 And finish the frolic by "lifting his hair." 
 
 " How-how !" quoth our artist as rearing his brush, 
 " Mak-wa" say the warriors as for him they rush ; 
 
 I- 
 
in I: I ATI OO 1:1) AKIIST. 
 
 »03 
 
 While sci'king to show ihnn liis friciulship and f.iith, 
 They rol) liiiii and writ him with jccrin}; and mirth, 
 ICach brave and sciuaw hcl[)ing " for all ihty are worth." 
 
 Down hot pours the sun on ids siiotdilers and hac k, 
 Kach s(piaw making njorry with tickle and wh u k ; 
 Watch, clothing, and weapons are stripped from his ne< k, 
 Scpiaw, p;:ppoose, and wi/anl each save from the wreck, 
 And the breast of the chief, does his locket beiletk. 
 
 I,o! modesty shockini/, no model so nude 
 IC'er poised for his pencil as fcjr it he stooil ; 
 Nor was it on canvas their tracings were (piaint, 
 lUit the model ihey lac kled with bodkin and paint ; 
 Such greeting by friends! 'twould have rufllcd a saint. 
 
 On thighs they lizards tattoo in colors bright and true ; 
 On belly plump a bull-boat with naked scpiaws the crew ; 
 On brawny breast Crow totems of glistening black they 
 
 drew ; 
 On arms and cheek a striping of yellow, red, and blue ; 
 On forehead grinning goblins, all hideous to the view ; 
 And ears and nose fresh eyelets, with gaudy trinkets new. 
 Rig up his frontal gear ! 
 
 Some raven-plumes they plaited among his golden hair. 
 And eagle-pinions painted across his shoulders fair; 
 On back a curly bison, with tail erect in air, 
 With rampant strides was chaj-ing a grizzly to his lair; 
 Some serpents scaly twining where jjants he used to wear, 
 And pair of wall-eyed owlets where wont to press the 
 chair. 
 
 Brought up a brilliant rear ! 
 
104 
 
 rill'. TATTOOtin AKTIST. 
 
 4 
 
 Sure 'twas ;i sight that Hariur.u, with all his craft and gold, 
 Ne'er saw, or dreamed, or conjured, though half is still 
 
 iintuld. 
 A forked post they plante<l two bison-heads to hold, 
 And griz/ly's head above them, by forked i)rt)ng eon- 
 trolled ; 
 With cruel thongs they boinul him, as slave in market solil. 
 Anil fagots piled aroiintl him, lest he was growing cold; 
 And then they danced and sung : 
 
 "Si-oux chieftain, tall and bold, 
 
 Maiden fair and wizard old , 
 
 Ilun-ka,* weaaMi, pap-poosef young, 
 
 Warrior wi'h his bow unstrung. 
 
 Meet you, greet you, heart and hand, 
 
 'I'o the secrets c»f our land. 
 
 And upon your bosom white 
 
 To-temsl trace for sacred rite; 
 
 Deep we pierce and bright we paint 
 
 Grizzly bold and bison quaint ; 
 
 Shunk-to-ke-cha,§ hc-kha-ka,|| 
 
 Shun-ka-wa-kan,^ wa-pa-ha,** 
 
 Wi-ta-wa-ta,ff sa-pal."); wan,§§ 
 nil Wi-chen-yai. na,^^ win-i-ban." *** 
 
 * Da'-ko-ta, his mortier. f O-jib-wa, Indian child, 
 
 \ To'-tems, symbolic Indian name. 
 
 g I)a-ko-ta, the other dog, wolf. 
 
 II Da-ko-ta, the antlered male elk. 
 
 f Da-ko-ta, shun-ka, dog; wa-kan, sacred dog, horse. 
 ** Da-ko-ta, hat or cap. 
 
 tt Da-ko-ta, ship or boat. X\ Da-ko-ta, black. 
 
 <^g Da-ko-ta, one, a or an. 
 
 Ijij The last line doubtless refers to some maiden of the tribe who 
 had been carried off by the white men. 
 
 W Da-ko-ta, girl. **# O jib-wa, gone. 
 
 V 
 
THE lATTOOI.n Ah"l/sr. 
 
 los 
 
 Wliilc \vi/.;u'(l < in led rouiu! liim, with j)ii<king thrust of 
 
 Npcar, 
 \Vitlis( al|)iiit{-knifeawarri(>r( arvi'<l roi.McI Iiis frontal ^vav, 
 Aiul liatdict liiirli'd at cur-rings, to test his sense of fear; 
 Sonic sijuawR with ram id bear's grease his thighs and 
 
 huitocks smear, 
 In love, with spUntcrs hKi/ing, they singed him tlierc 
 
 and here, 
 Then kindly fired the fagots, his Indian friends to cheer. 
 And then another dancir and ^ong : 
 
 " Ilia lii,* you come to sec, 
 Lo-lo-iof you want to be ; 
 ('hit-woot| sk()-kuni,§ bold you ronic, 
 M()s-mos,|| stupid to your doom, 
 Ab-sa-ra-ka,^ til-Ia-cumc.*'" 
 Qne-u-(iue-u,ff lance and plinnc, 
 Min-ne-ke-wa|]; cannot save, 
 Min-ne-wa-wa§§ branches wave, 
 Kam-ooks|||| gaunt around you glare, 
 Ka-kaws^^ circle in the air. 
 IJy the blood of kindred slain 
 Thine shall lance and fagot drain. 
 I-san tan-ka,*** feel our ire, 
 Wa-kan-sche-cha,f|f in the fire." 
 
 • Cliinook jargon, country our. f C'liinook jargon, conc(ueroT. 
 \ Cliinook jargon, bear. ^ (Iiinook jargon, brave. 
 
 II Chinook jargon, buff.ilo. f Da-ko-ta, Crow Indian. 
 
 ** Chinook jargon, fncniifs. ff Chinook jargon, circle circle 
 
 :j:|: Santee, water-god. 
 
 ^^ D.i-ko-t.i, pleasant sounds of the breezes in the grove. 
 nil Chinook jargon, dogs. 
 f f Chinook jargon, crows or ravens. 
 «* Da-ko-ta, Hig-Knife, American, 
 ttf Da-ko-ta, wa-kan, mystery; schc-cha, bad mystery, devil. 
 
io6 
 
 THE TATTOOED ARTIST. 
 
 And our confulin- artist, what of his Hiith and love 
 
 For persecuted chieftain and loving turtle-dove, 
 
 And brood of helpless robins, thrust from their quiet 
 
 nest ? 
 His feelings still were tender, but — truth must be con- 
 fessed — 
 Yearned less for hosts who honored than for their honore<l 
 guest. 
 
 And visions fast are flashing within him and around, 
 With wonders why he's tattooed and 'mid the fagots 
 
 bound ; 
 And less he thanked the artists than cursed his coat of 
 
 paint, 
 And less his prayers for Indians than execrations quaint, — 
 Proof that one may die a martyr who still is not a saint. 
 
 But lo ! the proud steamer is heaving in view, — 
 ** Heap-heap of fine frolic, here goes for one new ! 
 " Wa-wa !"* shouts the wizard, as hurliaig the brands 
 And scalping-knife gleaming, quick severs the bands; 
 From the fire reels our hero, and bewilderingly stands. 
 
 The wand of the wizard is wafted amain ; 
 
 Soon a gantlet-line lengthy is formed on the plain ; 
 
 Nude chieftain and warrior, buck, pappoose, and squaw, 
 
 And curs of all colors, gaunt bell; and maw \ 
 
 Such greeting and parting few guests ever saw ! 
 
 Alas for our artist ! scene lively and quaint, — 
 But somehow his ardor had vanished for paint, - 
 
 * Wa-wa', Chinook jargon, a call ; as, hear ! hear! 
 
THE TATTOOED ARTIST. 107 
 
 And theme for a poet, few better are seen ; 
 
 lint strangely his visions were not with his thenie, 
 
 But afar with a mother, or the maiden a gleam. 
 
 The calliope's trumpet, enlivening, he hears. 
 
 And shouts from the steamer, loud greeting with cheers. 
 
 One sigh for tiie maiden he's seeking to find, 
 
 One spank from the nude one he's leaving behind, 
 
 And into the gantlet he sails like the wind ! 
 
 Oh, were I a poet to graphic portray 
 The skill of our bard in the gantlet and fray, — 
 With switch, knife, or fagot, each pappoose in place. 
 Each maid with her larrup, and warrior with mace, 
 To prick, switch, or gash him, then join in the cliase. 
 
 Faith, never by breech-clouts such running was seen ; 
 Such twisting and turning and dodging between ; 
 Thrusts and blows that were aimed at our hero before 
 Oft sprawled those behind him in howling and gore ; 
 Sure, his bison helps dodge, and his eagle helps soar. 
 
 Soon out of the gantlet he hies him amain. 
 Leaving yelling pursuers wide-spread o'er the plain ; 
 But the whelps of all sizes, stride, color, and breed, 
 As wolves swarm around him, ferocious in greed, 
 Where the Indians are scattered, delaying his speed. 
 
 Alack ! when with skill he was dodging a brave, 
 Whose hatchet-blow missed him, and a yelping cur clave, 
 Another, — not warrior, but cur, — with a yell. 
 Grabbed his owlets behind, and together they fell, 
 Dogs, poet, and warriors commingled pell-mell. 
 
io8 
 
 THE TATTOOED ARTIST. 
 
 ymX"' 
 
 But our hero, by doubling in striking the ground, 
 With somersault double, ii leap, and a bound, 
 Dogs, wizard, and warriors are distanced, and found 
 On the cactus-thorns sprawling or howling around, 
 While the war-whoop and scalp-yell redouble the sound ; 
 
 Nor idle our friends on the steamer, whose gun, 
 Hurling shell 'mid the warriors, enlivens the fun ; 
 While calliope-trumpet, screaming whistle, and bell. 
 The ringing of rifles, the shouting, and yell. 
 From the stern-paddle steamer commingle and swell ! 
 
 No greeting to comrades, nor farewell to foes. 
 Nor brushing of ringlets, nor dusting of clothes; 
 No sketching of artist, speech of wizard or seer, — 
 In plunges our poet, — no river hath fear, — 
 And steamer he reaches 'mid shouting and cheer. 
 
 No mirror he's seeking, no maiden's caress, — 
 Sure, all laud his running, his swimming, and dress / 
 His greetings as artist and speedy return. 
 Such lessons of friendship as few ever learn, 
 And totems of glory as glisten — and burn. 
 
 And thus from his sketching our artist returns, 
 All covered with glory, with bruises, and burns ; 
 Nor thankful for tokens or totems bestown, — 
 Though clothing he brought none, his robe is his own, 
 Nor changing with fashion, nor ever outgrown ! 
 
 But alas for our poet, scribe, artist, and seer. 
 
 The maid of his bosom greets him back with a jeer ! 
 
THE TATTOOED ARTIST. 
 
 109 
 
 "Oh, where is iny locket, with its sweet, smiling face? 
 For an ugly sqiuiw-bartcred breast of breech-clout to 
 
 grace ? 
 Then come ye thus tattooed my fair name to debase?" 
 
 And the patrons of science were little less rude ; 
 While Adonis and Venus they worship all nude, 
 The artist they furnished, who a model returns, 
 With lofty disdaining their modesty spurns I 
 Worse than fagots of savage such ingratitude burns ! 
 
 But just as cash, courage, and patience were gone, 
 His tattooed form bending, gaunt, famished, and wan, 
 The tale of his suffering reached Barnum the brave, 
 Who found him and saved him, and lasting fame gave— 
 His coat of lill colors, ** Tattooed, captive, and slave I" 
 
 Thus failing untimely as an artist or seer, 
 
 And savant and poet,— there is reason to fear,— 
 
 His harp with his pencil and scrap-book are flung 
 
 Where wizard ne'er tattooed nor poet e'er sung; 
 
 Hence these rude strains of tribute, with harp all unstrung, 
 
 To the seer and the savage ! Adieu, I am done. 
 
 10 
 
i 
 
 *\ ! 
 
 !1 i 
 
 THE MOSQUITO. 
 
 In eastern vale or western valley 
 
 The stagnant pools his home ; 
 In northern marsh or warm savanna, 
 
 He welcomes those who roam ! 
 
 Not Catlin's brush nor Cooper's cunning 
 
 Can paint this insect true, 
 Nor Shakspeare's Shylock match his dunning, - 
 
 For blood he claims his due. 
 
 With fanning wings and music charming, 
 
 Mosquitoes lull their prey, 
 Safe chance to find, without alarming, 
 
 To steal our blood away. 
 
 But in thy fertile vales, Missouri, 
 And by the Yellowstone, 
 ^ Like hornet hordes aroused to fury, 
 They greet us to their home. 
 
 Sure, 'tis a land of blood and slaughter. 
 
 As many find too true ; 
 With mud and alkali and water, 
 
 I fear I'm feeling blue 1 
 
 Bestride my loping steed Deschoteau, 
 
 'Mid antelope on plain. 
 Or bison herd upon the coteau, 
 
 I'll cheerful feel again, 
 no 
 
THE MOSQUITO. 
 
 E'en thus amid life's connicts ever, 
 
 As (lay succx'eds the night, 
 Does triumph crown each firm endeavor 
 
 In struggling for the right. 
 
 And thou, thou "cussed" little fellow,— 
 Blood-sucking leech of prey,— 
 
 Rip, roar, and howl, and sing, and bellow ! 
 a siaj)"— takes thy life away 1 
 
 111 
 
! , 
 
 FRIGHTENED HANS. 
 
 A JOLLY Hans, of Olmstcad, full, plucky, plump, and 
 
 strong, 
 Went prosjjccting a homestead, and drove his team 
 
 along ; 
 "Come," quoth he to his Frait/ein, and to his kifiiy 
 
 Schotiy 
 " So ven ve pilds der cabin ve alls can help along." 
 
 Long, long they chased the sunset o'er prairie, buttc, 
 
 and plain. 
 To bask in fabled Eden, but everywhere in vain ; 
 Still Salter seemed the waters, and shorter grew the grass, 
 ***The shining sands of coteaus reflecting heat like glass. 
 
 Weary, faint, and sinking, in misery and woe, 
 
 'Mid vision scenes of drinking, where waters never flow. 
 
 Mountains ! the Rocky Mountains ! glad they greet with 
 
 cheers ; 
 Mirage of gushing fountains dispel their frantic fears. 
 
 With joy and hope they rally, and climb the rocky crest; 
 A glorious smiling valley lay nestling in the West : 
 '• Oh, here will end our sorrow, no further will we roam, 
 But joyful on the morrow will choose our site for home." 
 
 With pail in hand, dismounting, for water for the team, 
 Hans hastens to the fountain, — oh, horrid stench and 
 steam ! 
 
 112 
 
FK/Gf/TF.XEn HANS. 
 
 "3 
 
 "Zulpliurl" he shouts J then stooping, hot, foaming 
 
 water finds, 
 And hastening from tlic basin, gets caught in border 
 
 vines. 
 
 " Dhrive, Sclion,'* he cries, "mein Sohn / for zulphui 
 
 sthrong I schmell. 
 And vater hot mit jjiimstone, for sure ze burning hell 
 lie's not von mile from dis phlace I Dhrive (piick and 
 
 fast, mein Sohn ! 
 Farewell, mein Irai^lein Kathrinc ! Got save mein kinty 
 
 Schon!" 
 
 Attached unto the legend is a moral sure as woe: 
 
 In scouting a new region, look well before you go. 
 
 In vales of stifling brimstone perchance 'tis well to pray, 
 
 But glorious greeting geysers — unwise to run away. 
 
 Thus sequel sad to legend adheres, as it would seem; 
 
 For Hans and John and Fraulein, though safe 'mid 
 smoke and steam. 
 
 Were captured by the Si-oux in their causeless stampede 
 lone ; 
 
 '^Fear of scalding led to roasting on the fated Yellow- 
 stone. 
 
 h 
 
 lO"-* 
 
I 
 
 THE WINDINC; DKLL. 
 
 Long o'er the wastes we've wandered, 
 
 Tlirough cactus, sage, and sand ; 
 By lonely watch have pondepcd 
 
 O'er scenes in native land, — 
 Of mothers, sires, and brothers, 
 
 Of sisters kind and true, 
 And fond farewell of lovers, 
 
 As gliding from their view. 
 
 And oft the painted savage 
 
 Has flanked our weary way, 
 On steeds by day to ravage. 
 
 At night with barb to slay ; 
 And blanket-robed, the fallen 
 
 We've hidden 'neath the sod, 
 With throbbing hearts, then left them 
 
 To solitude — and God ! 
 
 But in this vale of verdure 
 
 We cease the wastes to roam. 
 And flocks and herds will nurture 
 
 Around a cabin home, 
 And soon will end our sorrow 
 
 And wandering in the West, 
 "Short marching on the morrow 
 
 To gain our park of rest. 
 
 )) 
 
 114 
 
THE wixniNG nFJ.r. 
 
 Thus spake the belted ranger 
 
 Unto his pilgrim sire: 
 *« We're done with trainj) and danger' 
 
 Rang round the bla/.ing fire. 
 Repast of eve is ended, 
 
 The vesper chant is sung ; 
 In cheering carols blended 
 
 Are voice of old and young. 
 
 US 
 
 As when the heart is lightest 
 
 Beware of ti«lings drear, 
 So when the camp is brightest 
 
 Oh, watch for danger near! 
 Flash I sharp the rifle, ringing 
 
 Adown the winding dell, 
 And deadly bullet singing 
 
 To ebbing heart, " Farewell. 
 
 And feathered barbs are flying 
 
 Like wintry flakes of snow, 
 And ghastly forms are lying 
 
 As strewn by torrents flow. 
 Scant space is founil to "cover 
 
 Around the camp-fire bright, 
 From foes that lound us hover 
 
 In gloom of starless night. 
 
 But vengeance speeds the rally 
 And mounted gun the boom ; 
 
 Fast in that lovely valley 
 The warrior meets his doom. 
 

 ii6 Tiiiu \\'ixnn\c nrj.i.. 
 
 AikI fiorrr llic < l.iii;^ of siihro, 
 Tliat tells of deadly stroke ; 
 
 Strong arm has ceased to labor, 
 I'roiid heart in death is broke. 
 
 And many a sumnier's glory, 
 
 And many a winter's snows, 
 Shall pass ere fades the story 
 
 Of how these mortal foes 
 Met in this beauteous valley, 
 
 That swells this winding glen, — 
 Met, not as maidens dally, 
 
 Jiut quenched their hale like men. 
 
 And yet the turf shall brighten 
 
 With verdure where they fell. 
 And long their bones shall whiten, 
 
 Adown the winding dell. 
 And ere his race shall wither. 
 
 Or kindred leave the vale. 
 The red man wandering thither 
 
 Shall still recount the tale. 
 
 And yet shall reaj) the yeoman 
 
 The gladdening sheaves of grain, 
 Where hcart's-blood of the foemen 
 
 Have fertilized the i)lain. 
 And yet shall children i)rattle, 
 
 And yet shall maiden tread 
 In i)eace this vale of battle. 
 
 With garlands for the dead. 
 
AFAR FROM TIIK CiriKS AND IIAMLKTS OK 
 
 MKN. 
 
 "Afar from the cities and hamlets of men, 
 I follow the streamlet through forest and glen ; 
 The elk with proud antlers enlivens the bowers, 
 And brilliant and fragrant the meadows with (lowers. 
 
 Still onward I wander, till startled by fear, 
 •'As thunders from heavens unclouded I hear, 
 And rainbows I witness high spanning the walls 
 Of cartons deep furrowed by lashing of falls. 
 
 All eager I hasten, entranced by the scene 
 Of cataracts double and cascades between. 
 And bright-tinted buttress to pinnacles high, — 
 Base deep in the cafion, crest piercing the sky. 
 
 All heedless of danger, by wild, winding way, 
 I haste, 'mid the halos, the thunder, and spray, 
 '"Adown to the lichens, mist-nourished and green, 
 Where the floods as a deluge from heaven are seen. 
 
 All breathless in elTorts of scaling the walls, 
 'Mid balsams I press to the head of the falls ; 
 And there 'mid the spray on the quivering brink, 
 Of the scenes of my childhood, far distant. I think. 
 
 As then, the huge boulders in rolling amain 
 I greet with loud shoutings, re-echoed again ; 
 
 117 
 
iiS 
 
 Af'.iN /-'/vM/ rnr. c/r/Fs. 
 
 ^ 
 
 And coltMi's arc hurled o'rr tlu* swifl-riishiiip; stream, 
 As it glides from my view like a phamom ur dream. 
 
 'riieii aloiiK' the wild rapids, by ( edars o'erhim^S 
 Where artist ne'er pencilled nor bird ever sung, 
 And fl()<)d-j;ates of torrents from mountains of snow 
 Arc echoing beside mc above and below. 
 
 And here in this grotto deep-sheltered and warm, 
 All weary I slumber, imheeding the storm, 
 Whose thunders deep-rumbling commingle again 
 With the ipray of the waters whence gathers the rain. 
 
 No clouds fleck the terrace, no winds reach the glen, 
 When to life and its struggles I waken again. 
 And pensively ponder o'er scenes that are fled, 
 Of hopes that are vanished, of friends who arc dead. 
 
 And life's panorama drear passes along. 
 Mist-phantoms tommingled of sorrow and song, 
 Alluring each promise, but failure attends, — 
 Foes only are steadfast, inconstant are friends. 
 
 Unselfish I've struggled to benefit men, 
 Regretless I leave them, my refuge the glen. 
 Where mist-nourished flowers and carpets of green 
 Commingling in bowers like Eden are seen. 
 
 '' Henceforth be my music the cataract's roar 
 My refuge the grotto, to leave nevermore ; 
 Light halos encircling my winding-sheet be, 
 A tomb be the pool of this grotto for me, 
 And the rainbow my pathway of spirit set free I 
 
on, IS Tni:kr: in riiis world so drkar? 
 
 Oh, is tluTo in this world so drear 
 
 A s< cnc of harrowing' juin 
 Like haiiMlH of those to inotuory dear 
 
 We iic'cr shall meet attain ? 
 
 ''In cninihliiig iiome of friends afar 
 The wolf and vulture <lwell, 
 And screams and howls deriding mar 
 The sienes once loved so well. 
 
 7« Above the ceaseless dash and roar, 
 Where mountain torrents greet, 
 The famished eagles cin ling soar, 
 And fierce coyoutas meet. 
 
 And, all imbidden, memory turns 
 
 To bloody scenes again, 
 And only slumbering ire burns 
 
 With vengeance for the slain. 
 
 And throbbing heart instinctive swells, 
 
 And surging [)ulse is wild. 
 As weai)ons gleam whose ringing knells 
 
 Count cou[)s*' on race defiled. 
 
 Will tourist yet who safely roams 
 
 With buoyant hope and tread, 
 Flowers pluck amid the bleaching bones 
 
 Of us, the unknown dead ? 
 
 Scalps. 
 
 119 
 
120 on, IS THERE AV THIS WORLD SO DREAR '^ 
 
 And will the bards here yet to sing 
 
 Know aught or care for those 
 Whose music was the rifle's ring, 
 
 And couch the mountain snows? 
 
 Who oft alone in mountain glen, 
 
 Or bands in valley strife, 
 As heroes lived, and died as men 
 
 Who dearly sell their life? 
 
 Oh, is there land of peace and rest 
 
 For wanderers below. 
 Where yet the weary shall be blest, 
 • Where soothing waters flow ? 
 
 Where reunite the mountain band. 
 Where each shall know a friend ? 
 
 And dwell for aye in Mystic-Land, 
 Where kindred si)irits blend? 
 
 Ah, yes, ah, yes, such land and home. 
 
 Such rest and kindred shore ! 
 Where friends shall greet, and foes may come. 
 
 But meet as foes no more ! 
 
 if 
 
 \\k. 
 
l/v 
 
 TO THE rH<: AT HOME. 
 
 Oh, thou who dreads my starti'ig, 
 
 Far o'er ihe West to ''oaiii, 
 Whose tears endear our parting, 
 
 Whose smiles allure me home ! 
 
 ^'^ Far away on the cliffs of this wild roaring river, 
 I remember the rill near the cot of my bride; 
 
 Home-trail with that bride through the wild-wood to- 
 gether 
 On our liiorning of union, of hope, and of pride. 
 
 Of the long years of toil and of hardships together. 
 Rude tomb of our first-born, in the forest alone ; 
 
 Fond hopes o'er the fair locks of those we thought never 
 Would eager forsake us for strangers unknown. 
 
 or the dark days of war, of bloodshed and sorrow, 
 VvMien thou girded my sword with a tear and a prayer 
 
 That from the fierce strife and the carnage of morrow 
 I safe might return to thy fond arms so fair. 
 
 In the halls of my country, when the conflict was o'er, 
 Thy soft cheeks were blooming with pride and with 
 love 
 
 For him thou dreamed fondly would leave thee no more 
 Till called to sweet rest in the mansions above. 
 
 F II 121 
 
122 
 
 TO THE TIE AT HOME. 
 
 But the years liave rolled onward, our children are gone; 
 
 Time has blighted our vision, our tliin locks are gray; 
 In a far distant region I'm weary and 'lorn ; 
 
 As the dew of the morning earth's hopes fade away. 
 
 Oh, bright through the cedars the visions that steal. 
 The light-circling halos ascending in spray ; 
 
 Oh, pathway is this to the land o' the leal? 
 And life, as these waters, thus gliding away? 
 
 Yet, loved one to me, thou art still ever young ; 
 
 All rosy thy checks and bright beaming thine eye ; 
 When pale are these roses, life's harp sleeps unstrung. 
 
 In the green groves of Eden, oh, meet me ! Good-by I 
 
THE WARRIOR'S GRAVE. 
 
 Faint wane the hopes of loved ones 
 To greet their honored dead ; 
 
 Chill howl the storms of winter 
 Around his mountain bed. 
 
 Fierce scream the wolf and raven 
 
 Around the vacant grave ; 
 Earnt.it the search of comrade 
 
 For relics of the brave. 
 
 73 A mould' ring plate and headboard, 
 Carved on the field of gore 
 
 By sword of faithful comrade, — 
 His name and date,— no more. 
 
 These records, faint but truthful, 
 Tell where he fell and died ; 
 
 Commingling bones of foeman 
 Bleach on the mountain-side. 
 
 Through mountain gorge and tempest, 
 
 By ancient friend alone. 
 These relics of our hero 
 
 Were borne to friends who moan. 
 
 Is this meet tomb for hero 
 On countless fields of strife ? 
 
 And this reward for yielding 
 Home, happiness, and life? 
 
 123 
 
124 
 
 THE WANKlOirs GRAVE. 
 
 »'r 
 
 Tis not a realm of justice, 
 
 Nor yet of Eden's bowers; 
 Too oft of wrong and suffering, 
 This cruel world of ours. 
 
 Oh, rather choose the sharing 
 A humble home of love, 
 
 And wisely there preparing 
 For Eden's bowers above ! 
 
I SING IN SONGS. 
 
 I siNO in songs of gliding lays 
 Of forest scenes in border days; 
 Of rippling rills in valleys green, 
 And mirrored hills in lakelet sheen ; 
 Of mountain -peaks begirt with snow, 
 And flowery parks, pine-girt below; 
 Of daring deeds of border braves, 
 On dashing steeds, to gory graves ; 
 Of brawny breast, 'neath painted i)lume. 
 On warrior's crest, in dash to doom ; 
 Of light canoe on dashing shore. 
 And daring crew, who'll row no more; 
 Of goblins grim and cafions grand, 
 And geysers spouting o'er the strand ; 
 Of Mystic Lake, of Wonder-Land ; 
 
 And of a youth, from humble home, 
 To parents* help, impelled to roam 
 O'er prairies green or thirsty plain. 
 Or dashing streams, that mountains drain ; 
 And far away 'mid snows to roam. 
 To morsel furnish those at home ; 
 To manhood grown, leaves border life, 
 Prepares a home and seeks a wife ; 
 Then in the camp or council pure, 
 On side of justice ever sure, 
 Till age has silvered o'er his head, — 
 Old comrades gone and loved ones dead, — 
 
 II* 125 
 
 
126 / S/NG IN SONGS. 
 
 Still, as tlie oak, leafless and shorn, 
 Amid a forest, rent and torn. 
 Still cheerful waiting for the day 
 From earthly cares to pass away, 
 With life well spent, and promise plain 
 That losing earth he'll heaven gain. 
 
 I 
 
BLAZE BRIGHTLY, O CAMP-FIRE! 
 
 Blaze brightly, O camp-fire ! beneath the dark pines, 
 While sadly the hunter 'mid trophies reclines. 
 Blow blithely, O zephyrs ! from sweet-scented vales, 
 To blending untimely in moaning and wails, 
 'Mid snow-crested mountains in fierce howling gales. 
 
 How oft, 'neath the branches of cedars low bent. 
 Or clustering balsams, for refuge intent, 
 Have I, when benighted in fiist-falling snow. 
 Found slielter and comfort by camp-fire aglow 
 That none but a climber of mountains can know 1 
 
 And there have I pondered, all pensive and lone, 
 On days tliat are vanished, on hopes that have flown. 
 My birthplace a cottage in warm flowery grove, 
 Kind parents and brothers and sisters to love. 
 And Bible and Sabbaths to point me above. 
 
 All peaceful my slumbers, all happy my home; 
 No visions of dangers, no longings to roam; 
 An Eden in promise, no Eden to prove, 
 But a thorn with a rosebud, a blighting in love, 
 And far from that Eden I wander and rove. 
 
 All slowly but surely time passes away ; 
 'Neath willows low bending friends mingle with clay; 
 
 127 
 
' f 
 
 138 
 
 BLAZE liRiaHTL V, O CAMPFIRE 
 
 Uncounted, in circles the seasons have fled ; 
 Unnoticed, these tresses are bleaching my head ; 
 Unconscious, I'm ncaring the rest of the dead. 
 
 Howl, tempest ! befitting, the thunders that roll, 
 This turmoil in bosom, this quaking of soul. 
 A long life reviewing of folly and pain. 
 All bubbles its i)leasures, its struggles in vain, 
 '•^Earth's treasures all vanished, no heaven to gain. 
 
UNION OF THE VALLKYS. 
 
 Where the broad, romantic valley of the dashing Yellow- 
 stone 
 
 Greets Missouri's turbid waters, far toward the setting 
 sun, 
 
 Where the Man-dan and the 'I'e-ton, with the Yank ton 
 and the Crow, 
 
 And the bloody Black-foot Pe-gan, with the British Knis- 
 te-naux. 
 
 Meet in battle on the war-horse, or in bull-boat float at 
 ease. 
 
 There was built the stockade " Union," a mart of fur 
 amid the Rees. 
 
 Long around that distant station gathered rovers of the 
 
 plain, 
 White and red, of every nation, such as ne'er shall meet 
 
 again ; 
 " For the ever-fickle river veered away to meet its mate, 
 7" And the fort, its cache and lodges, were abandoned to 
 
 their fate. 
 Garnered scenes, by sketch of Stanley, Catlin's brush, or 
 
 Irving's pen. 
 Of trappers true and voyageurs, alone survive those daring 
 
 men. 
 
 Now again the painted warrior, 'mid the ruins of the past. 
 
 Builds his teepee and his earth-lodge, master of the site 
 
 at last. 
 i i2g 
 
130 
 
 (W'jox oi' iiiE It /././<: VS. 
 
 w 
 
 Swcol and pleasant is the memory of otir youtliful friends 
 
 and braves ; 
 Sad and lonely 'lis to wander o'er their foc-hctrodden 
 
 graves ; 
 Hut the ever-restless white man savage tribes can ne'er 
 
 withstand ; 
 Soon tile pale-fare rare shall ronqncr and possess that 
 alley land. 
 
 i| 
 
 Then, perchance, o'er graves of comrades whom the 
 
 pain toil savage slew 
 Cypress boughs and wreaths of laurel sliall entwine o'er 
 
 warriors true. 
 ''Oh, for bard to ciiant their requiem! Oh, for storied 
 
 j)en to save 
 From the silence of oblivion legends of the true and 
 
 brave ! 
 Like the union of these valleys, may their spirits meet 
 
 and blend ! 
 Like these waters, ever gliding, may their happiness ne'er 
 
 end ! 
 
 l! 
 
lU 
 
 .'II 
 
 %. 
 
 
 :r 
 
 U 
 
 on, I'OR nARI) TO TRULY IKKASURi: I 
 
 ""On, for Inird to truly treasure 
 IJonlcr scenes of days agonc I 
 And in strains of tlirilling measure 
 Garner deeds else soon unknown, 
 Forest scenes ere long o'ergrown ! 
 
 Now of daring deeds of yconicn 
 Round their cabins in the wilds, 
 
 Then of voyageurs when the foenien, 
 IJy their ever crafty guiles, 
 Drove them to the distant isles ! 
 
 As of Hans along the Hudson, 
 
 Then the wild Manhattan shore, — 
 
 Now a mart of matchless s})lendor, 
 'IMiat no cloud in passing o'er 
 Mirrored in ihe days of yore. 
 
 Thus, perchance, the haunt of trappers, 
 Or the gidch where miners dwell. 
 
 Searching for the hidden treasures, 
 Shall for toil reward them well, 
 And the wealth of nations swell. 
 
 Even thus the bard in singing 
 Strains of those who fighting fell 
 
 By the bolts from rifles ringing. 
 For himself may harvest well, 
 And the works of knowledge swell. 
 
 
 I .t 
 
II 
 
 ) I 
 
 kustk: ijkiihii: and ckvsiai, iai.i.s. 
 
 •" Will, ihi'^c tfit tluit trip so lightly 
 O'er tliis slriic lure nuK- but ^lr()ii[j, 
 Or llicsc eyes wliich beam so brightly, 
 li'er greet scenes more meet for hong? 
 
 Skipping rill from snowy fountains 
 Dashing through cinbow'red walls, 
 
 Kiiry dell 'mid frowning mountains, 
 Grutto pool and Crystal Falls. 
 
 C'harming dell, begin with wonders, 
 Mighty falls on either hand, 
 
 (^>uiet glen amid their thunders, 
 Matchless, save in Wonder-Laiul. 
 
 O'er their mingltd n^ists and shadows 
 Rainbows beauteous, tinted, rise, 
 
 And their ever-changing halos 
 Blend and vanish in the skies. 
 
 Shy beneath the crystal waters, 
 In the grotto of the glen. 
 
 Sylvan forms of nature's daughters 
 Si)ort and bathe unseen by men. 
 
•((.. ;i 
 
 »:> 
 
 il 
 
 
134 A'UST/C BRIDGE AND CRYSTAL I'AT'.S. 
 
 Here \vc part, perchance forever, 
 In ot;r i)ilgriinagc below ; 
 
 Yet in scenes like this together, 
 Above uKiy we each other knov. ! 
 
 ,., *l: 
 
 
 it I 
 
HIGH TOWERS THE CRAGGY SUMMIT. 
 
 High towers the craggy summit, begirt with glistening 
 
 snow, 
 Mirrored in emerald lakelets in flowery vales below ; 
 Proud soars the fearless eagle around the frozen crest, 
 Low, 'mid the blooming daisies, the turtle builds her nest; 
 Down verdant sloping terrace flow sweetly gliding rills, 
 Roars cataract like thunder in echoes 'mid the hills; 
 The woolly-sheep and big-horn trail deep in mountain 
 
 snow. 
 And beavers build their -wick-e-ups where warm the 
 
 waters flow. 
 
 82 
 
 I 
 
 m 
 
 ^^Gigpntic wrecks of forests, all fossilized to stone, 
 By trading vines and cedars are, trellis-like, o'ergrown ; 
 Through Pjwery vales the river meanders on its way 
 To cataiact and canon, their thunder, mist, and spray; 
 And vales of blooming roses are sheltered deep and warm 
 Amid the towering mountains, where howls the Alpine 
 
 storm ; 
 Willi zephyr-hiss, the ripples glide laughing to the shore. 
 Where tempest-driven billows terrific dash and roar I 
 
 
 In all these blooming valleys, along each crystal stream. 
 And snow-encircled lakelet, where quivering halos gleam. 
 These labyrinths of goblins, and spouting geysers grand, 
 Unnumbered are the marvels throughout the Wonder- 
 Land ; 
 
 13s 
 
, 1 
 
 i I 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 136 ///C7// TOU'F.A'S THE CRAGGY SUMMIT. 
 
 As wintry storms Ixiild snow-fields, and summer breezes 
 
 thaw, 
 '^'•All nature seems in contrast, in l)eauty, size, or awe, — 
 Creation y groivth^ and ruin^ the universal law ! 
 
 ill 
 
 I 
 
 -«w » ^ i wrW» ..«»< Mmg i hW Wi II 4 w^»i^^T^lril^M».— w m Mfc ip ^m w a i ** '— " " ■ ■■ 
 
LONELY GLEN. 
 
 «s 'Tis lion's scream resounding 
 
 Adown the lonely glen, 
 Like those once here astounding, 
 
 From throats of savage men ; 
 When angry rifle ringing, 
 
 And scorching suli)hur smoke. 
 And deadly bullet singing, 
 
 The luring silence broke ! 
 
 Plumed warriors fierce and savage, 
 
 With hatchet, lance, and knife, 
 The camp of tourist ravage, 
 
 And seek the owner's life ; 
 Too late is flight for safety. 
 
 And fight wi<-'^ savage vain, — 
 Soon crimson rill joins torrents 
 
 That snowy mountains drain ! 
 
 Are these the brands of camp-fire ? 
 
 And theirs this battered plate ? 
 From wounded here the death-cry, 
 
 For mercy came too late ! 
 Yes, but the day is dawning 
 
 Athwart the morning star. 
 To saddle fast, a warning, 
 
 For duty calls afar. 
 
 12* 
 
 137 
 
f" 
 
 Hi 
 
 i 
 
 i " 
 
 
 REYNOLDS'S DIRGIi. 
 
 On, know ye the coteaiis and valleys between^ 
 The rose-tinted bovvers and meadows of screen, 
 And pure crysta: ••••^;r from mountains of snow, 
 Encrimsoned by c. ^'e that curdled its flow 
 With steeds and their riders, and foemen in strife, 
 Commingled and falling 'neath hatchet and knife? 
 And the rose on the coteau was tinted again 
 With crimson fast spouting from wounds of the slain, 
 When Ouster led phalanx of heroes as bold 
 As the Greeks or the Romans in legends of old 
 To ambush and slaughter, and mourning in homes 
 Afar from where tempests are bleaching their bones. . 
 
 I've trailed o'er that coteau and roamed o'er that plain j 
 In that valley built camp-fire 'mid bones of the slain. 
 ^My fagots were ruins of teepee and tent, 
 'Mid war-robes and blankets all gory and rent. 
 There at eve came the spirit of Charley the bold, 
 Not gory, but blooming, the hero of old. 
 And this was his greeting : "All welcome, my friend ! 
 The clay thou art seeking has gone with the wind ; 
 My few bones remaining by the willow so lone 
 Take homeward returning to rest with thine own. 
 But birthplace or kindred cease efforts to trace, — 
 The hatchet has slaughtered the last of my race." 
 
 138 
 
VES, BE IT THUS. 
 
 Yes, be it thus ; the die is cast, 
 
 The fatal word is spoken ; 
 The halo-cloud of charming past 
 
 And chain of bondage broken. 
 Oh, 'mid the gloom of coming years, 
 
 Will dreams of friends forsaken, 
 Or shrunken cheeks, too dry for tears, 
 
 Remorse or shame awaken ? 
 
 J 
 
 Will visions then of happy days 
 
 In snow-girt park or valley. 
 And cheering dreams of camp-fire blaze, 
 
 And loving song and sally. 
 Blend sweet with those of wavy brow. 
 
 Where pledges fair were riven. 
 And quivering lips renew the vow 
 
 To meet again in heaven ? 
 
 139 
 
IN CABIN, CAMP, OR COUNCIL. 
 
 "7 In cabin, camp, or council, in husbandry or war. 
 In sunny native valleys or snowy mountains far. 
 Two kindred spirits blended, alike their acts and aims, — 
 Their earthly duties ended, together find their names. 
 Mount Washburn and Mount Norris like battlements 
 
 arise ; 
 O'er cataract and canon their summits pierce the skies; 
 Path-seeker and path-maker, personified to stand, 
 Enduring guide for tourists throughout the "Wonder- 
 Land." 
 
 140 
 
 r ■ 
 
YKS, EVKRY ONE A MAN. 
 
 li' 
 
 rvK trailed the proud Missouri 
 
 Till fountain rill I stride, 
 And founts of the Missoula, 
 
 Adown the sunny side ; 
 Till countless rills in blending 
 
 A mighty river form, 
 And from the Hell -Gate Cafion 
 
 I greet a valley warm. 
 
 And here a town I enter, 
 
 A shoeing shop and mill, 
 A tavern in the centre. 
 
 And corral on the hill ; 
 A score of earth -roofed cabins, 
 
 A rum and gambling lair, 
 John Chinaman and laundry. 
 
 And teepees here and there. 
 
 And lo ! a belted ranger, 
 
 A chum in days of yore, 
 ShoLts, ** Well, how are you, stranger? 
 
