Summer Etchings
IN
Colorado.
BY
ELIZA GREATOREX.
INTRODUCTION BY
GRACE GREENWOOD.
NEW YORK:
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS,
FOURTH AVENUE AND TWENTY-THIRD STREET.
f
1^^.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by
ELIZA. GREATOREX,
In ihe Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Wasliington.
La\gk, Littlb & Co.,
PRINTERR, KI.KCTROTVPERS AND STBREOTVPBR.n,
I118 TO 114 WoiisTBK Street, N. Y.
P ^ d i t a t i !^*
O you, gentlemen of the " Fountain Colony," who
have made my summer's work a pleasure and
delight, I venture to dedicate the unpretending, if
inadequate, results of that work. As I place, this morning,
my last Colorado drawing in my portfolio, I look from the
slight picture to the great reality. From tlie clear lake
where the mountain streams are gathered, I mark the course
)f the irrigating channels which already are turning the wild
site of the New Town into a lovely garden, where the trees,
planted a few months ago, are already bringing grateful
shadows, like memories of your old homes, over the land
where late the shy antelope grazed, and of which the Indians
made for the whites only a place to be feared and shunned.
Above clustering cottages and tall church spires rise the
grand Cheyenne Mountain and the mighty Pike's Peak,
wearing, to-day, a fresh mantle of snow ; and blue skies and
sunlight bless and crown lordly mountain and lowly roof;
only in my heart is shadow and sadness for the farewell
which I must speak so soon.
This effort of mine, if it fails in all else, at least enables
248010
4 DEDICATION.
me to express my admiration for the courage and energy of
the founders of this Colony, which have achieved already such
great success, and to record my grateful appreciation of the
sympathy, encouragement and hospitality, which welcomed
and sustained my summer's etchings in Colorado.
ELIZA GREATOREX.
Colorado Springs,
Sfft. 26, 1873.
Title.
First Glimpse at Manitou.
The Ute Pass.
Manitou Spring.
The Climb.
Looking Out.
The Home.
The Lodge.
Tim Bunker's Pulpit.
Lady Ellen's Bower.
Major Domo.
Old Pueblo.
View from South Pueblo.
Monument Park.
In the Garden of the Gods.
Col. Kittredge's Ranch.
Our Camp by Pass Creek.
Twin Lakes.
The Deserted Mill.
Montezuma Mine.
Fair Play.
The New Town.
10 n*
THEN AND NOW.
WENTY years ago there fell into my hands a vol-
ume entitled, " Report of the Exploring Expedition
to the Rocky Mountains, in the year 1 842 / and to
Oregon and California, in the years i843-'44. By Brevet
Captain jf. C. Fremont, of the Topographical Engineers .''
This volume, though somewhat unwieldy in form, and
overweighted with scientific terms, had for me all the charm
of a wild romance — strange and stirring, and most improba-
ble — and this young adventurer. Brevet Captain J. C.
Fremont, of the Topographical Engineers, became a first-
class hero in my eyes. A sense of awful remoteness invested
the scenes he described as most beautiful and picturesque
with a sort of unearthly solemnity. The nomadic beings he
now and then encountered, in the mountains and on the
plains, seemed to me not only out of civilization, but of
humanity — strange, unreal, uncanny creatures — solitary, sinis-
ter and terrible.
I cannot remember that in my wildest dream I ever
pictured myself as following in the footsteps of the brave
young " Pathfinder "• — as ever looking with my own eyes on
the wonders of the great central heights and grand western
6 INTRODUCTION.
slope of the continent. The vast region seemed still cur-
tained away from nie by infinite distance and myster)'.
Captain Fremont's book — it lies before me now — is illus-
trated with lithographs, rough, but truthful. When he
comes to the march from the Arkansas to the Platte, along
the eastern base or spurs of the great range, he gives a
really fine view of Pike's Peak — the mountain of mountains
for situation — lording it over a vast, magnificent area. On
July 8th, he says: "We caught this morning a view of
Pike's Peak, but it appeared for a moment only, as clouds
rose early over the mountains, and shrouded them in mist
and rain all day." July loth presents another picture :
" Snow fell heavily on the mountains during the night, and
Pike's Peak this morning is luminous and grand."
One day the entire party had a buffalo-hunt ; another day,
an Indian fight ; on July nth they killed a large grizzly bear.