 Let's shake your paw once more." 
 Full soon wc drank to courage, 
 
 And loud the toast and song. 
 And glasses quaffed to comrades 
 
 Far o'er the mountains gone. 
 
 141 
 
I 
 
 if. 
 
 
 / 
 
 
 m 
 
 142 YF.S, EVERY ONE A MA IV. 
 
 And in the morn wc ramble 
 
 IJcsidc ii mountain rill, 
 Till silent camp wc enter 
 
 Upon a sunny hill ; 
 And here wc halt to ponder 
 
 IJesidc each turfy home 
 Of those who're done with wandering, 
 
 Of those who've ceased to roam. 
 
 And here we gaze in silence 
 
 Upon the hillocks green, 
 The moaning pines and balsams, 
 
 And brilliant flowers between, 
 Until my ancient comrade, 
 
 With quivering lip and breath, 
 Recalls each name and story, 
 
 And manner of his death. 
 
 "Beneath this branched cedar 
 
 Sleeps comrade true and brave, 
 Who ever trod the war-path 
 
 The innocent to save ; 
 But as the rescuing seaman 
 
 Oft sinks beneath the wave, 
 So Harry fell for others. 
 
 And here's his lowly grave. 
 
 " Here's Ned, the daring trapper 
 
 Along the Yellowstone, 
 Who scaled the snowy mountains, 
 
 And gulches trod alone ; 
 But while he trapped the beaver, 
 
 To sell his coat so fair, 
 
 •ii)ii^l»>ii«M» W mi iii< ■■ »■ ■» 
 
}7i\S', EVERY ONE A MAN. 
 
 'i'lie IJannocks trailed the trapper 
 
 Unto his brushy hiir, 
 Ami here his hones are mould' ring, 
 
 While they retain his hair. 
 
 " Here's Jark and Hill, the brothers, 
 
 Who ^eft a happy home, 
 And loving friends and sweethearts, 
 
 The western wilds to roam 
 In search of gold and romance 
 
 B\it trailed and toiled in vain ; 
 While bravely fighting Koot-nays* 
 
 Were numbered with the slain, 
 And their bleaching bones we gathered 
 
 Along the Coeur d'Alcne.f 
 
 " When melting snows were foaming 
 
 Adown the Blackfoot Gorge, 
 En route from winter's roaming, 
 
 Encamped was daring George 
 Upon a narrow terrace. 
 
 Beneath its rocky walls, 
 Whence icy waters swept him 
 
 Relentless o'er the ftdls. 
 
 **Upon the roaring Loo-Loo, 
 
 In howling wintry storm, 
 Nor fire nor tent nor teepee, 
 
 Or robe to keep them warm. 
 These brothers braved the tempest 
 
 Till chilled was curdling tide, 
 Then robed in snowy blankets, 
 
 Together clasped they died. 
 
 M3 
 
 * Indians of the Koot-e-nay tribe, 
 f Pronounced cor-de-lane. 
 
 i 
 
 s \ 
 
 I 11 
 
• J 
 
 1 
 
 
 144 
 
 r 
 
 )7:S, EVEKY OXE .1 M.LV. 
 
 •* Nor least, but last and saddest, 
 
 The fate of <()iurades here, 
 Who closed a drhikiiig frolic 
 
 Around a bloody bier ; 
 And then their wrathful comrades. 
 
 As vigilants arrayeil, 
 O'er forked pine threw lasso, ♦ 
 
 And in a noose each swayed, 
 And sadly 'neath these willows 
 
 In morn these three were laid. 
 
 "Ah, yes, their vigils keeping, 
 
 Above the torrent's roar, 
 Each peacefully is sleeping, 
 
 All here the twenty-four, 
 All here in glory lying, 
 
 From foe no coward ran, 
 Each spur and booted dying. 
 
 Yes, every one a man !" 
 
 i« 
 
 :j 1 
 
Tin-: AKTisr stanlkv. 
 
 () artist! true artist I who far in the West, 
 O'er coulee and coteaii and bleak niotnitain-crcst, 
 'Mid Mo-doc and Man-dan, llriile, Mlack-fool, and Crow, 
 Bronzed tee[)ee and totem, laiK e, (luivcr, and how! 
 
 O painter ! wlio painted o'er prairie and plain 
 The lodge of the living, the cairn of the slain, 
 Proud plume of the warrior, and maiden so shy, 
 And prisoner firm-bound 'mid the fagots to die I 
 
 O limner! bold limner! on war-trail c street. 
 On moor or on mountain no more shall we meet ; 
 Thy paintings portray thee more life-like than song, 
 More valued and lauded as time glides along I 
 
 O Stanley ! brave Stanley ! thy rambles are o'er. 
 And brush laid aside,— thou wilt need it no more ! 
 ^But "Uncas" and "War-path" and "Signal" shall 
 stay 
 
 When thy head, heart, and hand have long mouIderM 
 away. 
 
 O Eden ! pure Eden ! sweet home of the blest. 
 Where the brave and the loving in harmony rest, 
 May painter and poet in ecstasy blend 
 With saints and with angels in bliss without end ! 
 '' '^ '3 145 
 
 |! 
 
r 
 
 ! 
 
 \ 
 
 146 
 
 MIN NK HA HA. 
 
 llKKM/r.s l>riskly l)l()\viiig, 
 Waters brightly llowiiig, 
 'I'hiiie, Min-nc-lui-ha. 
 Warriors hohl are banished, 
 
 M; 
 
 (liixk 
 
 hcd. 
 
 iKlciis (iM»ky vanished, 
 l''r(jm Min-no-lia-ha. 
 Another race are sowing, 
 Or witii chariots mowin;; 
 liOvely cities growing, 
 
 B' 
 
 Kouiul Min-ne-1 
 
 la-iKi. 
 
 Until time be ended 
 l{e thy beauties blendedj 
 Sweet Min-ne-ha-ha 1 
 
LOVKLY RIVI'.R. 
 
 Fr.ow on, thoti lovely rivi-r ! 
 
 (lo smiling on thy way, 
 And m'athcrcd (loods dolivor, 
 
 In thunder, mist, and spray. 
 Amid tiic arching' raiid)()\vs, 
 
 High o'er the iriple fldls, 
 Where (piivering mystic halos 
 
 liright tint the tafion walls. 
 
 I'^'cn thus may life, in gliding 
 
 Adown the stream of lime, 
 Glean wealth and worth abiding 
 
 From many a sunny clime. 
 Nor soul on brink to shiver, 
 
 But boldly launch away. 
 Joyous to meet its Giver 
 
 In realms of radiant day. 
 
 .1 
 
 »47 
 
} i 
 
 * ;i 
 
 I: 
 
 BURIAL TEEPKE. 
 
 Amid the Judith Bad Lands, beside the Mussel-shell, 
 ^'^The Ab-sa-ra-ka chieftain most b'^avely fightinp; fell ; 
 Fighti'.ig the Si-oux savage, to save his pale-face friend, 
 His list of gallant battles came to a glorious end. 
 
 When the bloody strife was ended, and weapons ceased 
 
 to gleam 
 Within the snowy cailon and along the sunny stream, 
 'Mid reekin.^ scalps of foemen, lashed to his steed of 
 
 foam, 
 In triumph sad they bore him unto his silent home. 
 
 I '?E 
 
 ft 
 
 r 
 
 In gorgeous war-tent teepee once captured from his foes, 
 He's near Camp Lewis sleeping, in dreamless, sweet 
 
 repose. 
 With lance and cross o'er doorway, rich trophies there 
 
 abound, 
 With Black-feet scalps above him, and Si-oux scalps 
 
 around ; 
 
 To-tems of saint and savage, of white man and of red, 
 In brilliant colors painted above the mighty dead ; 
 There let him rest in triumpli, and moulder into dust, 
 His spirit's with Wa-kan-da, on whom he set his trust. 
 
 MS 
 
 .. A 
 
BOLD TRAPPER OF THE CAMP-FIRE. 
 
 5° Bold trapper of the camp-fire 
 In thy daring days of youth, 
 Meek Christian vvlien a grandsire 
 On the homeward trails of truth. 
 
 J ■\ 
 
 Proud rover of the mountains, 
 Scaled thou oft the snowy crest; 
 
 In vale of emerald fountains 
 Lowly is thy couch of rest. 
 
 Thy war-path days are ended. 
 Ranch in heaven's park begun ; 
 
 There may our trails be blended, 
 And our camps and comrades one ! 
 
 U' 
 
 149 
 
i 
 
 i ' 
 
 I ! 
 
 f -ti 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 THE WARRIOR'S DIROr:. 
 
 "' Gone, brave brother, gone from the suffering and strife, 
 Commencing witlj birth, only ending with life; 
 Through the red fields of war spared in safety to roam, 
 Life's duties all o'er, rest with loved ones at home. 
 
 May thy myrtle-wreaths won in the blooming of youth, 
 In the halls of the schools or the chapels of truth, 
 Entwine with the laurel-bays earned on the field, 
 Where glory is carved by the sabre's bold wield ! 
 
 And who are thy friends in the land o' the leal. 
 The warriors in mail, with their helmets of steel, — 
 A Wallace, a Bruce, or an archer, as Tell, 
 In triumph who lived, or in victory fell? 
 
 And still dost thou view, on the coteau or plain. 
 Charge of golden-haired chief to the carnage again ; 
 And thy comrades, alas ! all lifeless and lorn. 
 Asleep where they fought, 'mid the cactus and thorn? 
 
 And view ye the reapers, v/ith carbine and sword, 
 
 In the field of war-bonnets and plumes by the ford ; 
 
 And the riderless steeds, careering again, 
 
 O'er the thick-scattered sheaves on the harvest of slain? 
 
 Avaunt with such deeds by the dwellers of earth ! 
 Tne grim scenes of war, or its revels and mirth ! 
 Far better the acts and the mansions of those 
 Who pruning-hookb make of the spears of their foes 
 150 
 
 ■ 1 
 
' 
 
 THE WARRIOR'S DIRGE. 
 
 15J 
 
 Ho, signal the giants of carnage and gain ! 
 Come, spend ye a night with the ghosts of your slain ! 
 Then turn, if ye will, to your slaughter and lust. 
 Brief heyday of revel, then moulder in dust. 
 
 And where the immortal, the God-given soul? 
 Its mansion eternal, is heaven its goal, 
 Or sinks it in sorrow with spirits akin. 
 Their sharers in crime and the heralds of sin? 
 
 Oh, better the reapers with sickles of right. 
 Who cleave for the gleaners of freedom and light ; 
 And as sheaves from the harvest they bring at its close, 
 Bright bundles of friends they have won of their foes. 
 
 Soul -cheering the hope of a land far away. 
 And the reveille call at the dawn of the day, 
 When the heroes of earth shall immortal ascend. 
 With laureis bedecked and where angels attend. 
 
 ■ t 
 
 ; I 
 
 > 
 
 :i' 
 
1 f 
 
 .J ' 
 
 
 '^ 
 
 CYPRESS SHADOWS. 
 
 ''''VVherr the long reeds (luiver, wlicrc the pines make 
 
 n.oan, 
 By the forest river sleeps our bab'^ alone.'' 
 'I'hus a yearning motlier, in a flowery grove, 
 Seeks her soi)s to smother with a chant of iove : 
 "England's field-flowers blooming may not deck his grave; 
 Cypress shadows, looming o'er him, darkly wave.' 
 
 > 1 
 
 " Far away we journeved from our native land, 
 O'er the briny ocean, o'er the burning sand ; 
 For my loved ones hoping, thus I wandered far, 
 Hence this loving bosom bears a cureless scar. 
 'Neath the pine-tops moaning, in his lowly grave. 
 Leave I a pledge of heaven, other gems to save. 
 
 *' In my weary wanderings to a ' id afar, 
 In my camp-fire visions will a twinkling star, 
 'Mid the waving shadows, smiling sweet and fair. 
 From the azure heaven?., guide me where you arc, — 
 Not this tomb so lowly, where the sliadows lie. 
 But in regions holy, far beyond the sky? 
 
 "Hence, in wanderings dreary in the mighty West, 
 When my way is weary and my heart oppressed, 
 As I count my jewels, shall this shining star 
 Fill the broken circlet, and guide me where ) )U are,^ — 
 Not beneath the cypress, 'mid the forest gloom. 
 But in bowers of Eden, bright with love and bloom ?" 
 152 
 
 
' 
 
 i 1 
 
 I'VE TRAILED THE PROUD COLUMBIA. 
 
 I'VE trailed the proud Coli;mbia, from fountain-head in 
 
 sncws, 
 To 'vrhere the bold Shoshone through lava-desert flows ; 
 Have crossed the pass St. Regis and lakeof Caurd'Alene, 
 The lovely glades of Camas and lava-girt Spokane ; 
 Have searched the lovely grottos, and scaled their rugged 
 
 walls, 
 
 And traced the Peluse turbid unto its sacred falls. 
 
 55 And here I pause and ponder at trace of friend of old, 
 An orphan left to wander before the days of gold. 
 A home he found in teepee of Spokane chieftain true. 
 And rollicked with the kam-ooks,* and as a pappoose 
 grew; 
 
 With squaws he dug the camas, the maize he learned to 
 
 grind, 
 And strode the loping pinto, with naked squaw behind. 
 
 Nor aught knew he of kindred, nor cared he for his race, 
 Until his form expanded and bearded grew his face. 
 "Than water blood is thicker" is proverb old and true, 
 And thus his race he cherished in seeking comrades new; 
 And when the blazing signal, from mountain-crest afar. 
 Warned him of bloody onset and unrelenting war 
 By friends of his adoption against those of his birth, 
 With parting kiss to sister, he boldly sallied forth. 
 
 * Kam'-ooks, clogs. 
 
 ': 
 
 
 153 
 
^'54 
 
 I'VI'. TR.MI h.n THE PROVD COLUMBIA. 
 
 \\\ vain the war-wliooj) ringing roused warriors to his 
 
 trail ; 
 Nor deadly bullet singing, nor loping steeds prevail. 
 His pinto through the valley far led them in the chase, 
 Then swam the Umatilla, and proudly won the race ; 
 Nor checked his foaming charger till in his youth and 
 
 pride, 
 IJeneath the flag of Steptoe, he fought as scout and guide. 
 
 Full soon the conflict opens upon Columbia's plain, 
 And in the mountain valleys that foaming torrents drain; 
 Nor time to let the story of fighting, fierce and long, 
 'Twixt those who fought for glory and those who, doubly 
 
 strong, 
 Fought in their native valleys, fought o'er their fathers' 
 
 graves, 
 Fought by their blazing teepees, and 'mid their dying 
 
 braves, 
 Chose death in gory blankets to life as cringing slaves. 
 
 i I 
 
 Thus back they iiurled* the pale-fare when Stcptoe's fight 
 
 was o'er, 
 And to the Peluse sacred their trail was red with gore. 
 That weary moons the remnant they sorely did invest, 
 With famished pinto rations those l)leaching bones attest; 
 And only for the salmon that crowd the narrow stream, 
 No pale-fbice from that canon would living e'er been seen ; 
 For lo I an old tradition of generations gone 
 Declared the salmon sacred below the falls to spawn, 
 Till, lest the sacred fishes should feed the foe they fear, 
 The Chenooks check their running with brushy dam and 
 
 weir. 
 
rVE TRAILED THE PROUD COl.UMlilA. 155 
 
 Oft in liis pangs of liunger onr youth would hear fn)in 
 
 those 
 Mc left in Jiour of clanger to aid their mortal foes. 
 When from the cliff the chieftain, at eve when all was 
 
 still, 
 Would ring the clarion war-whoop in echoes from the 
 
 hill, 
 With taunting jeers, " Mo, Sko-kum !"'' ho, traitor Til-la- 
 
 koom !f 
 Your Il-li-hu;}; you're viewing, and soon you'll meet your 
 
 doom I 
 I!o, reared ye in my teepee, you knave in long-knife hire! 
 You traitor to my chuJrcn, you soon shall feel my ire, 
 In running of the gantlet or roasting in the fire ! 
 
 ** But lest your death be speedy, a morsel choice I give ; 
 For while I'm reaping vengeance I want you still to live," 
 As the shank of a cay-ou-ta, or skull of car-a-bou. 
 Or putrid head of salmon, with jeering taunt he threw, 
 Then strode away in triiunph, to gloat o'er insult new. 
 
 I 
 
 Blend with his ste[)s receding on the air of evening still, 
 From an overhanging cedar, the voice of whip[)oorwill, 
 In accents low and mournful, as widowed turtle-dove, 
 *'Oh, list, my foster-brother! oh, hear, my truant love! 
 For you my heart is breaking !" in accents low and mild; 
 It was the voice of Noo-na, the chieftain's darling child. 
 
 "Why left ye thus our teepee? why went ye thus astray? 
 And from my arms in breaking you tore my heart away. 
 
 *" Sko'-ku 111, brave. f Til'-la-koom, enemy, \ ll'-li-lui', country. 
 
 ; 
 
1^ 
 
 156 i'yi'' TKAir.En riir: rRouD coi.umiua. 
 
 Oil, live you not for vengeance my sire declares your 
 
 due, 
 Hut for your foster-sister, your Noo-na, ever true!" 
 Then sack of choicest viands from towering cliff she 
 
 threw, 
 And ere his blessings reached her had vanished from his 
 
 view. 
 
 Scarce need to tell the sequel. In every age and clime 
 The daring deeds of lovers was ever theme sublime. 
 Amid the scenes that follow, of carnage on the plain, 
 Escaped the daring ranger and the maiden of Sjjokane, 
 And in a hidilen valley this ranger yeoman tills; 
 Soon bounteously the harvests their bridal teepee fills. 
 And rollick on the pintos their brood of whippoorwills. 
 
HO, WAKKN! 
 
 ^* Ho, waken, you dwellers in chambers of (lay, 
 Arise from your slumbers and welcome the tlay ! 
 Coinj forth from your prison, flesh, raiment, and arms, 
 And greet us with welcome, no needless alarms. 
 
 We're only your brothers from over the sea, 
 Thus rending your fetters anil setting you free • 
 Stalk forth as the warriors and sorcerers bold. 
 And greet us with music and legends of old. 
 
 <i i ' 
 
 Whose flesh-covered bones strode forth as a brave 
 In the battle-axe combat? Who's cringed as a slave? 
 And here are their mothers one moaning for those 
 Who came not again from the banquet of foes. 
 
 '5 And whose is this dust in these chambers beside? 
 Mingled ashes of those who as patriots died. 
 At the stake on the coteau of far-distant plain, 
 Or the torrents of gore in the vale of the slain? 
 
 Or are they the ashes of sacrifice grand 
 To the gods in the fires of a priest-rid(i«-n land, 
 Where mothers oft gave, under wizard control, 
 The fruit of the womb for the weal of the soul? 
 
 And how came these shells from the deep-rolling waves 
 Of an ocean afar to these prairie land graves ? 
 
 14 »57 
 
i5« 
 
 no, IVAKI.M 
 
 
 1 I 
 
 I i 
 
 t^ 
 
 And what were the viands that in then) was given 
 To nourish the soul in its journey to heaven ? 
 
 •*And wliy are tliese rani[)arts so h)fty and h)ng 
 Widespread o'er the phiins wliere the antchjpe throng, 
 With tlie deer, elk, and beaver, and elephant grand, 
 All trailing in earth to a sunnier land? 
 
 Whence came ye ? Where wandered ? Or perished you 
 
 here ? 
 As a race are ye dwelling where proud foivsts rear 
 Their shafts and their branches defying the gales. 
 O'er a peo[)Ie asleep in their own native vales. 
 
 No answer, no greeting, nor motion nor nioans ; 
 Your dwellings still crumble, still moulder your bones;' 
 Thus careful 1 glean from this chamber of clay 
 These relicts for science in halls far away. 
 
 And the remnant I carefully cover again. 
 Then mournfully hie to the valley or plain. 
 Sad traces to find in the cairns of the dead 
 Of a race who for ages uncounted have fletl. 
 
 All pensive I nuise of those relicts of yore. 
 The labors of those who shall labor no more. 
 Then wondering turn to the monuments grand 
 Of the race that now governs this cairn-dotted land. 
 
 When ?ges uncounted shall circle again. 
 
 And this race of proud vandals shall sleep with the slain, 
 
 O'er their crumbling ruins of iron and stone 
 
 May wantler the warriors of races unknown. 
 
NOKTHI'KN CMMi:. 
 
 'M'AINT I recall, throii<;h mists of time, 
 The thrilling' scenes of Northern clime: 
 The outward voyage in birch canoe, 
 As iiome and friends recede from view; 
 Then long blue IluronS: pine-clad snore, 
 And great Superior's waters roar, 
 Lake of the Wilds, and penapce beg 
 For cursing gnats on Winnepeg; 
 And tiien with buoyant h()[)e and song. 
 With pole and paddle fnin and strong, 
 Ascend thy Hoods, Sus-Kutch-a-wan. 
 
 Long are the days, but circles low 
 The orb of warmth on crests of snow, 
 Which tower athwart its slanting rays. 
 And seem at eve with gold ablaze, 
 Until retinged with mellow light 
 By silvery rays from orb of night, 
 Which o'er deep cafions dim at noon 
 Oft soars the brilliant "harvest moon,"- 
 As fair as in our distant home, — 
 To cheer us as we toiling roam, 
 And gild the dangers yet to come. 
 
 li 
 
 Oh, these brilliant days are waning, and bitter nighis 
 
 begun 
 With the fiiding moons of autumn and the sinking of 
 
 the sun ; 
 
 159 
 
^^^^^^^^um 
 
 160 
 
 A'OfC77fi:K!V Cl.lME. 
 
 I ■ I 
 
 i -i 
 
 if 
 
 Soon all tlu" narrow valK-ys wi-ar Mankcts wlnto of snow, 
 And icy ciiw hcs* hamper the mountain-torrents' flow; 
 (!anocs arc left for sledges, and shaj;gy kam-ooks strong 
 lly thon^' are driven tandem to haul our ^'oods alon^. 
 And thus we northward joinney among the Knis-tc-neaux, 
 In trapping of the heaver or slaying ear-a-bou, 
 Or trading heads and bhmkels, or gaudy trinkets new, 
 For martin pelts, or otter, and foxes wliite or hlue, 
 Till on the Ath-a-has-can wc build a sttxkadc new. 
 
 Soon our Norwegian sncnv-shoes we carve of sapling long, 
 Or cunning weave the web-foot of mouse-wood bark ami 
 
 thong, 
 Then bold in winter's twilight, o'er drifting fiehls of 
 
 snow. 
 We trail the fox and shun-ka and trotting car-a-bou. 
 Or 'iuid the cedar thic kets or stinted balsams green, 
 'I'he moose, the shaggy musk-ox, or crafty wolverine, 
 And of their coats we fashion huge outer garments warm, 
 Or 'neath them, rolled in blankets, defy the Arctic storm, 
 Or watch the wavy halos athwart the " Northern I'ole," 
 With icy fingers clasping to tear away the soul. 
 The while their matchless splendors o'er all the heavens 
 
 roll. 
 
 When from such scenes returning, with weary limbs we 
 
 come, 
 And by the fagots burning enjoy our wintry home. 
 In vigils long and soothing in place of slumbers gone. 
 When, as *he night-watch shivering, we swell our muscles 
 
 wan, 
 Then cheerful join the frolics dismissing fear and care, 
 On snow-shoes trail the ermine or fight the polar bear, 
 
 * Cinches, Spanish, sacklle-girtlis. 
 
A'OA' ////■: A' X (7./A//:. 
 
 i6i 
 
 Until tho sun rolnrning fr<Mn Itn^ilu'iKwl wintry iili^'ht 
 ki'lliMts from i«'y sp;in ;Ii's its c-oiiiitlcss ^Kiuns of li^ht, 
 VViih joyous shouts of wclcoine tluit Ar»:tic night is past, 
 As monks from fasting penance rejoin in grantl repast, 
 And •^lioia and song and legend around our l)la/.ing fires. 
 The Cree, the HruU', and Hriton, and sons of Pilgrim 
 
 sires ; 
 
 And oft, when storms arc howling, join in the cir( ling 
 dance 
 
 The brawny lads of Scotland, with kill and plume as- 
 kance. 
 
 The jolly heirs of Kiin, and njerry sons of France. 
 
 These scenes are o'er, bright visions fled 
 
 Shall meet no more, — the actors dead. 
 
 Alas 1 their graves are sca»tered wide 
 
 From mounlain-crest to ocean-tide; 
 
 Some sleep in vaults in Christian lands, 
 
 llncoffined some in desert sands; 
 
 Some fell in deadly border strife 
 
 l}y piercing barb or gleaming knife ; 
 
 Some far from friends, who ne'er shall know 
 
 Where cunlling life-tides ceased to flow, 
 
 In winding-sheet of Alpine snow ; 
 
 Some for their country fought and fell, 
 
 In victory shouting, " All is well !" 
 
 The booming gun their funeral knell, 
 
 And coming bards their fame shall swell ; 
 
 Lone one, as bough of mistletoe, 
 
 Clings still to life amid the snow; 
 
 May melting torrents here below 
 
 Strand him where Eden's streamlets flow I 
 
 14' 
 
T^ 
 
 
 DE SOTO. 
 
 ''^ Damp was the day and dreary, tlie night was dark and 
 
 cohl ; 
 Wor'i were my limbs and weary, my refuge liovel ohl ; 
 Wliile Christmas bells were jingling in merry distant 
 
 home. 
 Rife was the night with revels where duty called to 
 
 roam. 
 'Twas by the Mississippi, where ancient cypress rear 
 Above the sluggish bayous the pendent mosses drear, 
 With fevered brow and throbbing, I dreamed or seemed 
 
 to dream 
 Of stifled moan and wailing, and flickering torch's 
 
 gleam ; 
 A grouj) of grizzled warriors around a mossy bed, 
 And priests their masses chanting for the spirit of the 
 
 dead. 
 It was the proud De Soto, by toil and sorrow slain. 
 And his comrades with Pizarro, the cavaliers of Spain. 
 
 Dim through the shadows o'er them, back rolk the tide 
 
 of time. 
 Till plumed and mounted warriors, they leave their 
 
 native clime. 
 And 'neath its floating banners embark upon the main. 
 Far in the western Indies to gold and glory gain. 
 Balmy the laughing breezes that swell their eager sails ; 
 Eden the land which greets them, of mountains, hills, and 
 
 dales ; 
 162 
 
 1 
 
DE SOTO. 
 
 163 
 
 Peaceful the chief wlio meets them ui)on Peruvian shore; 
 Patient the faithful toilers, who bounteous harvests store; 
 Fatal the hour that taught them to wash its golden sand; 
 Christians, the men who slew them with sabre, spear, and 
 
 brand ; 
 Brazen the thanks to Heaven for gold with gory stain 
 IJy these comrades of Pizarro, these cavaliers of Spain. 
 
 When from the land of Incas they greet its placid shore, 
 Broad looms their trail of i)lunder, of revelry and gore ; 
 And of the winds uniting to swell their waiting sails. 
 Laden the mountain breezes with a slaughtered nation's 
 
 wails. 
 And when the pillaged Eden recedes beneath the waves, 
 Nameless the scenes of revel with shackled female slaves. 
 In narrow land 'twixt oceans, like worthless lemon-rind. 
 As feast for flimished vultures, the weak are left behind. 
 To Spanish isles they visit, as conquerors they come, 
 And'4oud the shouts of greeting, the trumi)et, fife, and 
 
 drum ; 
 And thus as Christian warriors they leave the raging 
 
 main. 
 And seek their native valleys, these conquerors from Spain. 
 
 Alas ! the shameful story of banquets long and grand, 
 And badges bright of glory from prince of native land. 
 And oft the thanks to Heaven, and loud the praise of 
 
 those 
 Who crossed the raging ocean to "conquer pagan foes;" 
 While to the priests in masses, for fallen comrades' souls, 
 Pile high Peruvian plunder and Mexican pistoles ; 
 And proudly-titled maidens caress the cheeks of those 
 Dark-bronzed in scorching deserts, or scarred in fighting 
 
 foes. 
 
164 
 
 DE so'ro. 
 
 I ^ 
 
 li 
 
 Then from their prince and Heaven a title good and 
 grand --^ 
 
 Is to De Soto given for reahn in distant land, 
 
 Who with his wealth and warriors embarks to cross the 
 main, 
 
 An empire new to conquer for Heaven and for Spain. 
 
 'Twas on the isle of jewels they marshal well and long. 
 Then cross'd the narrow waters, six hundred warriors 
 
 strong, 
 With steeds and lance and carbine, to conquer and to 
 
 hold 
 The land of healing fountains, of glittering gems and 
 
 gold ; 
 And loud the thanks to Heaven, and tall the cross they 
 
 rear. 
 ('Twas then the way of nations, and were they not sin- 
 cere? 
 Too oft we judge of others by light they never knaw; 
 In ages past or coming perchanoe we'd change our view.) 
 Soon reared is stockade ample for those they leave 
 
 behind, 
 Then with their steeds and banners through flowery vales 
 
 tliey wind. 
 Thus forth a realm to conquer, and gold and glory gain. 
 Proud tread the knights of Portugal and cavaliers of 
 
 Spa::.. 
 
 'T'vas now no land of mountains, of terraced slopes and 
 
 pines, 
 But sedgy bogs and cane-brakes, and thorny plants and 
 
 vines. 
 Beneath the moaning cypress in mourning draped they 
 
 find 
 No greeting friend before them, but lurking foe behind ; 
 
DE SOTO. 
 
 T65 
 
 As thus for moons they wciiulcr ihroiigh forest, fen, or 
 
 ghuie, 
 IJy sedgy lakes and bayous they sorely are delayed, 
 Till Ortiz, long a captive unto a chieftain grand, 
 By him in ki.idness sent ihem, guides safely throu-h the 
 
 land 
 
 Unto the smiling hamlets of a people tall and brave, 
 Who prize a sturdy foeman, but scorn a cringing sla've 
 To homes of shelter welcome, 'mid golden fields of 
 
 grain, 
 They greet the famished vvarrio/s, the cavaliers of Spain. 
 
 Long through the land they ivander in search of gems 
 
 and gold 
 In vain, and suffer hunger and sickness, thirst and cold • 
 Oft cheered by baseless legends, that lead them far 
 
 astray. 
 
 In pathless rocky regions to wend their weaiy way. 
 Till from a craggy su.-mit with joyful shout they gaze 
 Upon a land of hamlets and golden fields of maize. 
 A chieftain had each village, its temple and its priest. 
 And robes and signs and seasons for sacrifice and feast. 
 High in the level valley broad mounds of earth they 
 
 raise 
 For lofty halls of chieftain, of council, or for praise, 
 And palisades encircle the hamlets of the plain, 
 When greeted by these pilgrims, the cavaliers of Spain. 
 
 In welcome- through the valleys they eat and take their 
 fill ; 
 
 Resistless in the hamlets, they revel, rob, and kill ; 
 And chieftain hold as hostage, to furnish slaves to bear 
 The burdens of the victors, relieved from toil and care. 
 
166 
 
 DF. SO 70. 
 
 \\ 
 
 I 
 
 Until from Tas-ta-lu-ca they cross Pi-u-rhe's stream, 
 And view within Mauil-hi the spears of warriors gleam. 
 In parley brief the chieftain, tiie hostage, and tiie slave, 
 Exchange the fetters galling for the weapons of the 
 
 brave ; 
 And then the slave and captor as sturdy warriors meet. 
 With battle-axe and sabre, all fight and none retreat. 
 But breast to breast, with blow and thrust, fast pile the 
 
 heaps of slain. 
 The warriors* doom, in i)aint and plume, and belted 
 
 knights of Spain. 
 
 \\ 
 
 Oh, hasten, bold Moscoso, charge fearless o'er the plain. 
 Ride down and thrust the foeman, and broader strew the 
 
 slain. 
 From fallen steed De Soto remounts to quick restore 
 To ranks the warriors quenching their thirst 'mid pools 
 
 of gore. 
 From these the shout of battle and bugle-blast prolong. 
 From those the clarion war-whoop and dying battle-song. 
 The shafts of stalwart warriors, fast as the mountain hail. 
 Crash through the shield and helmet, and pierce the coat 
 
 of mail ; 
 And feathered barbs are flying, like wintry flakes of 
 
 snow, 
 And ghastly wounds are spouting, as geysers jet and flow. 
 Earth moans, as o'er her bosom fast flows the crimson 
 
 ♦tide 
 From wounds of countless peasants who round their altars 
 
 died ; 
 And 'neath the hoof of chargers, through trellised hills 
 
 and dales, 
 Transpierced by lance and sabre, arise the dying wails, 
 
DE SOTO. 
 
 167 
 
 When lo ! from fiery torches, hurled 'mid the ihutchy 
 
 roofs, 
 A thousand red-tongued monsters career with blazing 
 
 hoofs ; 
 A lurid hell, they revel o'er maid and peasant slain, 
 And to it force the living, the mounted knights of Spain. 
 
 n 
 
 Grim sinks the king of splendor behind the field of flame ; 
 
 Pale beams the queen of evening above the scene of 
 shame j 
 
 Shrill rings the taunt defiant from warriors in the glade; 
 
 Chill grow the faint and dying, on gory couches laid. 
 
 No warming draught nor bandage, nor lint to stanch a 
 wound ; 
 
 None from the smouldering ruins will evermore be found. 
 
 Faint throbs the ebbing lifetide on weary comrade's 
 breast ; 
 
 Faint, fainter still and flickering, and two warriors are at 
 rest. 
 
 Sad is the dirge and wailing, and muffled drum and fife, 
 
 'Neath banners draped and tattered, and pierced in 
 bloody strife; 
 
 Reversed their swords and lances, and slow their meas- 
 ured tread, 
 
 As sadly on the morrow they bear the mangled dead. 
 
 ^Amid the holly shadows, upon the gory plain, 
 
 Uncoffined sleep and moulder two hundred sons of Spain. 
 
 Dim fades the gloomy vision, as wandering far and wide, 
 Through countless tramps and battles, to Mississippi's 
 
 tide; 
 High o'er the waters rolling resistless to the main 
 They rear the cross as Christians, and claim the land for 
 
 Spain ; 
 
 \\ 
 
 ^ 
 
iCS 
 
 DE SOTO. 
 
 Then o'er its turbid wnters still onward far they roam 
 Throwgli countless vales and hamlets, nor seek nor nierit 
 
 home, 
 'V'\\\ in the craggy mountains these pilgrims, seeking gold, 
 Fade as the leaves of autumn from hunger, thirst, and 
 
 cold ; 
 •Then southward, weary wandering through wintry wind 
 
 and storm. 
 Till on tile bold Arkansas they sleep in hamlets warm. 
 The prayers of peaceful owners for recompense were vain; 
 Naught had they left to give them, these wanderers from 
 
 Spain. 
 
 ! 
 
 I 
 
 Time, strife, and suffering dispel their golden dreams; 
 Homewartl they turn in spring-time adown the swollen 
 
 streams, 
 Until the Mississippi they shouting greet again, 
 Far down its turbid waters, anear tiie briny main ; 
 But weary, wan, and sinking, and sadly needing those 
 Whose bones, alas ! are bleaching along their trail of 
 
 woes, 
 To build them bark of safety, yet haughty to the last. 
 Supplies demand of chieftain of maize and service vast. 
 No cringing menial answer, but haughty chief of braves, — 
 "Of vie, the prince of warriors, claim food and toiling 
 
 slaves ; 
 KniXyoii, the heir of Heaven, the son of rolling sphere, 
 Dry up the mighty river, then come, you'll find me here. 
 If friend, I'll greet you grandly; if foe, no bended knee 
 Be stool for mounting charger; in life or death we're 
 
 free." 
 A peer has met De Soto; another waiting stands; 
 It is remorse's fever and 'vengeful reeking hands. 
 
 1 
 
DE SO 10. 
 
 169 
 
 Which from liis couch of anguish, as galling cai)live 
 
 chain, 
 Drag 'ncath the turbid waters this cavalier of Spain. 
 
 Dim through the murky shadows I view Moscoso's band, 
 Far wandering through the deserts in search of golden 
 
 land ; 
 A remnant fierce and famished to Rio Grande* return, 
 One hamlet fill with plunder, and others wanton burn. 
 And harmless peasants chaining, — 'tis not the land of 
 
 those 
 Who strangers greet in friendship, or warriors meet as 
 
 foes, — 
 To help in toil In forming a stockade broad and long, 
 And then brigantines seven, of piank and timbers strong; 
 And nails they forge of fetters torn from their dying 
 
 slaves. 
 Or helmet, sword, or buckler of vanished comrade braves. 
 Then with thfi flood of waters launch boldly for the main. 
 This remnant of the warriors, these cavaliers of Spain. 
 
 
 re. 
 
 lee 
 
 re 
 
 Far comes the shout of triumph as breezes fill their sails; 
 Near swells the moans of»dying and famished orphans' 
 
 wails ; 
 Faint falls the song of gladness from those we'll see no 
 
 more ; 
 Loud rings the clarion death-whoop of warriors seeking 
 
 gore. 
 A hand is on my bosom, cold fingers clutch my hair, — 
 O God ! it is a vision, .aid vanishes in air. 
 
 * As the i>paniards then called the Mississippi River 
 H 15 
 
lyo 
 
 DE so'io. 
 
 A steamer's Kcrccching whistle, l)er shouting (lew anil 
 
 bell, 
 (!oiniuingle with the teini)est, unearthly din to swell; 
 Yet lingering froni n)y vision awhile a phantom clings, 
 And from my ancient relics in fading cadence sings: 
 '•Oh, freed we from our prison, our fetters, and our <lay; 
 Where are our friends and comrades, and captors, whert 
 
 are they ? 
 Where are the fields and camp-fires, the walls and pickets 
 
 strong? 
 O'ergrown by mighty forests, sure we have slumbered 
 
 long." 
 Yes, slumbered long and tranquilly, while friends and 
 
 race are fled ; 
 Another race has concjuered, and mingles with your dead. 
 The tramp of mighty armies, the roar of bloody strife, 
 Of brother against brother, aroused you not to life. 
 As countless rills uniting a flood to swell the sea. 
 These brothers blend a nation, united, happy, free; 
 While plaintive moans the cypress, and c!..iiv the waters 
 
 flow. 
 As in the days of Cortez, four hundred years ago, 
 Thus fades my midnight vision, thus ends my mournful 
 
 strain. 
 Of the legend of Dc Soto, the cavalier of Spain. 
 
N O T !•: s. 
 
 ll 
 
 THE C: ALU M K 'I' ( ) V T UK CO T V. A U. 
 
 ' " Say, linst tlioii iicen the cal-u-fnct of pink or purple bright, 
 A p!pi;-l)i)wl ill llic cuiincil, a hatulict in the fi>;hl?" 
 
 Tht first white rovers of the seas who landed upon llic sliori's of 
 North Ainorica were iiiiiformly met hy armed, stalwart, red- or copper- 
 colored warriors, led hy some paiiit-and plunit-l)edeekc<l chieftain, 
 who, with a sjiread rohe or hlaiikct and the curlinj^ azure smoke of 
 the pipe of peace, welcomed them to their wild shore and rude 
 hospitality. 
 
 This indeed seems to have ever been the custom in their intercourse 
 with the whites and with each other. I'e it a casual meeting; upon 
 the trail, a visit of friendship or business, a council for the adjustment 
 of differences to avoid war, or for the ratification of the terms of 
 peace, little is ever said, and positively nothinjf important done, until 
 after the exchange of at least a few puffs of smoke from the never- 
 wanting, forgotten, or neglected pipe of peace. 
 
 'J'hese are of various forms, hut all having the orifice for the inset - 
 tion of tlie stem at one end, extend to a capacious howl or receptacle 
 U]K)n one side, usually at right angles therewith, for the indigenous 
 toLacco, or, in its absence, Kin-no-ke-nick osier-bark, or other fragrant 
 infiammable substances. For use upon ordinary occasions they were 
 ntade of a great variety of rocky substances, and, together with the 
 stem, were ornamented according to the caprice or circumstances of 
 the maker or subsequent owner. This class of pijies are articles of 
 sale, barter, valued tokens of esteem, as presents to friends in life, 
 and, less frequently, as bequests at death ; as, from the nearly uni- 
 versal belief of the North American Indians that all things animate 
 and inanimate alike ])0'^sess souls, these pipes, a supply of tobacco 
 
 171 
 
17a 
 
 NO Tl'lS. 
 
 ami food, as well ax his weapons, utensils, ornaments, apparel, and 
 blankets, occasionally his war lit)rse, and >onietiints his widow, or 
 widows, are l)iiric<l willi the warrior f^oiiii', so that in the happy 
 hunlin^-prounds lieyond the numnt lius he ni.iy ihcrc renew lile, iU 
 pursuits and its pleasures, as he left it here. 
 