They subsisted chiefly on game ; and, when buffalo, bear,
deer and mountain sheep failed them, they did not despise
the small ]:)rairie dog. For a time, attached to this party,
was Kit Carson — prince of guides and mountaineers — a noble
son of nature, whose pattern no longer exists. They found
Indians, unhappily, more abundant than game; Sioux, Ara-
pahocs, Cheyennes, Osages, Utis, and Pawnees, made that
region their war-ground. Yet, overswept as it was by surge
after surge of barbarism, Captain Fremont, with the eye of a
prophet, saw in it a country " admirably adapted to agricul-
tural purposes, and capable of supporting a large pastoral
population."
INTRODUCTION. 7
On the 17th he entered the valley of the rapid, and always
beautiful stream, called by the old French voyagcurs, La
Fontaine qui Boiiille, from one of the many mineral springs
on its banks. These waters were even then celebrated, and
Fremont determined to seek them out. Leaving his men at
the entrance of the canon, he rode on up the river, though,
as he says, " the clouds, which had been gathering all the
afternoon in the mountains, began to roll down their sides,
and a storm so violent burst upon me, that it appeared I had
entered the store-house of the thunder-storms. About sun-
set I came upon a large, smooth rock, where the water from
several springs was bubbling up, in the midst of a white in-
crustation, with which it had covered a portion of the rock.
As this did not correspond w^ith the description given me by
the hunters, of the great spring, I did not stop to taste the
waters, but, dismounting, walked a little way further up the
stream, and, passing through a narrow thicket, stepped
directly on a huge, flat rock, in the upper part of which, ap-
parently formed by deposition, was a beautiful white basin,
overhung by wild currant-bushes. Tn this the cold, clear
water bubbled up, kept in constant motion by the escaping
gas, and overflowing the rock, which it had covered with a
crust of glistening white. A deer, which had been drinking
at the spring, was startled by my approach, and, leaping
across the river, bounded off up the mountain. I had all
day refrained from drinking, and now lay down beside the
basin and drank heartily of the delightful water." The next
morning the command encamped at the springs, and " spent
8 INTRODUCTION.
a very pleasant day," drinking their fill. Fremont speaks
enthusiastically of the rare beauty of the spot : " At the foot
of lofty mountains, which sweep closely around, shutting up
the little valley in a kind of a cove."
From the windows of the principal hotel of Majiitoii, the
most fashionable and delightful watering place of Colorado,
I look out this summer afternoon on the scene of Brevet
Captain Fremont's lonely evening ride of thirty years ago.
How changed, and yet unchanged, the lovely valley of the
fountain and its grand surroundings ! Nature holds her own
wonderfully. Old Pike's Peak presents the same majestic
front, the river rushes and shoots along toward the thirsty
plains, the ancient brotherhood of " Medicine Springs " still
boil and bubble — " the store-house of the thunder-storms "
is far from being exhausted. Almost every day there is fine
artillery practice among the peaks, and crags and forges, and
" the big drops come dancing to the earth." Yet, in spite
of thunder and rain, all is life and gayety in the little cove-
like valley. There go a gallant, mounted party — not soldiers
or mountaineers — but brave tourists, for the larger part
ladies, galloping off over the foothills, to take the new trail
to Pike's Peak — the very peak which Fremont seems not to
have thought of scaling. You may visit the great Manitou
Spring 2X any hour of the day, without danger of starting a
deer — that is, one of the wild, quadrupedal sort. From
any one of the heights above the valley, you may look out
on the plains all day long without beholding a buffalo herd
careering along, with its valiant leader plunging ahead ; but
INTRODUCTION. 9
you may chance to see a train of Denver and Rio Grande
Narrow Gauge cars thundering along, after a sturdy snorting
little locomotive, and making better than the best Buffalo
time. The noble savage — encounters with whom added
such pleasing variety to Fremont's expedition, and in
whose honor the party were gallantly accoutred, arm.ed with
Hall's carbines, and accompanied by a twelve-pound how-
itzer — he also has disappeared from the sacred waters he
once haunted. His wigwam is pitched no more on the
banks of the Fountain ; but, instead, we see the tent of
the artist and the jolly " camper." Should the mild and
melancholy Ute, afflicted by some one of the ills that
aboriginal flesh is heir to, visit the fount of healing opened
in the rock for his pious sires, instead of the howitzer of
the Pathfinder, he would be called upon to face the camera
of the photographer. Even the grizzly has departed. If
you fancy you have lost a bear about that size, and go
hunting him for days and days, he never turns up here-
abouts. At Maniton we have a small infantine cinnamon,
which we are obliged to content ourselves with ; but he
is sadly degenerate — having been brought up by hand,
petted and spoiled by tender-hearted women. Indeed, so
clever and moral is he, that we should hardly be surprised
to hear any day of his picking out the Ten Commandments
from a pile of Sunday-school cards, responding to the creed,
and playing on the melodeon.
Could those brave explorers whose camp-fires lighted up
the grand glooms of this lovely, lonely valley, and shone on
lO INTRODUCTION.
these rushing waters, that bahny summer night, thirty years
ago, come back to the springs and banks of the fountain to-
day, would they like the picture ? They would see hotels,
cottages, bath-houses, summer-houses, bowling-alleys. They
would see stage-coaches, ambulances, busses and barouches,
horsemen and horsewomen dashing hither and thither. Sara-
toga trunks, pianos and fiddles, have invaded the solemn
scene. The inspiring war-whoop is silenced forever, but the
Italian bravura wakes the grand old echoes of the gorge.
The war-dance and the scalp-dance are seen no more, but
the " Boston Dip," and the "New York Glide" can be be-
held almost any night in the halls of the Manitoii.
So peaceful, proper, and comfortable is our life here, that
some romantic and adventurous spirits, growing desperate,
break with civilization and luxury here below, and follow
Nature to her loftiest rocky fastnesses, clutching frantically
at the rude fringe of her barbaric robe. In other words, they
go "camping" afar, in the great mountain parks, beside the
snow-fed rivers and the glacier-born lakes, nigh unto the
cold, white summits, which are white and cold forever. On
such a bold quest after Nature and simplicity — the essence
of life — the exaltation of beauty — grandeur that verges on
the terrible — the fine terror that is lost in sublimity — went
we with a great caravan of pilgrims, among whom was the
artist whose masterly sketches will picture the story of our
wanderings far better than words of mine can tell it. We
found beauty indescribable — grandeur unimaginable — delight
uncommunicable, ever^^where ; but no where the expected
INTRODUCTION. II
vvildness, savageness and desolation. We looked here and
there, with a sort of fearful desire, for dangerous wild ani-
mals ; but though we traversed vast natural parks, explored
mighty canons, and scaled great mountain heights, we were
not gratified by even the sight of a cayote or brown bear's
cub. Even man was tame. Not a Ute or an Arapaho
crossed our path. Wherever was human life, we found the
prosaic, pushing, pertinacious Caucasian. We ascended
Mount Lincoln. Above timber line we found miners, work-
ing where it seemed that only eagles could cling, slowly cut-
ting into the mountain's bare breast to get at his heart of gold
— and at fourteen thousand feet were other miners, braining
his bald old head for the treasures stored up there. High
up where the clouds break and the eternal snows rest, men
have broken the stone lids of God's mighty caskets, shutting
over the precious secrets of Creation ; deep down in
solemn, shadowy gorges, they unearth shining, golden grains,
hidden in depth and darkness, for centuries of centuries.
The world is storming the Rocky Mountains. Like the
great sea which once beat against their base, civilization is
surging around them — rushing through their wild passes,
and now and then throwing a wave over their loftiest sum-
mits. They are not only a grand store-house of storms, and
a treasure-house of incalculable wealth, but, what is better,
they are to become, with their wonderful parks, their lakes,
rivers, gorges, woods, and waterfalls, the great pleasure-
ground of the world.
GRACE GREENWOOD.
g^ in
HIS is to be a most real story of our summer wan-
derings in this strange and vast country, but I am
sorely tempted to make believe for a beginning that
the little camp on the title-page is our dwelling, that the fire
of sweet-scented pine close by, and the full moon springing
up, Colorado fashion, out of the great distance, are to light
us to our bed of wild-roses pulled from the bushes that are
flushing all the prairie, while the brooks make lullaby, and
the Cottonwood and young oak trees rustle in this, the
purest of the airs that fan God's blessed earth.
How sweet would be a dream of home under a clean white
tent, glistening in the moonlight ! with a mind at rest from
all care, content with assurance of bread for the morrow ;
and a draught of water from the spring that bubbles near my
seat. But in plain truth we are going to our little cottage
studio and sleeping-room — an offshoot of the fine hotel in
Manitou, where we breakfast, dine, and sup, making our
choice from the endless variety of the bill of fare, served by
14 SUMMER ETCHINGS IN COLORADO.
deft and knowing Chinamen — our cottage being under the
particular care of Pah, the most perfect of them all.
But if the tent is not our very own, we have a close inter-
est in the friends whose habitation it is, and a fresh and rare
pleasure in listening to the talk of the " tent master,"
Colonel Enoch Steen, who, with his good wife and son, have
always a warm welcome ready for us. Nellie has noted
down one of his stories, which will appear presently.