 J5iit in the };rand councils, for the adjustment of <lisi ufes of 
 boundaries, formation of alliances, or the ratification of the lernis of 
 peace anion}; nations, the indispensable cereninnial pi[*e of peace is 
 the yi lli)w-iM(>tlIed, pink, or purple calumet from the sacred quarry 
 of the lejjendiry fossili/.cd Ihsji of the antedihiviau projjcnitors 
 of the race of red men, usually bearinj^ the totem of the owner, 
 clan, or tribe, or all of them, and wliiih were never re^^ular arti* 
 cles of barter or sale, and seldom of transfer, save in compacts of 
 alliance or confederation of tribes or nations, when they were ex- 
 chani^eable. Hence its transfer to other races was saerilcijious; and 
 of the countless pipes jieacefully obtained of tl Indians by the 
 early white n>en, it is believed that few, if any, wi , - genuine sacred 
 calumets; and the location, even approximately, of the sacred quarry, 
 or, as figuratively called, mountain, was for a long time unknown to 
 white men. 
 
 Tradition relates that the lirst devout Frenchmen who visited the 
 falls of the Father of Waters in l68o were j^reeled by the appear- 
 ance of St. Anthony, the ])atron saint of the expedition, who, from 
 amid the spray above the falls, warned them that a great council (^f 
 the nations of red men had recently ordained that no pale-face should 
 be allowed to nearer approach the sacred calumet (juarry ; and, also, 
 that he was rewarded for his fidelity and the event conmienior.ited 
 by their attaching his name to the falls, which they still retain. 
 
 These well-known falls are 380 miles by direct railroad connection, 
 and fully twice that distance by the ancient route of nations up the 
 St. Peter's — now Minnesota — River and coteau route, from the sacred 
 quarry, which, although in the land of the Dakotag, is some miles 
 east of the border of that Territory, in Pipestone County, Minnesota, 
 as now organized. 
 
 It is situated near the southern end of the groat " Coteau des 
 Prairies" of the old French voyageurs, and upon llie small calumet 
 aflluent of the Big Sioux River, which is now called the Pipestone 
 Creek, near the drainage divide of the Mississipjii and Missouri 
 Rivers. From the summit of this coteau divide the long parallel 
 
 l\ 
 
NO rr.s. 
 
 ^n 
 
 V 
 
 swells iinifonii in t li.ir.ii iii. Imt rli;inninj;Iy (livcrsllifil in oiiilim*, 
 Ktii'tch, likr tin* wiivcH i>f n ri)Msili/ei| «ho,\h, awny, aw.ty, until tin* 
 viTiliirr <»f cw\\\ and llur nziiri" of luMvm Mi-nd in the cloudless 
 horizon of it\\y of tlic most clminunjj rtirnl landscmK-'H of enrtli, 
 even still wliiic licin;^ spanned hy llii: iron rail and (lolti'd li\ ili.; 
 d\\cllin;^'s, the >,'r.iin l"u Ids, verdanl j^rovt's, and tliiivinj; \iIl,i^;i'»or 
 lliu iill-pro;;ii ssivc rati; of destiny, ovor tlif riidr luniuli, niouldciiiij; 
 lioncs, niul cnuuliling land niurUs of the wumluiiiig racu fivsl fading' 
 awny. 
 
 That the uni(|no suiTace conformation of this region results fron> 
 cnorinouH groovin^^s and deposits during the ^dacial |>eiiod and count- 
 less aj,'«'s of Hiil)si'i|iuMit eiosioii is fully piuvi-n hy the surface and 
 tliaratler of the soil, the (.ountiiss huge erratic Mocks, or !o>,t houldns 
 strewn broadcast ujion it, ns the sacred eggs of the genii in the Little 
 Calumet or Pipestone Valley, the countless dc»'p parallel groovlngs 
 upon all the exposed rocks u\ the cliffs as well as the valley, and 
 the evident abrading effei ts upon them of the frosts and the infrtipient 
 but severe storms of a high latitude and a moderately elevated, open, 
 nn<l windy region. 
 
 The operation of some or all of thise agencies has produced a 
 valley two miles in length, extending somewhat east of north and 
 west of south from the midway and d(.ti«e>t portion of the falls nn the 
 Calumet ox I'ipestone Creek, where over tliiriy feet of the hori/.ontally- 
 baiided and cross-seclioiuMl, vitreous, beautiful flesh- or pink-colored 
 stone rises in nearly vertical but broki nedj^cd walls. 
 
 The creek is barely a pciiii.iiu'nl >ii miii ^a\(; in spi iiig-tiiiu: or 
 floods, when it ix lujiraiiie deluge, bre.ikiiig over the ragged ( lilV-. in 
 several additional cascatles ; bui tlu' four pools or l.ikriets aioug the 
 stream within a mile nortliwc-^ierly aie all rocky and permanent, well 
 slocked with i)ickercl and oilier ii-^li, and often literally covered with 
 ducks, geese, and other water-fowl. 
 
 The carpet of lu'ibage and flowers along this creek and chain of 
 lakelets mu^t have ever i)ecn a chosen haunt of buffalo, eli(, deer, an<l 
 antelope; and a view fiom the s.icrilicial altar upon the cliff borders 
 of this sacred vale of refuge, and tin- pilgrims from countless nations, 
 engaged in bathing, in peaceful amusemenls, <.x in cpiarrying the 
 sacred pipe^tone, nui^l have ever been one of the most unicjue and 
 interesting ever witnessed by man in any age or clime. 
 
 The sacred tjuarry is about one-thirel of a mile west from the clilVs 
 
 '5* 
 
i 
 
 >74 
 
 NOT /'IS, 
 
 nn<l pnnvlkl with tliom, an<l wlicthir or not it-t tlHoovrry rciilly rc- 
 Htilied fioin ilic |iil);riiu>i trailing iliu white or luolkinc \nMn\ or 
 hiilV.ilo ilncii ;li tin- irci-k.a*. rfl.itod in lliu U•^;cntl,it i» ivitliiit it was 
 Jiisl uiKiiL'il aloii;^ ihc cicck aii^l tioilli of it, the inoie iccciit .u will 
 as I'xicijsivc i-xiavilioii^. tsU'iKliiij; houiIi of it to a jtoint oj)j)oHilc ilie 
 It'ljciulary aliodc of llic j^i'iiii. 
 
 The real vein of inottloil purple pipostonc is n h()ri/.i)iitalIy*I)C(l(ieil 
 an<l stratified steatite rock a;,'^;re^Mtiii^; ei^;lileci» or twenty inches in 
 lhii;km>s, uf wliiili only two or three of the Imttoni strata are thick 
 eiiuiij^h lot the saired calumet, and this diiiiiij; muh h of the year in 
 heiieath the watei, — the material upon its (ir>t removal heinj; soft and 
 easily carve<t and polislicd in any desired form, which it ever retains, 
 Humewhat hardenin^r and deepening in color with n|;e. 
 
 As this pipeslone is heneath two or three feet of soil atul six or 
 «'ij;ht of vitreous n)cks, only the peculiar fiaclure of the latter into 
 an^jular blocks of from four to six feet in lenj^lh and half as wide and 
 thick couM have enabled a rude people destitute of j^ood tools or 
 mechanical appliances to make excavatiuns fully a mile in length and 
 from fifty to two hundred feet in width, — remains which must ever he 
 .lewed as one of the marvellous exhibitions of the persistence of man 
 in securing an ornament or sustaining a superstition. 
 
 1 " lUit the l)isoii, so lofly, so fleet, and so while, 
 0\\ : mar nut iiis hu.iuty, but t'ullow liis llij^ht 1" 
 
 The white, or medicine, curly bison of the parks, or the shaggy 
 buffalo of the plains. 
 
 They are extremely rare, and, like the medicine wolf, wolverine, 
 and other white individual animals of dark-colored species, are per- 
 haps all)iiios, and cerlaiidy ever objects of mysterious awe, and 
 usually of ceremonious sacrifice, and hence in this case syudjolic. 
 
 ' " These five eggs I leave for your witness and mine." 
 
 These famous eg<;s of the legendary monster eagle arc really that 
 number of huge drift granite boulders from some distant unknown 
 source, and each from ten to thirty feet in diameter. 
 
 They are found in a line against each other, fronting the Calumet 
 Creek froin the south, about midway in the little valley, extending 
 from the cliffs of the sacred quarry of fossilized warriors, rising thirty 
 
NOTf'lS. 
 
 '75 
 
 or forty fpct above, to the nioilcin nuarry, nix feet ItcuctUh \U yruMy 
 Inn migu'ar rock-sircwn Hiufacc. 
 
 * " l.o I itc.ttit .ire twu i;r»tt<m for W.i-rool ku'^ lioriia." 
 
 These \V.i-ii> il'k.H aio the two Ie;;i'Ui|;»ry fcm.ilc ^;riiii or I.umI 
 j;o(lik'vses of thi* sacieil i|ii;iny, who, iu two liiiU- ^'lottiM hctwciu 
 ihtfHC t^gi, arc ever nltcrii.itely »[uinl)eiiit^ aiul watching the sacrcU 
 <|ii.irry. 
 
 Thenc roclcH, and more notahly Hat surfaced rocks nhoiit them, arc 
 I'rarly covercil Iiy the carvcil or paiiileil totems of the etimilli-ss pil- 
 ^{lims will) liavc, iliirinj; milolil a^es, sarrilui-il to these j^iianh.iiis of 
 the ([iiarry for the |)rivile4je of removing fra^iuciiis thcrelruiu. 
 
 t " llulil Chcy-eniic and Da ku t.t, llie luttcr callcil Si-oiix " 
 
 I)a-k()'ta i-. the liidLm name fur tlic confederacy of tiihcs hy thr 
 whiles called Sioux. 
 
 This latter name is of somewhat dou!)tful orij^in, by some l)elicve<l 
 to he derived from the Al^oii'|iiin name Nad-a-wassec wak, or the 
 people who are snake-like, from the proverbial sly, crafty character 
 of these people. l»y others the name is deemed the coriiiption of .i 
 pi},'eon I'Veiuh word little less complimentary. IJut of the nanre of 
 this people in the sij^n language there is no ((uestion, which is j^iveii 
 by drawinj^ the edj;e of the open right hand from Ici'l to rijjht across 
 the throat, literally "cut-throat;" nor do thcsc names belie llu'ir 
 character or their legendary ori^dn as the progeny of the ferocious 
 War-Kagle and the sneaking but ever-famished and voracious Ca- 
 youta, or Prairie-Wolf. 
 
 This name is |)ro|)erly expressed in two closely-connected, rpiickly- 
 spoken syllables, as used in this work, as if spelled Si-ou, although 
 the whites now usually pronounce it as if spelled .Soo, in one syllable. 
 
 • " In j.isper cairn they buried the maid and warrior gone, 
 Ami Ijriglit their totems painted upon tlie wails of stone." 
 
 This cairn mo !e of burial is and probably ever has been practised 
 at this sacred calumet (piarry, although extremely unusual with the 
 Indians of the great plains and cotcaus, few of whom are elsewhere 
 ever buried in the earth or cairns, but usually encased, with their 
 weapons and implements, in blankets and green buffalo-hide, are 
 placetl by their friends upon inaccessible ledges of rocks, in forked 
 
!! 
 
 M 
 
 
 17C 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 trees, or, in the ahsencc of l)otli of these, upon scnffolds for the pajv 
 poose, squaw, or doj^-soIdiLT, or in ,t;or_i;c" is teepee for the thief- 
 tain Jn'one. i)Ut the belief that both tlie eliff and (piarry of the pipe- 
 stone are the sacred relics of the anledihivian (in part) progenitors 
 of their race seems to have ever jjrompled tliem to endure every 
 privation and danger in jiilgriniages from lUslant nations, to secure 
 not only unp )lliited fragments of the sacred piju'stone, hut, in case 
 of their dying at the Mecca of their liopcs and journeying, to also 
 secure a hurial-cairn of the abundant and wiile-spread '"raginents of 
 the cliff. 
 
 The countless numbers of these cairns in the valley, ujion the cliff, 
 and for miles upon the surrounding coteau, literally form a sacred 
 cemetery in a land of savages; and as these purjile- or flesh-colored 
 rocks are seemingly glazed too hard for carving with any tool known 
 to these people, many of them and portions of the cliff are nearly 
 covered with the fading painted totems of the pilgrims who liave 
 mouldered to dust beneath them. 
 
 T " The woolly-sheep and big-horn." 
 
 The two distinct and extremely dissimilar varieties of the wild 
 sheep of the Rocky Mountain region. 
 
 The famous big-horn, thus named from the enormous symmetrical 
 horns of the adull males, is the taller, more active, darker-haired, 
 and. more beautiful animal, and is al>o far the most numerous and 
 best known. 
 
 While the big-horn has much the appearance of a black-tail deer, 
 with the head and enormous horns of a domestic ram, the white sheep 
 wiih his curly under and long shaggy outer coating of hair, with his 
 small, sharp, backward turned and beautiful black horns, much re- 
 sembles a huge goat, only he is web-fooled for travelling on the snow 
 helds of the mo-t elevated regions, such as those of the main Rocky 
 Mountains around the Deer Lodge, Big-IIole, and Bitter-Root Vat- 
 leys, from which he never ventures far or long remains. 
 
 r 
 
 o " Ijcstiidc fleet hornless liison." 
 
 This appellrtioii for a horse, eagle's wings for the saiis of the 
 schooner, or big c:wioe, long-knife for sword, bosom-lotem for the 
 buckle-plate of the crovs-belt, war-bonnet for the helmet-cap, the 
 flashing lightning, st--'linf^ thunder, and deadly barbless arrows, aie 
 
NO TKS. 
 
 177 
 
 in accordance will) the wcll-knowii Iiidiiui cliaracterislic of namintf 
 objects to them new or luysterioiis, 
 
 " I'hcii from the ' Mighty Medicinu' in tirror Ik'd ama/cil." 
 
 Literally, tiie great mysterious imkiiowii ; for medicine in Imlian 
 does not sij^nify medicinal preinualions to eure disease by their 
 iidierent properties, but rather anything mysterious, awe-inspirinij, 
 or fearful, including the abominable paints and poisonous decoclions 
 of their medicine-men, who are not skilful physicians, but crafty, 
 conjuring magicians. 
 
 10 •' Pure Hen-ne-pin and Du-hith visit for good the shore." 
 
 These daring explorers, like Marquette and most of the early 
 French rovers of the great Northwestern lakes and jjlains, were 
 zealous and devout missionaries of the cross, than whom few men in 
 any age liave left a more brilliant record of C(jmbined heroic daring 
 and Christian purity, fortitude, and forbearance, and who should in 
 no sense be confounded with the crafty, rum-selling, la\vs-of-Goil- 
 and-man-defying fur-traders who followed them. 
 
 11 "Till the prairie Min-nc-tan-ka.'' 
 
 Or, in the Dakota language, Min-ne, water •, Tanka, great, o'-, as 
 necessarily reversed in English, is literally Great water; but, when 
 properly understood and arranged, signifies the Great River of the 
 Prairies, — i.e., the Mississippi. 
 
 12 " With purple pipe the chieftain first heavenward points above." 
 
 With a thorough knowledge and hcaitfelt desire, I confess my utter 
 inability to properly portray the matchless deliberation, solemnity, and 
 awe of the invocation of IleavcP: to witness the sincerity and punish 
 the treachery of those who, with a dudiberate puff of the sacred calu- 
 met pipe of peace, in council pledge 
 
 " Each as a friend to know. 
 While sun and moon shall circle, or crystal waters flow."^ 
 
 13 " Naught care tiiey for the siifTerings, the iiunger, thirst, or cold 
 Of ugcjnizing victims, so with gore they gather gold." 
 
 Alas ! now, as it ever has been, too lamentably and undeniably 
 true, beside the sanctuaries of the Sabbatli in a Christian land, as 
 
 m 
 
ii! 
 
 178 
 
 AOTES, 
 
 well as ill the tinder's lair anionjj llio lillliy \vi,L,'\vains of the painted 
 savage, wiicrever rum is suKl. 
 
 H " Tor wife to grace tlic liarcni, and firm unite his race." 
 
 " Wife," often a temporary mistress to tlic trader in his iiarem, 
 wliich far too many trailinj^-posts are cursed witli, and ever have 
 been, and thus, and from the roving habits of all parties, less a per- 
 manent home of any semblance of virtue, than :i noisy haunt of 
 prcfit-seeking alliance and allurinij, transient vice. 
 
 1" " 'I'owcr liiyh o'er crystal waters huge crags of crumbling slate." 
 
 The Maiden's Rock, or i.eap, on the eastern shore of Lake Pepin, 
 famous in Indian legends from the death of Min-ne-ha-ha and her 
 chieftain lover, Min-ne-o-la, as herein related. 
 
 If the tourist should find this cliff more of a crumbling sandstone 
 than a slate, he may safely charge the error to poetical license for the 
 ])urj)ose of symphony in the rhyme. 
 
 1'"' " Then thrus, aside degraded, lo delve in kennel vile !" 
 
 *' Kennel vile !" Trading-posts are notorious haunts of dogs, mainly 
 mongrels of not only every domestic variety, but also crosses v.ith the 
 fox, cayouta, and sometimes the ferocious buff.do-wolf of the plains, 
 together with their attendant venom and vermin. 
 
 w 
 
 . 
 
 ■y 
 
 %' 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 ^' " 'J'lie secret passage opens." 
 
 The early trading-posts were usually constructed upon the dry, 
 sandy, or gravelly bluffs to lakes or rivers, for the purpose of setting 
 tlie stockade pickets, and for the construction of secret passage-ways 
 to the hidden powder-magazine and caches for valuable goods, as 
 well as for the purpose of retreat, or securing reinforcements, or 
 secrecy of their dusky amours; and in this case (presumably through 
 the connivance of some friend) known to the females, but not to the 
 War-Eagle. 
 
 18 " Still oft in w.-ive-kissed grottos sing they at ' Maiden's Leap.' " 
 
 With these wave-ki.ssed grottos is always connected some tradition 
 of love or slaughter, and frequently of both ; and the moaning echoes 
 of the receding ripples in the hidden chambers arc ever attributed to 
 
AOTES. 
 
 179 
 
 the vviiiliim (lir-'t' of the Lillen heroes or Iieroines of ihe K't'cnd, ami 
 hence uic »:vcr places of unrivalled iiileiebl in both fact and fiv-tiun, 
 
 •'J " And tliou, Mis-sis-sip-pi, hcar'st temples in gladness, 
 \V illi loud strains of music their progress to trace." 
 
 It seems scarcely necessary to state liiat these stan/as refer Id the 
 niaynilicent three-decked sleam-[)acke'.s and their tliff-ochoinjj calli- 
 opes upon the Mississippi and other mij^hty western rivers. 
 
 20 " Diiry purple cal'mct Peaceful ; 
 (jucnch its azure sinoki;; 
 Grasp the hatchet crimson reeking. 
 Death at every strc'l.e," 
 
 As buryintj the hatcliet is the cerenioviial manner as well as the 
 figurative mode of expressing the ratification of a treaty of peace, 
 even thus was burying the calumet pipe, with its azure smoke and 
 peaceful memories, the appropriate exjjression of the wine- and step- 
 mother-frenzied War-Kagle in opening a war of merciless extermina- 
 tion upon his own offspring by an ever-peaceful and affectionate 
 former consort. 
 
 21 " Thus soon the \Va kan-she-cha had c ashed or slain the race." 
 Wa-kan, mysterious; shc-cha, bad; or bail mysterious one, or devil 
 she-devil, which the entire history of this cayouta wife of War- Eagle 
 proves her to have truly been. 
 
 — "Anil 'mid the wikl rases with carnage once red." 
 
 Few scenes upon the border are more jjleasing than the profusion, 
 variety, and fragrance of the wild roses; and from the large bright- 
 red, orange, or yellow-tinted seed-balls, wliich, under the name of 
 rosebuds, hang upon the bushes all winter as food for birds, and in 
 dire necessity for men, the numerous streams aiul valleys derive their 
 names. 
 
 A humble but hardy variety of the rose thrives and blooms amid 
 the cactus of such sterile coteau plains as those of the Custer slaughter- 
 field, and are there actually found. 
 
 23 "On the crest of the cutcau " 
 
 Where the gallant Custer and the last of his band went down as a 
 phalanx, and where, with lUic deference to the views of others, in my 
 
' .'I 
 
 ) 
 
 . ,1 
 
 180 
 
 NO'JES. 
 
 huniblc jiul^'incut, Hiey should have ever remained. It is the abrupt 
 leiniimis of llic loiij^f colcau-iid^^ir upon whicli they, relreatiuj,' fi^ht- 
 \\\'^, fell, sh)pin^ somewhat in all direclions, steeply l)ut heautirully 
 upon three of them, thus conunandinj; a clear view of the entire 
 Indian villa^'e and valley of the Little liij^-llorn (or Custer River) 
 for many miles, with all the slaughter-fields of that day, save those 
 of Reno's, the first of which is somewhat hidden by tim!)er, and the 
 last completely by an intervening; bluff. 
 
 Some of these words were inspired and written u]ion meeting the 
 returning train and llie remainder of them upon that consecrated 
 crest, the day following the removal of ail found of the officers' 
 remains. 
 
 I j//// cherish the opinion, t/wn formed, that few itlaces earthly are 
 as lovely, and none so lilting for a warrior's cairn or hero's monu- 
 ment, as where some of them fell ; and all should have beiMi gathered, 
 and, beneath a fitting monument, allowed undisturbeil repose until 
 (Jabriel's reveille should rouse them to their last rally. 
 
 2'» '■ Nor bold as men of cournge 'g;iinst rcninani on the hill. 
 But prowling 'long the border, the iiniocciit to kill." 
 
 The failure of the congregated hostile savages of the Sioux and 
 several other Indian nations to follow up the rebuff of Crook, the 
 slaughter of Custer, and defeat of Reno by the speedy extermination 
 of the remnant of the regiuient upon the hill, and then cutting up 
 the troops of Terry and Gibi)ons in detail, as they, by the concerted 
 action of organized tnjop, could have done, but instead, as they really 
 did, i)y revelling in brutal mutilation of the dead upon the field, until 
 surprised and stampeded from it by the handful of troops under Terry, 
 and then lireaking up into recruiting-p.irties or scalping-bands along 
 the distant border, they clearly exemplified the true Indian character 
 and management in nearly all their wars with the whites. 
 
 25 " Proni the fairy Min-ne-ha-ha and lover's waibng strand." 
 
 Lover's wailing strand of Lake Pepin, as noted in the stanzas of 
 this legend. 
 
 "Swells one loud wail of agony from sea of flame and gore, 
 Like scream of dying eagle, then silence evermore !" 
 
 For the credit of humanity this fate has not befallen the main por- 
 tion of the Sioux nation, although it seemed impending, if not, in- 
 
 < ?a 
 
NOTES. 
 
 i8i 
 
 (Iced, just and inevitable, at Ihe time when tlie words were written 
 ii|H>ii tlie steamer " Asldand," while aseeiidini:,' tlie Wlluwsti.iie River 
 with CJeneral Miles, soon after his Rose-lhid tli^ht of 1S77. 
 
 2'i " On the lianncvs of this people let his |)inioiis sorir :iliove, 
 With my iiKiiilen's c;ip of Justice, of Liberty, ;in<l Love !" 
 
 Pure, Ioviii<^, and faithful was the character, hemic the life, and 
 trajj;ic the death of the I nuj^liino; Water, Min-nc-ha-ha, and immortal 
 her dir^'e, as with the lilended voice of her, in life and in death, evcr- 
 failhful lover, Min-ne-o-la, it re-echoes alon^ the cliffs, or in mournful 
 fadin.Lj cai'ence vanishes 'mid the whispcrinj^ ripples in the wave- 
 kissed grottos of Lake I'epin's tranquil shore. 
 
 Still it is not she, hut her heroic mother, the remnnnt of the pri- 
 meval, and parent of the best of the modern red men, who was the 
 heroine of this lej;end. 
 
 Whether in ttie eai,de's ncsi upon the cliff as the coiilidinf; refui;ee 
 of a drowning race, a willing listener to the complaints and amelior- 
 ator of the wants and woes of her people as a queen, or as a faithful, 
 forgiving wife and loving mother, indeed, everywhere in her entire 
 legendary history are harmoniously blended all the virtues and none 
 of the vices or failings of the real or legendary heroines of other 
 races and climes. 
 
 Although her heroic efforts to save her daughter Min-nc-ha-ha are 
 requited by the speedy death of herself and sidjsc(iuent relentless 
 persecution by her rum-frenzied and Cayouta-second-wife-instigated 
 War-Eagle, still her pure, confiding spirit ever hovers in love (ner 
 the dwindling remnant of her race, and in the hour of just retribution 
 upon that of her fiendish successor in the love and favor of her 
 debased husband, still she manifests towards his memory, in all their 
 purity, those unselfish, forgiving attributes of the female character 
 which in every age and clime have been its greatv^^t and most 
 mysterious charm. 
 
 All her cruel and countless wrongs are overlooked or forgotten, and 
 from the ethereal vault of hcavrn she only recalls the memory of 
 W^ar Eagle as the chivnlric rescuer and loving husliand of her youth, 
 and father of her offspring; and in /lis hour of humiliation and de- 
 spair, and of /wr triumph, as the herald of heaven to affix upon the 
 banner of the victorious race of jmigress the delu^ijivsparcd emblems 
 of her primeval race, her <' maiden's cap of justice, of Liberty, and 
 
 I6 
 
. I 
 
 i8a 
 
 AOT/:s. 
 
 Love," she, willi smiliiiR an;^cls' j^lidiiii; K'"*'^'^^* I^ln'it!^ boncath it the 
 iDiii^-rctnined ami clR'UNlicd pinnies and pinion (luills pliakcfl fmm 
 tlu)sc of iicr War Maj^lu ihicftaiii in tin- days of his imiity and pride. 
 And lliiis, as lelaled in this ir-^cnd, was it ordained tiial llie em- 
 blems upon the azure field of the battle-flag of the nation of the 
 nations of eartli,tlie chosen land of refuj^e for the down-iroddcn and 
 oppressed images of God from every clime and race, sliould not be 
 debasinij imitations of the tyranny and crime-stained banners of 
 other lands, but rather the rescued indi^eiu)us enibkins of the i)ri- 
 nieval, the piercing lance and arrow t)f the warrior red men, and the 
 heavenward-soaring pinions of the fearless battle-eagle of our own ! 
 
 i 
 
 
 i 
 
 =7 THE GOin.IN-LAND. 
 
 Tliis wild, chaotic region of eroded lava, within or adjoining the 
 norllieasicrn portion of the National I'ark, was named the Hoodoo, or 
 Goblin-Land, in iSyoby the fnsl party of white men who are known 
 to have ever visited it. 
 
 Some members of the party were tlierc killed by the Indians; a)\d, 
 accompanied by one of the survivors, I was driven back by them in 
 1878, but sncceedeil in the exploration of much of it in 1S80, a brief 
 narrative of which, together with illustrations of some of the gijbliu 
 forms, may be found on pages 6-9 of my report of that year. 
 
 Reference to these regions m.ay also be found on page 47, and in 
 the map accompanying my report of 1S81. 
 
 In this poetical legend 1 liave sought to blend the traditions and 
 heathen mythology of the sheep-eater ab(5rigines of these regions 
 with the teachings of Insjjiralion and the records of geology regard- 
 ing the horizontal columns of the huge vertical dykes, fantastic 
 pillars, facades, and domes, the crumbling archways, the tortuous 
 labyrinths and monster goblin-forms of this marvellous extension of 
 the famous Wonder-Land. 
 
 28 " The black eagle soars round tlie pinnacle high 
 
 Till a vilcl lamb perceiving, as a bolt from the sky, 
 In his talons quick bears him for a feast in the glade, 
 Near the lion low crouching, whose dinner is made 
 Of victor and victim, In tanglewood shade." 
 
 This is d correct statement of what 1 once saw in the Goblin Laby- 
 
j\'0 TES. 
 
 I S3 
 
 rlnths, where the great hhick ea;;lc•^ in vast mimheis appear to sub- 
 sist mainly upon llie carcasses of the wiM hiiulis which lliey carry, 
 or of the sheep wliieh in rapid noisy ciicUn;^' lliey lh.it hewililer, and 
 then with win^,' or tah)n, or both, assist in hurlin;; from the loitering 
 crests or crags to tlie jagged rocks hundreds of feet below. 
 
 The feasts of these crafty eagles ujion such carcasses are some- 
 times terminated by those of the couehant cougar, or mountain lion, 
 or of the sneaking wolverine upon their own. 
 
 '^ " 'liicn mail, hairy giant, strode fnlli in lii-i nii);lit." 
 
 This stan/a is believcil to express in a concise and connected 
 manner the attril)utes of the I)iiied man, the possessor of an innnor- 
 tal soul, as distinct from the (piadruped or other animals de-itilulc 
 thereof, ■.vhich are, — • 
 
 ]''irst. '♦ Erect like his Maker," which, unlike any other known 
 animal, is i:is natural and hahilual position in locomotion. 
 
 Secoud. "Willi kno-vledge of right." 
 
 Reliection, rci.soning, the facnlly of tracing effect to cause nnd 
 cause to effect, and ability, pu;:ser.r"d by lU) other iniiu li, of imparting 
 connectedly to others or of transmitting tc posterity the results of his 
 experience in life. 
 
 "Third. '•Inventor of weapons." 
 
 All other animals rely \.\\io\\ brute force, speed, or cunning. 
 
 Man alone invents, manufactures, or hal)itually uses weapons in 
 his combats, or tools or implements in his other avocations; and these 
 he is ever improving, while the products of instinct are ever the same. 
 The com!) of the first wasp or honey-b>.'e, the nest of the original 
 oriole bird, and the brush-dam and wickeup of tlie wdiisker-faccd, 
 ])addle-tailed jirogenitors of the beaver-dam builders of eartli were as 
 marvellous evidences yi{ skill and of adaptability for the desired pur- 
 jjoses as are those of tc-day or as they ever will be. 
 
 F(jurlh. " First builder of tire." 
 
 Other animals may, as they will, bask in the rays of the sun, or 
 beside a hot spring, and sometimes warm themselves by a ih'e already 
 kindled, but only man ever produces, preserves, or materially utilizes 
 one. 
 
 " Fifth. " Lone trader of trophies." 
 
 Other animals may unite to slaughter, but seldom peaceably divide, 
 and never exchange, the fragments obtaii:ed, or, as has been well 
 
I 
 
 184 
 
 NO 77':S. 
 
 said, "No flojr tr.itlcs his bone;" imr does any otlic-r ntiimal lluii man 
 barter what he has for what he desires, or ever use a medium of 
 e\chaii);e therefor. 
 
 Sixth. " Willi soul to soar hi^^her." 
 
 Despite tlie able efforts of some iiun of pre-emiue-it abiUty of the 
 present and the past to refute the (h)Ctrinc of an inunortal soul to 
 temporarily people a human tenement of clay, and permanently in- 
 habit some unknown reabn of weal or woe, still the theory in souie 
 form is and ever has been vvelinij^h co-extensive with the hunum 
 race. This is notable with the leadinj,' tribes of the North ;\nuriean 
 Indians, whose paradise is scjme enchanting island or lovely park, and 
 their perdition a chilling alkali desert, or some fire-hole basin of 
 seething poisonous gases beyond the scorchy ilescrts or snowy moun- 
 tains of the earth on which we ilwell. 
 
 so " Mon, merniaiils, and monsters, each spliinx-likc in place, 
 Aiul muuntains luiilcd o'er tlnan, from 1 leaven liidcs trace." 
 
 As, to this date, less than a score of white men, none of whom 
 were professional scientists, have visited the (Joblin Labyrinths, their 
 relative position and rank among the marvels of this wonderfid regii)n 
 is yet to be accorded. 
 
 Hut to the mountaineers who have visited them it rcfpiires little 
 su]ierstitious conjuring to imagine that the huge goblin forms which 
 ou. daring mountain-horses instinctively slum are the men, nK)nsters, 
 and reptiles of a degenerate and licentious world, overwhelmed, 
 hidden, and fossilized by enormous overflows of lava, mud, and 
 slime, and unearthed by the grooving, furrowing, and tunnelling of 
 countless ages of sub-alpine erosion. 
 
 31 " And men of the mountains, of Shecp-F.ater band, 
 Of game and of i)hin(lcr make sacrifice grand 
 To monster slonc-gods in the weird ' (Joblin- Land.' " 
 
 The maps accon^panying my reports of 1880 and of 1 88 1 show the 
 position of the most eligible site and evidently ever-favorite camping- 
 place for the aixjrtgines of these regions, and where there are now 
 the remains of forty-two lodges, some of which are still standing. 
 
 Upon my visit of iSSo this camp was strewn with the torn and 
 faded remiiants of male and female apparel, household goods, and 
 utensils, some of which were brought away as mournful mementos 
 
 i 
 
NOTES. 
 
 I«S 
 
 of l)ln()(ly raids nytun the distant border, from which, and ridiii a 
 kiiowhMlj^e of the superstitious customs and liai>its of these people, 
 rather than from direct evidence in this case, I venture tlic Un;ruak,'c 
 of burnt-offerinj; in tlie poem to tliesc weird niunslers of stone, which 
 ti) them must have ever been objects uf my--ltri'ju s awe, and hence 
 of sacrifice. 
 
 f 
 
 MYSTIC LAKE OF WO N' I) K R - 1. A N I). 
 
 !I2 " And chilling bhsts resistless come 
 
 Adown thy fingers, palm, and thumb." 
 
 The early rovers and their maps of tiicse rei,Mons represented the 
 iini(pie contour of tlie Yellowstone Lake as more nearly rcsembliny 
 an open liuman hand than subsciiuent explorations seem to juslily. 
 
 Still, its resemblance to the extended palm of the right hand, with 
 
 the Upper Yellowstone enterinL; the extremity of the little fmger from 
 
 the soulh, the main river discharj^Mn^; from the wrist at the northj the 
 
 forefmwer now severed from Delusion Lake, the second finger much 
 
 shortened, with the western thumb relatively enlarged, and the main 
 
 lake or jialm nearly as wide as it is long, which is more striking from 
 
 some adjacent snowy peaks than upon a map, is so evident that these 
 
 names of the various portions of the lake will doubtless long adhere 
 
 to ihcm. 
 
 3a " No lent can stand, no blanUtt save 
 
 From biting blasts that round ub rave." 
 
 Literally true, and mainly written when beached and fro/en-in 
 near the mouth of Explorer's Creek, as brielly noted on page 1 1 of 
 my oftkial report of 1880, 
 
 a* " Yet practice crimes that dark disgrace 
 Our Christian creed and bearded race." 
 
 Alas! too often and too undeniably true. 
 
 With relatively few worthy exceptions, the policy of white men 
 has ever been to wantonly crush, or to employ alike the worthy and 
 the unworthy red men as allies to assail and divide them, to practise 
 and condone crimes, pension outlaws, and grant annuities to the 
 bloodiest bands of savages, in order to secure treaties ceding lands. 
 
 16* 
 
1.S6 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 MiMMuhilc the steadfast adlirrcnce to jK'acefiil possission «>f valii- 
 nl)lo n^iiciiltur.il, timlnrcil, ui miix i.il IiiuIh l)y their iinciiicHtinncd 
 Iiitlian owners is dcciucd the sole iin|iiirdonaliUf crinu' of the race, 
 only coudmicd Iiy thi- siinriuler of the Iai\il or ihi-ir lives, and ufu'ii 
 of liDth, alter iiiicliroiiieled aets of iieroisin, rivalling those of tiic 
 lauilcJ patriub gf uur own ur of «)thur hituU. 
 
 >* " Viwon ami urns from naliirc'H liaml." 
 
 The |)niIon},Mtion of Mary's May, near thi- Indian Pond, between 
 the inuiiili of iVlicin Creek and Steanthoat Point, upon the Yellow- 
 stone Lake, was by myself named Corurelion Cove, from the count- 
 less numbers and various forms of concretions which there fairly 
 shinj;le llie wave-Iashcd beach. 
 
 On pa^es 15-17 of my report of iSSo may be found a description 
 of this location and these concretion-., toj^cther with a theory as to 
 their formation ; and on pa^'es 70 and 71 of that of iSSi illustrations 
 of some of these uni((ue forms. 
 
 I 
 
 V 
 
 i 
 
 ** " Ami fiiiny forms bcnc.iih tlic w.ive 
 l'\)r anglei's bait hot current brave, 
 'I'o find, ;ilas ! llkt; liiim;in fool, 
 A barb coiicoalcd aiul scctbini; pool." 
 
 Of the countless marvels of the National I'ark, few have been more 
 ridiculed, and the reality of none is now better established, than that 
 tlie large and beautiful but worm-infested trout of the Yellowstone 
 Lake at several localities, notably where our trail leaves the end of 
 I he thuml) for the Shoshone Lake, may be cau<fht in countless num- 
 bers in the lake anil cooked in hissinj^ pools without the angler 
 changing his position or removing them from the hook. 
 
 "7 " And thence from nauseous hissing rill 
 Sweet flow'ry vale with poi.son!i till." 
 
 This description of the changing character of many of the tividets 
 in the Wonder-Laud may be verilicd by any tourist wlu) will follow 
 them from their snow or crystal spring foiuitains through nauseous 
 ponds or basins of hissing, sulphun us ])ools, and the flowery grove- 
 dotted vale below them, all perhaps within the distance of a mile or 
 two. 
 
 A typical case is the crystal rill from the snows of Mount Chitten- 
 
 t 
 
NOTES, 
 
 .S7 
 
 drn, upon wliiili I liavi often cMmpdl aliovt; 'I'mliid I,aK»', upon the 
 »hotcH of whicli, upon its sumlu-asiiru triluilniy, or ;ilon^^ it^ ontlct, 
 Mo liuiuaii Ill-ill^ would wisit to cunip, or couUl lon^ enduru tlio 
 siilpliur fmncs and poisonous fcjivstJs of an earthly puryatory. 
 
 *• " Aixl M:m<!t thiiic, roclc-riMiiul anil hi|ih, 
 Willi miowy crusts iiiiuil the sky : 
 Inverted, mirrored 'no.-fth tliv wuvos, 
 Secin Uleii tu graut 'mid inlundit' graves," 
 
 While Stevenson's, Krank's, and some of tlic smaller islan<ls of the 
 \'fHo\vstonc Lake are samly, and hut sli^lilly elevated uhove its sur- 
 face, several of the headlands anil lon^ promonturiiN, as that hc- 
 tween the thinl and Utile tinker, are hoM, craj^^y, and lia'altie peaks, 
 having oidy lelalively low, narrow connections with tlu- mainland. 
 These, in the usually deep tranipiil hlue waters at their hase, are often 
 rellfcted so accurately as to reproduce them inverted l)ei\eath the 
 waves, as here deserihed. 
 
 vu << l.',,r fiiod ilieir fksli, for laiiiting-sliirt, 
 'I'licir vacant coat with belt beiiirl?" 
 
 From necessity, eonvenience.or utility, the Indians, half-hreeifs, and 
 often the white rovers of the holder, use rolie>, overcoats, hoots, and 
 cajis of the Indes of the wolf, wolverine, hear, or Imlfalo, dressed 
 with the fur on, and huntinjr-shirls, le^j^ins, and mweeasins of elk-, 
 sheep-, or deer-skins ilressed without it. 
 
 In fact, the only cloth fahrie which I have ever found a leliahle 
 protection alike from the niereile>s storms, the iIkum, and weatlier- 
 worn points of the shruhs and hranclies of those mountain regicuis, 
 was the famous Hudson Hay mountain-coat. 
 
 This, with a half-cape, was made of cloth luivintj a warp nearly 
 as coarse and stronjr as fish-lines, and woof of twisted beaver or 
 other fur with a very heavy nap, and, althou^di common in those re- 
 gions forty or fifty years ago, has for a long time heen unobtainable. 
 
 Like these garments, the Hint-lock gun and bull-boat of the past, 
 the d; ys of the hunting-shirt, the moccasin, and even the buffalo and 
 his ro le, an. rajiidly i»assing away ; and hence these quoted and suc- 
 ceeding stai.zas are, it is hoped, pardonable from one who has par- 
 ticipated in two eras of border-life, and has ever earnestly sought to 
 assist in hastening a better one for those who aie soon to folK)W. 
 

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1 88 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 GALT.ANT CHARLEY REYNOLDS. 
 
 ti 
 
 *) " Onrc the chosen scout of Stanley, 
 Ofien I.iullow's munntain j;uide,' 
 'i'licn with mc erst true and manly, — 
 'I'hoii who with our Custer died 1" 
 
 Few of the (1arin<; scouts of the border ever acquired a greater 
 mintl)cr of friends, a more brilliant record, or met a more tragic or 
 lamented fate than the gallant ("harley Reynolds. 
 
 Upon our return from the National I'ark late in 1S75, he remained 
 at I'ort Lincoln, where he was employed as chief of scouts, and as 
 such led them in the Custer campaij;n until, with Bloody Knife and 
 others, he was cut off from Reno's left Hank in his hasty retreat from 
 the ambuscade in the fated valley of the Little IJig-horn on the day 
 of the Custer massacre, and there fell bravely fighting until nearly 
 covered by fallen steeds and foes. 
 