FEW yards from our cottage is the glen from which
we had our first peep at Manitou. It is thronged
with little groves of cottonwood trees and tangled,
sweet-smelling things, that twine themselves into delightful
spidery-shaped tables and chairs, and the little clear patches
of ground between are themselves good to sit on, all car-
peted with fragrant grasses and wild flowers. Here is a wild-
rose bush, which yesterday made itself into a seat for a visi-
tor, and still keeps the form as if inviting the occupant to
try it again. We will sit here to-day arranging notes and
discussing the long journey which has ended at Manitou for
the present.
After a luxurious, restful visit to the home of a friend in
Milwaukie, we started ten days ago, all in earnest for our
summer's work, with high hopes and well filled lunch-baskets.
As we entered on the long stretches of prairie, finely culti-
vated by the German settlers, we noticed the German element
all around, and heard little but that language spoken in the
cars. On one side a father taught two little girls out of a
German picture-book, on the other gathered a group of coarse
I6 FIRST PEEP AT MANITOU.
'.vorkmen. In front of us an artist gave voice to his strong
prejudice against the German population of Wisconsin, see-
ing nothing good therein except the rude force which con-
quers and tills the soil. But 1 watched the father and chil-
dren, their delight in the pictures from which he taught
them, and their sweet, loving ways with each other, and I
felt there must be something more and better.
Here I am interrupted by Nellie's laugh at the scraps she
had written while undergoing the shaking of the cars ; but,
after reading her notes, we solemnly pronounce them the
best of the three sets, and vote them the place of honor, I
stipulating only for one remembrance of a group of Indians
on the plains. We cam.e in sight of them at the close of a
violent storm, just as the heavy clouds had given way to a
great belt of sunset glory; in the very focus of which they
were encamped. Like very demons they appeared, in
their motley garb, and restless, unceasing motion, horses and
dogs, men and women, mingling and circling round their
camp. A living picture it has left with me. and also a
strong regret that I could not paint it.
E are here ! not by enchantment, but ah-nost as sur-
prisingly and suddenly, for we are whirled over
riv^ers and prairies by the Great Western train. We
felt as if we were chasing the sun, and had come so near
catching him that he had to retreat in hot haste without his
usual retinue of red and purple clouds, dropping like a fier}'
ball into the straight horizon line, without, as the Germans
say, " making any circumstances about it."
At Omaha, Nebraska, began our experience of real West-
ern traveling. There we took the San Francisco train.
What a hot run we had from car to car, cumbered with bags,
baskets, parasols, shawls, and the innumerable articles to the
torment of which one always slavishly submits in travel-
ing, despite the most cunning skill in packing trunks, and
the sternest resolutions against bundles. In vain we
obscured the daylight in the door of one car after another —
hopelessly full were all of them, till, when it became too late
to retreat, the train being in motion, by mathematical ar-
2
i8 xki.i.ik's railroad notes.
rangemcnt of baL;s and boxes, and by compression into small-
est endurable space of various scattered and outlying children,
we managed to secure places. There was a " water front "
to our " eligible site " — the damp and oft-visited locality of
the ice-water can ; one infant Bacchus, overgrown and
obstreperous, sacrificed a whole family of brethren and sis-
ters to bringing him supplies of drink, at last subsiding into
satisfactory silence — internally congealed, as I firmh- believe,
by the constant application of iced fluid.
With the rushing of the train came a lively breeze ; it
caught the broad hat of a handsome miner, and whiz ! it
went out of the window ; but he coolly remarked to a sym-
pathizing friend, "Oh! it don't matter in the least, I always
carry two; " taking, as he spoke, something from his pocket
which at least covered his head.
Many of these miners were in the car. Tall and slim,
most of them, with hair dark as night ; deep-set, expressive
eyes ; heavy moustache and blue flannel shirt. A famous
combination of hero qualifications.
A farmer \\ho sits near us and likes to talk, shows us
where the trees grow " natcral," and where they are "sot
out." He tells us the names of the valleys as we pass
through them, the Platte, the Elkhorn, etc., etc. So the
day wears on, hot and tiresome. At evening we see In-
dians, Utcs. Their eyes, soft, dark and snaky, attract our
attention first ; then their wonderful, composite costume,
every civilized garment represented by at least some portion
of its original entirety. One knight of the scalping-knife
NELLIE'S RAILROAD NOTES. ig
we will take as a sample. Part of a pair of trousers on
his legs ; around his waist a light-colored skin of some
animal, also a portion of \-ellow blanket, in unquestionable
need of soap and water ; from one shoulder hung, in Italian
style, a brilliant red blanket. He carried bow and arrows.
His jaws were heavy, his hair straight and black, a savagely
grand figure, despite the mean part of his attire, bearing
himself with gra\'e dignit}-, which made it easy for us to
picture him once the monarch of the plains ; }-et, he stood
there now, tr}'ing to sell a few poor gewgaws of bead work,
while dirty squaws, with their dusky papooses slung over
their shoulders, begged for a few cents. A squaw came
near and touched my dress and traveling satchel, expressing
by her motions that the pale face had the good things,
and should give her and her baby something. On receiving
a little money, she nodded, and bestowed on me an Indian
benediction.
The whistle from the engine cut the " pow-wow " short.
Conductors called " ail-aboard !" the train moved on, night
closed in, lamps were lit, sleepy babies dozed off into
sounder sleep, shawl straps w'ere undone, pillows made up
out of various bundles, and we each tried to find the least
tzvisfy posture, and to get a rest, if not a sleep. Da}-light
brings you to a dim consciousness of being in an upside-
down condition — somewhere ; your head hangs limp over
the arm of the seat, your feet are all pins and needles,
existence means concentrated misery, till }-ou shake up the
little remains of spirit and courage within }-ou, and face life
20 NELLIE S RAILROAD NOTES,
bravely again. Had we succeeded in getting a Pullman
sleeping-car, there would have been nothing of this ; but,
unfortunately, there were no places left for us, so we have
to put a new experience as gain against loss of ease.
Another day, whirled over the prairies by steam, we were
thankful for cool air and lovely skies, but began to long
for something to vary the unending stretches of dry blue-
green grass, with the prairie dogs sitting each so pertly
at the entrance to their little homes.
At each station was a crowd whence peered many an
anxious expectant face, watching the car windows to catch
a glimpse of some long-awaited friend, who was to join
the Western life. Many gushing brides and grooms we
saw, and they evidently felt that the Great West was
made for the expanse of feeling. Arms closed round the
beloved, hair flowed in waves of fla.K or raven over His
shoulder, and vows of fidelity were exchanged to the sound
of the puffing steam-engine.
At last Cheyenne, our changing point, was reached. We
felt homeless as we left our short refuge in the car ; but
the train went on to San Francisco, and so we say adieu
to it, and stand on the rough platform, waiting for the
train to Denver, which is behind time. Close beside the
platform is the Hotel and refreshment-room. Negro waiters
are on the piazza ringing bells furiously, and standing in
black contrast to the glaring white of the houses. The
bells were the onl)' cheerful things at Cheyenne. The
clouds rolled dark as ink overhead, hiding the mountains,
NELLIES RAILROAD NOTES. 21
lightning flashed, great drops of hail came down and drove
us into the small station, already filled with travelers, most
of them emigrants, in sadly tumbled muslin dresses and
wonderful headgear, ga}% but not odorous, witli many-hucd
flowers ; and the poor never-left-out-of-the-play baby kept
up the unfailing protest of suffering infancy. But the
storm cleared, as it always does clear, the mountains began
to rise up in the soft hazy distance, our train came, and
the eighty or one hundred miles to Denver was a ride
of joy and delight. The prairie grass was fresh aufl green,
the prairie dogs, after being confined to the house by bad
^\•eather. came out for an airing, w'atching the dragon engine
and train from their hilly seats ; the youthful and timid
of the community dive down stairs as the monster ap-
proaches, the old and wise stay watching it gravely. Ante-
lopes, most graceful of animals, dart along, tr}'ing to race
with the engine. We have seen no Buffalo, only a whiten-
ing skull lying here and there. The herds of cattle from the
ranches by the railroad are the most excited and affected by
the trains ; a vast herd led, by a wise old cow-mother,
come staring stock still, till there is barely time for
their escape. IVIany a one is sacrificed to a too daring
spirit, and leaves whitening bones along the track, unheeded
warnings to other herds. Nearer and nearer we come in
sight of the grand circle of the Rocky Mountains. Every
tint and hue of color and light they have gathered into
their great heart, and every change in the air and sky is
reflected deep and strong on their mighty sides and peaks,
22 NELLIES RAILROAD NOTES.
from deepest, darkest purple to white gleaming siK^er. It
is a fitting boundary line to this awful earth ocean over
which we have been passing for five days and nights of
travel since we left New York, and we descend from the
car in this busy, wide-awake, intensely living, new city of
Denver, fully convinced that we have indeed crossed the
plains, and are really in the Great Far West.