 Erom the half-breed French scout, T. T. Gerhard, who witnessed 
 and, by concealment in the willows, alone escaj)ed the massacre of 
 those thus cut off, I learned the location, and after the removal of the 
 bones of Custer and other officers in 1S77, found and removed those 
 of Re; nolds, together with all of his well-known beautiful golden 
 hair, which savage ghoul and famished wolf had s])ared. Scmie of 
 this I still retain, but the most of it has been scattered far and wide, 
 notably in Kentucky, in the earnest but fruitless etTort to find his 
 birthplace or his kindred and heirs ; nor have I ever learned much of 
 his history in addition to that published with this poem in my journal 
 of " Rambles in the Far West" soon after his death, from which I 
 quote as follows : 
 
 " After the removal of the officers' remains, the scout Baronet 
 and myself remained upon or near the field until driven from it by 
 Lidian scouts, as may be foimd in a note to * Reynolds's Uirge,' a 
 jjortion of which was then written. 
 
 •* As stated, we were much together in the Bad Lands, and nearly 
 constantly upon the steamboat, and our excursions from it while de- 
 scending the Missouri to Fort Lincoln, where we parted. 
 
 »• He was engaged as chief of scouts for this campaign, hoping for 
 its successful close in lime for him and other mountain friends to 
 accompany me to the Centennial, and, returning, spend the coming 
 winter at my suburban home. He was perhaps thirty years of age, 
 
 1 * 
 
A'OTF.S. 
 
 189 
 
 light complexion and hair, of medium hci}^'ht, hut compact huihl, 
 moral, temperate, mihl, and quiet, until emergency called foith the 
 matchless nerve and daring that made him the leading shot and scout 
 of the Missouri or the Yellowstone. He was frank hut not con- 
 fiding. I never heard his nativity, and though hi^; expressed desiio 
 to see an eastern city, and much of his appearance indicated a horn 
 mountaineer, still his morals, his (juiet, refmcd manners, and a per- 
 vading melancholy when alone or at leisure, alike suggestcil a heltcr 
 rearing and a crushing misfortune or thrilling tragedy somewhere 
 along his brief but checkered pathway. Premeditated crime I cannot 
 believe of ' Lonesome Charley,' as he was often called; but scions 
 of many wealthy families, especially from the Southern border States, 
 during the closing scenes of the Rebellion, sought amid the mines 
 and the mountains of the West a refuge from harrowing memories of 
 ravaged homes and slaughtered friends; and several trifling incidents 
 lead me to suspect that he was one of them. 
 
 " 'Mid shadows of the setting sun, echoes from the evening gun at 
 Fort Huford roused us from hours cjf pensive wanderings 'mid the 
 ruins of old Fort Union and the cemetery near Fort lUiford, when, 
 with a last lingering look at the turfy tond) of slaughtered friends, 
 and with a heart too full for utterance, I was leaving the enclosure in 
 silence, when Charley, in quiet hut frank, earnest manner, said, 
 ' Comrade, I am dreaming where a year hence will find us.' Prophetic 
 dread, my noble fated comrade ! That was at eve of September 25, 
 1875. Upon the eve of June 25 following, his scalped and mutilated 
 body lay amid and nearly covered by foes, slaughtered by his aveng- 
 ing hand at the crimson ford of the Little Morn. July 25 my last 
 letter to him was returned, soiled and worn, but unopened. Sep- 
 tember 25, by a protecting Providence kept at my peaceful home, 
 sorrowfully I spent the closing eve of the fated year in penning the 
 following jioetry in feeling, if not in fact, sacred to the memory of 
 that comrade of a year ago, far, far away." 
 
 It seems proper to here state that the foregoing poem and note were 
 written before personally visiting the battle-field and finding that 
 Reynolds was killed in or beside the •' Crimson Ford," as from the 
 first publication was then supposed. 
 
':' 1 
 ■ ,1 
 
 
 i ■ 
 i! 
 
 i, 
 1 
 •1 
 
 190 
 
 41 
 
 AO T/:s. 
 
 PILT.RIMS or THE YELLOWSTONE. 
 
 This k-j^ciid is loss n nanalivc of the siiffcrinj^s and falc of any one 
 ))arty than a portrayal of tlie datij^ers, jirivalions, and sufTcrinys of all, 
 and the slauf^hltT of, alas ! too many of the jjold-seekin^ jiil^rims 
 who, under Ihidj^cr, Ho/enian, and other darinjj pathfinders, literally 
 left a trail of j^ore from the I'lalle to the Vellt)\vstonc in fiyhtinj; their 
 way If) found an empire in the (lallatin and other lovely valleys of 
 Montana j)rior to and dnrinj; the ferocious Red Cluud Sioux war. 
 
 THE CAPTIVE MAIDEN. 
 
 *• " Rise, my muse, sing of a maiilen 
 Captive on the cotcau wild," 
 
 This poem was written hy refjuest: of the lamented Major Meacham, 
 and was mainly published in his Coiiiuil Fire. 
 
 It is deemed an essenlioUy correct narrative of the valor of the 
 chieftain lover, and heroic death of the captive maiden after the 
 Rose-Bud fight of General Miles with the Cheyennes in 1877. 
 
 THE WONDER-LAND. 
 
 ^ " Oh, for wisdom in the councils 
 Of our nation great. 
 To protect these matchless wonders 
 From a ruthless fate !" 
 
 This poem was written in Washington, and used in manuscript in 
 the spring of 1878 to aid in securing the first appropriation of funds 
 ever made by Congress to protect, preserve, and improve the people's 
 heritage of wonders in the Yellowstone National Park, and hence 
 the language of the last verse, as above quoted. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 BOLD HERO OK THE HORDER. 
 
 191 
 
 ** " In lair of hiiiileii giilclics, in W'ootly Minmtaiii wikls." 
 
 Woody Mountain is a tinihered oullitT of tlic Little Rocky Moun- 
 tains, between the Missouri River at the mouth of the Musst-Isliell 
 and the Uritish possessions, and from its abundance of fuel, water, 
 yawning gulches, and wash-outs coulees, an admirable positit)U for 
 defensive warfare. 
 
 As such it was chosen by Chief Joseph, after having defeateil or 
 oulgcneralled and distanced all known jiiirsuers, and losing the most 
 of his enormous herd of horses by the treachery of his old allies, the 
 ever-crafty Crows, 
 
 It was this which prevented, if he desired, his reacliing Silting 
 Bull, over the l?ritisli border, before the flanking arrival of (iencral 
 ^^des. Chief Joseph's camps througliout the National Park and the 
 adjacent regions were uniformly well cht)sen and rudely but craftily 
 prepared for defence; and liis crossing mighty rivers, scaling snowy 
 mountains, and traversing yawning canons in a continuous migration 
 of his whole peojile for a distance of nearly two thousand miles, 
 mainly through the wildest, most elevated, craggy, least known, and 
 least accessible portion of the United States, without forage, commis- 
 sary, medicines, or supplies other than furnished by nature or cap- 
 tured from his cordon of able foes, must, all things considered, stand 
 unrivalled in the history of border warfare upon this continent. 
 
 That Chief Joseph viewed with derision Generals Howard, Gibbon, 
 Sturgis, and others, really wouhy officers, whom he had defeated or 
 distanced, is well known ; that he was ignorant of the flank move- 
 ment of General IMiles is evident; and that he relied upon Sitting 
 Bull for aid in defence of his camp and immense booty captured on 
 the Missouri, and the slaughter of his pursuers if they ventured to 
 assail his chosen position, seems very probable ; and hence oidy the 
 terrible onslaught of General Miles's unexpected forces in a terrific 
 snow-storm, the death of Looking-Glass, his ablest chief, the utter 
 failure of aid from Sitting Bull, and the approach of Howard and 
 other pursuers, resulted in his capture when nearly in sight of the 
 British line. 
 
192 
 
 NO'/'J'IS. 
 
 « 
 
 « ' 
 
 • " Then came the parley herald,— no servile crinKin>; foe, 
 litit chieftain with his rilh-, liie victors' tcrnm to know." 
 
 In this way nuly, dauiilk'ss lo llic List, would Chief Joscpli Mie for 
 tirms of siinciuUr, and even then aci;e|)l such only as sccin to have 
 rellc'ctcd more credit upon the vaKir of the Ne/I'ereos in the con- 
 ditions named than the reputed failin-e of their proper fullilment did 
 upon the civil representatives of the govermnent. 
 
 S T A L W A R T Y E O M A N. 
 
 48 " Not from hall of the Waslihiirns, 
 
 Who so long have lionor'tl Maine, 
 But lowly ' niickcye' cabin 
 Our stalwart yeoman came." 
 
 General II. D. Washburn was born and reared a hunter in the 
 then wilds of Northwestern Ohio. I there first knew him, an active, 
 ambitious youth; thence a surveyor in Western Indiana; from there 
 he became an active soldier durinj^ the Rebellion, returning a 
 brij^adier-general, to be at once elected to Congress over the great 
 Democratic champion, Daniel Voi)rhees, often called the "Tall Syca- 
 more of the Wabash." 
 
 Upon my arrival from the Upper Yellowstone in Jnne, 1870, I 
 found him surveyor-general of Montana. Both of us being enthusi- 
 astic explorers, it was with deep regret that I parted with him to 
 descend the Columbia, hoping we would unite in an expedition to 
 the Park the next year. But perverse fate otherwise ordered ; a 
 small party was suddenly organized, with him as leader, when he as 
 usual acquitted himself to the satisfaction of all, who by unanimous 
 vote gave his name to the highest peak within the Park. 
 
 The dangers and duties of a useful life, however, were rapidly 
 closing. Exposure in the gases and storms of the Park, with efforts 
 and anxiety for Everts in his thirty-seven days of peril, revived a lung 
 disease contracted in the army. 
 
 But no loving wife or children greeted his return to Helena. In- 
 stead came tidings that after much of a summer spent in trying to 
 reach him via Missouri River and Fort Benton, low water und hos- 
 tile Indians compelled their return to Indiana. There, broken in 
 
 -.. 
 
 iu 
 
NOTES. 
 
 I- 
 icl 
 
 '93 
 
 health and spirit, utterly worn out by disease and exposure, lie readied 
 tlieiu during; die winter, only to die in llie arms of liiose lie so ten- 
 derly loved. 
 
 Not the ties of kindred, hut of principles, uiiiteil him with the 
 nol)le Washburn family of New Kn},dand ; and ihuiij^h lieroie in lite 
 and noble in death, the fathomless canon at the base, the brilliant 
 snowy sides and rocky summit of Mount Washburn may jierchance 
 guide the tourist in the Wonder-Land long after all else of him 
 shall be forgotten. 
 
 THE DVINC: MANDANS. 
 
 •iz* 
 
 <^ " Oh, ghastly scene of horror ! 
 Oh, yhastly town of doom ! 
 No liope in duwn of morrow. 
 No h;ilo 'mill the gloom." 
 
 History is silent, tradition meaj;re and coiiniclinij, as to the oriijin 
 or early history of the Maiulans; but the circular ruins of their earth- 
 lodges in numerous deserted villages are proof ])osiiive of their former 
 numbers and successive removals hundreds o{ miles up the Missouri 
 River, constantly dwindling before their more savage and warlike 
 neighbors to the mouth of the I'ig Knife River, 
 
 There Lewis and Clarke found a remnant of a!)out two thousand of 
 them in 1804, and subsequently Catlin, Irving, and others, who had 
 enjoyed their hospitality, with pen or jiencil heralded their fame; 
 and there, while hemmed in their villages by the ever ferocious 
 Sioux, they, together widi other confederate villagers, were nearly 
 exterminated in 1S38 by the ravages of the smalli>ox, or by bathing, 
 Indian-like, in the chilling waters of the Missouri, in the ho[)e of 
 checking the disease. 
 
 This is not the place to theorize, as others have done, of the origin ; 
 these stanzas faintly portray the fate of the most civilized of all the 
 Northwestern Indian nations. 
 
 But, as being a subject of general and permanent interest, 1, from 
 personal knowledge, endeavor to describe the famous conical earth- 
 lodge, which is conceded to have been the invention of this people. 
 
 First, a dry, commanding position is chosen, usually in the bend 
 I « 17 
 
194 
 
 AOJ'i-:s. 
 
 ,1 
 
 ,< » 
 
 of a river, for hoth wafer nnd defem-c, an<l a stroiiR stockade of Iof»- 
 l)ickcts constiiicti'd across llic neck. 'I'licii each j^miipof kindred or 
 friends cxcavati! a dilcli around a sonicwiiat ohlonj^ circle, (idni Imly 
 It) sixly '"eel in diameter, some two feet deep, and wide enough for 
 material tvi make the lloor to the circle or lodj^e perfectly level, which 
 is heaten down very hard and smooth. Next.savinj^ a space thereon 
 four feet wide for a door way, a compact mw of posts is set iii the ditch 
 outside of, anil leaninj^ at an an^le of ten to twenty dc;»rces a;;ainst, 
 tiie hank of earth, rising al)out six feet above it, and a rouj^h plate 
 l)laced upon the lop entirely around the circle, 'i'heii near the centre, 
 four tall, strong; crotches or posts with notches in the top arc set, with 
 tindiers upon them, so as to leave a space four or five feet square for 
 smoke-hole and window. Next, a compact layer of rafter-timhers, 
 with the lar^'cr ends on the outside, and smaller ends on the tcnire 
 l)lales, and middle supported and somewhat elevated by another row 
 of posts and supporting; timbers, havinj; their cracks and cri'vices cnre- 
 fully calked with coarse ^rass and daul)ed with tou^li mud. 'riicn 
 aj^ainst the outside posts a heavy hank of earth is thiowp, and over 
 the entire roof a fool or so of the alkali earlh of the p'ains. This, 
 with its natural tendency to pack, and heini; coi\stantly occu])ied as a 
 lookout-, rom])in<;-, and louni^ing-j^rouiid for Indians and do<;s of 
 all a^es and sexes, soon becomes perfectly smooth, wind-, water-, 
 fire-, and bullet-proof. In the centre is a depression for the fire, and 
 around agaiuNt the walls the famdy rooms, often tastefully partitioned 
 by skins and blankets, and on the posts jjaudy shields and other war 
 weapons and ornaments. In ihese the ruile bedsteads are formed by 
 low crotchc- and cross-poles, each covered by a i;reen buffalo-skin, 
 liair up, which in dryin<4 stretches very smoothly, and with abundance 
 of robes and blankets forms a welcome bed. never forj^olten by a 
 weary or wounded trapper in a hospitable Mandan lodge as of old. 
 Vill.ajj[es thus built around a central court forj^ossip, dance, and coun- 
 cil arc worthy of a jiatent, and any civilized land would have lon<r 
 since been plastered wi^l^em ; and tliouL,'h the invention of a rude 
 people in a prehistorii^Hf so nicely do ihey meet their requirements 
 of climate, surroundings, .and safety, that a rude chimney and an oc- 
 casional small window, when near the whites, are all the inqirove- 
 ments attempted since I have known them; and, in fact, the earth- 
 roof is now in nearly universal use by the whites throughout all those 
 arid regions. 
 
 
N07ES. 
 
 195 
 
 Tin: I) VI NT, TKAPPKR. 
 
 ^ " H.inl l)y llio«e ^poiitinj; fountains, 
 I''ar, (ill, far away ! 
 llone wiih hin frays and ^coutings, 
 A dyini; trapper lay." 
 
 Thisc stanzas are a heartfelt tribute to tlio memory of a trapper 
 comradL', svln) fell and dii-il licsido nic, as tlurcin portrayed, luar a 
 spouliiij,' fountain in a lonely fjlcn of the, as then called, " Hiij-born 
 Mountains," cast of the Yellowstone Lake, in tlie days lon^ a^'one; 
 ami the words of the second line of each verse are, so far as I ant 
 aware, the only ones in the Enyli-.h language which rhyme with the 
 AI)-sa-ra-ka Burial Refrain. 
 
 JJOZKMAN JJOLD. 
 
 <o " I'liU-hoat and raft, mustang and niidc." 
 
 Bull-boat is an Indian craft peculiar to the turbid sandbar rivers of 
 the treeless plains, where swarming with buffalo, and are thus con- 
 structed : 
 
 The hair and flesh are removed from a green buffalo-hide which 
 has not been severed, or has been reattached between the ujjpcr por- 
 tion of the hind legs. This is then stretched very tightly over cir- 
 cular hoops and connecting ribs of willow or other light brush or 
 small poles, and, being thus allowed lo dry, forms a circular boat 
 from four to six feet in diameter and nearly two feet deep, or in a 
 form not unlike a huge flaring-topped chccscdjox or a monster, very 
 flat -bottomed, j)olash -kettle. 
 
 They are sometimes made of two hides, Wfll attached with elk, 
 beaver, or buffalo sinews, and arc then I'^Hktely larger. They have 
 little steerage, but, in border jargon, "hoqw, heaps of float," and 
 are so tough that they are seldom stove on rocks or snags, and so 
 buoyant as to whirl arouml or glide over snags, sand-bars, or obstacles 
 liable to wreck nearly any other known craft, as I well know from 
 personal experience, having at various limes in them descended 
 nearly all of the mighty rivers of the great plains. 
 
196 
 
 N07FS. 
 
 With nil tlii'sc ndvnntuj'os tlioy nrc so lij^lil that, aftor n brief t]r>'in{» 
 in (he Mill mill wind, the lusty pack Imrte sr|tinw of n Inzy villa^^'C 
 liuiian brave will dexterously Idhh one of ilu-se hoatn inverted over 
 her head, and with it speedily ro^nin upon the hanks the distance lost 
 in the ohlii|ue (Ksceiit of crossing the wide nnil fuainiii); Missouri or 
 the Wllowstone. 
 
 This is liut one of the many inventions of man for ulili/inj; the 
 ])rovisions of nature in surniouiiiing peculiarities uf these ie;;iun8 
 seemingly unsurinoun table. 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 W " War-path ford of (row anH llriile." 
 
 An ancient ford of the Yellowstone near the eonnuciice (tf the 
 Shields River, below the j^ate of the mountains, famous in all legends 
 uf Iiulian and border warfare, 
 
 *' " Sure, phantom-warriors caused the doom." 
 
 There is no <|ucstioii as to the date or the place of Bozeman's 
 death, was in iSr)S, upon the south bank of the Yellowstone 
 
 Iviver, a miles below its };ate of the mountains. Rut the versions 
 
 rej^ardinj; the premonitions and rejiuted vision of his family, and the 
 warning of his death, whicli are said to have caused the stoic indiffer- 
 ence with which so famous a scout and fearless Indian-fijjhtcr met his 
 fate, are singularly conflicting. 
 
 The version which, in the light of subsequent events and reputed 
 dying confessions of some of the participants, differs somewhat from 
 that current when I was there soon after his death, and which was 
 literally followed in penning this poetical tribute to his deeds and 
 death. 
 
 THE CLOUD-CIRCLED MOUNTAINS. 
 
 62 "My heart's in the mountains/' etc. 
 
 These stanzas were originally published as the close of an address 
 to the patrons of the •' Norris Suburban," upon my leaving for the 
 Wonder- Land in 1877. ' 
 
iXOTES. 
 
 197 
 
 WIlKUi: KLSK ON F. ART 11? 
 
 W " Wliere cl<i« on turth due* water fiiriii>l> 
 Kmky cvidciii c m< utrnnn 
 Of il:i powrr to hiiilil uikI biiriiisl), 
 A» ihi" Icrrucc, higli ami lon^?" 
 
 TIu- Icirciic Mnuiifain in llii- N;ilioiii\l Paik, which is two niili-s in 
 Icii^tli, lu'nrly oiu- ihniisiunl feit hij^h from the valley of the west lurli 
 of tilt- (Jaitliiirr KiviT above, aiitl more than two ihuiisaiwl feet from 
 the cafton of tlic main Gardiner l)elow it, all of which has apparently 
 been formed hy the »erracc hiiiMin;^ spring's, of which the fatnous 
 Mammoth Hot Spriiij;s, wlicncc wc supply our table, bath-houses, 
 anil irrigate our j^arden at the licadciuartcrs of the Talk, is only the 
 dwindling remnant. 
 
 M " I.oih; its waves, hy tempest driven, 
 
 Fiercely laihcd its scetliinj; shore." 
 
 Doubtless true, as the shore-line terraces of the ancient lake are 
 Mill i)lainly traceable upon the sides of the Terrace Mountain and yf 
 llunsen's I'cak. 
 
 W " Then the cvcr-lashinu billows 
 
 Rent a gap in niounlain-sidc." 
 
 This monsfcr erosion in the side of IJunsen's Teak, and the yawn- 
 ing impassable canon of the west fork of the (Jardiner, between it 
 and tlie Terrace Mountain, are in plain view from the balcony of our 
 hcadcpiarters at the Mammolh Hot Springs, three miles distant. 
 
 W " Hence these ruins weird iiiid fearful, 
 And the clifTs so white and grand." 
 
 With a clear-cut outline against the sky, the vertical snowy -white 
 walls of the calcareous marbleized ancient Hot Spring deposits rise 
 many hundreds of feet above the successive miles of the angular 
 del-ris along the Gardiner below, of the cause or magnitude of which 
 the casual observer will form no adequate conception. 
 
 Oidy by days of rugged dangerous cliff-climbing upon and beneath 
 the Terrace Mountain, near the Rustic Falls, and along the foot of 
 the while cliffs, can a tourist obtain even a superficial knowledge 
 of the gigantic scale upon which frost, fire, and flood have alternately 
 
 17* 
 
iqS 
 
 XOTF.S. 
 
 Ituilt up, fractured, ami r:(,«lci| thin rcgiitn. Williin n ili>l;»ncc nf 
 four iniU-s fiom mir lici\il>|u;irteiH, niid niatuly witliiu (tlaiii view 
 thiTCDf, air tlic simiiniK nf llunNUn's Peak, an well as of the Kverls,^ 
 Tfi race, and Si-pukhrc Mountains, the yawning; cartons ofllio Three 
 Forks and main (laidini-r Kivcrs, five calaraits, many inlerislin^j 
 cascaiU's and rapids, and the j^randest cvidcntcn of both ancient ami 
 modern terrace Ixiildin^ springs known to earth. 
 
 In addition to the descriptions «(f nil the scienlistn who have visited 
 the terrace liuildinj; sprin^js, a brief review of niy own ohservationR 
 and ilifory rccunling them may he foinul on payes I J-l6 of my report 
 of iSjy. 
 
 IlKADLKY Til 10 IIRAVK. 
 
 b ! 
 
 M " Ladt of a rnc^ of warriors who served their country well." 
 
 Tacutenant James lba<llcy was a youn^ hut darinj; Union scout in 
 Wist Virjjinia duriu}^ the tlirce monllis' service of lS()[, and sulise- 
 • pientiy served witli disiiiution under his father, Colonel K. I) Ihad- 
 ley, of the Sixly-Kii;hlli Ohio N'ulunleer Infantry, until the close of 
 the Rehellion. 
 
 He then entered the Seventh Rcj^iment United States Infantry, 
 and served with marked ability, courage, and success upon the 
 border, until, in lead'nj^r the charj^c of deneral (libbon's Hi},'-IIole 
 fi^ht with Chief Jose|)h, he was tlie lirst while man kille<l, and was 
 buried amid the valley-willows of the field. 
 
 i 
 
 •• " And green o'er tliy jjravc twine the myrlle and laurel." 
 
 A heartfelt desire that his bones mijjht thus rest beside his lieroic 
 kindred in the Christian land of his birth. 
 
 Alas! as shown in the stanzas called "The Warrior's Grave," 
 which were subsecpiently written, these hopes are not to be realized, 
 but, instead, the rank weeds and willows still droop over his vacant 
 grave, and his bones, comminfjled with those of his foes, doubtless 
 still bleach upon the slaughter-lield of the far-distant mountain where 
 he fell. 
 
 ^■4_ 
 
XOTES. 
 
 My) 
 
 •vv 
 
 I'KOM in (; HORN'S hlkak mountains. 
 
 M> " From Kiu-liiirn't lilcak moiirtlaint while uliHtcnlnn with «ii<>w, 
 'I'hw IliKhuru'it Lriglit f.iuiilain* thruu^ti grcvtt mcaiinwpt lluw." 
 
 Koinamiially unci ciKhamiiij^ly true i)f tlu", to iiu*, personally well- 
 known valley and its coiiiuIchh tiiul>"r-frini;e«l streaiUH ilvHcendin^ 
 from the Hnowy liortleiini^ mountains, an>) nieanilcrin^ anii<l (he loiij^r, 
 lulling,' foleaiis to their innlhi' nt-c with the livn, and of that in ihu 
 dim outline of the hori/on vviih the mighty Vellow^tone. 
 
 These lines were inspired hy a distant lield-ylass view t>f this 
 matcldess landscape from a lofty j.eak o( the Sicrra-Shushone ran^c 
 during the explorations of iSSi. 
 
 oo " Till C'uHlcr from Ruiclmd h.iw valley an tweet." 
 
 Or rather from the summit of the divi<le to the Hi^,' Ro .chud River, 
 ns distinc t from the Rosehud conlluent uf the Still- Water at the present 
 Crow Indian Agency. 
 
 This is far west of the nijf-horn River, while Custer descendeil a 
 streandet froni the east to hin last hattle upon the eastern or Little 
 Ui},'-horn (now called Custer River) fork of the Ili^-horn River, 
 twenty miles ahove their cuntluencc, near which Fort Custer has since 
 been constructed. 
 
 •I " And Farrer and comradct." 
 
 Colonel Farrer, now of Mount Clemens, Michigan, who led the 
 renniant of the liiji-horn expedition of 1S70 safely, hrin^jing in the 
 famous Hig-hurn gun ur niuunlain-huwitzer to liu/eman late in that 
 season. * 
 
 THK GRANGER SONG. 
 
 ** "Oh, my rural friend and neighbor, 
 If inclined to roam." 
 
 These stanzas are the portion in rhyme of an address written by 
 recpiest for the Granger Clubs of Michigan, when many persons, to 
 escajie the hard times attending a period of financial depression, were 
 rashly rushing from their peaceful homes in a wild crusade for gold 
 
200 
 
 Ai)77:S. 
 
 amidst the lioshlc saVnj,'cs of the liiack Hills and Hiy-horn Moun- 
 tains ill 1S77. 
 
 iVf 
 
 R C) R 1 ) !•: R B 1^ A \' K. 
 
 03 " Not unavenged, for Looking-Glass." 
 
 This is the name of the famous Nez-I'erce chiel and favorite coun- 
 sellor of Chief Joseph, who was killed in the decisive Woody Moun- 
 tain lluht. 
 
 Ml '] 
 
 '^ : 
 
 in 
 
 THE TATTOOED ARTIST. 
 
 M " I sing of an artist, scribe, poet, and seer, 
 A luvcr of nature and scoffer at fear." 
 
 This poem has a substantial basis of fact, as may be attested by the 
 hero, if living;, as well as by many eye-witnesses of that enthusiastic 
 but somewhat visionary jjilj^rim corresponilent's skotchinj; trip from a 
 Missouri River steanur, loni; since the days of Catlin. Although 
 the puncture, jiaint, and sinj^inij;, as well as the nude rrantlet running 
 over cactus, cur, and breech-clout, arc, with poetic license, somewhat 
 exaggerated, still they were ample for our artist, and no further ac- 
 quaintance desired with his Indian friends and their families at home. 
 Indeed, sudden, radical, and lasting changes in the opinions of 
 eastern tourists upon their forming the ac([uaintance of Mr. Lo and 
 his family at home arc neither rare nor strange, as there is much to 
 be learned and regretted upon the rival sides of the Indian question, 
 both of which, in these legends and notes, it has been my ]nnpose to 
 
 resent. 
 
 i fully portray. 
 
 repr( 
 
 It will be ol)scrved that the Inilian words used in this torture-chant 
 are not wliolly iXa-ko-tian, but those of other tongues or jargons which 
 seemed best calculated for the rapid reiteration peculiar to all Indian 
 songs in their circling dances. The literal rendition of these songs 
 in English is extremely difficult, if not impossible, because of the 
 construction of their sentences, which read backwards, as the thir- 
 
 i 
 
 4— 
 
NOTES. 
 
 901 
 
 tccnth line in llie first Indian chant. " Wi-ta-wa-ta (ship) sa-pa 
 (l)lack) wan (one)," or " sliip black one," is, in English, unc, or " A 
 
 black ship." 
 
 For the symphony of versification license is also taken in the 
 accent of syllables, as Wa^kan, which is thus transferred front the 
 second syllabic to the first, as usually si)oken by the white men. 
 
 THE MOSQUITO. 
 
 C6 «« Like liornct lioriles .irouscd to fury, 
 They greet us to their home." 
 
 rromincnt in the journals of all explorers, travellers, and navi- 
 gators since and including those of Lewis and Clarke arc their 
 execrations upon the mosciuito tormentoi:; of the Missouri and the 
 lower Yellowstone. 
 
 To those pestiferous insects, by whom, despite a turf-smudge, thick 
 gloves, mosquito-net, an<l head-gear, I was nearly devoured near 
 Fort Buford while penning these lines, are they feelingly, if not 
 affectionately, dedicated. 
 
 FRIGHTENED HANS. 
 
 06 " The shining sands of coteaus reflecting heat like glass." 
 
 This, as is well known, is caused by the action of the constant and 
 often high winds of those regions in carrying along all the finer and 
 lighter portions of the soil, thus polishing like a mirror the upper 
 surface of the pavement-like coating of those which remained. 
 
 " Mirrge of gushing fountains dispel their frantic fears." 
 
 Few earthly views are as enchantingly beautiful or as fatally allur- 
 ing as are the mirage-built phantom groves, lakes, and meandering 
 streams to the thirsty, parched, and panting pilgrim upon the treeless 
 prickly-pear plains or grease-wood, alkali deserts of the mighty West. 
 
202 
 
 A'OTES. 
 
 Nor arc tlicse phnntoiii-^, in nccordiinco with popular belief, always 
 seen inverted, I)Ut oluii in their nalnnii position, ami so lifelike and 
 real that only the practised eye of the rover will pereeivc that even 
 the lakes and streams are not ilepressed heneatli, hitl slij^htly elevated 
 above, the real h 'rizon, hanging, as it were, in the air, with a thin, 
 hazy outline of ihc earth's surface barely percei)til)le beneath them. 
 
 07 " Fear of scalding led to roasting on the fated Vullowstonc." 
 
 The narrative of the wam1erinj;s of Hans and family, his scaldinjf, 
 fright, and Teiilonie ejaculations at tlie hot sprinj; in the Callatiii 
 X'ailey, as well as their wild stampede and sjjcedy massacre by the 
 Indians upon the Yellowstone, are all substantially true, thus only 
 leaving their death by the ancient Indian mode of roasting,' not well 
 attesteil, and hence inferenlially chargeable to i)oetical license by the 
 author. 
 
 AFAR FROM THE CITIES AND HAMLETS 
 
 OF MEN. 
 
 08 "Afar from the cities and hamlets of men, 
 
 I fi)llow the streamlet thnnii;!! forest and glen : 
 
 'I'lie elk with proud antlers enlivens the bowers, 
 
 And brilliant and fragrant the meadows with llowers." 
 
 It is believed that the accuracy of this description of the broad, 
 grove-dotted valley of Cascade Creek above its last canon and falls 
 will ever be conceded by any candid observer, 
 
 Ecpially true was the presence of the then docile elk and deer in 
 fabulous numbers when my old comrade, Frederick Bottler, there, 
 with seven rapid discharges of his unerring rifle, killed five huge 
 antlcred elk, as, under the title of " The Successful Hunter," is im- 
 mortalized in one of the artist Jackson's photographic views of the 
 llayden Geological Exploration of 1S72. 
 
 09 " As thunders from heavens unclouded I hear." 
 
 A feeling of awe (perhaps partially superstitious) difficult to escape, 
 explain, or even describe, is felt, when reaching the dark pine-fringed 
 
AO'JKS. 
 
 203 
 
 summits of the divide upon the trail from the open meadows of tlie 
 cascade, upon a brij^lit, cloudlc-s suunncr's day one cnurj^oii at once 
 into full view of tiie lialo-frinyed clouds of mi^t, and into lieariuj; 
 of the heavy i)ooms of the canon-hidden triple falls ami roarin,i; 
 
 •intr \\\ volume am 
 
 rapids of the Mystic River, the laller ever varying 
 
 cadence, and the former in their form and Inilliancy of colurinj^ with 
 
 the direction or velocity of the balmy mountain Ijreeze. 
 
 70 " Aciown to the lichens, mistnoiirishcd and Krecn, 
 
 Where the Hoods as a deluge Iroiu lie.iveii are seen." 
 
 As at other ^reat cascades or cataracts, the showers of spray at the 
 Great Falls of the Yellowstone nourish a car|)et of moss antl lichens 
 of various forms and brilliant shades of yellow ami <,neen colorinj,', 
 which form a dense but slightly adherent, and to the footsteps 
 treacherous covering to the dri[)ping rocks arouml ihem. 
 ' This I found dangerously evident uinn llie lower portion and 
 nearly vertical and crumbling brilliantly red- and yellow-tinted walls 
 of the Grand Canon of the \ ellow.^lone, upon my descent thereof 
 alone in 1875. 
 
 This was from where our rustic bridge now spans Spring Creek, 
 adown or near its jagged waterway to the river, a portion of which, 
 by the subsecpient dislodgment of a huge mass of the wall-rock at 
 the Red rinnacles, is now impassable. 
 
 The present route is along a rude pathway which I recently made 
 from just above these pin)iacles, directly across the face of the sliding 
 shales, to a jutting point of crumbling rocks about live hundred feet 
 ilirectly below our now pole-railed Point Lookout, and thence by 
 a rough, very steep, but direct descent of five hundred feet to the 
 f«*ming river. 
 
 In small parties only should persons attemj)! this descent, as to the 
 usual danger of a misstep and headlong descent to horrid death is 
 the still greater one from dislodged masses or fragments of the crum- 
 bling wall-rock, which in velocity nearly and in danger fully erpial 
 
 ojectiles from a park of artillery. This is now the nearest jioinl of 
 descent or of aiiijroach to the foot of the Great Falls upon the north- 
 
 pr 
 
 west side; but by rafting, or, in very low water, fording the river 
 something less than a mile above the Upper l''alls, or at them if the 
 
 ^Iructed, tmnisls will be able to reach the 
 
 projected bridge be con 
 grove-cap[)ed clill overl 
 
 t)oKuu 
 
 the Great Falls. Thence, by piopct 
 
204 
 
 NO TKS. 
 
 eriort and (.'luc from cniiubliiij,' mtks and slii>pery licht-ns, jiersnns 
 may safely dcscL-ml to tin- river and as near to the foot of the Great 
 Falls as the niatclile^' rehound of the sheet of water from its nearly 
 four hundred feet of verlieal descent will allow, and where it is 
 believed the poet's description of lichens, mi^lclouds, and halos, as 
 well as of " the Hoods as a deluge from heaven," will be verilieil and 
 appreciated. 
 
 71 " Henceforth be my niiisic the cataract's roar." 
 
 At the risk of seeming egotism, I would briclly note that these 
 words diHer more in form than in -.entiment from those to be found 
 in my printed " Journals of Rambles in the Far West" at the time of 
 my first visit to these falls. 
 
 Nor have my subsciiuent encampments in the Glen of the Cascade, 
 while making the bridge and other improvements above the Grotto 
 Pool and Crystal and other falls, or at my other secluded haunts amid 
 their commingled spray and thunders during Indian raids, lessened 
 ])ut rather increased my altacliment for this rainbow-spanned refuge 
 from the gilded haunts of fashion and pleasure, and the crafty wiles 
 of the politician, the speculator, or the money-lender, in these days 
 when proffered friendship is too oft a lure, and real friendship a 
 cherished vision of the ])ast, — in these enlightened but degenerate 
 days, when far too often robbery and betrayal of public trusts are 
 viewed and punished in inverse ratio to the magnitude of the crime 
 and the numbers and [losiiion of the shares of the spcjils, and man is 
 prized less for his birthright as such, or for his principles and practices 
 of true manhood, than for the wealth or the inlliience which by any 
 means, ever so reprehensible, he may have accpiired. 
 
 Hence my changeless attachment to these unpolluted '■ encs of the 
 grandest handiwork of nature's God as a refuge alike in life, and \\\ 
 death a toml), earnestly trusting that if in this wild region it be mine 
 to fall, my final resting-place may be beneath the moaning pines and 
 balsams of my chosen camping grove whenever able to cross the 
 river to reach it upon the southern cliffs, amid the spray, overlooking 
 the Great Falls, that my unfettered spirit in its earthly visitations 
 may be greeted by the scenes and sounds so appreciated and enjoyed 
 while tenanting its transient refuge of clay. 
 
 u 
 
A'O'J/'IS. 
 
 205 
 
 on, IS TIlKRi: IN THIS WORLD SO DRKAR? 
 
 '- " III crumlilinj; home of friends af.ir." 
 
 'riic ruins of the faiuinis IJaionut cabin, ii])!in llic liigli, huge granite 
 lH)uIiler-slrc\vn l)asaltic point above the confluence of ilie two foiUs 
 of llic Yellowstone River. 
 
 It occupied the site of one previously Inirned hy the Indians, which 
 (aside from the loop-hole, earth-roofed block house of unknown build- 
 ers, tlu- ruins of which are referred to on jia^e 7 of my official repfirt 
 of 1S7S) was the fust residence known to have ever been constructed 
 l)y while men within the subseipiently <lcdicated ^'ellowstone National 
 Park, and at few jjlaccs, oilier than the regular battle-fields in all llu-se 
 regions, has there occurred iiiore varied or thrilling scenes than within 
 or around it. 
 
 '3 " Aljove the ceaseless dash aiul roar. 
 
 Wh 
 
 ere nioiiiitain torreius t;reet. 
 
 The forks of the Yellowstone River, furty miles liclow tlie lake and 
 twenty below the Great Falls, upon its main fork, and where, oidy from 
 these falls to the confluence of the Gardiner River, a tli,->taiice of fifty 
 miles in the Grand Canon of the Yellowstone, is there a wagon-route 
 of approach to the stream. 
 
 Neither of these dashing mountain torrents are there ever fro;^en 
 over; safely fordable, or even approachable, where the first, and fur 
 ten years the only, bridge ever crossid any portion of the niighly 
 
 Yellowstone River, was built over the main 
 
 for]< 
 
 <, ju>l above liieir 
 
 conduence, by Jack Baronet and other Clarke's Fork miners in 1S71. 
 
 This poem was inspired and partly written by the camp-lucM when 
 I was alone at this cabin in Augu^t, 1877. 
 
 1 then found it only a haunt of howling beasts and screaming 
 birds of prey, gathered upon the decaying bones and decomposing 
 fragments of the fesh and hides of game left by Charley ReynoUls 
 and other friends, whose companionship I had lliere enjoyed in 1S75, 
 and from a soul-harrtnving view of whose bleaching bones upon the 
 Custer sltiughter-field 1 had just returnetl. 
 
 Sad as were my feelings then, a forecast of the events soon tc 
 follow could have only darkeneil tlu' shade. 
 
 \Vilhin one week from that lime I pa.-..ied that bridge, clinging to 
 
 iS 
 
 
-»- 
 
 I ,1 
 
 206 
 
 AOJKS. 
 
 my Iiorsc, faint fidin the loss (if lilmiil fmni an acciilontal wdiind rc- 
 ti'ivcd at 'i'owcT Tails, and within Dnt- month tht-roaftcr the trail 
 which 1 tht'ii lollowt'd to ihc falls of the (iardiiur was dusty with the 
 trainp of a portion of Chief Joseph's hostile Ne/I'erces and their 
 taptnred horses, aiiil cncrinisoned with the j^ore of their slauj^hlered 
 owners ; the bridge was partly burned by lhen» ii\ their matchless 
 retreat, and the cabin was tlisniantled for material for its repair by 
 (leneral Howard, in his lony, patient, and then misunderslood and 
 misrepresented pursuit. 
 
 TO THE TIE AT HOME. 
 
 1 1 
 I ■ 
 
 I-' 
 
 \l 
 
 ) •: 
 
 \ I 
 
 M Far away on llic clifTs of this wiKl roaring river." 
 
 These stanzas, which doubtless evince more pathos than jxietry, 
 may be less esteemed by the public than the poet, from the circum- 
 stances under wdiich they were written. 
 
 As noted in my journal, and published in my report of 1877, by 
 the sudden sunderin<T of a stirrup-strap I was precipitated from a. 
 bucking horse over a ledj^e of rocks, so seriously injurinj^ my neck 
 and spine as to compel me to return to the head of the falls of the 
 mitldle fork of the East Cardiner, where I fainted from the loss of 
 blood and over-exertion. 
 
 After recovering sufficiently to crawl to the brink and swal.ow a 
 cupful of the delicious water, by painful effort I was enal'led to make 
 a rude couch of my blanket and some balsam boughs beneath the 
 trees at the eastern end of where the bridge ymw spans the (juivering 
 brink of the falls. 
 