While sketching this morning, by the camp close to our
cottage, I see a modest little face peeping at me out of the
wagon that Norah drew last evening. By and by a slight
fuss of prinking up, and there comes to me through the
brushwood the sweetest figure one can imagine. A cotton
dress, of odd pattern, short and loose, only at the waist
trimly belted in. A close straw hat, tied down so that but a
little of the delicate face could be seen ; hands, holding ner-
vously a great umbrella ; and, with a conscious, shy look,
the little woman comes close and speaks: Was I sketching?
Would I let her look? She was so sorry not to ask me into
the camp, but she had been sick, and it was so poor a place,
she was ashamed of it ; but she had seen the young ladies,
and heard them talking about the horses. Would they like
to ride? If there were side-saddles they might have the
horses, and welcome ; slie had a side-saddle, but had sold it
when they left their home, far away in Missouri. It had
taken forty days to come in their heavy wagon over the
prairie; and she had not been very happy since coming here.
Was her husband with her ? Oh, yes! she thought I must
have seen him ; he was painting the cottages, and did not
NELLIE S RAILR(^AD NOTES. 23
look much like himself doing such work; but Will h;id come
for her sake, and was ready to do any kind of labor if she
could only get well here ; they had left a beautiful farm in
Bates Co., Missouri, where everything but money was
plentiful, and the taxes were heavy. She had been a school-
teacher ; and then came rather a sad story of her life, and of
how Will, rough as he looked, had nursed her himself from
death's door. Since he had been so much away from her at
his work, their horses, and the noble dog l}'ing under the
wagon, had been her best companions; they had been
brought up on the farm, and it was strange to hear of their
attempts to run off home, and their almost human behavior.
I asked if she could drive them? Oh, yes, she said ; then I
promised I would go out with her to-morrow.
As I stood with her in tlie hot sunlight, and looked into
her patient face, I felt all the romance which this western
world is gathering into its history, and somewhat realized
the poetry, the human interests that must mingle with and
harmonize this vast, majestic scenery.
As we discuss the subject of the " harnessing up," to
which my little friend's strength is hardly equal, a young
and handsome man passed, raising his hat in salute. The
little lady said he was a neighbor in some sort, having
pitched his tent close to theirs for three days. He was a
gentleman ; had not succeeded in getting anything to do
here; he was telling her his story last evening. His mother
is well to do, and keeps writing for him to come home,
but he had been willful about leaving home, and hated to
24 KELLIE.S RAILROAD NOTES,
go back poor; he had been away seven years; he had left
a girl he liked, too, and little by little had given up
writing, until now he was ashamed to write, though he knew
she was still single, maybe for his sake ! If he could only
break down his pride enough to go and ask her to forgive
him ! There is no gentle twilight, no soft zephyr, no pen-
sive shade, by babbling brook, to lend romance to the
story; we both stand in the hot sun, tired and brown, in
my hand I hold the ink-bottle as well as my sketch-book,
while my umbrella is stuck rather shakily in my belt. As
I listen I scratch some trees into the background of the
sketch made by Norah last evening of the camp-wagon
and three horses ; fortunately to-day the animals have
screened themselves behind some shrubs, and I dash the
heavy foliage over the limbs of the wise and home-regret-
ting horses, thus saving Miss Norah's " drawing from life "
from sharp criticism. My little friend has gone back to
get the dinner ready, the blue smoke wreathes around the
tree-tops, and a right savory smell of cooking reminds me
that I must " to house," and try to get rid of some of this
red earth that clings so tight, before the dinner at the hotel
is ready. Oh ! why are not we also dwellers in tents?
Iq ^^|e Ute Pass.
INE is a story forty years long," said the colonel
to nfe, as I sat with him in front of the camp.
The fire was dying out, pans and dishes had been
W' ashed and put by in leafy cupboards, and Col. Steen,
sitting on the low pine table, began to tell me something
of his life.
"Yes, it's a long story, but I'll only tell you to-day how
we were the first dragoons that ever crossed the plains. Our
first expedition was made in 1832, from Rock Island, Illi-
nois, just after the Black Hawk War. In '34 we formed
anotheir expedition to ascend the Red River; we were then
at Fort Gibson, which was the end of our first march. Gen.
Leavenworth had commenced this Red River exploration.
When we had reached Pawnee Peak, called also Crosslimbcrs,
the general, the doctor, and both staff officers died. Col.
H. Dodge took command. Our number, at starting, was six
hundred men, but death soon brought us down to one
hundred and nineteen. With ten days' provisions we started
26 COLONEL ENOCH STEEN'S STORY.
after the Indians, leaving two camps of sick soldiers on the
road. The summer was the hottest I ever knew, and for
eighteen days we had neither salt nor bread, and lived on
horse and buffalo meat. However, we accomplished one
object — making trouble with the Indians. With one tribe,
which had been terribly hostile, we found great difficulty;
but the chances of war had given us an opportunity for
peace overtures. At one time, when only old men and
women with children had been left at home, their camp had
been attacked by a hostile tribe, who killed all but one
woman. At my suggestion our party bought her out of the
hands of these enemies, and returned her safely to her own
people. This act was accepted as a peace-offering; our
treaty was made, and our constant fear of being murdered
was dispelled. Once, our half-breed interpreter was so terri-
fied by this tribe that he refused to fulfill his office, but a
threat of speedy death brought him and his cowardice round
to the other side, and he obeyed all commands.
" The Spring before this {'2,3) Judge Martin, then living in
Texas, had ventured too far from home, having with him his
little son. The Indians caught and killed him, keeping the
little boy and the horses. One day, while our colonel was
talking witli the Indians, I recognized among them a negro
whom I had seen in the States. He told me one of the red-
skins was hiding a white boy from the other Indians in the
woods. We called a council, and speedily communicated
with the friendly Indian, who soon came among us, holding
the little white boy in his arms. The poor little fellow was
COLONEL ENOCH STEEN'S STORY. 2"]
crying wildly, thinking his hist hour had come. The colonel
called to him, ' Come here, sonny.' The boy clapped his
hands, and with a fresh, but this time a joyful, burst of tears,
cried out, ' Oh ! are you viy people ? ' The little face shone
through the tears with such joy as I never saw. I don't
think there were five men among us who were not crying.
" ' You won't let the Indians kill me, will you ? They stole
my pony, and if you get it for me I won't give you any
trouble ; only let me ride to my home with you.
"Poor little fellow! it was enough to melt the stoutest
hearted of us ; he could not have been more than eight
years old, quite naked, all bruised and sore from the tor-
menting of the Indian children, who had amused themselves
by shooting arrows at him. We gave him a gun and some
povvder, for the good fellow who had dealt so mercifully
with him, and who showed deep grief at parting from the
little pale face.
" We managed among us to contribute sundry articles
of attire, which the tailor of the company converted to a
suit of clothes for the child, and we sent him safely back to
his mother. You will like to hear that, in 1846, while
marching to the Mexican war, I met this son of Judge
Martin, whom we had so wonderfully rescued from the
Indians ; he had grown up into a fine, manly fellow ; he
recognized me, having become much attached to me on our
march ; wanted me to retire from the army, offering a large
farm, with all requisites for living on it, near him. We
took our way back to Fort Gibson, which was yet five
28 COLONEL ENOCH STEKN's STORY.
liundrcd miles from us. Again we got out of rations, and
suffered greatly from sickness — a kind of bilious fever. We
had to carry our sick on a rough contrivance : two horses,
one placed before the other; on either side a pole, running
through the stirrup on one horse to the stirrup on the other ,
thus, with a blanket slung over, forming a sort of bed. But
the road was often very rough, and even the marching
soldiers so sick and miserable, that the natural kindness of
their hearts forsook them. Death grew so familiar to them-
that pity and tenderness ceased to accompany it. I, myself,
was so ill I was often blinded by pain and suffering, but, in
horror of the consequences of ' giving in,' never reported
'sick,' or failed in a day's duty. Colonel Nathan Boone,
son of the well-known Kentucky pioneer, Daniel Boone, was
my companion in this sickness, and endurance of it. To-
gether we tended and nursed the utterly worn-out invalids,
night and day.
In 1835, on the 9th of August, our company of dragoons
formed to explore the plains and make treaties with all the
tribes we should meet. We were again commanded by
Colonel Dodge, and making Fort Leavenworth our starting-
j)oint, we went up the Missouri River, thence along the Big
Platte River to Denver; the first company of Uncle Sam's
men who had ever crossed the great plains. At that time
there were no "white settlers" ^vest of the Missouri, save
the trappers, or, as they were called, The American Fur
Company. They numbered from 60 to lOO. They had
sailed round bv the Pacific Ocean and Vancouver's Island,
COLONEL ENOCH STEEN S STORY. 29
to the mouth of the Columbia River. Jacob Astor was one
of them.