 There, while by weakness and the music of ihe falling waters lulled 
 into semi-unconsciousness, the prelude and much of the ])oem was 
 pencilled in my memorandum-book, hopeful that if, as then seemed 
 jirobable, I slu)uld there perish alone, my remains might perchance 
 be found and these lines reach her for whom they were intended. 
 
NO TF.S. 
 
 207 
 
 THE WARRIOR'S GRAVE. 
 
 '* " A mouhrriiig plate and headboard." 
 
 This is all that was found upon (lil)l)ous's and Chief Joseph's battle- 
 field of the 151^,' Hole Pass, which I could so fully identify as pertain- 
 \w^ to the fated " Dradley the lirave" as to feel justilieil in conveyiuj^ 
 to his niourninj; fiiends. 
 
 This visit was made Ihrouj^h deep snows from the fitter Ror)t 
 Valley, some months after the publication of my tribute to his 
 memory, and, alas! the bones of that friend of cither days and 
 scenes had been dragi;ed from their shallow restin<;- place amid the 
 willows, near where he fell, by ravenous beasts who still haunted the 
 field. 
 
 At the time of my visit they ni<^htly retramped the snow, and, in 
 search for food, overturned the remnants of garments, blankets, and 
 horse hides, and in hideous revels more fully commingled the bleach- 
 ing bones of fallen friend and foe. 
 
 BLAZE 13RIGIITLV, O CAMP-FIRE! 
 
 W " Earth's treasures all vanished, no heaven to gain." 
 
 The immediate incentive for penning these stanzas was the jocular 
 remark of a comrade of its being fortunate for him that, when he 
 had once, within the space of a few months, squandered a fortunate 
 stake, or placer find, of seventy-five Ihousuid dollars, that it was not 
 a hundred thousand, or he could not have survived the attendant 
 dissipation. 
 
 This, and similar admissions of other comrades beside our cedar- 
 sheltered camp-fires during a terrific mountain snow-storm, recalled 
 painfully recollections of the needless failure and hopeless fall of 
 kind, and some of them morally-reared an<l well-educated comrades 
 gone, still destitute of graves, or filling only dishonored ones, all 
 along my checkered pathway of wandering upon the border. 
 
 Hence these lines of pensive, mournful reflection are published, 
 

 r 
 
 I f 
 
 
 ■II 
 
 208 
 
 A'07/:S. 
 
 hopeful thai they may beneficially retail in the really nohle licait of 
 some rouj;h-ela(l nioimtaiueer the scenes of his iniioci nt chiMhuod 
 nnd j;uileless yoiitli, the instructions of iju' week-day and the lessons 
 of the Salibath-school, the tender admonitions and partinjj jirayers 
 of lovini; kindled now iieacefully siuiuheiin^f liencath the willows in 
 the eonsetraled ceinetery of some distant L'liiisliaii land. 
 
 UNION OF THE VALLEYS. 
 
 TT •• For the evcr-fickle river veered away to meet Us iii.itc." 
 
 A i)ioverl)ial characteristic of the Missouri River is the ceaseless 
 shiftinj^f of its muddy channel, which, by occurrin}; at the point of its 
 confluence with the Yellowstone, effected the channel at the fiir- 
 tiadeis' old Fort Union above i'., '.Inis conlribuliii}^ to its abandonment 
 and the subseipient construction of Foit lluford below the conlhieiice. 
 
 "8 "And the fort, its cache and lodges, were abandoned to their fate." 
 
 The bank of the Missouri River above Fort Union beinj; very dry 
 nnd easily excavated, has been from time immemorial a favorite 
 caclieing site; and having assisted in making several there and many 
 elsewhere, I will briefly tlescribe the operation. 'IMiis originally 
 French word cache (usually pronounced ca>li), or hidins^-piace, has 
 long been the universal and appro[>riate name for a deposit of corn, 
 furs, blankets, or in fact anything a party desires to bury safely for 
 another occasion, usually for concealment, but sometimes only for 
 safety frcmi the animals and elements. In horizontal layers of soft sand- 
 stone, like that near Fort Union, a place is selected where there is a 
 foot or so of loose sand-covering, which is removed, and a circular 
 hole large enough to admit a man is after a foot or so gradually en- 
 larged to the desired size, shaped when completed much like a very 
 low broad earthen jug. When the lloor and sides are covered with 
 a layer of dry brush or bulrush mats, or both, it is tilled with the 
 utmost care, that it may not settle and betray the site. The top is 
 then crammed with hides, the mouth well filled with the removed 
 rocks, the sand replaced, and every vestige of goods, rocks, etc., 
 carefully removed in sacks or skins, and thrown, often several miles 
 
A'orr.s. 
 
 209 
 
 away, into a sircnm or lake. Wlicn tlnis rnniplctod, a ramp fire over 
 or nt-ar llic r.soutli, with llic usual tiaiii|>iii^ ol imn ami animals, ami 
 n few hours of sanddrifliiig, so fully oMitcrato all Iracc that actual 
 knowlcdjjo or diiiKinj; alone will (lisclose it. Wluii iho site is a pure 
 saml-hank, the carhi- luiisl w iclcii li'ss ami he hetifr suppnrtrd ami 
 ])acked ; and if in a ^tovc, a dry l>ii>li or a cedar or other hardy shruh, 
 not soon willin^f or chnnj.,'in{; color, even if dyiii;,', is most caiefully 
 cut around and lifted, with all the earth p(js«.il)le attached, ui)on a 
 skin or hlankef, ami, when conipleted, replaced ; and so well is all 
 concealed in these vast rej,'ions, that 1 have little douht fewer cadies 
 are actually found and robbed than are lost by the sudden removal or 
 death of the owners. 
 
 The ruins of (ild Fort Union are still plainly traceable between the 
 present earth-lod^e villa^'e of the mon<;rel Indians and the lony line 
 of mainly abandonetl caches along the sandy bluffs above it. 
 
 T» " Oh, for bard to chant their requiem ! Oh, for storied pen to save." 
 
 This is the lan^uaj^e of a heartfelt desire, which above all else has 
 cheered my untutored pen in tracing as well as I am able a few of the 
 countless well-known incidents and legends of the border, hopeful 
 that the basis and language of fact may somewhat atone for the want 
 of plot and finish found in the polished works of fiction. 
 
 on, FOR BARD TO TRULY TREASURE. 
 
 80 " Oh, for b;ir(l to truly treasure 
 
 Uorder scenes of days agone 1" 
 
 To a person reared upon the border and familiar with the thrilling 
 scenes and trying reverses of a life among the animals and aborigines 
 of the plains, the deserts, and the mountains of what was then truly 
 the pathless unknown West, tlie sincere but erroneous eastern senti- 
 mentalism regarding the Indian upon one hand, and the less humane 
 but more practical opinions of the western pioneer upon the other, 
 oiTer food for mature reflection, a broad field for the gleaning of 
 facts, and ample scope for marshalling and reconling theni in au- 
 thentic history by an abler pen than mine. 
 18* 
 

 • 
 
 
 
 310 
 
 A'o'//:s. 
 
 Hut timo Is iiivahi;»l)Io ; the fiat of fate has jjonc fi)itli that the on- 
 ward march of the race of rcsiHtlcts ilotiny is to luouht or annihilate 
 all nlun^; il9 pathway; that the wild ntan and the wihl hoast shall 
 alike hci'onie i ivili/.cd or don»e>tic.itcd aiiiJ ui<'fiii in 4 iir.ictiral aye 
 of |)io^'icks i( liny will, and Ic rxtfiniiiiatcd if llicy will not. 
 
 Ilciu'c the constant evidence lli.it (he hlood eurdlinij wai-wh()<)|), 
 the defiant hatile r.illy, the lilloiiny, dyin^ scream, and, alas! the 
 Hitkt'iiiii^ sc.ilp-dance of today are uplaced by the peaceful nnihic 
 of the woodsman's axe or the l»lack-.milirs for>;e and factory whittle, 
 the lowinj^ (if domestic Hocks and herds, or the gleaner's carol aromiil 
 the peacelul lioinos and crowded school rooms of to morrow. 
 
 The spouting; heari\ hiond and festerimj lle-«h, alas 1 of fallen ones 
 upon the ijory liclds of death of llje season p.ist fertilize the growing 
 l)l,inl upon the harvest-fields of j^laddeninj ^;rain of that to come, for 
 the use of a peojtle who cease from their laliors, and at the cheerinj; 
 peals of (he Sahhath hell con^Tc^jatc in their stecplcil churches, to 
 return thaid<s for the countless blcssinys of carlli and the priceless 
 promises of Heaven. 
 
 And hence, sternly hut uiireyrclfully, the polisheil plou<;hshare of 
 human progress sh.Ul he diivcn rou^h-slu)d and relentless alike over 
 the deserted village-sites and decaying hones of a race hesitating to 
 cnli-.t under its lloalintj banner and keep step to its nuirchmg music. 
 
 The t^cncralion oi the pnlh-llndin^', death-dariiuj planters of civil- 
 ization ami their paint- and pUiino-liedecked warrior opponents is 
 rajiidly j^litling away; and if this duty of j^jatherin;^ and truthfully 
 recording incidents of the border be neglected until the actors are 
 fled, ere long they will be known t)nly in the unreal sensation-tales 
 of dime novels or yellow-covered literature, or else merged in the 
 wild legends of mingled fact and fiction, of truth and romance, to 
 swell the volumes of unreliable future hisl(My, which might have been 
 authentic. 
 
 RUSTIC BRIDGE AND CRYSTAL FALLS. 
 
 81 " Will these feet iIkiI trip so lightly 
 O'er this structure rude but strong." 
 
 These stanz.is were pencilled, read, and dedicated September 4, 
 1880, to the first party of tourists who crossed the then unfinished 
 
Nor/:s. 
 
 ail 
 
 hiidnc over the riiotto Fool ami Ci;'>riil Falli, .1 ^kt•ll li of whiih m.iy 
 be fouixl oil |U(;c 21 of my report of iSSi, anil also witli lliis poem. 
 
 NiimcH of the imtsoiih compilsiinj llie party: Mr*. (I, \V. Monroe, 
 Mrs. W. J. Hi'.\l, Mis^ M;iini».' Kvans, Mi«.-i M.nuic l,.in^tl>oiiii'. Mis4 
 I'lu.lciHo niutli.iiil, Mix. Niltii; !\;iy, Mr. Jack Uaronct, Mr. tlcoryo 
 Miles .Mr. Wallir lJmlii|'.h, Mr. havid UoIrtIs. 
 
 Of these peisoiis Jark lUiroiiel was the jjuiile; (ieor|.;c Mile--, of 
 Miles City, upon the Lower Yellowstone, is a nephew of the yallanl 
 fil^'htiii^' i;eneral N. I). MiU-., m\>\ the others were residents of Ho/x'- 
 mau, Montan.i 'I'eiritory, or their fricniU. 
 
 i[Ic:fi 'lowKR.s 'riiK crack; y summit. 
 
 *• "And boitviTS l)iiilil tln:ir wick-c-iips wluri; w.irm llic waters How." 
 
 As may be found in the ( Ilossary, wiclanips is the S!io-shone Indian 
 name for the conical hollow brush-heap often used by them for ;i 
 summer dwellinj^, and by the pijjmy l*i-utes and Diiiyer Indians of 
 the Humboldt and other jjreasewood alkali deserts at any season of 
 the year where no cave in the rocks or lava beds are convenient, and 
 they are not too lazy or too busy in securing a fooil supi)ly of berries, 
 crickets, and li/ards to build one. 
 
 These arc all of f)ne story, while those of the beaver are of tw(>» 
 one of which is partially and the other wholly above wate;, and, 
 saving the size, is in all respects the better and more permanent 
 structure, and the occupants far nrore ingenious, inlv.strious, and 
 proviilent. 
 
 The favorite haunts of these animals arc the tepid dam-obstructed 
 outlets of many of the hot-sprin.Lj basins, which are seldom finzen 
 over so as to obstruct their use as canals for the floating of their sup- 
 plies of willows or other wood, u^ion which or the bark of it they 
 mainly subsist. 
 
 83 " Giyaniic wrecks of forests, .-ill fossilized to stone " 
 
 In the face of the usually nearly vertical cliffs, more than two 
 thousand feet high, fronting the Soda-lJutte and the east fork of the 
 Yellowbtone River, near their conlluence, may be seen as plainly as 
 
213 
 
 A0 7/:S. 
 
 in Nn^rclU'f coimllrRs trunk* of tfn* piinirva! forrsf-trcos, still eroct 
 ni llioy picw.or pio'^lr.ifr n« tliry win' i iii^IhmI, hinicil, aiil fii.>»ili/f(i 
 in thf suLl•t's^^iv^• Iff itltfin;itin(; ilcpnsils of Miliincr^oncc nnd t'noruioiiii 
 ovvrflitw of oo/y vok'iinic niiul nnd Hlinu*. 'I'lir lon^ lioriAnntal \\ue% 
 of <U'innri'ation Itctwix-n the Viiriout deposits nrc clear nnd dwtimt, 
 and sonic of tiu-ni %n lliin tli.tt the silisilicd trccn (which were mainly 
 (livti>f from those now jjinwrnp in the I'.iik, and in '•i/i' fairly li vai- 
 ling; lliukc uf the I'acittc cu.i^tj mti<>t have extended lhioii{;li and at)uvc 
 them. 
 
 Startling as ii this theory of the successive nitcrnations of sulnncr- 
 gcnce, oo/y overllnw, forest (growths vertically, tlu- roots of one ahovp 
 or in place of the tops of that heneath it, and seemingly incredible 
 thf liypothcsiN, yet it devolves upun fiiluri* jjt'oloj;iial research to dis- 
 prove surface indications and estahlisli a hcllrr one, 
 
 >rostritte, arc in sections 
 
 iuy 
 
 I' 
 
 containing caskets lined with heautifiil amethyst and <tther crystals, 
 the fossil-forests alone, of the countless niarvcU of the Womler-Land, 
 are to the scientist nnd the nation worth the cost of the detlicalion, 
 protection, and opening routes of access to all of them. 
 
 M " All n.Ttnrc '*ecni> in contrast, in beauty, size, or awe,— 
 Ci'iittiJM, f^mw/fi, niiii ntiii, tlic universal law!" 
 
 Literally and proverbially true of nearly every portion, fcatine, and 
 marvel of the people's Wonder-Land. 
 
 LONELY GLEN. 
 
 K> " "lis lion's scrc.nm resounding." 
 
 The midnight screams of a cougar, or niountaindion, echoing from 
 the clilTs to my lonely camp-fno in the glen just above the CIreat Falls 
 of the Yellowstone, where one member of a parly of tourists was 
 killed, others wounded, ind all of their animals and outfit captured 
 by the hostile Ncz-1'crces in 1877. 
 
NOTFS. 
 
 »«3 
 
 
 RKVNor.DS'S hlUCiE. 
 
 •• " My fiu'il* Wi'rc riiiiiH "f t Tpce .uul iniii, 
 
 'Mill war-ri)l)ci« uii'l Itt.iiikclH all ^ory uiul rent," 
 
 Literally true, at ilic cniiip fire «>f myself nml Il.inmct, upon ilio 
 *ite i)f llic hastily nliaii'loiifil Indian villa^jc just liclow Kcnu'H valley 
 lii-KI. 
 
 KiiMn this, ns rcfi-ircd to in tho note to (Jallant (IjaiK-y UcynuhU, 
 wc esfa[ic<l in the twili^^hl tu ;\ little j^iovc of c<itt()n\v<i>n|, jn a iloep 
 wash-t»ul of the plains, live or six niilen towards the Ih^'-horn, and 
 then cooUctl and ate n slij;hl supper ncaily iimlei ihr tree-, tin n sup. 
 portinj; the remains of several hlankelrohcil braves, who were douht^ 
 less Uillid or mortally woinideil in the Custer «)r Reno fij^hts. 
 
 Ilerte w." procee<led oautiuu^ly seme miles faither Inwards tho 
 Ili^;-h<).n. ".iiil bivoiiarUed nniil morning', me inwliile seciiiinj; such 
 sliep as we could obtain, each with a hand ImMin^' one end of the 
 lariat of his j»ra/inj; horse, with the stars for his cumpy, hlanket- 
 covered cactu-; for his couch, and saddle for his pillow. 
 
 l'"or a mountaineer 1 am not deemed snpersiiiious; hut from tho 
 proximity of the hones of n>y comrade Charley of n. few months pie« 
 ceding', then attached to the canlle of my Spani->h saddle, ihe fervid 
 imagination of nerves overstrained amid the recent harrowinjj scenes, 
 or merely the IlicUeiing phantoms of a poet's vision, the incidents of 
 the dirt;e were conjnretl, and at the dawn the last verse was hastily 
 written, the tirst being subseriuenlly pretixed. 
 
 •7IN CyMJIN, CAMT, OR COUNCIL. 
 
 The pnem dedicated to C.cneral II. D. Wa-hlunii with the accom- 
 jianylnj,' notes explains our nearly life-long ac(|uaintani.:c and friend- 
 ship, and hence desire that my explorations in those regions should 
 be commemorated by tlu' second jieak of Mount Wa-hburn, rather 
 than the first of the Ciallatin range, which I explored in 1S75. 
 
 During October, 1S7S, accompanied by the darin;,' mountaineers 
 Adam Miller and Cleorge Rowland, by dangerous clilV-clintbing in the 
 
214 
 
 NO vv:s. 
 
 snow along the teirihly-brolscn luiiik of llic Grnnd Canon, I turned 
 tlio noitlu'inmosl and far tlio woisl spur of Mount Waslihuru, and 
 tamped in a dump of pines and balsams, upon one of the larj;er trees 
 of which oin- record may still he found. 
 
 This is one-fourth of a mile easterly and several huiidrod feet 
 below where our Grand Canon trail now crosses the spur in Rowland's 
 Pass, which alone I discovered, explored, and named the same even- 
 ing, while Miller shot an elk and Rowland used a portion of the flesh 
 in the preparation o*" .nir welccmic evening's repast. 
 
 IJeside this camp-lire amid th'- snow, exhilarated by the first suc- 
 cessful en\)rt of scaling this spur of Mount Washburn by white men 
 of which I have any knowledge, and ju.tly confident that we had 
 found a new and valuable route between the snowy mountain-crest 
 and the yawning canon-brink, these few lines of, as I then believed, 
 correct dedication of these towering peaks were written. 
 
 The subsequent discovery that Prof. F. V. Ilayden had meanwhile 
 very proj)erly commemorated the visit, in 1S74, of the famous Scottish 
 traveller and writer, the Earl Dun-Raven, and transferred my name 
 from that now called Hell's Peak, of the Gallatin range, to the one 
 which still retains it towards the C )I)lin-Land, 1 cheerfully acqui- 
 esced; but the pith of the poem vanished, and is published only in 
 connection with historical facts deemed more vahiable. 
 
 THE ARTIST STANLEY. 
 
 88 " But ' Uncas' and ' War-path' and ' Signal' shall stay." 
 
 These are the nai.ies of some of the few paintings, now chromes, 
 which were saved from the general destruction of the artist Stanley's 
 famous gallery of Indian paintings by ; n accidental conflagraticm in 
 a room of the Smithsonian Instituticm in Washington, where they had 
 been placed for safety, exhibition, and sale during the war of the 
 Rebellion. 
 
JV07'/-:s. 
 
 21 
 
 IJ U R T A T. T E E I' E E. 
 
 89 "The Ab-sa-r:i-k;i chieftain most bravely fighting fell." 
 
 The flimous Loiig-IIoisc, chief of the Ahsaraka, or Crow, nation of 
 Indians, who fell and was entombed in a nia^nilieenl v-"- • cpee, as 
 l)orlrayed in the poem, whicli was written upon n)y visit to his hiiria 
 teepee and of the place of conllict soon after his death in 1875. 
 
 BOLD TRAPPER OF THE CAMP-FIRE. 
 
 W " Bold trapper of the camp-fire." 
 
 Jones Wliitncy, a yoiithfid trapper comrade alonij the great lakes 
 and in tlie wilds of Nc-rthwestern Ohio. 
 
 lie there married, and soon after removed with hi-, family to the 
 Walla-Walla Valley in Oregon. There, hy the assistance of a faithful 
 Indian friend, he escajied one of the border massacres, and in a long 
 and pt ilous journey, with the snowy crest of Mount IIi)od as a guide 
 by day, and the stars by night, ultimately reached the Dalles of the 
 Columbia in safety, where he settled, prospered, and, after rejiaying 
 in the East my visit of 1 870, died, a wealthy and esteemed Christian 
 citizen. 
 
 The ties of early association in jointly sharing the perils of border- 
 life by day and the weary watch by night are dearer and as enduring 
 as those blood akin; nor will any of the bent, bald, or grizzled re.n- 
 nant of the early path-fmders fail to mulerstand, and iierchance ap- 
 preciate, this border mode of expressing regret for comrades gone, 
 or the blending of trails and camj) fires in some mountain glen or 
 sheltered park of that hoped-for better land. 
 
 
 THE W A R R I O R ' S D I R G E. 
 
 01 " Gone, brave brother, gone from the suffering and strife." 
 
 I'revet Colonel Thomas B. Weir, captain of the Seventh Regiment 
 of United States Cavalry, died suddenly of congestion of the brain 
 

 216 
 
 NO/'ES. 
 
 It his recruiting,' station in Now York City soon after his return from 
 ♦ »e (lisahlrous canipaigu of the l.itllc JJig-horn in 1S7O. 
 
 CYPRESS SHADOWS. 
 
 i 
 
 02 " Where tlic long reeds quiver, where the pines make moan." 
 
 This flllinj^ retjuiein l)encalh the plaintive moan of the waving 
 pine-tops at llie silent burial, without reli^Mous ceremony, or a burial- 
 casket of an cinit^ranl's cliiM beside a malarial bayou in the sterile 
 pine-kuol)s of Northeastern Minnesota, came like electric Hash along 
 nearly forty years of fading reminiscences of kindred scenes in the 
 Calumet Desert at the head of Lake Michigan. Such scenes are, 
 alas! ever too frequent among the poor but worthy pioneers of civil- 
 ization, who brave the diseases and the dangers of the bonier hopeful 
 of a (juiet home in their t)Id age and of benefi. ng the children. 
 
 I'VE TRAILED THE PROUD COLUMBIA. 
 
 M " And lierc I pause and ponder at trace of friend of old." 
 
 William Turnnge, in all those regions only known by liis sobriquet, 
 " Sliirt-collar I'ill," the famous scout, guide, and packer, with whom 
 1 visited the Sleploe and other battle-fields of the great Oregon Indian 
 war of 1S56; and we by ourselves enc.nmped a night beneath the 
 basaltic walls of the deeply eroded canon of the Peluse, between its 
 mouth at Snake River and its s;ured falls, seven miles above, in 1S70. 
 W'c slept in our blaidcets only, among the bleaching bones of the 
 numerous pinto and coyusc horses, Avhich died of their wounds, of 
 starvation, or were slain for food by the remnant of the whiles, while 
 here for many weeks hemmed in by the victorious Indians after the 
 Steploe defeat, and where, in the days of close fighting with knife, 
 hatchet, and bows and arrows, or at best mainly with short-range, 
 nuiz/le-loading, ilint-lock guns, which, from the liability of the 
 
 Hi 
 
 I I 
 
 V' 
 
N07KS. 
 
 17 
 
 powder to flash in tlie pan, wltc never a lelialile ^\\\\ at vertical 
 firing, the incidents are said to have occurred siihstantially as re- 
 lated in tlio pueni. 
 
 HO, WAKEN! 
 
 M " Ho, waken, you dwellers in chambers of clay, 
 
 Arise from your slumbers and welcome the day !" 
 
 These lines are an iniaj^inary ad(h-ess to a group of skelelons which 
 I found in a walled-up timber- and cement-covered vault in the l)asc 
 of a great eartli-mound on the commanding i)Iuff above Kast l.)u 
 bucpie, Illinois, during my past season's etluiological researches in 
 the Mississippi Valley. The oak-timber ceiling was so decayed as to 
 have fallen in, but the cement or dried-mortar roof was still intact, 
 and the skeletons of six adult persons, four children, and one infant, 
 the latter in its mother's fleshless arms, were mouldering from a sil- 
 ting posture in a circle around sea-shell dishes, weapons, and uten- 
 sils of stone, fragments of pottery, and rude shell-ornaments. 
 
 * " And whose is this dust in these chambers beside?" 
 
 Each end of the vault was partially walled off, and contained sev- 
 eral bushels of very fine cremated human dust, brought and thus 
 carefully garnered from some unknown and perhaps distant locality ; 
 although several of this group of mounds which I opened in 1857, 
 and others near Prairie du Chien, Wisconsin, during the past season, 
 were unmistakably cremation-mounds above the skeletons of persons 
 carefully buried in the earth I)eneath them. 
 
 *8 " And why are these ramparts so lofty and long 
 
 Widespread o'er the plains where the antelope throng ?" 
 
 This group of mounds is near the southern border of the famous 
 
 Effigy mounds of Wisconsin, the beasts, birds, and reptiles of which, 
 
 including the so-called Elephant Mound, one hundred and forty-six 
 
 feet in length, are along the Mississippi uniformly headed southward. 
 
 K I" 
 
2l8 
 
 NOT/IS. 
 
 in 
 
 NORTUE RN C r, 1 M IC. 
 
 W " Faint I recall, through mists of lime." 
 
 This poem is iMtciuIcd less as tlic description of any one trip to the 
 pathless Northwest than of tiie u^ual iiicickiits allendin;; all of them, 
 as well as the tra.i^ic fate of the participaturs, not one of whom that 
 ascended the Saskatchewan, so far as I am aware, is now livint;. In 
 fact, the sole survivor of those early trapper and trader fricmls, even 
 those who ditl not cross the Ihitish line with the Hudson l>ay traders, 
 is the cnerj^etic, ever temjierate, moral, lionoraMe, and now esteemed 
 and honored ex-State-senator D, W. II. Howard, now of Wauseon, 
 Fidton ("ounly, Ohio, to whom none of the too often just tlenuncia- 
 tions of the border trader in any sense apply.. 
 
 DE SOTO. 
 
 "8 " Damp was the clay and dreary, tlic night was dark and cold ; 
 Worn were my limbs and weary, my rufuijc hovel old." 
 
 The incidents in these lines truthfullv-portraved in connection 
 with the production of this historical poem were thus jirecedetl and 
 followed. Of my etlunjlo^ical work duriuij the past season were re- 
 searches of the famous flat-top)ied mounds, earthwork enclosures, 
 and uni([ue potlery-liUed cemeteries of a supposed jirehistoric people 
 
 alonif the Southern havous, lakes, and rivers, C 
 
 ommins. 
 
 [led 
 
 with 
 
 tliese, from the (oot-hills of the Ozark Mountains in Missouri and 
 Arkansas, at various places alon^ the lilack. White, and notably the 
 St. Francis Rivers below the "sunk lands" of the "reat eartluiuake 
 
 )f iSl I and '12, as well as fr 
 
 om 
 
 M 
 
 emjihis to Napole 
 
 .'on 
 
 lur 
 alonjr the Mis- 
 
 sissippi, and much of the country visited i)eyond it, are detached earth- 
 works, popularly believed to be the work of I)e Soto and his followers 
 during their years of wanderinj^s in these regions nearly three centuries 
 
 and a 
 
 half 
 
 llL'O. 
 
 One of these is near I lelena, another where it is claimed 
 
 tlieir brii^antines were built, at Old Town, thirty-five miles (by the 
 river) below in Arkansas, and another in Mississippi, nearly opposite 
 the latter, but somewhat back from the river, near the line residence 
 
 -■ C'^ 
 
AOTfCS. 
 
 210 
 
 no 
 
 111, 
 
 ;it 
 
 II 
 
 L'll 
 
 ■^. 
 
 fiii'l liospitaMc home of the brother-^ j. and J. Ci. CaiNon, wliii h tlu-y 
 h;ivc fdiistnicti'd upon the circuhir acrt' of Hal siiiuiiiii to an amiciit 
 inoiiiid fidly Iweiity feci hi^di. W'hilr cnj,'a;^cd in leseaiilic-i of lliis 
 and .siniil ir niDunds adjacent, I spent the day and ni,L;ht preeedhi;;, 
 and the forenoon of ChriNtnia'^, 1SS2, there fnidinj; and partially 
 l)eriisinj^ a brief narrative of De Solo's wandeiini^'s and (ii.atli, \)v'\\\>^ 
 the Inst connectetl reeord of tlieni whieii I liad ever ■>een. Cliri-.tnia-. 
 aflernoou I rude six miles to Frier's Point, crossed tiie >kiM-ferry to 
 Westover, and findinL; no better mode that ni;,dit, in a rude (hii^'-oiit 
 mulc-trou^h as a eanoe, ai<led i)y a cohjred man, and my spade as a 
 pachlle, deseended the Mississippi ten miles, and obtained such iuiard 
 and lod^ini; as I could at Old Town, now reduecd to a re^ideiiee 
 and a rum-hole, such as they are. 
 
 Although there are some line ranches alon<r the shores t)f Lonjj and 
 Old Town Lakes, which iialuially outlet here, I was unable duriiiij the 
 holidays to obtain help in the severe but successful labor of openiiiij 
 ancient mounds and earthworks, anil securing' human skeletuiis, 
 uiii(pie pottery, and other interesting; relics. With health seriously 
 impaired by a direct transfer from years of duty in the cool, braciiiij 
 Northern air at the fountaindieads of this mii^hty river to the malarious 
 fojrs of the Southern cypress-swamps and bayous fully four thousand 
 miles adown it, and unable to obtain a guide or horse, I relumed 
 from an artluous day's effort in measuring and sketching some large 
 and interesfing ruins in the cane-brakes six miles towards ^b)'lock, 
 ■wet, weary, and seriously ill. There, in my rude depo^-itory of relics, 
 without fire, light, or window, with strangely blended thoughts of 
 my cheerful diitant home, of the ancient occupants of the jilace, the 
 embarkation of Moscosu's remnant of De Suto's band, and the fate 
 of both, I sought unrefreshing slumbers, from which 1 was startled 
 by the brief tumult of a descending steamer and the howling o{ a tran- 
 sient winter's storm. Shivering in tlic dreary dawn, this record of my 
 nigh'.'s vision was commenced, continued at intervals in the measure- 
 ments of the works attributed to Moscoso during that day, and con- 
 cluded upon that following, while in an old abandoned cabin upon t!ie 
 opposite side of the river awaiting a steamer, and sliglitly reviewed in 
 the pleasant cabin of the " Golden Crowiv' Ohio boat while ascending 
 to Helena. It was then laid aside during my subsequent researches 
 along the Yazoo and .Sunflower Rivers, and now revised, and, to- 
 gether with this note of explanation, added to my volume of Legends 
 
220 
 
 A07/:S. 
 
 now in press, ns the sole conliilmlioii from a icj^ion pro-cniiiu'nt in 
 tliosc wliicli an- tlirilliiij,', lioiii'liil the |ii>L'in is not loo ilci'iily liiiti'il !>/ 
 the s()nii)rc shadows siiiroiiiitrni^ its couch of Itirlh. 
 
 Ir is also earnestly hoped tii.il no lan^uaj,'e of this poem will l)0 
 thoui^lil to wantonly assail any nationality or leliyion. Surely the in 
 jiart lineal descendant of the in many respects ju>tly lauded •' I'il- 
 j;rim> of I'iyinoutli Kock," who frankly condennis ilu-ir witch-liurnin;^, 
 (Quaker-expelling, and kindred acts of bigotry, intolerance, and per- 
 secution towards those of their own race in the very refuije to which 
 they lied to escape it themselves, may be ]>ardoned for recalling his- 
 torical facts and wholesale pillaj^c or slauj^hter of alien paj^ans in 
 distant lands, — acts which were approved, lauded, and rewarded by 
 prince and )K)ntiff in the aj^e of the actors, when ])r<)fessed reli^'iou 
 was, alas ! t(K) often i)ropa^ated alike beneath the Crescent and the 
 Cross, with the Bible for a shield to the breast of one party, and 
 potent arj^uments from the battle-axe, the scimiter, or the sabre to 
 that of the other. 
 
 i 
 
 M " Amid the lioUy sliailows, upon the gory plain, 
 
 UncufTiiicil sleep and moulder two huiulred sons of Spain." 
 
 As the charmin>j impression derived from a view of the deep-fjreen 
 foliage of a grove of moaning pines, adown a mountain slope, along 
 a meandering stream, or upon a landscape of wintry snow, even so 
 is the thrilling effect of a view of the glistening green leaves and 
 brilliant red clusters of the low-branching holly, fringing the sluggish 
 bayous, bordering the sombre-hued, mos<-draped gigantic forests or 
 the boundless savannas of the sunny South, while these evergreens 
 are there as beautiful and as prized in the towns of the living or the 
 cemeteries of the dead as are the matchless green and outline of the 
 fragrant balsam in those of the frozen North. Hence the api)ropriate- 
 ness of the holly-grove upon the slaughter-field of Mau-il-la, which 
 was alike one of the most wanton and merciless slaughters of the 
 innocent natives, and also tcs-riblc and far-reaching retributions upon 
 the white invaders, of the long catalogue of the Indian battles of our 
 country. The narrative shows that De Soto entered a thriving forti- 
 fiec' ' 'n, with the chieftain a captive, and a long retinue of slaves 
 loaded with nearly all of their annnunitiem, spare arms, camp equip- 
 age, and countless valuable pearls and other ornaments taken from 
 the living or plundered from the graves of the dead, and that they 
 
 I 
 
JVOVAS. 
 
 221 
 
 left it a smoultlcrinj;; iimcral pyro, alike of the twd tliwiisand five liun- 
 tiled ilefeiuU'rs,aiul nearly all of tlieir slaves, aniimiuitii)n, camp outlit, 
 nii<l pliimler, more tlian one-third of tluir inimlier dead,an<l the most 
 of the remainder woiunled around it. So ^ailinj^f were his losses that 
 l)e Solo, rather than eoiitimie his march one Imndred miles to where 
 he knew there were vessels and siijjplies awaitiiii; him at (prohahiy) 
 Mobile, hut wdiere hiii reverses in fortune would also heeome ..nown 
 to the world, ehtjse to conceal this knowledge from his followers; 
 and turiiiiij^ his hack ui)on all succor, without ammunition or su|)plies, 
 followed a wanderinj^ life of rapine to a remorseful death and un- 
 coftined grave at a n( w uid<nown locality hcnealh the turbid waters 
 of the mighty river which he discovered. After nearly a year of 
 wandering through Arkansas and adjacent regions, months of brigan- 
 linedmilding and terrible fighting and suffering, a remnant of the 
 l)an(l under Moscoso reaehetl a Spanish colony in Mexico, nearly 
 five years after their landing in Floriila, which was May 30, 1539. 
 
 Although many statements in the narrative of These wanderers 
 seem too thrilling to be true, yet in my researches of ancient remains 
 in those regions I found much to sustain and little to disi)rove their 
 accounts, that without regard to who constructed the flat-topjicd 
 mounds, the natives of De Soto's time certainly occu|)ied them iu 
 the midst of liandets of plaster-walletl and thatch-roofed residences, 
 protected by strong palisades and surroundctl by extensive cornfields 
 and gardens; and no statements of the poem are unsustained by the 
 narrative of the first white explorers of any portion of the mighty 
 Mississippi Valley. 
 
 19^ 
 
f I 
 
 V f 
 
 y.' 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
G L O S S A R \^- 
 
 DKl'IXITION OV INDIAN WORDS AND PROVIN- 
 CIALISMS USKD 1!V Tin: AUTHOR IN THE 
 I'RI'XTCDINc; VOLUMK OK l.KdKXDS. 
 
 A. 
 
 /ib'sa-ru'kn (Dakota). — Crow Iiuli.uis. (See Crow.) 
 
 A-i^im' (( )-jil)-\va). — Snow-shoe. 
 
 An-i-me'ki (O-jih-wa). — Tlumder. 
 
 A nis'trca (Chilian). — A rude mill projielled hy mule- or water- 
 
 ])()wer, for {fiiiuliiij; {,'old w ilh boulders. 
 A-rick'a-ree' (Pani). A trihe of Indians found alon;,' the Missouri 
 
 River. The name is fre(|uently abbreviated to Kick-a-ree, and 
 
 sometimes even Ree. (See those names.) 
 As-sin (Chijipewa). — Stone. 
 A-was'sa-iia'ki (Chippewa). — Far beyond the mountains. 
 
 Badlands. — Elevated, terribly eroded, and Ijroken, sterile alkali 
 
 plains or terraees. 
 Ban-ach. — From the Indian name Ban-naek (Pa-nai-tse), a tribe of 
 
 Indians who formerly frequented the Yellowstone National Park, 
 
 from the west. 
 
 * This glossary is not ])ublislied as a classieal, but as a practical and 
 necessary accompatiiment of this work of tales and legends, so largely 
 abounding in Indian or border words, names, and phrases, and is be- 
 lieved to be at least as full and accurate as any of the kind of which I 
 have a knowledge, or as is essential for a proper understanding of the 
 incidents related in the work. 
 
 22; 
 
MHM 
 
 224 
 
 ULOSS.IKY 
 
 Btd-roik, — A miner's phrase for tlic real facts of n case or foiimlatitm 
 of anylliin^, froin tlic ^old Neiiij^ usually fDiiiid upon the l)ciU 
 rock hi placer mining. 
 
 Biy; llolt\--\ very lar^i-, open, and elevated piik or valley and pasH 
 Ml tlie vi-ry crest of the Kn>.ky Mountains, which nearly encircle 
 il, upon the head of the lli}^ Hole ln.uuh of the Jelfcr^ou I'oik 
 of the Mi^souii River, near the I)iii I.oijj^e, in Montana. 
 
 Jii^-hoiii. — The name (»f the laij^er varii-ty of the wild mountain- 
 sheep. Thus calleil from tlu' enoiiiU)Us symmetrical horns of the 
 a<lult mnles. The Ilij; horn Mouiitain>, as well as the river of that 
 name, with its various Horn hranches, derive their names from 
 the immense uumlier of these animals frc<|uentinjj those rej^ions. 
 
 Jii'son — The fleet aiul wary, ilark, luily haired hulfilo of the moun- 
 tain parks, 
 
 fllack I'eet. — An Indian nation cnd»raciu^ the iJlack Keet, lllood, and 
 I'i^an tribes ; formerly the nuisl powerful, ferocious, and dreaded 
 nation infestinj^ the head waters of the Columbia, Missouri, ami 
 Yellowstone Rivers. 
 
 Bloody Knife. — A famous Ree or a Sioux Mandan warrior and ^uide 
 for the whites. He was killed with Chailey Reynolds in Reno's 
 valley fi^dit ujioii the day of the Cutter massacre. 
 
 Bozctnan. — A noted j,'uide and rival of Ihi(i;j;er's as a mouiUaineer, 
 who was killed by the Indians upon the Yellowstone. (See 
 note 51.) 
 
 Brid\i;er, ytviics. — The most famous j^ruide of the mountains ami great 
 plains of the \y\s\. i;eneration, and from whom Bridger's Fort, 
 I'.iss, Lake, and several streams derive their names. 
 
 Brule. — A powerful and ferocious tribe of the Sioux or Dakota nation, 
 frecpieiUinjj the IJhuk Hills. 
 
 Buck'cye. — Orij^inally the name of the .\uierican horse-chestnut 
 variety of timber, from the abundance of which, in Ohio, it 
 became the provincialism or sobriipiel (jf the Si ile antl its in- 
 habitants. 
 
 Buffalo, — The ^rej^arious shaj^}j;y bi^on of tlie j^real plains. For 
 convenience in versification lhe>e names are used interchangeably 
 in this work. 
 
 Bull-boat. — A circular, flat-bottomed boat used upon the sand-b.ar 
 rivers of the treeless great plains, usually made of one, but s(jme- 
 times of two, green buffalo-bull hides. (See note 49.) 
 
 
cross iRv. 
 
 Butte (!Mj,'Of)n Frciuli). — A conit-.il liill- 
 
 22^ 
 
 niimiiit of {id^iuii ii| 
 
 <ntl 
 
 the ureal |>l:iiiis and tiTnucd hliillH of its rivers nn<l fool liilN ..f 
 the- iiiouiitaiiis. WJu'ii f.i|)|.ftl I)y n liori/ontal layrr of h.u.kT 
 rock ihcy arc lalleil taMo luiltcs. 
 
 Quite (cash, French).— lli.lin;;-i)late,— /.<•., ihc peculiar excavations 
 in dry Mufl-. for the j^oods, trinkets, powder, and fur, uf ihc nl,l 
 traders, and now a cant word for hiding; anylhinj,'. (See note 7S,) 
 
 Ctii'tiis. — A variety of this well-known thorny plant, lailcd the 
 prickly-pear, is the pest of the plains, as a pil-^riin in atteniptinj,' 
 to crawl for a shot at a huffalu or an antelope will soon learn 
 and lon^ renunihcr. 
 
 Cal'ii-met' (O-jih-way).— The sacred Indian i)ipe of peace. (See 
 note i.y 
 
 Cal'it-niit' Quarry. — Sacred ([Uarry, in Pipestone County, Minne- 
 sota, near the border of Dakota. 
 
 Ciim'tiss (Nootka) of the Chi-nook jargon, named La'ka-mas^ for 
 tlift cdibled)ull)-root of a plant j;rowin^ in fertile meadows in 
 the Colmnhia River reyiiins, and hence the nume-ous camass- 
 meadov.'s and stieanis. 
 
 Ca-noe' . — Propi'rly an ()-jib-way Indian boat, made by nollowin^ out 
 a lo^, or by covering a liglit frame-work of cedar with birch- 
 bark, but now also applied to an imitation of the latter covered 
 with oiled canvas. 
 
 Caflon (Spanish), — A deep, narrow, usually eroded, and often impas- 
 sable mountain water-way. 
 
 Cr)7-('«''A/ (ky-o'ta, S|)anish). — Properly the small and sneakiiij,' but 
 voracious prairie-wolf, but the name is frecjuently applied to any 
 variety of this animal. 
 
 Chei-ivoot' (Chi-nook jargon). — Hear. 
 
 Chi-uook' (Chi-nook jarg(Mi). — A },'eneral name for the Nez-Percc, 
 Flaf'head, Wal'ia-wal''la, U''ma-til''la, and other cluck and 
 whistling Indians of the Columbia, as well as their peculiar 
 jargon. 
 
 Chip'J'c-xvay' (Indian tribe). — See 0-jibxoa. 
 
 Copper race. — Red men, or the Indian aborigines of the most of 
 North America. 
 
 Counts, a coo. — A provincialism for the French word coup, for a 
 
226 
 
 OlOaSAAY. 
 
 % 
 
 l\ 
 
 V\ 
 
 stroke, Mow, or notoh, and in Imnlrr purlnncc litcr.-illy sij^nifie* 
 juMiii;,' :i cinip iir roo-Mciti It iip'iii hU tiill)->tii k Dr ^Mm-li;iiiil lint 
 of liiMii.iM <«c.il|>^, each of whiili cmnilH ciinally ; tm tlu' <t|ioulin(; 
 )ieart'N-l)l(H)i| of nn innocont niaiden or Iii-I|)U>sh infant will 
 cliri>(cn ns many wnrriorn nn that of the hravunt chieftain. The 
 iitiniltir of ihoNO entitUil to hecunie warriors or add n coo there- 
 for l'ein)4 from tlirte to live of the liist who toiiih tlu* corpse, in 
 addilicin to tin* one wlio st-mics the sialp, none of whuni n>ay 
 perchance he llie actual flayer. 
 CVoTi'. — All Indian nation consiitin^j of the nioiintahi nml river trihcs, 
 the crafty occupants of tlie N'ellow.'ttonc nnd lii^-hurn re^^ions. 
 (Sec Ab-sa-ni-l'ii.) 
 
 D. 
 
 Da-ko'tii, — The Indian name for the Sioux confederation of tribes, 
 the most numerous nnd powerful of all of our al)orij;inal nations. 
 Their name in the si^n-hui^^iiaj^c is represented hy drawing; the 
 ri^dU hand from left to rit^ht across the throat ; literally, cut- 
 throat. (See Sioux.) 
 
 Dtd'li'n, — A peculiar waterfall, conjhinin;^ the direct Ic.ipof the cata- 
 ract, the •^Uippiiij; of the saut, or leapiu;; lapids, an<l notaltly a 
 hrokcn line of falls sideways, often fronting,' each other, caused 
 Ity the (lislod;;n\ont of basaltic columns nr other jointed bed- 
 n)cks, as at the dalles of the Columbia River. The name is not 
 foun<l in dictionaries, and is of doubtful ori^dn, jierhaps from 
 the word dally, or delay in sport, which is very exi)ressive of 
 their appearance. 
 
 Deif-hlcixt. — A Chippewa Indian woo<:cii tube, with a copper or 
 brass tonjjue, used for callin<; tl»e foe to her fawn, by imilalinj; 
 its cries when hidden, at the p.;ri<d when its tracks leave no 
 scent. 
 
 Z)i^'i:[ers. — The niost dej^radcd nborii^dnes of the Humboldt and other 
 alkaline deserts; so called from their liabits of dij^^dn;,' for the 
 roots of plants, as well as for snails and lizards, upon which, or 
 crickets and ^grasshoppers, they mainly subsist. 
 
 Dcg-soldier. — The adult Indian males who have not counted a 
 "coup" at the scalp-dance to christen them as warriors. 
 
 Dii-lttth'. — A famous French missionary, one of the first to visit the 
 great lakes and Upper Mississippi River regions. 
 
 S^ 
 
CLOSS.IA'i'. 
 
 "7 
 
 E. 
 
 F.arlh-foii}^t'. — The f;itno«H ilrcul.u M;in<l.iu loil^^c «»r dwcllin^j. (Seu 
 nuic 47.) 
 
 Flal'ficnd.—S. trihc of Chinook Imlians of the IliltiT Mot, Jiulio, 
 ami otliiT valU-ys of ihc U|i|u;r Colutuliii River. 'I'lii.' iiaiuo is 
 tli'iivcfl fioin ilif aiuii'iit (now iil>;\niloiioi|) cu^toiii of |irr>->iii^ 
 llic heads «)f ilii'ir iulaiits from fiuui to rear, in iho cl.imii like 
 hca<l-;^car of ihcir haiiyinj,' cradicn, nn<l is oxpn-ssctl in ihc si^;n- 
 liinyuaj{u by |»atlin;{ the u|)|nr pait of the foiehcatl or even top 
 of the h«ar|, — /.^., I'lat-head. 
 
 FosiU forests, or [ninicval forests foHsili/.cd; literally true. (See nolo 
 
 Q. 
 
 Cfy'ser (Icelandic, .^^VM, to boil). — S|ioiitinj,' or spnrtnij^ hot 
 .spriiij^s of several varieties, all of whirli arc found in siiri)assin^» 
 mnnbers, size, and beauty in the Wonder-Land, or Vello\v^lonc 
 National I'arU. 
 
 Con/. — The white or lon^'-h.'i" d, web-footed wild sheep of the snowy 
 mountain re^Mons of Idaho and Montana Territories, and adjacent 
 ])ortions of the IJritish possessions. (See note 7-) 
 
 6'i'/'//«-/(/«(/.--.See I/00-i/oo; also note 27. 
 
 (jrh'-z!y, — With the possible exception of the white polar bear, the 
 larj^est and most ferocious variety of the species. The name is 
 from the color and texture of the outer coating of their hair. 
 
 H. 
 
 Jlii'lo. — Properly, a circle round the sun or moon; but in this work, 
 as upon the border, the name sij^iiifies the areola around the 
 column of hot water from the spoiuinj^ j;cyser, or the iiiin\itably 
 beautiful oscillatinjj rainbows in the mist-eloud above them, or 
 of cataracts. 
 
 Ilf'-khii-ka' (Dad<o-la). — The antlercd or male elk. 
 
 ."loo'doo. — A mountain and region of rocky goblin-forms near 'he 
 Wonder-I.and. (See note 30.) 
 
 //o~o'-/io'o'. — Jargon; coriuption of the salutation " How arc you?" 
 
>l 
 
 22S 
 
 CLOSSAin, 
 
 ll'lalti' (Cliinook jar^^'on). — (.'(Hiiitiy (niy). 
 
 I-um' (E-suii, Saiilucj. — Knife. 
 
 J-san {'J'an'ka; K-s6ii, Tou''ka). — I5i<j- Knives; Americans. 
 
 hk'ko-te-wa'bo (Chippewa). — Whiskey. 
 
 K. 
 
 Kit' (Chippewa or O-jib-wa). — No. 
 
 Ka'kiui' (Cliinook jargon). — Crow or raven. 
 
 Kctm'ook (C"hinook jarj^on). — I)oiJ. 
 
 Ke'new (O-jil)-wa). — War-Eajfle. 
 
 Ki'ji (ke'jc, (.)jih-wa). — Perfect. 
 
 Ki'ji-Maii-i'toii (ke-je-Man-e-tou). — Perfect spirit; j^ood (jod. 
 
 Kin'-ne-ko-nhk' . — A phmt used as a substitute ft)r tobacco. 
 
 Kitch-i gain' i {0-]\\i-\\'v^). — Great water; hake; Lake Superior. 
 
 Kitch' i-ino' ko-vuxn' (0-jib-wa). — Hig-Knife ; American. 
 
 Ko-koJi' (O-jib-wa). — Swine or their flesh ; pork. 
 
 Lo'kix-mas' (Chinook jarjfon). — See Cam-ass. 
 
 Lake Pcp'in. — A broad, placid expansion of th*; Mississippi River in 
 Southern Minnesota. 
 
 Lar'a-mic. — A fort upon the norlli fork of the PKatte River, long a 
 famous oulfittin<f point for {^old seekintj jiilj^rims. Also the 
 name of a town, county, river, and a very f \tensive and beautiful 
 but elevated jiark called Plains, in Wyoming Territory. 
 
 Leaping Rork. — A famous tcttering vertical fragment of the wall- 
 rock of the Calumet Cliffs. 
 
 LVon. — The mountain-lion, so called. A very large and ferocious 
 variety of the panther, similar to the Mexican cougar, whose 
 midnight screams startle like the Indian war-whoop. 
 
 Little-horn. — Properly, a western branch of the Little Big-horn River, 
 but formerly applied to the entire branch, now called Custer 
 River, upon the coteau bluffs of which he met his fate. 
 
 Looking-Glass. — The ablest of the Nez-Percos chiefs, who aided 
 Chief" Joseph ihroughout his matchless retreat, a. id fell in the 
 coula- trenches of his last battle at the Woocty Mountain, near 
 the British line. 
 
GLOSSARY, 
 
 229 
 
 J.o'lo-lo' (lue'-la-loo, CliinooU jargon).— Coiuiuoior. 
 
 Loiii^-Knifc. — White man, so called by the Intlians from the swords 
 of the military oflfii (Ms, 
 
 Loping-stecJs. — Pinlos, bronchos, cay-ouse, and miistan};, half or 
 wholly wild horses of the West, the natural and habitual ^ait of 
 nearly all of which is a lope, or long, swinging, graceful canter, 
 selihmi equalled by the larger but less sure-footed and hardy 
 blooded horses of the East. 
 
 Lovely River. — The Yellowstone, between its lake and Great Falls; 
 a peculiarly approi)riate name. 
 
 M. 
 
 Maiden'' s Leap. — Rocky clifts upon the eastern shore of Lake Pepin, 
 famous in Indian legends. (See note 15.) 
 
 Atak-7va' (Chippewa). — Bear. 
 
 Man-dan' . — A f .nous tribe of village Indians. (See note 47.) 
 
 Man'i-tou'. — Thus Anglicized from the 0-jib-wa. M-an-i-to, mys- 
 tery, or mysterious spirit; God; and in these legends is by po- 
 etical license for symphony pronounced Man-ec'ta. 
 
 Ma"'o-nim' (0-jib-wa or Chippewa). — Wild rice. 
 
 Mar-qucite' . — An early daring but devout missionary and explorer, 
 froTi whom several towns and streams of Michigan derive their 
 names. 
 
 Min'ne-ha^lia. — Laughing- Water. Name of a lovely waterfall 
 near St. Paul, and also of the heroine of Longfellow's " Hia- 
 vvr.'cha," as well as of the Maiden's Leap at Lake Pepin, in the 
 legend of " The Calumet of the Coteau." (See note 15.) 
 
 JMin'ne-kc'wa (Santee). — Water-god. 
 
 Min'ne-o'la. — Legendary lover of Minnehaha. 
 
 Min'ne-o'pa. — A famous legendary warrior of the Coteau Indians. 
 
 Min'ne-tan'ka. — Mighty river; the Mississippi. Also a lake in 
 Minnesota. 
 
 Min'ne-wa-kan (water-god), — Sometimes applied to a steamboat. 
 
 Min'ne-wa'tva (Longfellow). — Pleasant sounds, as of the summer 
 breeze and the leaves of the gro'e upon the parched plai'ns. 
 
 Min'ni (Da-ko-ta). — Water. 
 
 Rio' Ica-man' (Chippewa). — Knife. 
 
 Mos'vios (Chinook jargon). — Buffalo. 
 
 Mount' ain-cat. — The lynx, or largest variety of the short -tailed wi>d- 
 
 20 
 
23© 
 
 CLOSSAKY. 
 
 \ 
 
 I 
 
 cat, being nearly as large and more ferocious tlian the catamount 
 or panther. 
 
 AIouutain-Gate. — The hst caOon upon the Missouri, Yellowstone, 
 and other rivers, through which they cnurge from the snowy 
 mountains to the rclativfly open valleys or plains. 
 
 Mits'liing. — Tlie small loping horse of Texas and the great plains, 
 usually half and often fully wild. 
 
 Alys'tic Lake " of Wonder-Land," as distinct from a lovely mountain- 
 lake near IJozcman, Montana. 
 
 Alys^tic River. — The Yellowstone, the most of which, as well as its 
 lake, were long only vaguely kn(jwn from legends of the Indians 
 or talcs o( the roving trappers of those regions. 
 
 N. 
 
 Na'lion, — A primitive people, consisting of more than one tribe, often 
 of several or many, usually, though not always, confederate. 
 
 Nez-Per'ce (French). — I'ierced nose. A famous nation of Chinook 
 Indians. 
 
 Ni-ba' (Chippewa). — Water. 
 
 Ob-sid' e-an Clijfs. — Cliffs of natural glass fronting Beaver Lake in 
 
 the Yellowstone National Park. 
 0-de-o'na (Chippewa). — Village. 
 Og'i-ma' (Chippewa). — Chief. 
 0-jib-wa. — A powerful tribe of Indians of the Upper Mississippi and 
 
 Ujiper Lake regions. (See CIiippc7va.) 
 Os'a-ga' (Chippewa). — Sauk Indian. 
 Os-iu-a-ry. — Deposit of human bones. 
 
 P. 
 
 Pale-face. — White man. 
 
 Pam'pas. — A poetical license in applying the name to the prairies of 
 
 the North as well .as South America. 
 Pap-poose' (0-jib-wa). — Indian child. 
 Park. — A relatively broad, elevated mountain-girt valley, one or 
 
 more of which are found upon all the streams of the Rocky 
 
 Mountain region. 
 
 fb^ 
 
CLOSSA/^Y. 
 
 231 
 
 Pevi'i can. — Deer-, elk-, or Ijiiffalo-nicat dried, pounded, and mixed 
 with tnllow, marrow, or bear's {,'rease. 
 
 Pil'grims. — A provincialism or !)or(ljr name for inexperienced miners, 
 and, in a broader sense, the travelling new-comers, especially 
 miners, of a western region. 
 
 Pin'to (Spanish). — Spotted. The famous spotted loping war horse 
 of the Columbia River Indians. 
 
 Plains, Great. — The elevated, treeless regions between the Rocky 
 Mountains and the prairies, from the latter of which they greatly 
 differ, notably in tlieir short tufts of buffalo and other native 
 grasses, often commingled with the prickly-pear and the sage- 
 brush. 
 
 Pros-pect'er. — A roving exploring miner. 
 
 Que^ii-qiie'ii (Chinook jargon). — Circle, circle. 
 
 R. 
 
 Ranch. — Border farm, usually very extensive, ann mainly for pas- 
 
 turage. 
 Ree. — Indian tribe. (See Rickaree.') 
 Red-Cloud. — A famous Sioux chieftain from, w.iom the war at the 
 
 close of the Rebellion was called, as he was the acknowledged 
 
 leader of the hostile Indians. 
 Red men. — North American Indians. 
 Rick'a-ree' . — Indian tribe. (:- Arickaree.) 
 Rov'er. — Trappers, traders, prospecters, and other wanderers of the 
 
 border. 
 
 S. 
 
 Sa'crcd Quar'ry. — Calumet Quarry. (See note I.) 
 
 Sals' se. — Mud ge)sers. 
 
 ^.v'/a (Da-ko-ta).— Black. 
 
 Sas'ka-shaion' . — Anglicized name for the River of the Rapids in 
 
 British America. 
 Scalp' -dance. — As the name signifies, a dance over the scalps of fallen 
 
 foes. 
 SJia (Da^ko-ta).— Red. 
 67v/(Da-ko-ta).— White. 
 Sheep. — Wild sheep of two varietieo. (See note 7.) 
 
I! 
 
 232 
 
 GLOSSARY, 
 
 S/iee/)- Fathers. — The poor, timid, and orij^inally harmless aborij^inos 
 of the Wonder- 1, a ml, so called fmni their habit of oljtaininjj 
 their main supplies of food and clothing by the slaughter of these 
 animals. 
 
 S/iun'hi ( Da-ko-ta). — Dog. 
 
 Shun' ka-iva' kan (San-tee). — Sacred dog: horse. 
 
 Shun'tan'ka (I)a-ko-ta). — JJig dog; horse. 
 
 Shun-tan-ka-ti-pi. — Horse-lodge; big-dog house; barn. 
 
 Shun-to- ke-cha. — The other dog; wolf. 
 
 Si'oux' (Se'ou'', Da-ko-ta). — Nation of Indians. (See note 5.*) 
 
 Si'wash (Chinook jrrron). — Male Indian. 
 
 Skoo' kuin (Chinook j r —Brave. 
 
 Stin'-dance. — The coura^, sling dance and tortures of the male 
 Indian at the age of puberty. 
 
 T. 
 
 Tan'ka (ton-ka, Da-ko-ta). — Large ; great. 
 
 Tau-rine. — Chieftain; Sitting- liull; an Un-ca-pap-pa Sioux chief- 
 tain, leader of the hostile savages at the Custer massacie. 
 
 Tee' pee. — From the Dakota ti-pi, or skin-lodge, as distinct from the 
 Chippewa mat or the Mandan earth-lodge. It is the totem 
 war-lodge of the Hlackfeet Indians, but the name is often used 
 interchangeably with other skin-lodges. 
 
 Ter^race. — Remnants of eruption or erosion, and often of both, 
 rising in long, horizontal, stair-like lines from many of the 
 mountain-lakes and rivers. 
 
 TiVla-cume' (Chinook jargon). — Enemies. 
 
 Ti'ions. — Tee'tons. 
 
 To'tem. — Symbolic Indian name. 
 
 U. 
 
 Ute. — An Indian nation of several southern tribes. 
 
 4h 
 
 W. 
 
 Wa'h (O-jib-wa). — An exclamation much as "there," "so be it." 
 Wa-kan' (wa-kon', Dakota). — Mysterious one. 
 Wa-kuJt'da (Kick-a-poo). — Mysterious being ; God. 
 VVa-kan' sich' cha. — Bad mysterious one ; devil, or whiskey. 
 
G/.OSSAIiY. 
 
 233 
 
 PF<i-/l'<r>i^/<r>iU'(7.—GrcAi Wakan ; j;ical myslcrious one; Goil Al- 
 iiiiglity. 
 
 Wdin'puin. — Strings of shell-heads. 
 
 ^Van (Dakota). — One, a or an. 
 
 Wii'pa-ha (Dakota).— A hat or cap. 
 
 \Vai-lHm')iel.—'U\Q famous ceremonial liead ilress and slrcami'.i|^ 
 l)endant, ornamented with \var-eajj[le (iiiills. 
 
 War-dame.— K grand dance (jf In.lian warriors in full paint and 
 feathers at the ceremonial unearthing of the hatchet and hurling 
 it at the totem of their foes, while preparing for an expedition 
 against them. 
 
 War-Ea^gle.—)riO called from the parti-colored quill-feathers which 
 are the favorite ornament of the war-bonnet and other head-gear 
 of an Indian warrior; and even a lone quill erect in the .scalp- 
 lock is highly valued. 
 
 War%vhoop.—'\\\^ piercing scream of the Indian warriors in battle, 
 which is often modified to a prolonged vibrating howl, echoing 
 with awful intensity in the dark pine- and cedar-fringed gorges 
 of the mountains, and once heard can never be forgotten. 
 
 Was'-sa-mo'win (Chippewa).— Lightning. 
 
 IVa-xva (Chinook jargon). — Call. 
 
 Woolly-sheep.— '"^Xxv^ white wild sheep or goat of the Rocky Moun- 
 tains. 
 
 Won-der-Laud.—lhc Yellowstone National Tark. 
 
 Wi-chen-yan-na ( Dakota). — Girl. 
 
 Wick'e-iip' (Sho-shone).— Brush-house. (See note 82.) 
 
 Win'-i-ban (0-jib-wa). — Gone. 
 
 Wi'ia-ivaUa (Da-ko-ta). — Ship or boat. 
 
 Wiz'ard {^]'Xigo\\).—h.\\ Indian medicine-man, sorcerer, or magician. 
 
 Y. 
 
 Yanc'tona or Yanc'to-a. — Northern tribe of the Sioux nation of 
 Indians. 
 
 20 
 
 ,* 
 
y •'.' 
 
 I: 
 
^Jtkfntftn witfMihc saline* umivthttiiraeAme^'tJi: x''"' /♦A*^ M'f»««* '^ 
 
 ito'ao 
 
 
 tmio 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 ITNO.CO.N.Y. (OSBORNE'S PROCE&&.) 
 
(UIIDIMKJOK OF TIIK YKLLOWSTONI': 
 NATIONAL IWRK. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 At the suggestion of some prominent and prnctitnl friends who 
 nave visited the Yellowstone National I'ark, or wl\o propose doing 
 so, I add a map thereof and brief deseription of its leading points 
 of attraetion, together with illustrations of some of those refcrreil to 
 in these legends, and a few praelieal suggestions regarding the season, 
 the route, and the cost of visiting tliem. The map is a duplieate of 
 that in my report of l88l, except the colors, and the size, which, in 
 reducing to accord with the pages of this work, is somewhat snif" for 
 clearness ; hut map, directions, and suggeslicms are c msitlered at least 
 as correct and practical as any yet published regarding the Wonder- 
 Land. 
 
 ^ 
 
 PRELUDE. 
 
 In .11 these blooming valleys, along each crystal stream. 
 And snow-encircled lakelet, where quivering halos gleam, 
 These labyrinths of goblins, and spouting \;eyscis grand. 
 Unnumbered are the marvels throughout the Wonder-Land ; 
 As wintry storms build snow-fields, and summer breezes thaw, 
 All nature seems in ccmtrast, in beauty, size, or awe, 
 Creation, growth, and ruin, the universal law! 
 
 i| 
 
 LOCATION OY THE PARK. 
 
 From this map, in connection with that of the Land Office of the 
 United States, it will be seen that the Snake River fork of the 
 
 235 
 
fio'-m 
 
 iio-w 
 
 iwto 
 
- " - U£ll 
 
 
 nEAoQirAnTKHH , 
 
 
 iwto 
 
 uo'to' 
 
 m»'so 
 
 AM. PH0TO-UTHO.CO.N.Y (OSBORNES PROCESS.) 
 
T"' r — If 
 
 1 
 
 236 
 
 CVfl^F.-nOOK Oh THE P.th'h'. 
 
 Ci)Iiiml)in, nnd drffn Kivcr fork f»f \\\c Colorado of the (Iiilf of. 
 Califoriiiii (P-uitic w.itcrt), luul iirarly all the other j;rcat rivers of 
 thai part of the cot)tiiu-nt, iiuluilin^' (he Ji-ffiTson, Madison, niid («al< 
 l.itin forkn, and the Hi^-horii niid other liranches of the MisKouri, 
 MUsissipjii (Atlantic watcrn), to a fjriat extoiit radiate from spoiilinj» 
 ^I'ysi rs or other hot sprin^js wilhiij or udjaiciit to the ^roat National 
 I'arU, situated niaitiiy in Wyoming' Territory, aiul uUo c-iuhracing 
 portions of Idaho and Montana. 
 
 This wonderful rejjion in really less one large park than n k^*'""!' 
 of snutller ones, partially or wholly isolatcil, upon holh sides iA the 
 continental <livide, which is niuih lower in the Park than the nearly 
 unbroken surroundinj^' tnounlain ran;;eH. Its average altitude proli- 
 al)ly exceeds that of Yellowstone Lake, or nearly a half-mile hi^dier 
 than Mount Washington. Its few yawning, ever difikult, often xxw* 
 passable caflon approaches along foaming torrents, the superstitious 
 awe inspired by the hissing springs, sulphur-basins, and spouting 
 geysers, and the inrie(|ucnt visits of the surrounding jiagan Indians 
 have cuniinned to singularly delay the exploration of this truly mystic 
 land. 
 
 Although Lewis and Clarke, by ascending the Jcflerson instead of 
 the Madison or Gallatin fork i)f the Missouri in 1805, crossed the 
 Rocky Mountain divide west of the Park without its discovery, yet it 
 is from a nicnd)er of that early band of northwestern explorers that 
 we derive our fust knowledge of its existence. 
 
 Sergeant Coulter, after his honorable discharge from this expedi- 
 tion, and famous gantlet- ruiuiing escape from the f-irocious Blackfeet 
 Indians, accompanied the Sheep-Eaters amid the spouting geysers, 
 fire-hole basins, and other marvels of these regions, nnd ever after 
 his return to Missouri in iSio gloried in describing them; yet so 
 little credence was given to his narrative that for many ytrrs, even 
 long after I was fust upon the Lower Yellowstone, Coulter's Hell was 
 a standing camp-fire jest upon now well-known realities, .'Jut John 
 Coulter was, without a shade of doubt, the first while explorer of any 
 portion of the Yellowstone National Park. 
 
 The want of space prevents the use of much material at hand rc- 
 ganling the wanderings of Henry, Sublett, Bonneville, liridger, and 
 many other renowned trappers and Indian-fighters of those regions, 
 of the fruitless United States exploring expedition of Captain Rey. 
 nolds during 1859 and i860 in search of the Park, or of the camp-fire 
 
 k 
 
GUI ni:- HOOK of the vank'. 
 
 •37 
 
 legend"* (if thf ^<iI(l-Hcekinj» piljjrints, \n\\\v n( whom, iiirhi'lin^ Cap* 
 tiiin I)c I,.i( y, (iiMir^r lliistoii, (J. 11. rhcljin, and I'tiili-rii k llottUr, 
 UMi|iio>tint)nl)ly visited portioiin of (he Park prior tu iSjU, tliuugh 
 noiio of lliein had then pultlishrd imrrntivcH. 
 
 Having ntyscir, Ion;; before the Reynolds expedition, failed, a!i he 
 did, to reach the I'ark from the east, early in June, 1870, I u^'ain 
 sought, :'fter many years' absence front those regions, to reach it Ity 
 ascending the Yellowstone aliove the (iaic of (hi Mountains, nccnni- 
 panicti by Frederick Bottler, from the Uottler ranch. Deep snowH 
 halilcd our resolute efTorts to cross the Madison rnn^^e to the geysers, 
 nn«l, when seeking to dcsceml to the Yellowstone Valley below the 
 Manunolh Hot Springs, Dottier was swept nwny in attempting to 
 cross a mountain torrent above Cinnabar Mountain, losing his rille, 
 nmmunition, most of his clothing, and nearly his life. This mis- 
 hap compelled our unwilling return from within the I'ark through 
 the then nearly unknown and in>p sable second caflcm of the Yel- 
 lowstone to Bottler's, the only wluu; ranchman at that tinic upon any 
 portion of the nughty Yellowstone River. Thence I retraced my 
 route to Fort FIlis, ])ublished a brief account of my trip (see No. 3 
 of my " Journal of Rand>les in the Far West"), and, under i)rcvious 
 engagements, descended the Columbia to the ocean, then proposing 
 to return to the exploration of the Park the next year. 
 
 During the f«>llowing autumn the Washburn expedition was sud- 
 denly organized for I'ark exploration. It was comi)ose(l of II. I). 
 Washburn, N. P. Langford, T. C. Everts, S. T. Ilauser, C. Hedges, 
 W. Trundndl, B. Slickney, W. C. Gillett, and J. Smith. General 
 Washburn, in command, was then surveyor-general, T. C. Everts and 
 N. P. Langford, ex-officers, and all prominent and esteemed citizens 
 of Montana Territ«)ry. They were well ccpiipped, and at Fort Fills 
 were joined by Lieutenant G. C. Doane and seven men. From here 
 they followed my return route to and up the Yellowstone through its 
 second caflon. They missed the Mammoth Hot Springs, buf visited 
 Mount Washburn, the Great F'alls and Lake, returning by the Fire- 
 Hole River and Madison route to Virginia City. When among the 
 fingers of the Yellowstone Lake, Everts lost his way, horse, arms, 
 and provisions, and after thirty-seven days of exposure, starvation, 
 and sufTering, doubtless unequalled by any other man now living, was 
 found by Baronet and Pritchette, barely alive, upon the mountain 
 which bears his name, near the Mammoth Hot Springs. This is the 
 
238 
 
 GUIDE-BOOK OF THE PARK. 
 
 first party of really successful explorers of any considerable portion of 
 the I'.irk of which we have any public record. 
 
 The iiUeresl elicited by the publications of several of these parties 
 led to Professor Ilayd'-n's geological explorations of 1S71, and that 
 to Conj,M-essional dedication, Marc'. I, 187.'', of the Yellowstone 
 National Park, under the control of the Secretary of the Interior. 
 
 This laudable outburst of national enthusiasm in behalf of a peer- 
 less health and ple.'sure-resort for our peo)/le seems to have subsided 
 with its dedication; and- without any practical provision for its pro- 
 tection, it was for years abandoned to destructive forest-fires, wanton 
 slauf^hter of its interesting and valuable animals, and constant and 
 nearly irreparable vandalism of many of its prominent wonders. So 
 uniform was the testimony of the civil and military officers of the 
 government, as well as of the American and European scientists, and 
 of myself and other tourists who visited the Park, and so strong their 
 appeals to the nation for its protection, or at least the sending of a 
 commissioner or an agent specially empowered to investigate and 
 report the facts, that among the early acts of the Hon. Carl Schurz, 
 Secretary of the Interior in 1S77, was my appointment ns superinten- 
 dent of the Park, specially instructed to again visit it and report the 
 facts as I should then find tlicm, for the information of Congress ; but 
 as to funds for salary, or even expenses, none were furnished or 
 promised, but I was left to rely upon Congress to make provision* 
 for all salary and expenses prior to July I, 1888, to properly pay for 
 the performance of duties pointed out and jiositively recpiired of the 
 Secretary of the Interior in the act dcdicatirig the I ark. 
 
 Under these circumstances, and without pecuniary aid from any 
 department, association, or individual, I proceeded, via IJismarck, 
 Forts Buford and Keogh, ihe Custer battle-field, and Gate of the 
 Mountains upon the Yellowstone, to the Park, After visiting the 
 most important of its known wonders and exploring others, I started 
 to desceiul the Yellowstone, but, meeting General .Sherman, returned 
 with him to Tower Falls, ilere, l)y the breaking of a saddle-girth, 
 I was unhorsed, and too seriously injured to proceed with the general 
 or even to i-eturn home, except by descending the Yelljwstone in a 
 skiff from abovr the Gate of the Mountains, whirh course I adopted. 
 
 * 'J his, upon the recommendation of the Honorable Secretary of tne Interior and 
 the endorsement of the President, unanimously passed both Hjiiseb since the 
 close of my ofBcial connection with 'lie Park. 
 
 / 
 
 . 
 

 / 
 
 GUIDE-BOOK OF THE PARK. 
 
 239 
 
 Dmiii^^ my return home the hostile Nez-Pcrccs made a raid in the 
 Park, which was so sudden and unexpected that General Sherman 
 and his slender escort narrowly escaped capture. Several touri>,ts, 
 however, then in the Park, were killed, wounded, or cai)tured. 
 Anu)n},' these was Professor Dietrich, whose body was riddled witii 
 bullets while he was standing in the door-way of the McCar'ney 
 cabin at the Mannnoth Iltjt Springs. 
 
 The facts and suggestions in reference to the Park, as submitted by 
 myself to the Honorable Secretary of the Interior, were incorporated 
 in his report of 1S77 (part fnst, page S37), and also deemed by him 
 worthy of publication m pampldct form. (See Report of the Super- 
 intendent of the Yellowstone National Park for 1877.) 
 
 After a long and careful investigation of the whole subject, and in 
 consideration of the written opinions of prominent scientists and ex- 
 plorers of our country, the cautious and prudent Congress of that 
 period, at its first session, with flattering unanimity made an appro- 
 priation of ten thousand dollars for the protection and improvement 
 of the Park, being the first ever furnished from any source, and with 
 a portion of which the first improvements ever made in the Park were 
 commenced at the Mammoth Hot Springs during the Bannock raid 
 of 1S78, and have been continued as appropriations have since been 
 made. 
 
 AREA OF THE PARK. 
 
 Two matters in connection with the Yellowstone National Park 
 tend to great and general misapprehension regarding it. These are, 
 in-st, its name, and, second, its area, or, as perhaps best treated, in- 
 versely. 
 
 The United States maps and authorities show it to be an oblong 
 square, 62 miles in length from north to south, and 54 miles in width 
 from east to west, containing 3348 s(|ua.e miles. 
 
 The tenth census of the United States shows that the area of the 
 State of Delaware is 1960 square miles; State of Rhode Island, 1085 
 square miles; District of Columbia, 60 square miles; and the aggre- 
 gate area of tlxe counties of New York, Kings, and Richmond, of 
 the State of New York, is 150, equal to 3255 scjuare miles. Thus 
 the most recent and reliable authorities extant show that this great 
 national land of wonders contains 93 square miles in excess of the 
 "ggi'L'g^te area of two of the original thirteen States of the Union, the 
 
.' /* 
 
 240 
 
 GUIDE-BOOK OF THE PARK. 
 
 District of Ojlumbia, containinp; the capital, and tlie tliree counties 
 of the Slate of New York, which enil)races the commercial emporium 
 of the first and third cities of the nation, havinj; an a}j;}jregate popula- 
 tion of about two million five hundred ihousaml. Nor is this a full 
 statement of the case; as, if to this account were added the actual 
 excess of surface measurements of this peculiarly broken region over 
 those relatively level eastern ones, it would certainly exceed that of 
 Connecticut, 4845 miles, and, with the adjacent Goblin-Land and 
 other rej^ions which I have explored during the past two seasons, 
 fully etjual that of New Jersoy, Massachusetts, or several other of the 
 original States of the Union. 
 
 This necessarily lengthy explanation of the first question as to the 
 magnitude of the Park so nearly disposes of the second, as to the 
 name, that I only add that, although it is so vast and broken by 
 mountains and canons into countless partially or wholly isolated parks 
 and valleys, still the whole of it is nearly encircled by snowy moun- 
 tains with few passes, being thus park-like in character, and the name 
 correct, or at least difficult to substitute by one more appropriate. 
 
 The size and character of tJiis work, together with the various 
 poems and copious notes descriptive of many of the features and 
 .legends of the Wonder- and the Goblin-Lands, precludes extending 
 the loregoing outlines of the Park, and hence I close this necessary 
 prelude to our guide of routes with a few practical suggestions for 
 those desirous of a charming ramble amid the countless marvels of 
 this national heritage of wonders. 
 
 Neither the routes, modes of conveyance, nor hotel accommoda- 
 tions of the Park as yet equal those of our eastern homes, nor is it 
 necessary or even desirable for the health or enjoyment of tourists, 
 the most of whom in little groups of kindred or friends seek a sea- 
 son of variety and romantic privation in the snowy pass, the flowery 
 park, or secluded glen of nature's unpolluted solitudes as a refuge 
 from the duties of office, the dictates of fashion, or as a cheering, 
 healthful solace from ceaseless toil or corroding care. 
 
 OUTFIT. 
 
 From long and trying border experience I can vouch that stimu- 
 lants are not neces:jviy but baneful, — buoyant hope and the azone of 
 pure mountain air are matchless tonics and appetizers ; but none who 
 
GUIDE-BOOK OF TUE PARK. 
 
 241 
 
 oulfit tlitnist'lves may fear to prDvidc houiitifully of tea, coffee, lui- 
 tiitiinis food, canned milk, anil fruit, as well as warm, strong woollen 
 clotliinj,', blankets, shawls, •■tc., and I Ji en double the oiitjlt. Few will 
 regret relying upon this advice. 
 
 Heretofore it has been necessary to arrange before arrival for some 
 reliable guide with tents, wagons, saddle- and pack-animals, and 
 other outfit and provisions not brought by themselves. This, although 
 l)erhaps judicious for those who have time and opportnnity, is now 
 less essential, as I learn that from Livingston, upon their main line, 
 just below the Gale of the Mountains, a branch road will be com- 
 pleted through it and amid llie enchanting scenery of the parks and 
 canons of the Yellowstone, 50 miles to the mouth of the Gardiner, 4 
 miles below the Mammoth Hot Springs, and a hotel there, and else- 
 where in the I'ark, in time for this season's rush of tourists. 
 
 The following letter from the General Passenger and Ticket Agent 
 of the Norlhern Pacilic Railroad Company gives all the facts tJiat are 
 obtainable at this date: 
 
 " NoKTHF.KN Pacific Railroad Company. 
 "Genehal Passenger and Ticket Department. 
 
 "St. Paul, Minn., April 12, 1883. 
 " P. W. NoRRis, Norris, Michigan. 
 
 "Dear Sir, — Replying to yoi of April 10, it is impossible to 
 give the detailed information yni ilesire regarding the accommoda- 
 tions in the Park at this early dat' 1 can say approximately that the 
 rate from St. Paul to the Mammoth Hot Springs will be ninet\ dollars 
 for the round trip, and that the rates for transportation in the Park will 
 be about twelve cents per mile. Our branch will be built and opeii o 
 the Park abouf. the ist of July. A large force of men is now employed 
 on the line building it. 
 
 " One large hotel wii! be built at the Mammoth Hot Springs, and 
 smaller ones at Lower Gtyser Basin, Upper Geyser, Great Fal! and' 
 Lake Outlet. Ponies, attciKlants, bath-houses, and appu-'d ,ces of 
 like nature will be established in connection with the hotels and stntre 
 line, 
 
 " Yours, etc., 
 
 "G. K. BARNES, 
 
 "6\ P. &= T. a:' 
 ho 31 
 
343 
 
 GUIDEBOOK OF THE PARK. 
 
 TROrER SEASON OE THE YEAR EOR A TOUR OF 
 
 THE PARK. 
 
 The best of all niontlis is Aiij,nist, then July, tlie fir^.t half of Sep- 
 tember, last lialf of June, the most (>f October and May, in the 
 order named. 
 
 The fogs, rains, and floods from melting snows in early June, and 
 the equinoctial snowstorm of Se])tend)er, are sure and fearful. July 
 and August uniforndy fnie, the remainder of 'he year changeable, 
 and successive seasons \ arying greatly. 
 
 No future danger from Indians or aninnls; no rattlesnakes or 
 other venomous reptiles ; gadflies often troublesome upon animals in 
 June and July, but mosquitoes far less annoying than along the rivers 
 en route. 
 
 TIME NECESSAPY FOR A TRIP OF THE PARK. 
 
 This depends much upon the health, means, taste, and leisure of 
 each person or party. A week of dash and jam in the Park will 
 allow a glance at the main geyser-basins, Mammoth Hot Springs, 
 Mount Washburn, Forks, Canon, Falls and Lake of the Yellowstone, 
 and other points of interest en route. Ten days are better, and 
 fifteen ample for a fair tour of all ihe Park now opened up to roads 
 and bridle-paths, while a mountain sun^' .er of three months can be 
 most pleasantly and healthfully spent ..i the viewing and exploration 
 of the Wonder- and Goblin-Lands for years to come, as between the 
 Yellowstone Lake and the Big-horn River is one of the wildest, 
 roughest, inaccessible, leas* known, and vet interesting regions of the 
 United States. 
 
 COST OF A TRIP TO AND THROUGHOUT THE PARK. 
 
 This also, after leaving the railroad, is subject to variations similar 
 to those of time, and dependent much upon them. 
 
 I have no information of essential change in the old rates of five 
 dollars each for a guide and packer widi his saddle-horse, or ten dol- 
 lars for two men and their animals, and one dollar per tiny for each 
 additional saddle- or pack-animal. The additional ' iilfit, board, etc., 
 if any, as the parties mutually agree, which, lu avoid annoyance 
 
GUIDE-BOOK OF THE PARK. 
 
 243 
 
 fliirliiKtlic trip niul at its close, should be clearly understood in writing 
 befDre its coninienceujcnt. 
 
 Should the mining developments of these mountain regions e(|ual 
 present indications, a railroad will reach the Park from the Knst via 
 Clarke's Forks Mines or the Two-Ocean Pass, or both of them, as 
 well as the Virginia City bianch of the Utah Northern from Dillon 
 within a few years hereafter, each road increasing accessibility and 
 inviting a healthy competition for the patronage of tourists in making 
 '•■ cheap, rapid, and easy visit to the Wonder-Land; jilanning it as 
 the turning-point, as well as the main region of attraction, in a sea- 
 son's ramble for health and enjoyment. 
 
 Siiould these anticipations be realized a visit to the Park will be- 
 come national in character and popular with our people, so that ere 
 long the flush of shame will tinge the cheeks of Americans who are 
 obliged to acknowledge that they loiter along tl e antiquated paths lo 
 pigmy haunts of other lands before seeking health, pleasure, and the 
 soul-expanding delights of a season's ramble amid the peerless snow- 
 and cliff-encircled marvels of their own. 
 
 CHOICE OF LOOKOUTS. 
 
 Prominent among the bordering points cf observation of this vast 
 region is Flcctric Peak, near the northwestern border, elevation 
 11,775 feet; Mount Norris in the northeast, 10,019; Mounts Chit- 
 tenden, Hoyt, Langford, Stephenson, and others in the eastern 
 Sierra Shoshone border, and Mounts Holmes and Bell's Peak upon 
 the western, ranging between 10,000 and 11,000 feet high, and 
 Mount Sheridan, near the southern border, 10,385 feet high, still 
 backed by the Grand Teton, landmark of all those mountain regions, 
 which is over 13,000 feet in height. But Mount Washburn, towering 
 upon the brink of the yawning Grand Canon water-way of the Yel- 
 lowstone Falls and Lake, 10,340 feet high, is the most central, ac- 
 cessible, and commanding for a general view of the Park and its 
 surroundings. From its isolated summit can be plainly seen on a 
 fair day, as upon aji open map, not only this lake and canon but 
 many others also, countless flowery parks and valleys, misty sulphur 
 and steaming geyser-basins, dark pine and lir-clad slopes, broken 
 foot-hills, craggy cliffs, and snowy summits of the sundering and 
 surrounding mountains. No tourist should fail in securing this en- 
 
244 
 
 GVIDE-IWOK OF THE PARK, 
 
 i' 
 
 J-^^ 
 
 cliiinlin^' view, the best plan of obtaining,' wliiili is, ui)nii rc:ifhin<» 
 tlu' intaii(li'tiii{^ lisiiltt-rcd l.iwns of llic Cascadf, the (Hade or llic 
 Aiil(.lo|)L' CicL'lis, to j^o into camp and awail tlie dawn of a cdoiidloss 
 siinuncr's nioinin^. 'I'lun to the scientist, tin: artist, or ilic poi't, and 
 to the weary and worn pi!>;riius of lieallh and pleasure from our own 
 and other lands, ardent to secure the acme of mountain-climhiiij; 
 enjoyment, or in viewing' tlie lovely parks and yawning; canons, the 
 crests of j;listcnin<^ ice and vales of blistering brimstone, the records 
 of (ire and flood, the evidences of marvellous eruptions and erosions 
 of the i)resent and the past, and day-dreams of the future in the 
 commingling purgatory and paradise of the peerless Wonder-I,and 
 of earth, I would say leisurely ascend the terraced slopes of Mount 
 Washburn, and from its oval sunnnit, with throbbing heart but fear- 
 less eye and soul expanding, I()oI< around you. One day thus spent 
 would more adecpiately impress the mind with the magnitude and 
 marvels of the Park, and the vast amount of exploration and research 
 necessary in finding routes, and the enormous amount of labor and 
 liardship unavoidable in the construction ol buildings, roads, bridle- 
 paths, trails, and other improvements, even when unmolested by hos- 
 tile Indians, — as during the jiast two years only, — than a jjcrusal of 
 all the reports and maps of the Park which have ever been pub- 
 lished. 
 
 HEADQUARTERS OF THE PARK. 
 
 The loophole-turretcd and triple-winged block-house Headquarters 
 of the Park crowns the summit of an oblong grassy Initte or hill 150 
 feet above the cedar grove, a portion of which, as shown in the illus- 
 tration, is still standing, submerged and semi-fossilized by deposits 
 from the mineral waters of the main active Mammoth Hot Springs, 
 which rise in inimitably beautiful scollop-bordered pools and bril- 
 lia'itly-tinted pearly-white terraces directly fronting, and to an eleva- 
 tion greater than the balcony of the Headquarters, Thence through 
 the shifting clouds of vapor ever escaping from these uni([ue fountains, 
 the active, the dying, the dead cedar-fringed and crumbling, then the 
 dark pine and balsam-hidden pools and terraces vise successively as 
 they recede to the most anoient and once powerful of the now ex- 
 tinct craters or cones upon the summit of the Terrace Mountain, 
 which much of the year jiresenls an f)Utline of snow amid the clouds. 
 Almost beneath this building, to the right, are seen the famous 
 
CUlDE-nCOK OF THE IWRK. 
 
 245 
 
 I-ihcrty-Cap cnimlilinj^ cone of an extinct i)ulsatin^j j^'oyscr, 45 feet 
 lii^^h, tlie I)evil\ 1 liunil), sonicwlint sniixller, niuncrous raj,'(4e(l cdtjed 
 
 ./■I. 
 
 '?5L"i'!iliife^^^ 
 
 
 --•<■■■••■■■■■' As WJ ■ , 
 
 •■^^:S?S 
 
 -"■<«i. 
 
 
 *•=- t > • ,». tiili •.-•'* -^^■.■=«i:-^-9»*^' 
 
 ■•'l5": '■ '' '.:•."' ^ .^•' -'*' .r: iii^ 
 
 ^-r-^wS^^ 
 
 ESS#e.-, 
 
 -' -^tJ 
 
 
 MAMMOTH 1101 STRINCS. 
 
 pits of ancient pools, nearly as deep, the sinks of two cold-water 
 creeks, the ISIc^'artney buildings upon, and the grassy slopes and 
 craggy summits of the Sepulchre Mountain above them. 
 
 To the left the clear-cut sky-line of the White Clifls, and eroded 
 
 2pv 
 
»1 
 
 I 
 
 11 
 
 2^6 
 
 GUIDE HOOK OF THE P.tA'A'. 
 
 jjorj^c of llic Wi'^l (j.inliiicr jii>t Id llic li^lil, llic pino-clad cone of 
 JUiiison's iViik to its left, tlio yawning cnflon aiul luisaltic clifl's of the 
 Middle (lardiiK-r, ami still laillur to llif Ull tlio nearly vertical walls 
 and battlements above the dduMe (alls, anil beyond them the silvery 
 thread of the Cascades of the Mast (Jardiner, with the Mmint StejOuns 
 ranj^e in the back;,'ronnd, are a!l in clear and untlistiirbed view. 'l"o 
 the rear the tiescent is continuous and olteii terraced or precipitous 
 lor fully a mile to the Main Clanliner, and line trout-lishin^ from the 
 shelly ^eyserite roof of a subterranean river, to where its scethinj^ 
 waters, in volume sufficient for a thie mill-stream, fdled with the 
 lloatin;; vej^etation peculiar to these hot mineral streams, runs for 
 some distance beside the cold snow-fed waters of the (Jardiner before 
 commingling. 'Ihis is at the base of the nearly vertical walls of Mi>unt 
 Kvarls, (ully 2000 feet hij^h, through a spur of which is a yawning 
 water-way to the foaminj; Yellowstone near the iJear Gulch drainay;e 
 of the jfold and silver mines adjacent. (See notes 53 to 56.) 
 
 To this point ascends the roail from the railrwad below, and from 
 it radiate those up the Ettsf Ganiincr towards the forks and falls of 
 the Yellowstone, that over the Terraec Pass to the Geyser or Eire- 
 J/ole liiisins and Yelhnostotie Lake, and also a bridle path between 
 Himsen^s Peak and the Falls of the Middle Gardiner, via the Shcep- 
 Katcr cliffs to its junction with the Geyser roail jar .Swan Lake. 
 
 MIDDLE GARDINLK IJRIDLL-l'.VriL 
 
 This bridlepath rmile offers at least one day of ramble among points 
 of exceeding interest, and will be fust described. 
 
 The route selected for a future road follows that now in use for 
 hauling timber to its end ; llu'uce, via a cascade just below the im- 
 passable portion of the canon of the West Gardiner; thence, deflect- 
 ing to the left, ascends by a uniform grade along the timbered slopes 
 of IJunsen's Peak to the present bridle-path below the falls of the 
 Middle Gardiner. Along and between this route and the vertical 
 White Cliffs, among the immense masses of upturned angular rocks 
 there hurled from the cliffs, is one of the wildest thicket-hidden 
 haunts of grouse, rabbits, and hares, as well as of bear, wf)lf, and 
 wolverine, which I have ever visited, even afoot, in which way only 
 the most of it can be traversed. 
 
GUIDE- HOOK OF THE PARK, 
 
 i47 
 
 The bridle-iKitli, as now Iravi-lKvl, leaves tliis r i.kI near 
 the e(l;;e ol llit- tiinltor, ami rn»ssii\^ the deep valUy 
 of the West (i irdiner, aseondi sUaddy, sonKiiines 
 steeply, near 2cx)o feet to tlie sinninit of the ten »cc 
 lielwet-n nini".en's IVak and tin- yaw i\in;^' eantn of 
 llie Miildle (iaiiliner, three nulvs from the Head- 
 (|ii irters. 
 
 Near tliis point a trail hia/.ed throiij^h the sin:dl pines 
 anil aspens leaiis within lialf a mile to IJiitier's 
 l/)okout, on the ed;;e of a chtf ri->in;,' fully looo feet 
 (roni the winding thread of silver, ahoiu half a niilo 
 below tlu" falls. This tdiff, thouL,di at so j^ieat a dis- 
 tance and elevation from the faUs, is the host point 
 from which to obtain a <,'oo(l view of the nearly 200- 
 feet leap, and also of the terrible canon and loom- 
 iiiLj clilifs of basalt, portions of wnich are unicjuely 
 radiate or fan -shaped. 
 
 Ketuinin.Lj to the main bridlepath, and passinjj ihroui;!) 
 alternate ^(laile and ^rove for a mile, we reach the 
 brink between the falls and the Sheep-lvUer ('liir>, 
 which extend a distance of 2 miles, in one portion 
 of which they wall in a secluded lovely little haunt 
 of the Sheip-lCater Indians, and hence the name 
 and description at the time of its discovery. (See 
 paj^es 10 and il of niy report of 1S79.) . 
 
 The trail skirts these cliffs less than a mile, and then 
 ihrouj^h aspen },'roves and sed^y glades to its inter- 
 section of the Fire-IIole ro.id south of Swan Lake, 
 from which ])oint it is about 6 miles by each route 
 to the Ileadipiarters ...... 
 
 Punseu's Peak can be ascended mainly upon horse- 
 back from the terrace of great sai^c-brush from the 
 southwestern side. 
 
 In the dense thickets of small pines skirtinjf the west- 
 ern foot of this peak are the ilecayinjf remains of an 
 ancient drive way of the Sheep-lCaters, and the ruins 
 of one of their pole coverts for arrow-shooting is still 
 standing just back of the verge of the cliff, a little 
 southeasterly from the Rustic Falls. These are 
 whei'e the West (lardincr, after meandering through 
 a grassy |ilain nearly to its border, glicies some 40 or 
 50 feet down a m:)ssy rock, so smooth, so placid, 
 and so noiselessly as to present to one standing afoot 
 or upon horseback, as can easily and safely be done 
 upon its very margin of mist-nourished ferns and 
 llowers, a contrast unirpie and matchless to the suc- 
 ceeding 1500 feet of dashing, foaming descent adown 
 a ragged caiion water-way in ma<fnilude immensely 
 
 MIkx. 
 
 MilM. 
 
34$ 
 
 GUiDLliOOK OJ' JJJ/-: J'.IA'A: 
 
 too lar^'c for lli.\t imw llowiiij,' llirro, aiiil iinpassiihlc 
 fur any hut an cxpcriciicfil inoiintaiiu'er aft>«>t. 
 I'ldin tlii'st' falls (iiur may, l)y lanliil liiliii;,' iiorlli 
 trly witliiii a mile, nacli the siiiiimil ol tl>o 'i'ci • 
 race Mountain, tread the IcrriMy frailuretl vei|»e 
 of the While ClilVs, view the ant ienl ronis of ex- 
 tinct geysers, ohlain i luhanlin^ view of our valley, 
 liuildin^s, and the Mannnoih llol Spring's at our 
 feet, the snowy crests of Kleclric, Holmes's, and 
 Hell's I'eaks in tlie north and southwest, and also 
 on a fair ihiy the icy peaks of the Three Tetons, 
 niorc than ICX) miles away in the soutluTn hori/on. 
 We thence descend northwesterly ahove and then 
 tlndUj,d» the Terrace I'ass to the Ileadiinarters. This 
 trip, allhiiuj;h so interestinj,', is one of only \o or 12 
 miles in distance, a very ea-.y day's ride, and can be 
 made in much less. 
 
 ROAD TO THE GKVSER-BASINS. 
 
 From the j^uide-hoard, near the Devil's Thumb, ascend 
 the soft sinter terrace to the left, and by a windin;^ 
 way and some steej) j^rades pass above, and ovcr- 
 loi>kinj^ the blue, active Hot Sprinj^'s, and over or 
 rmnii^ the crumblini; or forest overj^rown ancient 
 cones and terraces to the summit of Terrace Pass . 
 
 Half a mile of slij^ht descent, short tuin to the left, 
 and then throu^^h an o\)cn lawn-like valUy, j;oo(l 
 waier and camps to Swan Lake on the rij,dit . 
 
 Less than a mile back, a half-inilc side trip to the left 
 and sharj^ notch at the liead of canon, a good view 
 of the Rustic Kalis, Sheep-Kater covert on the 
 cliff, and old camp of these Sheei)-Eaters in the 
 valley. 
 
 liridj^e over the Middle Gardiner . . . . 
 
 One mile above is the mouth of Indian Creek, which 
 the hostile Hannocks de .cended from the pass be- 
 tween Holmes's and Bell's I'eaks, and at their camp 
 l)clwcen the streams, just below, slaughtered a large 
 number of captured horses for food in 1878. 
 
 A hue ride of 5 miles and return will allow a g(Jod 
 A lew of Bell's I'eak, fine valleys and streams, du^ 
 110 fish. 
 
 Cross and then ascend Obsidian Creek to the bridge at 
 upper end of Willow Park, and first night's camp; 
 water plentiful, but only passable; w(;od and grass 
 abundant and excellent ...... 
 
 Opposite the lower end of some slide rock on the right 
 
 Miles. Mll«f. 
 
 2V, 
 
 V/2 
 
 VA 
 
 II 
 
(JLlDi: HOOK OF THE IWRK, 
 
 249 
 
 it. 
 
 VA 
 
 nrc two ^priiips of ifi'cnltl wnlcr, the last, except the 
 indillcliiil w.iU r nl ihe Lake ol the SVihkIh, which 
 it palat.ilile or sale Id use fur 5 iiiileH 
 
 Uii<l;;i' and loD^ causeway to Olisidian CUfTs nud 
 lU'.iM r l.^ke ,..,.... 
 
 'Ihi- );iade lielwi'cn thiui was maih- liy huilinj; dry 
 pines fioiu the cliU lur etninenee tires tofrai ture the 
 iiii^tr lilurks (>r uati\ i' j;l.iss, and then puundin^ them 
 di'wn with slcdj^es, in 1S78. 
 
 The hest of the red, yelhiw, or handed ppcciniens of 
 ohsidi.in ari- near the font of lire vertical clilf at the 
 .south end of llie j;rade. iJeaver Lake was made hy 
 these animals, whose dams and houses are still to 
 he seen at various places upon it. 
 
 'I'he naked estuary looking he.uh near the ujiper end 
 of tiiis lake is caused hy poisonous water from Crccii 
 Creek, which is to he seen at the rij^ht . 
 
 Lon^ ^rade ahove a nauseous hrinisione hasin on tlie 
 rii^ht, then a line view of Mount Holmes and Hell's 
 Peak to the iiortliwest from the (h;'in;\j;e divide of the 
 Yellowstone and Madison fork of the Missouri, then 
 n slij^ht descent to the Lake of the Woods, thus ap- 
 jiropriately named at the lime of its discovery, when 
 1 was searching' for water \\liich was not poisonous 
 for one of my men, severely injured hy the fall of 
 his hovse in a hear-lij^ht ..... 
 
 Several nauseous tire-holes to an open valley; good 
 wood, water, and camps in the Norris Valley . 
 
 IJridj^e over Noiris fork and nearest camp to the 
 Norris Cleyser 15asin ...... 
 
 Unitpiely heautilul hlue Mmerald Pool just to tlic left 
 v)f the road on the second hill .... 
 
 The j^rcat cloud of steam to the left is from the New 
 Crater, the outburst of which I witnessed, as shown 
 in my report of 1S78, which is now a powerful 
 geyser of erratic habits antl irregular ])eri()ds ttf erup- 
 tion of its column of waters, which is sometimes 
 100 feet hij^h, but usually much less At the foot 
 of the hill beyond the ^linute-Man, with regular 
 spurts of 20 or 30 feet, and 200 yards south, in the 
 foot of the hill, is the Monarch, which daily throws 
 one vertical and two diagonal columns of hot water 
 about too feet high, with riind)!iiigs which shake 
 the valley, until a creek of hot water lor a lime bars 
 all travel upon the road. 
 
 The Vixen, Constant, and many others are very interest- 
 ing, as also the finest jilateau of boiling ])ools, and 
 uniipn- porcelain-like rims to funnels to be found 
 
 Mllet. 
 
 I 
 I 
 
 Milui. 
 12 
 
 3 
 I 
 
 14 
 
 15 
 17 
 20 
 21 
 
85© 
 
 CUIDli-IiOOK OF Tin: VAKK, 
 
 in till- r.irk. I lie roml could not l>o built tlirou^'li 
 Uiu iiiiiiilli; <>r (lii<i IkihIii, nuuli of which, tow.ii'ds 
 tin- iMiilhwi'st svliiio I 111 4 ili->ci»vcic«l it iu 1X75, \y> 
 >lill uiR-x|il'<u'<|, :iiii| altliou^li tMic ol the uldcst, 
 largest, iitnl pnthatily oiicc |Hi\vcrlul in the Park, 
 liii w.iut i)f w.iiir or otiur cauir has not now as 
 111. my |io\virlul geysers as llic U|>|>fr (Jry-icr liusin. 
 
 'riiiou^ji the halancc- of this basin ujion tlu: road, nnd 
 a fliii^i" pine furisl lo a line cainp to llu; left of the 
 mouth ol the lnd)l>le-covered (ieyser C!rei'k . 
 
 This is one ot Ihu most charmingly secluded parks 
 and ramp of the mountains, and from the acccssi- 
 hiiily ol ilie rasi ades and red pulsating geysers in 
 the canon of the Norris I'ork I |i miles above, the nu- 
 iiunius l.dv»s, the m iti hie-.-. I'ainf I'ot-. and geysers 
 to ilie south, ami the Moiuinunt (iey:-.i.'r Kasin upon 
 Mount Seliur/. toihe west, must ever remain a lavoritu 
 eani|iin^-place, the only diawbaeU beinj,' the water, 
 wliuii, only palatable above, is utterly unfit for use 
 below the mouth ol" (Jeyser ('reek. 
 
 The only j^ood water attainable is in the Gilibon, 
 which is a cold, snow lei I stream iVoin Mount 
 Holmes to its cunlUience with the Norris fork, cne 
 mile above. 
 
 I'Vom this place we ran aw.ij^on.ns far as possible with 
 animals, then with men, tow.inls the famous (Jeyser 
 Coiu', now in the National Mu-ieum in Washington, 
 \sliiih was nearly twt) miles, by a circuitous route, 
 to the loot of the bluffs beyond the Taint- Pots. 
 Tlure it reipiired a bl u ksinitli freipiently sharpen- 
 iiij; tool-., a man to as-.i^i in drilling; and chiselliii}^, 
 and anotlur to cany and throw cold water upon 
 them to prevent p.irboiliiiL; in the hot steam and 
 jel» lr»)in it-, seventeen tine puNaliiii; cones or orihces 
 lor ne.uiy a week, and then twenty men to carry it 
 amid the boltonde^s boilinj; chaldrons to thewajjon, 
 and thence it was conveyed safely lo Washington, 
 .ilihou.nh wci^hin^ nearly half a ton. 
 
 \ bridle-path extends from the end of this road 
 
 'uoui^h the eartlKpiake shakes and fallen timber — 
 
 II mile-> in all — lo Willow Creek Camp, upon the 
 
 llast I'ire-llole River; but it is unsafe to altempt lo 
 
 tollow it withuui a j;uide. 
 
 In a hor>eshoe bend of the (libbon, near the lower 
 emi of this ]>.uk, we fortified our camp, while I 
 exploreil the country, and we opened our road 
 throuj;h the canon of the Gibbon during the iJan- 
 nocU raid of 1S7S. 
 
 Mile*. 
 
 MIIm. 
 
 24 
 
 * 
 
O'l/n/: /iOOA' OF THE r.\KK\ 
 
 IM 
 
 I<'i)i)( liri(l(;e over ihc Oililton at llic lifad of llu- 
 L.llVlll 
 
 Ascent iif Muiiiit Schiiiv. to tlio niatiliK'Hs cones nu<l 
 cliiuinin^' view iVoiu the Moiiuiiiciil (JryHcr \\.\s\\\ 
 niid river, eai h 1-2. 
 
 Two 'jrx-tnin^H of llie (iil)li( li in it<«(iranil CiHon, aniiil 
 linivy l)oilin^' pools, and thence tliiotij4li u|ien pine 
 j;roves upon llu; plateau Intween the aniiiut chan- 
 nel of the (iil>l)on on the Kit, and its inodcin canon 
 lorn thron^h the spur of a mountain to the ri^^hi 
 to its Solid lalli, many hundnds of lett lulow 
 the road ........ 
 
 Uniform descent to the old channel of the (iihiion at 
 C'.ifton Creek . 
 
 Good water and fuel, hut the only cnnip for miles is 
 one half mile up the creek hefore crossing, wheic 
 Wood and water are line and abundant, hut j^rass 
 inferior in (piatity, j^round I'oj^^y, and uns.ile lor 
 picket-pins. 
 
 Xmw^ ^rade, then open pine proves and hurneil tract 
 to the Martlxpiake ( litis ..... 
 
 The old road of 1S7S passes below these clifVs to the 
 Madison Canon route. 
 
 Dry, open route to the intersection with tlic old Madi- 
 son Carton road, and thence to Lookout Terrace, 
 where we j^et the liisl view of the steam-cloud-, 
 from the ICxcelsior and other ;^eysers of the I'ire- 
 Hole Valley, stietcliin;; away tu the hhu.- foot hills 
 of the main Kocky M<junlaiiis just beyond the Up- 
 per Ifasin ........ 
 
 Easy descent and fine road beside the broad grassy 
 channel of the Mailison ; always full and stldmn 
 overllowed to lis he. id at I he cotillucnce, or, as 
 called, Forks of the I'ire-llole Kiver; and thence 
 fo Prospect Point at the crosNin^ of the Kast I'ork . 
 
 Near this j)oint are now some rude government build- 
 ings, and from it roads diverge as follows : 
 
 Mllm. 
 
 n;iic». 
 
 25 
 
 }i 
 
 
 2;; 
 
 .{•! 
 
 34 
 
 .^7 
 
 DILLON, ON THE NDKTIIKRN UTAH RAIL- 
 ROAD, VIA in.NRVS LAKK AND VI R 
 CINIA CITY, OR RKVLRSINC; TDK ROU'IK. 
 
 Dillon to Virginia City, daily coach .... 
 
 Henry's Lake, iiire<l conveyance, good li-.hing and 
 camp ......... 
 
 Riversitlc, within the Park, good fishing and camp . 
 
 60 
 22 
 
 I 147 
 
I f^ 
 
 252 
 
 GUIDE-BOOK OF TJ/F. P.lh'A'. 
 
 Lookout Cliffs anil lovely view of mountains and val- 
 leys ......... 
 
 MnisI all's Hotel, near tlic forks of the Fire-IIoles . 
 
 Kxeellent fords of both fork>. to I'rospeit Point 
 
 The route of 60 or 70 miles from Henry's Lake down 
 its fork to Camas, or to lieaver Cafion, on the 
 Norlliern Utah Railroad, is an old and natural one, 
 but no inhabitants and little travelled. 
 
 OLD MADISON CANON ROAD. 
 
 Prospect Point to the mouth of the Gibbon, good camp 
 
 and fl^hing ........ 
 
 Five fords of the Mailisoii in its canon, good camp 
 
 and fishing ........ 
 
 Down the river to Riverside, good camp and fishing 
 From this point there is a somewliat shorter, newer, 
 
 and n)Ugher route down the Madison canons to 
 
 Virginia City. 
 
 QUEEN'S LAUNDRY ROAD. 
 
 This was opened and our camp made at the foot of the 
 Northern Cliffs to the Geyser Meadows, from which, 
 by a steep bridle-path, we reached our line of road, 
 while constructing it amid the old snow-tields on the 
 Madison Plateau to the Lookout Cliffs, late in Julv, 
 1880. 
 
 It was while thus engaged that, during a Sabl)ath's 
 rest and bathing recreation, some of the boys crossed 
 from our camp to the attractive bordered pools 
 below this great boiling fciuitain, and in one 
 cool enough for bathing discovered its matchless 
 cleansing proi)erties, and from the long lines of 
 bright-colored clothing soon seen drying ujion the 
 adjacent stumps and branches, while their owners 
 were gambolling like dolphins in the pools, the en- 
 vious cooks and other camp attaches dubbed it the 
 Laundry, with a variety of prefixes, of which that 
 which I deemed the most appropriate adheres, and 
 hence the name Queen's Laundry .... 
 
 Thus from Prospect Point it is a six-, and from ^L^r- 
 shnll's Hotel fcnir-mile trip, through lovely groves and 
 glades, and amid unique geyser and other hot-sj)ring 
 cones to visit and, by a bath-house which 1 con- 
 structed in 1881, or lioi)efully a better one, test for 
 themselves the velvety feel and cleansing properties 
 of these waters. 
 
 Miles. ! Miles. 
 
 4 
 8 
 1 
 
 6 
 
 
 lo 
 
 16 
 '9 
 
GUI DE-BOOK OF Tllli PARK. 
 
 -'SI 
 
 los. 
 
 i9 
 
 )0 
 
 A ro^id from this sprlnrr tlimii^h lovely parks and 
 j^rovi's I'ia the accessible Twin IJultes, as near tiie 
 2O0-reel Fairy Falls as the i)o<^s bdovv it will allow, 
 and thence to the Midway (leyser JJasin, so thai 
 lonrists niij^ht ji[o one route and return the other in a 
 visit to the Upper Geyser i5asin, is one of the routes 
 ]ilanned and blazed out, but not completed, before 
 my leaving the Park. 
 
 GEYSER VALLEY ROAD. 
 
 DurinjT the summer and early autumn this road is 
 usually, lhouL,di portions of it not always, a good (.ne. 
 
 It will be remend)ered thai from the Headquarters to 
 I'rospcct Point is ...... , 
 
 Thence to old Camp Reunion, near the butte to the 
 left, jhort ........ 
 
 It was here that a portion of the Ilayden expedition 
 of 1878, under Ganniit and Holmes, and some of 
 Wilson's soon after, set n*"o()t by the hostile Han- 
 nocks near Henry's Lake, and my own party, after 
 many weeks of travelling from different directions, 
 first ijiet white men, and rudely fortified a camp for 
 concentration while variously engaged in explora- 
 tion, geological research, and construction of our 
 road up the main Fire-Hole River. 
 
 White sinter in the Lower Geyser Basin to a laminated 
 plateau on the left, where are several interesting 
 pools and geysers, the most regular and best known 
 of which is the Fountain ..... 
 
 Plain of white sinter, or geyserite, a creek and several 
 rivulets of hf)t water, then to the riglit of the main 
 road is the rocky ford of the Fire-Hole River, just 
 below the Excelsior Geyser, where its deluge o{ 
 seething water, cloud of scalding steam, or shower of 
 hot rocks do not jirevent its use .... 
 
 On page 58 of my report of 1 88 1 is a sketcli by Hay- 
 den, in 1 87 1, of this geyser before it was known to 
 be one, but frequently called " Hill's Half-Acre," 
 and on page 62 a sketch by myself in 1881, after one 
 '.eason's eruptions, and a reliaide narrative of all 
 then known of it, from wdiich I ])riefly quote in 
 substance that its first known eruption somewhat re- 
 tarded the return of our wagon in 1878, its constantly 
 increasing agitation and discharge of hot water 
 until its commencement of eruptions in February, 
 18S1, as a daily geyser, and after various Kpasmodic 
 changes " seems to be settling down to business as 
 
 22 
 
 Miles. 
 
 Milu. 
 
 37 
 -,8 
 
 39 
 
 41 
 
I 
 
 254 
 
 Clini'.-liOOk' OF THE PARK. 
 
 Miles I Miles. 
 
 a rotTiihir two- or tlnrL'-Iioiir iiitcrmiltciit ycyser, but 
 so inniu'iist'ly cxcollinj,' any oilier iiiKiciil or modi'rii 
 known to history that I find but one name litlinj,', 
 and Irmkc clirislcn it the Kxcelsior until scientists, 
 if able, shall invent one more appropriate. " The 
 crater of this vt)lcanii; {geyser has been immensely 
 increased, the timl)er alon^ the river for some dis- 
 tance below it killeil, the ford and the camp oppo- 
 site rendered unsafe, and the cloud-capped pillar of 
 vapor arisinj^ theretVom, even when not in eruption, 
 become so j^reat and peculiar as to have been a clear- 
 cut and umnistakable landmaik from nearly every 
 mountain-peak in all my explorations of the entire 
 Sierra Shoshone, and portions of the Yellowstone, 
 Madison, and Rocky Mtnintain Ran_Ljcs duriiiij; icSSl. 
 There is a j^reat scalIo|)-bordered pool or lakelet of 
 deep-blue hot water on a self-formed plateau just 
 al)ove, and other.-- about tlie Excelsior, the steaming, 
 foaminj^ hot-water outlets of which are bordered by 
 brioluly tinted, jiearly formations tot) delicately beau- 
 tiful for pencil to i)aint or pen portray. 
 
 The main road to the end of the river, and that across 
 the Geyser plateau, unite after the latter has, by a 
 rapid rocky ford, crossed the river and passed 
 through a group of interesting ancient pools and 
 spasmodic salses ....... I 42 
 
 The road thence winds along the low foot-hills, sandy 
 terraces, and marshymeadows of the Firc-IIole River 
 to a 'ocky ford between the Fan and Riverside Gey- 
 sers, and thence, as shown upon the map of the Upper 
 Geyser Basin, to Old Faithful, the most reliable of 
 all known geysers, at the head of the basin, which 
 our wagon, the first that ever made a track up the 
 main Fire-IIoIe Valley, reached on tiie 29th day of 
 August, 1878 5 47 
 
 As this map shows the relative location and the table 
 of g-^sers, — the character of the eruptions of the 
 most prominent of them, — I will here only insert an 
 iliustiation of the Uee-Hive Geyser in erujition, 
 and cpiote pages 20 and 21 of my report of 1880 as 
 descriptive of the usual phenomena of geysers. 
 
 SPOUTING OR INTKRMrrTENT GEYSERS. 
 
 Without attempting to decide a mooted question among savants as 
 to the true origin of these prominent wonders of the Park, I venture 
 to state that succcsive years of careful observation tend toward the 
 
as 
 lire 
 Lhe 
 
 1- 
 
^L^SB- 
 
 256 
 
 GUIDE- nook' OF 'I HE EARh'. 
 
 tlieory that, like jnilsntiiij; geysers, salse.>i, ruinerolcs, and most of 
 iIk' other kinds of liot springs, they are primarily escape-vents for the 
 earth's pent-up internal (ires. In these vents the chemitnl action of 
 escaping gas and liiL;h-prcssine steam produced by contact of this 
 escaping gas-heal with the i)crnK'ating surface-water, hy dissolving 
 llie wail-rock increases the heat and enlarges the uriticc of these 
 small, tortuous, and otherwise cooling fissure-vents. 
 
 Slow, l)ul sure and constant, change attends them all, and many, 
 though probably not all of them, at the proper stage become true in- 
 termittent spouting geysers. This can occur only when the orifice is 
 so nicely adjusted in height, size, and form to the power of the es- 
 caping steam and gas in the self-formed chand)er beneath, that the 
 })ressure of accumulating water for a time nearly or quite prevents 
 its escape except through sympathetic fumea)lcs or natural safety- 
 valves. 13ut the constantly-increasing force fiom beneath ultimately 
 overpowers the pressure of the water, when, after more or less sub- 
 terranean rumbling, earth trembling, and sundry kinds of bubbling, 
 gurgling, and splulteri-'ig, the aqueous monster seems fairly aroused, 
 and then occurs the grand eruption. This is usually through one, 
 but occasionally through several circular or oblong vents, cones, or 
 craters, with diverse kinds of throttlings and pulsations in the differ- 
 ent geysers, each having its own peculiarities in color and size and 
 in the shape of the orifices, as also in the height, power, and direc- 
 tion of the column or colunuis of water and the length of the periods 
 of eruption and of repose ; and even these, as above stated, are 
 doubtless slowly changing. 
 
 While the foregoing theory seemingly accounts for the usual mani- 
 festations of geyser eruptions, still the rending of huge geyser cones 
 and the hurling of tons of rock, as have occurred at the Giant and 
 New Crater Geysers and elsewhere, seem to indicate ai: occasional 
 outburst of some greater power. Explosions of superheated steam 
 or of gas, misplacement of the safety-valve upon escape-vents of in- 
 ternal fires, infernal regions, or other places of pent-up jiower rre 
 occasionally suggested by phenomena otherwise inexplicable. 
 
 To the Upper, Lower, aiul Midway Geyser Basins upon the Fire- 
 Ilole Rivers, and others less important u[)on the shores of the Yel- 
 lowstone, Heart, and Shoshone Lakes, early discovered l)y others, 
 my own explorations liave added the Monument, the Norris, and the 
 Paint-Pool Basins upon the Gibbon or its branches, the Safely- Valve 
 
't^- 
 
 •'^. 
 
 
 ,,,;,^^^--^;;;-;---H:ri:v 
 
 .',C -r '-. irrWeSs 
 
 BEE-HIVK GKYSER. 
 
■lism 
 
 2.;8 
 
 GUIDE'liOOK OF THE PAKK. 
 
 ill llic Grand Canon of the Yellowstone, and several others, less im- 
 portant, in other portions of the TarU, which is now so well explored 
 that there seems little prohahilily of additional Imsins of importance 
 heing hereafter discovered. SliU, as my own exi)lorations have 
 maiidy been made in connection with the evei-iir^ent duties of ex- 
 ploring or opening roads or trail routes, and the scienlitic explorers 
 of the Park have labored under many and grave disadvantages 
 during brief periods of summer only, amid hostile Indians, doubtless 
 interesting isolated geysers, or perhaps small groups of them, may yet 
 be discovered. In fact, so little, comparatively, is yet known of the 
 number, size, and peculiarities of the various geysers or other s|)rings 
 of these regions that I deem it one of the most inviting fields for 
 further scientific investigation. 
 
 ERUPTIONS OF SPOUTING GEVSERS. 
 
 Although, as above shown, each class of geysers ha?: its own 
 peculiarities and ajiproximatcly regular periods of eruption, yet of 
 Old Faithful, which alone of all the large geysers has no fumerole, 
 escape-vents, or sympathetic geyser, and a few others with small 
 ones are they as yet known, and hence until a more careful and con- 
 tinuous observance of them I view any table of erujitions more as 
 an indication when to look for, rather than when to rely upon seeing 
 a full eruption, notably from those having long jieriods of repose, 
 sympathetic geysers, or even nature's safety-valves, — fumenjles. 
 
GUIDE-JWOK OF THE PARK. 
 
 259 
 
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 CUIDF. BOOK 01' THE PARK, 
 
 I-favin^ iho bridle-path to Shoshono aixl ^^•lI()\vstolle 
 Lakes for the present, we letuiii to rinspcil r«)int. . 
 
 ROAD TO THE vr.riowsToxi: lake and 
 
 lAI.l.S. 
 
 This passes throii;,'h the old war-path fj;ap jiist south 
 of I'rospect I'oiiit, in a mile pass where llie tourist 
 Cowan and family were captured hy the Ne/-I'erecs 
 in 1X77, then in the open valley of the East l''ire- 
 Ilole Kiver, and over several j;ood fords to KoeUy 
 Fork, frinj^cd hy willows, hut fuic water, grass, fuel, 
 and eam]\ hut no lish ...... 
 
 Open valley pa>t the dangerous trail to (lihhon Mead- 
 ows to our old camp tt) the left on Willow Creek . 
 
 A wild mountain route, which I often took up this 
 stream, and lluouj^h a tind)ered pass alive with },Mme 
 to the I'ire-liole on Alum Creek, beyond the moun- 
 tain, before grading' the road up its face; should not 
 be attempted by any but a j^'ood mountaiiieer or 
 accompanied by a reliable j^ui<lc. Cross a marsh, 
 and then mean<ler, steadily risinj^f to the loiij^ but 
 excellent ^ra<le up the face of ihe mountain, and 
 thence alon^ an ancient dry canon outlet of Mary's 
 Lake to its iine beach and clear but brackish waters. 
 No fish and poor cain|) ...... 
 
 In the open pines of the summit, just east of this lake, 
 is the remains of Chief Jo>-eph's corral in I.S77. 
 
 Down amidst the foamin^f sprinj,'s,scratchinj^ fumeroles, 
 and scorching brimstone-pits of the Alum Creek 
 Eire-Hole IJasin we descend to a sheltered grassy 
 ^•anip on a small branch enterinjj; fmm the right. 
 Tepid water, but ilne fuel, grass, and sheltered 
 cam]) ......... 
 
 The oft-repeated and published assertion that there 
 are no fish \\\>v>\\ this route between tlie Mammoth Hot 
 Springs and the Yellowstone River is somewhat in- 
 correct, as they are sjiarsely found at some seasons 
 of the year in the lower Gibbon and head of the 
 Madison ; and in the branch above this camp and 
 others east of it there are .abundance of game trout 
 just above where they join the sour hot waters of 
 Alum Creek, which would pucker a persimmon or 
 scald a Nevada lizard. 1 do not attempt to ac- 
 count for the presence (jf these trout here, or their 
 absence in waters a|)])arently more favorable for 
 them to reach or inhabit, as I am not advancing 
 
 Milcn.! Miltt 
 
 10 
 
 57 
 
 62 
 64 
 
 08 
 
 71 
 
GUIDE-BOOK OF THE PARK'. 
 
 t6i 
 
 theories, Ijiit recording facts for the guidance of 
 oilicrs. 
 
 From this camptlie road cros es cnclianting pine- \\\\<\ 
 haisaiulioniiTLMl parks, winds lliioii;;!! a iL-^iou of 
 crodctl and slid eroding hnlu-s, and tlicn nialics 
 nearly a direct stretch over the treeless valley t)f 
 Sage Creek to the old trail near the Yellowstone 
 River ......... 
 
 Here the road forks, and taking that to the right, we 
 find a good road along the opi-n terraces of the en- 
 chanting V'ellowstone, desceml a steep grade near 
 a rocky rapid, and among the nunuMous lnd)l)ling, 
 spluttering pools of the famous Mud Volcanoes to 
 the open valley near the corral of Chief Joseph. To 
 the left fine camp ....... 
 
 A little farther to tlie left, on the eastern ninrgin of the 
 main Mud Volcano, is what vandals have .<pared of 
 the nulely-constructed defences of this chieftain's 
 head(|uarlcrs while his people were crossing at the 
 best lord up(jn the entire Yellowstone River below 
 the lake. 
 
 This is at an island half a tnile above, and should 
 not be attempted without a guide ; but trout, large, 
 hands(mie, and gamy, without number, and, from tlie 
 countless long white worms with which they are in- 
 fested, wiUiout value, unless to persons as hungry as 
 we have sometimes become, when they prove neither 
 unpalatable »)r unwholesome. 
 
 At some rude stone heaps beyond and to the right is 
 the camp of General Miles after his Clark's fork 
 defeat of the Bannocks in 187S, and a winding road 
 tiuH)Ugh lovely groves and grassy lawns, and skirt- 
 ing the truly " Peerless Lovely River," we descend 
 ■n slope to a grove and matchless camp at the foot of 
 the mystic Yellowstone Lake . . . . . 
 
 From this camp or the long sand-spit below it I have 
 often crossed the river with a raft, swimming the 
 horses, to the trail to Concretion Cove, which starts 
 out from the beach nearly a half-mile up and 
 through the dense timber to the muddy fords of 
 the I'elican, is a difficult trail to follow. 
 
 As it may be desirable for many parties to divide at 
 the Upper Geyser liasin, and while one outfit pro- 
 ceeds with wagons along the road we have just 
 traversed to the end of it, at the lovely camp and 
 site for a IkjIcI and steamboat-landing at Topjiin's 
 I'oint, just above, the other, with saddle- and pack- 
 train, come by the mountain trail, which we now re- 
 
 Mile*. MilM. 
 
 7S 
 
 80 
 
 86 
 
II 
 
 i: 
 
 ! ■ 
 
 2O2 
 
 C VIDE- HOOK 01' Tilt r.lKK. 
 
 iiirii to traic. It will be rcuii'mlfiii'd tli.it from the 
 Maiiiiitotli Hot Siiriiij,'H to the Uj»iK;r lii-yscr in callcil 
 in litilcH 
 
 Thin i.s nuich less ihitn cHtimatcil l>y u> when constriKt- 
 iiij^ or l>y othciH in tr.\vi'i>iii^' it; iu)il alihoii;;li tlu' 
 ri'sulls i\\\' similiir in the lulnnicler nuMsuifnunls of 
 C!.i|itain Slanton imd Lieutenant Steever, uiuler the 
 oniiTs of ( H-iKT.il ShiTKlan, in 1.S71, lliroiij^liout the 
 I'aiU, still, as luinj; the only senililanee ol lueasure- 
 nients ever tn:\(le of our r»)ails, I adopt them, not as 
 positively, lail as ap|ii osiniately eorrect. 
 
 I'Voin Old l-'aitldul we take the hriillepatli through a 
 tine open pine fonst aeross a roiky ford «)! the Kire- 
 llole River, old (leyser llasin, alon^f the steep elilfs 
 and .some hoj^'^'y rivulets upon il, to the ma;;nilieent 
 cascades which, from the intrepid twelveyear-old 
 son ol" (jovernor lloyt, ol Wyoming, who inilhnch- 
 in;,dy shared in all the hardships, j)riv .lions, and 
 danj^ers of the explorations of his f.i r and the 
 lanuntt'd Colonel M.ison in iSSi, in uhieli they 
 ])a.ssed them, 1 fell juslilied in calling Kipler's Cas- 
 cades. 'I'hey possess wild romantic interest, well 
 Worthy of a trip Iron) the Upper (Jeyser Uasin hy 
 those who return from there ..... 
 
 Thence the trail winds throuj^h a rolling limbered 
 rej;ion and a valley skirtinj.,' the nearly vertical walls 
 of the continental divide to a sharp turn to the ri;;ht 
 and slight ascent in a narrow rocky canon and the 
 boL'i.'V. swaniD-bordered summit iiond or marsh, 
 
 'K^y. 
 
 Milci. 
 
 within 2 miles, cuts directly through the Rocky 
 Mountains, and without warning reaches the brow 
 of the cliff overlooking the l)e Lacy fount. uiiheail 
 of that branch of the Snake River fork of the Co- 
 hnnbia R.iver . ....... 
 
 This Is the low, direct, ami short but muddy Norris 
 I'ass, thus named by the famous scout and guide, 
 Yellowstone Kelly, upon its discovery by myself, 
 after fruitless search by himself and others for any 
 pass in that vicinity. The descent of 400 or 500 
 feet is steep, even for pack-animals, but neither 
 rocky nor boggy to the l)e Lacey camp, in one of 
 the most seclmlcd and charming parks in the moun- 
 tains ......... 
 
 A lovely side ride 2 miles to the deep snow-fed wafers 
 of the Shoslione Lake, with its beach glistening 
 with shiny particles of obsidian, but no fish, nor is 
 there any in Lewis Lake, 4 miles below; while 
 Heart Lake, 7 miles beyond, and many other adja- 
 
 Mile*. 
 
 47 
 
 49 
 
 55 
 
 56 
 
CVIDE'IWOK OF THE rANK. 
 
 Im. 
 
 2(il 
 
 I't'nl l.'ikcH nnd pdiuls, sci'inin^jly no diflj'ii'nt ».Tviiij» 
 luij^jiriir sliiii'S, iiri' litciilly tillfl w itii lluiu nf dil'- 
 friiiit v.niciii^. Many (if llu- )'>im}; |iiiuH iiiinni^; 
 thoNC stDiiii -strewn in this region aio ildMcil or liter- 
 ally ciiviMX'il uilli iiniiiui' f'Ulj^y kimts, wliii h wlifii 
 cut mill pL'rIrtI ill siininitr furni (inr walking cane 
 souvenirs. The Hiinuwhal interesting,' jjeyser-ltasins 
 at the hrafi of this lake aie too n nmte ami inacccH- 
 sihio to justify a vi-.il liy any hut scii-ntisis. 
 
 Hy steep winding, hut neidier nniddy nor procipitous 
 ascent tlnnu^^h a pine inr'-st aj^ain hrir)(,'s us tn the 
 Mnnmit of the Kmky Nhiuntains at 'I'wo Ocean ! 
 I'ond ......... I 
 
 From (Hie or luo idtky puinls ahove the tiniher n j 
 chaniiin;^ view may he had oi'llie Vellowsiutie Lake, I 
 sleeping; in niatihless heauty at i>»ir feet, with the | 
 cverj4ieeii-clad tenaied siiles and siiowy suniinils i 
 of tlie Sierra SlK^hune Kan^'e tdWeriiij; .miid the 
 clouds heyond. 'ihe deseenl is windinj,', sleej), ami 
 h)j^-ol)strui. ted to tlu' lii)t-spriii^' camp at the western 
 end (if the (ireat 'ihunih of Vellowstime Lake . , 
 
 I'ur an ex|)Ianati(iii of the name of this ami other por- 
 tions of this famous lake, as well as of its • "culiar | 
 contour, reference is made to imte 32; an. I for a ! 
 hrief statement as to the catching; and hioilin;^ of the 
 hirj^c, wormy trout alony this gcyseritc hcach, see 
 note 36. 
 
 This hot-spring' l)each is the point from which t<i make 
 the side trip to M"iint Siieridan aiicl Heart Lake 
 U]ioii the I'acilic draiiui;;e, through dense and often 
 tangled or fallen i)ines and parks, hut without a 
 _veslij,'e of a iiKiuiilaiii on the coiilineiital divide, 
 which is here the levellest stretch of land in the 
 region, and one of the least elevated. 
 
 Distance to Mount Sheridan (unless ihal dashiii;^r oflicer 
 opened a route last summer) anywhere from 10 to 20 
 miles; time, 2 days; outlit, tstrooi i/iiinry, — a full 
 supply of lou^h clothings and sfdiic/i fortitude to pre- 
 vent wear ami tear of llesh, and also of conscience, 
 for imprecations at the pines, the packers, the saddle- 
 and pack-animals, and ahove all the person who ad- 
 vised makinj^ this side trij). A renewal of this outlit 
 will he necessary ft>r those rclurniii}^' rvV? the Upper 
 Yellowstone, Tw()-(\ean I'ass, and Wind River 
 route, that of the Stinking-Water, or even the eastern 
 shore of the Yellowstone Lake to its foot. 
 
 From the li shim,'- camp our i)ridle-path or trail traverses 
 a lire-hole h.isin, cro.sses a hii;h hlutl, and reaches a 
 
 Mllv». ' Mllcx. 
 
 yA S9'4 
 
 C2>^ 
 
 ' 
 
^ 
 
 364 
 
 cr/nK-nooK o/' rm: vark. 
 
 liot crtH'k ninl poor onmp in :i forest f do ilcnsc for 
 safi'ty ill |)ii ki'liii^; lior^-i"* . . . . . 
 
 Uoii;{li I'litilc lliiiiii^'li annoying falloii tiiiil>er 5 niili'H, 
 >liai|i tiim I ( ilu- Itft, aiid limn a IimM riil^r,. (In- lii^i 
 (iiiil l)v.si vii'W ol tlif arch ol llic Naliiial IJii<I;,'l' i>^ 
 had \\\ \\ ili*<laiu!c ol fully a iiiiU' Morlluvcstcrly, which 
 Ave riMcli l>y wiiKliii;,' to the left over u warni-sprinj; 
 iicck .iiiil |>(»-.>il)lc camp. 
 
 Thoii^^h not one of llic Icailinj^ points of attraction, it 
 is ihi; Iii'nI near il, and a miIisi iniial, naimil roadway 
 over a Miiall stream, ovi-r which a ^'rc.il ^,'ainc trad 
 passed, and I shot a line ^mI/zIv in amhiisli ainoiij^r 
 the fallen tiinlier at its wcNtern alailim nl at my lir-l 
 visit, wliiih was ilttiie; hiil the accurate deseriplion 
 of the hriilj^e to he found on paj^es 22 and 2j ol my 
 rcpiirl of iSSo is too lon^ for copyin;» here 
 
 Koinantic tide throii;,di proves ami parks to the foot ol 
 the lake ........ 
 
 DcMriplioii of the trails beyond the lake and river will 
 he deferred. 
 
 KOAl) TO THE YKM.OW.STONE F.M.LS. 
 
 Retrace our route to the cro-.Mn^ of Sa;^'e ("reek (at the 
 lake. S(.) ' . 
 
 Deep valley and rounded, f^rassy liilU to the Sulphur 
 Mountain, which is uni<|uely interotinj^, hut soon 
 seen, and from sulphur luines and poison water a 
 jioor camp ........ 
 
 Fine road over a treeless plain to Allen Creek . 
 
 The hroad, hare estuiry appearance of the borders of 
 
 this stream is due to the sour mineral properties of 
 
 its waters below, where they are hot, similar to which 
 
 is Sour Creek, which enters the Yellowstone nearly 
 
 opposite. 
 
 Crossim; a treeless terrace, a lon;^ dugway in the side 
 of a mountain, and skirtinj; the broad, placid waters 
 of the river to the cove near the rai)iils, one-fourth 
 
 MilM. 
 
 6, 
 
 )f a mile above the U|>per Falls 
 
 This is the present end of the road from this direclion, 
 there bein^ a ;,'a]) of 16 miles by one bricUe-palli 
 and iS by the other to Tower I'alls, where the road 
 from the Mammoth Hot Spriu'^s n<nv terminates. Ii 
 is at this camp that, breast-hi_L(h upon a pine-tn-e 
 about 20 iiuhes in diameter, are still lej^ible upon 
 the bark, "J. (). K., Auj^. 29, iSk)," which is tlie 
 oldest record by white man of which I have any 
 knowdetlLje in the I'ark. Upon the banks of the 
 
 Milei. 
 
 5 
 
 / .1 
 
 
 9^ 
 
 97 
 
 100 
 
ar/Di: nooh' of the r.iNK, 
 
 265 
 
 creek, with n Itnail niDiilh, ahntit a milr ahuvc tlii>, 
 arc tliu u|(| l)i.ii)i|s ul llie' >l;ui^lili'ir<| tuiiri^t\ I aiii|i 
 firi' ii'fcni'd Im ill llu- piuin " i.oncly (ileii" nii<l 
 linti' tlutrtu. 
 
 'I'lu' liiuad, iramiuii livrr litTc rapiilly cunvcrj^i's, a^ 
 it-* riiirtiit iiH'ic i«.i's, til ilu' iiaiiii\vi.'>>t jinirl ii|)(iii 
 llic river IilIow the laki', uliiili is mmiiI 70 k-ct, 
 wluTi" till' aliiilimiils of ii hriil^^o an* r<>iniiniui'ii 
 over llic fiianiiii^' lajiiiU at tlu' lu'ail of llio r|i|" •" 
 l''.ilU. 'riitxi', ill a li.ill-iascailr Ii-ap of aliuiii tin- 
 sanu! as tlu: Kalis df Ni.i^ara, reai li the aj^aiii limad 
 clianiicl, so shallow ami uli'liii^' ill it, at tlic innpir 
 sta^c of watti at least, Vi-llowstoiu' Kelly and my 
 sell have fonled ii ii|ioii liorsehaek jii^t ahove the 
 inoiilh of the ( 'as( ade '.'lecU. (See iiolt- 71.) 
 
 NVithin the distaiue of almiit one mile from the eamp, 
 ill the cove al)ove the main rapids, we skirt them io 
 ihe l/p|)cr I'iills upon the liridj^e, as ilhistraltd, 
 ncross the Cascade Creek (sec note Si) and falls, 
 and reach the eamp at tin- head of the trail (not 
 hridle path) to the (Ireal I'alls of the Yellowstone . 
 
 Descent to the head of the falls 5(xi feet, where on the 
 pole-railed slulf amid the nii«-t the nearly 400 feet 
 of clear leaj), the narrow thread of foaming water, 
 and the hrij^hllytinled walls of mij^hly eroded 
 cnAon are he^ide, heneath, or before you, and to 
 the ri},dit, opposite, and above, at my favorite camp, 
 when able to cross the river above to reach ii, is far 
 the fniest location for a future hotel to be found in 
 the vicinity. 
 
 From the camp above the (Ireat I'alls one bridle-path 
 follows the ver^'c of the (Jrand Canon to the ri{;hl, 
 another through the open sa<;e-brush plateau to 
 s(»me line camps within a mile on Spring Creek and 
 to the left. 
 
 THE MOUNT WASIIl^URN r.RlDLK-rATII. 
 
 Open, grassy ridj^'e, and descent lo a lar^'c and lino 
 camp on < Cascade Creek aliovc its canon. (See notes 
 68 and 69.) 
 
 OjK'n, occasionally bojjgy valley, then skirt Dun 
 Raven's Peak to the 'eft, and the main peak of 
 Mount Washburn upon the rij^ht, to a j^rassy plateau, 
 from which an easv and safe ascent of kss than one 
 mile brinj^s us to the oval summit . . . . 
 
 Lonjr j^rassy slope to forks of the trails 
 
 Rolling open liills i mile, then continuous descent to 
 camp at Tower Creek above the falls . , 
 
 M 
 
 Mile 
 
 Milut. 
 
 7 
 4 
 
 101 
 
 9 
 IS 
 
 2j 
 
266 
 
 GUIDEBOOK OF THE PARK. 
 
 *( 
 
 I 
 
 ORANI) CANON ISRIDLK-I'ATII. 
 
 Skirting the hriiik of flic Oraiid Cnfion fnun tlio cainp 
 al)t)vc tlie lie, 1(1 of tilt; (ircat Falls of the Vcllaw- 
 stone to Lookout I'oinl ...... 
 
 This rudely railed rocky cliff directly fronting; the 
 (lieat Tails, and loc^ feel nearly vertically above the 
 foaming rapids in the (!rand Canon below them, is 
 far the best ])oint for an unobstructed view of them 
 all, than wdiich few places earthly combine as nuicli 
 of the uni(iiie, the beautiful, and the grand. 
 
 The two notches vibservable in the brink of tiic Great 
 Fall were first noticed in the spring of i88i, when 
 a heavy slide of rocks at the cleft of Spring Creek, 
 ]iast the Red I'innacles, where the famous artist 
 I'ierstadl took one of his sketches of the Great I'alls 
 tlie same season, also destroyed the route of descent 
 to the foot of the falls. (See note 70.) 
 
 Upon the opposite side of tlie (liand Canon, a mile or 
 so below 1-ookout Point, is the shelf of rock from 
 which the great artist Moran made one of the 
 sketches for his lanious painting of the Falls of the 
 Yellowstone, now in tln' ujiiier anteroom to the 
 Senate cham])cr in Washington. 15elow this point, 
 upon that side (jf the canon is the Sliding Cascade, 
 1400 feet high, nearly opposite to which the bridle- 
 path leaves the canon for the meadow camp, which 
 is good, but pour water ..... 
 
 PAINTED CLIFF BRIDLF-PATII. 
 
 From the lower end of th.e meadow to the right, I 
 
 • mile thi",)Ugli open pine forests, anolhcr steep descent 
 to the small but beautiful Safety-Valve Ueyser, and 
 anocher constant descent through an ancient tire- 
 hole brings us to good trout and trout-fisliing at the 
 iini(|uely beautiful Painted Cliffs, nearly 2000 ver- 
 tical feet below our meadow camp, and the only 
 place where a trail reaches the river between the 
 Great Falls of the Yellowstone and those of Tower 
 Creek. 
 
 Open, sometimes boggy, meadow, pine forest, Fire- 
 Ilole liasin, with a black-mud geyser on the left, to 
 the charming secluded camp of Glade Creek . 
 
 Long and, in portions, rocky ascent to the summit of 
 Rowland's I'ass of the upper sjiur of Mount Wash- 
 burn, for a description of which, and its discovery, 
 reference is made to the iiuic to " In Cabin, Camp, 
 or Council. ' C^ce note 87.) .... 
 
 Miles. ' Miles, 
 
 10; 
 
 105 
 
 108 
 
 2>2l "0>^ 
 
 i '\. 
 
GUIDE-BOOK OF THE PARK. 
 
 267 
 
 [ilvs. 
 
 o; 
 
 05 
 
 08 
 
 \o% 
 
 From the hnishy siininiit of this pass there is a fine 
 lookout a lew roils to the ri^'lit, and within lialf a 
 mile l)eyon(l anotiier, commanding' a fair view of ihc 
 yawnini; (Irand Canon above and helow, as widl as 
 those uf tlie 15road and Oranj^e Creeks l^eycjiid it. 
 
 To the left the route (not well o])ened) of a good 
 hridle-path to the snowy suinniit of this s])ur of 
 Mount Washburn ami a magnificent view of all the 
 surroundini:; regions, second only to that of the 
 highest jteak, which can be reached during much of 
 the summer by a romantic riile or walk of less than | 
 2 miles along the crest of liiis s|nir. 
 
 The descoit from {-lowland's Pass is continuous, hut 
 not steen, along the grassy slope of another sjiur to 
 the c^ear icy waters, luxuriant grass, and abundant 
 fuel of the Ihiest groups of charming sheltered 
 camps in the mountains, at the crossings of the snow- 
 fed rivulet-feeders of Anteloi)e Creek, nearly west 
 from tlie ancient ruin of unknown builders men- 
 tioned in my reports, Init now burned 
 
 Romantic unclulating valley, brilliant with flowers, to 
 the forks of the bridle-paths ..... 
 
 TOWER CREEK AND FALLS. 
 
 Good camp on Antelope Creek to the right; be^t place 
 for a view of the wonderful Tower Falls a little down 
 the creek; thence a steep descent to its continence 
 with the Yellowstone, l)eneath vertical walls many 
 liundreds of feet in height, ornamented and capped 
 l)y the long hori/iiilal lines of remarkably beautiful 
 basaltic columns. 
 
 The old Indian ford of the Yellowstone, ju-^t above, is 
 dangerous, but the naui.eous 'nis from the adjacent 
 springs is not, nor does it affect the waters of these 
 streams, in each of which, near their coniluence, are 
 trout and trout-fishing unsurpassed in the mountains. 
 A steep, continuous ascent of 500 feet from the 
 bridge above the falls brings us to the summit of 
 the cliff and wagon-road from the Mammoth Hot 
 Sjirings. 
 
 From this peculiar point of attraction the road passes 
 through oi>en groves of huge fir-trees, resembling 
 eanlrrn hemlocks, some steep descents and canons 
 to llot-Spnng Creek, and camp just above the 
 famous Baronet's iJridge at the forks of the Yellow- 
 stone ......... 
 
 Less than 2 miles nearly west from this camp is a 
 
 Miles. I Miles. 
 
 113 
 116 
 
 118 
 
 121 
 
268 
 
 GUIDE-BOOK OF THE PARK. 
 
 ■ll 
 
 small lake, and alonpf Ihc steep cliffs to the li^'ht, as 
 well as on the slu])e of a side branch i)elo\v it to the 
 north, are the stmnps. from 1 to 15 or 20 feet hi^di, of 
 fo>>.ili/ed ancient Ireessliil erect, and many fallen, and 
 a tine place 10 secure beautiful fragments, as well as 
 chalcedony, a^Mte, amethyst, and other formations 
 found in them or strewn alonij the cliff or creek. 
 
 Ilot-Sprinj^ Creek, ])ast forks of Miners' trail, to fme 
 camp in Pleasant Valley ..... 
 
 Much steep j^rade, but several }^ood camps, to the 
 summit of the Devil's Cut, or Dry Canon 
 
 Upon the bald ]iatches of the erodini,^ liasaltic terraces 
 to the left of this canon an- ci>untless uni<[ue j^eodes 
 filled with va-ious beautifully-tinted crystals and 
 concretions; j; -assy slopes and terraces to the dark 
 cliffs of the nxxh-rn lava-lteds to the left, aiid a 
 yawning canor to th'' rii^hl ; fair camp . 
 
 Grassy pass and plains to bridge over lilack-tail Deer 
 Creek ......... 
 
 Grassy valley and terraces to the Upper Falls of the 
 luist Cardiner River, 40 feet hi_t;h .... 
 
 IJeneath the ;Iark foIia<,'e of the trees at the eastern end 
 of the rustic bridj^e at the brink of these falls may 
 still be seen some of the bouj^hs of my rude couch, 
 made as related in nole 75. 
 
 PYom this place the ascent is easy from across the 
 brid<j;e to a wild rei;ion almiLj the towering cliffs of 
 the Gardiners, and to the ii,i,dit those of Mount Ev- 
 arts. From the brink of the cliffs north of these 
 falls, and nearly in the sjiray of another, where one 
 can pass between the sheet of water and wall-rock, 
 there is a charminjr view of the lonj^ ijrade of our 
 road adown the canon of the East Gardmer, our 
 heachjuarter l)uddinij;s, the mist-clouds and white 
 terraces of the Manunoth Hot Sprinj^s, clear-cut 
 upon the green slopes of the Sepulchre Mountain, 
 which we reach at . 
 
 MINERS' BRTDLE-RATII FROM THE FORKS 
 OF THE YEELOWSrONE TO THE SODA 
 EUTTE MEDICINAL SPRINGS. 
 
 Baronet's Bridge is upon the site of the first one ever 
 built upon any portion of the Yellowstone, and the 
 scene of many thrilling scenes, s(jme of which are 
 referred to in the ])oem and attached note of "Oh, 
 is there in this World so drear?" 
 
 Open route and valley past a dark lava butte on the 
 
 Miles.' Miles. 
 
 123 
 
 125 
 
 129 
 
 131 
 134 
 
 138 
 
 ^•'^•rj 
 
CI JDK. no OK OF HIE PARK. 
 
 2C9 
 
 files. 
 
 23 
 
 J9 
 
 14 
 
 right, two lakes filled with water fowl on the left to 
 Ainithyst Creek 
 
 I'Voni tliis ereek there arc several steep hut not difficult 
 routes of ascent to the jfrassy dome south, which is 
 the front and lower one of the famous S]ieciinen, or 
 Amethyst Mountain, from the fossili/ed truid<s and 
 stumps of ancient forests upon which, the first, the 
 j,'reatest numher and among- ilie finest sjieciniens of 
 fossil wood, chalcedony, onyx, opal, and beautifully- 
 tinted a-jates, amethysts, an(i other crystals cv( r fouinl 
 in any re<,Mon have hcen obtained, and comparative!) 
 {i:.\\, obtainable w itlKuit heavy work with pick and 
 fuse, remain. But those with curiosity, nervj, and 
 a good horse can follow near the ' er^e of the clills 
 about a mile, and then descend, ziK'za_^ginjr their 
 horse as I have done, to our old camp in the aspens, 
 ])eneath in the valley to the left, or go the whole 2 
 miles along the cliffs, descen<ling by the timbered 
 canon beyond. They will find descent a vertical 
 ^ half-mile at cither of these places is not boy's play. 
 
 The valley route is smooth and open, affording a fine 
 view at a half mile's distance of the countless' fossils, 
 slumjw, trunks supported by the vertical walls or 
 the prostrate logs of a succession of ancient forests, 
 the roots of one often over the tops of that beneath 
 to a vertical hei^^ht of nearly a half-mile; to ihe east 
 fork of the Yellowstone ..... 
 
 Here the bridle-jiath forks, and following that to the 
 left in the open valley and across the creek, we reach 
 the famous ancient geyser cone and picsent medici- 
 nal springs of Soda JUitte. 
 
 This is the legendary s])ring of the surrounding Indian 
 nations for the cure of the saddle-galls of horse, or 
 arrow or other wounds of warriors, and besides 
 ]>roperties similar to those of the Arkansas Hot 
 Springs, will soon fallen man or animal using it. 
 To this add its location in a sheltered vallev amid 
 and in ])lain \icw of the fossil forests and basaltic 
 snow-capped cliffs of the Specimen, Longfellow, 
 Norris, (Irand Tower, and other surrounding moun- 
 tains, it cannot (properly managed) fail of soon be- 
 coming one of llie foremost sunnner resorts of the 
 continent. 
 
 CLARIv'S FORK MINERS' TRAIL. 
 
 From the Soda Butte this bridle-path passes the famous 
 Trout Lake ........ 
 
 iMil 
 
 cs. 
 
 Miles. 
 
 10 
 
 12 
 
 15 
 
 17 
 
■RIB 
 
 270 
 
 GUIDEBOOK OF THE VARK. 
 
 Round Prairie 
 
 Line (if Montana ....... 
 
 Cook City, in th<j centre of a wonilerful j^roup f)f f^old 
 and silver lodes, not ilevelojied, but ol <;re;vt prom- 
 ise ......... 
 
 Tlience there is a bridle-patli, -,'ia the base of the In- 
 dex Peak and Heart Mountain, to the Stiiikinj^-Water 
 Valleys, one fork of it to the Piij-horn Valley and 
 Fort Custer, and the left-hand one, near Clark's 
 Fork Clafion, to the jilains, antl theiiee to Coulson, 
 upon the Nortliern Paeific Railroad, whence I learn 
 there is a pur[)ose of running' a line of travel, but I 
 doul)t it beinij properly opened this season, and will 
 ever be a wild, elevated, romantic route for trail, 
 roail, or railroatl. 
 
 Miles. 
 
 3 
 
 4 
 
 Miles. 
 20 
 
 24 
 
 27 
 
 i 
 
 G01U,IN-LAND IJRIDPE-PATII. 
 
 Half a mile southeasterly from the crossinf^ of the 
 east fork, on the Miners' route, is the Camekeeper's 
 Cabin, built by Harry Yount, tlie famous scout anil 
 guide of Wyomin^r^ while my assistant, as game- 
 keeper of the Park, and where he spent the winter 
 of 1880 and 1S81. 
 
 From this cabin the bridle-patii traverses the open, 
 grassy slope of Mount Norris to the ford of Cache 
 Creek, — thus named by a party of forty o<ld gold- 
 seeking pilgrims who were there set afoot by the 
 Indians, and cacheing, — /.<'., burying what they could 
 subse(juently find an(l not carry off, — by the aid of a 
 pair of donkeys who would not go with the Indians, 
 made their return afoot in 1864 .... 
 
 Through groves and glades up the east side of the 
 east fork to Calfee's Creek ..... 
 
 East Fork Valley, and over a steep bluff to the left, on 
 to Miller's Creek ....... 
 
 North or left-hanil bluffs of Miller's Creek to its 
 forks ......... 
 
 Zigzag ascent of 1500 feet, and then through open 
 ])arks and dense thickets among the snow-fields to 
 our old cainp near the group of deserted Indian 
 teepees and lodges at the foot of Parker's Peak 
 
 Down a yawning canon to the Goblins fm the left 
 
 Ascent of the Hood's Mountain to our monument of 
 1S80 
 
 From the illustration (see page 43) of a portion of 
 these Goblins, those in my report of 1880, and de- 
 scription of this region when first explored in l8So 
 
 4 
 2 
 8 
 
 5 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 7 
 
 9 
 
 17 
 
 22 
 
 24 
 
 25 
 
GUIDE-BOOK OF THE VAKK. 
 
 271 
 
 es, 
 
 \ 
 
 and 18S1 (see note 87), some conception can he 
 foimcd of them ; but only actu.il vicv can ever fully 
 impress ijic niiiul with the weird, unearthly char- 
 acter of the dykes, canons, and golilins of one of 
 the wildest regions which I have ever seen in all 
 my mountain wandenn<,'s, althou«,di tlie peaks and 
 canons are on a much ^'rander scale aluny the Sierra 
 Siioshone Ran^'e to the south. 
 
 VVc'were kept in our old camp amid the balsams during 
 the 4th anil 5th <lays of September, iSSl, by a 
 hovvlinj,' storm, which broke away, so that C. M. 
 Stephens and myself waded throu>,di deep snow to 
 the si;mmit of the (Joblin Mountain, and spent the 
 entire day of the 6th shiverinj^ beside our instru- 
 ments in fof^s from meltinj; snow in the canons, 
 throu<,di shiitiuLj rifts, in which we {^ot what bear- 
 inj^s were possible under the circumstances. 
 
 Renewal of the storm in all Us fury drove us to the 
 Soda Butte Valley (below it) on the 7th Avithout 
 makin_<r our proposed exploration of less than 20 
 miles throuj^h a terribly broken re<;ion to the Fort 
 Custer trail, whence, from near Crandle C'rci'k, I 
 think a route may be found to the Goblin Mountain, 
 Two miles above our trail, on Cache Creek, are 
 some interesti)ij,'hot medicinal springs, and countless 
 line trout in the waters still discolored by ihem. 
 
 FOSSIL FOREST BRIDLE-PATH. 
 
 From Gamekeeper's Cabin to the foot of Amethyst 
 Mountain, nearly opposite a fire-hole in the foot of 
 Mount Norris ....... 
 
 Summit of Amethyst Mountain .... 
 
 Orange ( 'reek and camp ...... 
 
 Sulphur Hills ........ 
 
 Forks of Pelican Creek ...... 
 
 Indian Pond and Concretion Cove, on Yellowstone 
 Lake (camp.) ....... 
 
 Lower ford of Pelican Creek ..... 
 
 Yellowstone Lake, half a miK- above the *"oot 
 
 These distances — estimates only — and the route from 
 fallen timber difficult without a guide. 
 
 NEZ-PERCE BRIDLE-PA I'll. 
 
 Indian Pond to Pelican Creek Valley 
 
 Upi">er ford of Pelican Creek ..... 
 
 Nez Perce ford of the Yellowstone .... 
 
 Miles. ' Miles. 
 
 3 
 
 3 
 6 
 
 5 
 
 II 
 
 4 
 
 15 
 
 8 
 
 23 
 
 5 
 
 28 
 
 3 
 
 31 
 
 1 
 
 J 
 
 .34 
 
 12 
 
272 
 
 CUIDE-liCOK 01' THE PARK. 
 
 Good route with a k"ocI guide, and difiicult in many 
 places without one. 
 
 I Miles. 
 
 Miles. 
 
 CONCKKTION COVE AND INDIAN POND. 
 
 One of tlie loveliest camps in tlie Rocky Mountains, 
 and where the unique concretions iij^ured and de- 
 scribed in my reports, ami referred to in my poem 
 and notes of the ** Mystic Lake of Wonder-Land," 
 are plentifully found. 
 
 There are no really ^ood fords, and few of any kind 
 on the lower I'elicaii, hut these birds and other 
 water-fowl, as well as wormy trout, are plentiful be- 
 yond conception. 
 
 Rf ;l 
 
 I'ASSAMARIA, OR STINK ING-WATKR 
 BRIDLE -PATH. 
 
 Concretion Cove to Turhid Lake .... 
 Jones's Pass of the Sierra .Shoshone Range 
 Conllu'.'nce of the Passamaria and Stinking-Water 
 A rough route, eleviited pass, and thence a fearful 
 cafion above the forks of the Stinking- Water. 
 
 7 
 12 
 
 3 
 10 
 
 22 
 
 ir . 
 
lies. 
 
 CUlDE-noOk' OF THE PARK. 
 
 273 
 
 RI•:CAPITU^ATI()N OF DISTANCES, ROADS, lUUDLE- 
 TATIIS, AND TUAn,S WIl'IIIN TIIK I'AKK. 
 
 [O 
 !2 
 
 ROADS. 
 
 Roiui to the Geyser-Dasins 
 
 Mainmotli Hot Springs to Terrace Pass 
 
 Sw.m Lake Camp .... 
 
 Miildlc (ianlinor Camp 
 
 \yillow Park, good camp . 
 
 C'olil Springs .... 
 
 <)lisi(li.in Cliffs ....'. 
 
 Cjrccn C'reek, poison water . 
 
 Lake of" the Wouds . . . ." 
 
 Norris Valley, gootl camps 
 
 Norris Fork, good camps . 
 
 Norris (Jtyscr liasiii .... 
 
 (>cy,er Creek, good c, imp . 
 
 Foot Hridge to iMoniimcnt (ieysers . 
 
 Falls of the (Jibbi.n .... 
 
 Canon Creek, hdf-milc below camp . 
 
 Kartliqu.iLf ClifUs . . . . 
 
 Lookout 'I'errace 
 
 Prospect I'oint, near tljc forks of the Fire-Ho! 
 Lower Ceyser P)asin .... 
 F.xcel.sit)r (Jeyser, Midway '':;r.i;, Cnmp 
 (JId Faithful, Upper Ceyser Hasin Camp 
 Ketnrn to Prospect Point . 
 
 cs 
 
 Camp 
 
 Road to Iknry's Lake, I'irsinia City, and Dillon, on the Utah 
 Northern Railroad. 
 
 Prospect Point to Marshall's Hotel 
 
 Lookout Cliff-i 
 
 Riverside, camp and trout ! ! '. ! 
 
 Henry's Lake 
 
 Henry's Fork, route to the Utah Northern R. R. at Camas, 65 '. 
 
 Virginia City 
 
 Dillon, coach daily to railroad .,....,, 
 
 Old Madison CaHon Road. 
 
 Forks of Rnads 
 
 Moutli of Ciibhon, caniT) and trout . 
 Foot of ALidison Canoi, camp aid trout . 
 Riverside, camp and I. out 
 
 Queen's Laxtndry Road. 
 
 To the Bath-Rooms 
 Reiurn 
 
 Road to the Ycllowxtone Lake and Falls 
 
 From Mammoth Hot Springs via the Upper Basin 
 
 Rocky Fork Camp 
 
 Willow Camp ....... 
 
 ^Liry's Lake, brackish w.itcr .... 
 
 Aliini Creek Camp, and trout near . 
 
 S;ii;e Creek, forks of road, and wormy trout; no wood 
 
 Mud Geysers, good camp, wurmy trout . 
 
 Miles. 
 
 'Miles. 
 
 
 3 
 
 3 
 
 5 
 
 II 
 
 
 12 
 
 
 '3 
 
 
 »4 
 
 
 «5 
 
 
 >7 
 
 
 2U 
 
 
 2( 
 
 
 ••'4 
 
 
 '-'5 
 
 1 / 
 
 /2 
 
 '■^yJi 
 
 2^2 
 
 Si 
 
 a 
 
 34 
 
 3 
 
 37 
 
 2 
 
 39 
 
 2 
 
 6 
 
 4» 
 47 
 
 10 
 
 57 
 
 8 
 
 4 
 22 
 
 60 
 
 5 
 2 
 
 4 
 3 
 7 
 2 
 
 I 
 
 9 
 »3 
 
 35 
 
 95 
 i6o 
 
 4 
 
 9 
 
 J5 
 
 18 
 
 57 
 63 
 64 
 
 68 
 
 71 
 
 73 
 80 
 
274 
 
 GUIDE-BOOK or THE r.lKK, 
 
 t™5 
 
 Mi 
 
 Foot of Yellowstone Lake 
 
 Hitiiii. tc SiiKi: (.."rfck 
 
 Siil|iliiir Miiuntiiiii 
 
 M^iih of Aliini I'rctk Catiip, wormy trout 
 Cove above the Upper !• alls L'aiiip, wormy trout 
 
 Btidlc-PiUh to Towtr Falls. 
 
 Crystal Falls, short lialf-niiic .... 
 (Ircat I'alls, short lialt-milL- .... 
 
 I,.i(ikoiit Point, canifi half-niilc north 
 Mc.kIow C'aini), passable water .... 
 I'aintcd ClifT I'rall and return, (^ . , , 
 
 Cilaile t'rtek, fine camp 
 
 Kiiwlaturs I'ass (asucnd Moiuit Washburn 2 miles) 
 Antelope Creek, splendid camp . 
 
 Forks of Itriilli- Paths 
 
 Tower Creek, good camp, fine trout . . 
 
 Matnnioth Hot Spying Road. 
 
 Hot Spring Creek, or Forks of the Yellowstone, good ramp and 
 
 trout 
 
 Pleasant Valley, good camp .... 
 
 Dry Canon 
 
 I,ava-I!<:ils, several camps 
 
 Pilacklail I )eer Creek and camp 
 
 I'pper I'alls of the Kasl (ianliner 
 
 Cascades of the l''.ast (Jardiucr, half-mile above 
 
 Mammoth Hot Springs ..... 
 
 Middle Gardiner Bridle-Path. 
 
 Mammoth Hot Springs to the Falls of the Middle Gardiner 
 
 Sheep- I'.ater Clilfs 
 
 Koad to the Geysers 
 
 Shoshone Lake Bridle- Path, 
 
 Kepler's Cascades 
 
 Korris Pass of the Rocky Mountains 
 
 De Lacy's Creek and Camp, Pacific waters 
 
 I'wo-Ocean Pond, summit of the Rocky Mountains 
 
 Tluimb of the Yellowstone Lake, camp . 
 
 Hot Spriiij^ Creek, poor camp ..... 
 
 Natural Pridgc, near camps ..... 
 
 Foot of Yellowstone Lake, camp .... 
 
 Mount IFashhurn Bridie-Path. 
 
 Great Falls of the Yellowstone to Cascade Creek Camp 
 Spur of Mmini Washburn, which ascend 1 mile 
 
 Forks of Hriiile-Paths 
 
 Tower Falls Camp 
 
 Painted CHJf Bridie-Path . 
 
 Meadow Camp to head of Grand Cation . 
 Safety-\'alve Pulsating Geyser ..... 
 Yellowstone River at Painted Cliffs .... 
 
 MIlcR.'Mileii. 
 6 86 
 8 94 , 
 
 'H 97 
 3 loo 
 
 3 
 
 6 
 I 
 
 ■ili 
 3 
 
 6 
 
 5 
 
 1CH)J4 
 
 101 
 
 loj 
 
 J 08 
 
 110^ 
 
 «<3 
 116 
 
 118 
 
 121 
 123 
 
 129 
 Vi' 
 «34 
 
 .38 
 
 3 
 5 
 6 
 
 2 
 
 8 
 
 .t-A 
 
 22 
 28 
 33 
 
 3 
 
 9 
 13 
 
 »5 
 
 
iW/ /)/■:./{ 00 A- OF 1111'. IWNK, 
 
 Paint- Vois BtUle-rath. 
 
 Month of r.i-ysor Creek to the l'alnt-rot» . 
 (ii.yM?r ( idryc .... 
 I''.;irili(|ii.ikf ( iorjjc ....,' 
 Kdi ky I'ork l'ii)>siltn . . , . ' ' 
 
 Miiry » Lake KoatI, near Willow Cicck '. \ 
 
 Miners' BriJli--l\uh. 
 
 IVironot's Tlridne, af Fcirks of tlie Yellowstone River 
 Aiiiftliyst C'rcck, camp ;iiiil trout ... 
 (rossiiiK, Mast Fork of VMlowsionc Kivt-r", c.imp an'd trout 
 Nula IJiitto, iMcdicinal Spriiijjs, camp and trout 
 
 I rout Lake 
 
 Koiuul Prairie ...!.'['" 
 North lini: of Wyoming ..!'"' 
 Clarke's Forks I'ass C.imp, near northeast corner of the Park 
 
 I/oodon, or Goblin Mountain Bt i,ile-l\ith. 
 
 n.nniekecper's Cahin, on the boiia liutte, to Hot Sulphur Springs 
 
 rordol Ca( hi- I reck » ^ 
 
 Alum Springs and return ,...'. 
 C'alfix- Creek ... 
 Miller's Creek ....',*." i 
 Mountain Terrace ...!!' 
 
 Old Camp 
 
 (lolijin I.aliyrinilis ..'.'. 
 Monument on Hoodoo or Goblin Alouiitaiii ! 
 
 Fossil Forest Briillc-PutJi. 
 Summit of Amethyst Motuitain 
 
 (lamekecpcr's Cabin to foot of mountain '. 
 
 Orange Creek ... 
 
 Sulphur Hills . . , , 
 
 Forks of Pelican Creek . ', ". '.'.'' 
 Indian F'ond at Concntion (^ne of the Yt'llowstonc'Lake 
 Lower Ford of IVIican Creek .... 
 Foot of the Yellowstone Lake . . ' 
 
 Passamaria, or Stinking-JI'atcr Bridle-Path. 
 Concretion Cove to Turbid Lake .... 
 
 Jones's Pass of the Sierra Shoshone Ran^e 
 
 C.M.fluence of the Jones and Stinking-Water Fork of"the Passamari:! 
 Kiver 
 
 Nez-Perce Bridlc-PatJi. 
 
 Indian Pond to Pelican Valley 
 
 Ft)rd of Pelican Creek . . . *. 
 
 Mcz-Perce Ford of the Yellowstone . .* 
 
 I Mile., Mile*. 
 
 3 
 5 
 4 
 8 
 
 5 
 3 
 3 
 
 7 
 
 12 
 
 I 
 
 a 
 
 4 
 
 6 
 
 II 
 
 10 
 11 
 «5 
 '7 
 
 24 
 a; 
 
 
 a 
 
 I 
 
 3 
 
 4 
 
 7 
 
 4 
 
 1 1 
 
 2 
 
 «;» 
 
 U 
 
 31 
 
 5 
 
 26 
 
 2 
 
 28 
 
 I 
 
 29 
 
 3 
 
 6 
 II 
 »S 
 23 
 
 23 
 
 3» 
 34 
 
 3 
 
 10 
 
 3 
 6 
 
 13 
 
 THE END.