" Now I think," said the Colonel, " I have made a long
enough story for one day, unless I should add one or two
remembrances of ceremonies which we witnessed among the
Indians while crossing the plains. They are not very cheer-
ful things to tell about, but may help to give you an idea of
the gentle manners of the noble red man.
" The Rees tribe were holding high holiday. Around
their camp were hung the heads of buffaloes, some just
slaughtered, some only the whitened skulls. They had
raised a forty-foot cotton-tree, smooth and tapering, midway
in their camp. With their lances they pierced holes through
their amiable persons, stringing themselves on rope, to the
end of which was attached one of those huge buffalo heads,
of a weight not less than 20 lbs. Then commenced a jocund
dance around the pole, in which the buffalo heads figured
with grace and lightness, dancing as the lordly Indians
danced. This was meant as a graceful act of devotion to
the spirit of the chase, binding it in return to grant them
success in hunting. When their warlike blood had flowed in
sufficient quantity, the first part of the programme was con-
cluded. Next came the climbing of the pole by one brave
after another, hatchet in hand, till, the topmost reach of am-
bition being attained, the conqueror chops off one of his fin-
gers, sticks it and the hatchet on the pole, and descends,
feeling, no doubt, that the great end of his glorious existence
is accomplished. By our camp fires, as we halted in our
30 COLONEL ENOCH STEEN'S STORY.
march over the ground where now the Denver Railroad
runs, we heard from our interpreter many a legend of the
Indians, among them the story of the springs. These
medicine waters are looked on with awe as being the abode
of a spirit who breathes through the transparent waters,
causing the commotion on their surface. The Arapahoes,
especially, attribute to this water-spirit the power of giving
to their undertakings success or failure. Passing by the
springs, on the war-trail of their hereditary enemies, the
Yutas, through the ' Valley of Salt,' they never fail to offer
presents to the ' Manitou.' When we reached the spring
in August, '35, we picked from the fountain many a hand-
ful of bright beads, and at Capt. Buxton's visit, in '47, he
found the basin full of beads and wampum, knives and
pieces of red cloth."
ffianitou Spring.
It
ESTERDAY two Ute chiefs, " Chavcnau " and
" Little Colorado," rode up to the Hotel at Mani-
tou to send a dispatch to Washington, inquiring
what the whites meant to do about the trouble near
Wyoming between a set of gambling desperadoes and a
party of Utes. This was their story : The two parties
were gambling for horses ; the Indians won, and went
off, taking the horses with them ; the enraged whites
followed, killing ten of the Indians, and seizing the horses,
after which proceeding the Indians would have ample pre-
text for killing the first pale face who came along. But
the real truth of tiie affair was that Indians, enemies of
the Ute tribe, had disguised themselves as Utes. How-
ever, these chiefs had come to sta}', as they said, "two
sleeps " and " six eats." Little Colorado was heavy and of
solemn demeanor, but Chavcnau was very friendly, and
smiled as cheerfully as an Indian may.
That evening we at the hotel had arranged some tableaux
with much care and, as Ave thought, great success. The
chiefs took places among the audience, and watched gravely.
One of the finest of the tableaux, Judith killing Holofernes,
impressed them most. All the wild blood rose in them
32 INDIANS.
at the figure of Judith with the raised scimitar, as she
stood over Holofernes.
That night the chiefs slept in one of the upper halls of
the Hotel, to the great terror of those who opened their
doors not knowing that the Indians were there. Their
dusky sleeping faces upturned in the glinting moonlight
were indeed enough to startle even strong nerves.
We were naturally very desirous of having them sit to
us for a drawing, yet were a little unwilling to ask, I will
tr}- and describe them as I saw them squatting on heaps
of baggage in the hall. They both wore broad felt quaker
hats, which looked very comical over their long straight
hair and copper-brown skin. Little Colorado wore a loose
orange-red shirt, dark trowsers, gray moccasins, and a wide
marine-blue blanket wrapped round him — very handsome,
but we thought it must be fearfully hot. The array of
Chevenau was still more fantastic. His leggings were curi-
ously made of red cloth, fringed with beads, and on each
side of these a sort of flap or sail. He was decorated with
a great man)- bead ornaments. From under his long gray-
ish-black blouse hung an oblong piece of red stuff, on his
breast w^as a part of an enemy's skull, shaped to the
form of a star. Little Colorado's ornaments were not
quite so savage — only a glass cross and gilt chain,
with a few blue and white beads. By signs and a few
words they understood our wish to sketch them, and fol-
lowed us silently fiom the hotel to our cottage. We
handed them seats, giving to Little Colorado the rocking-
INDIANS. 33
chair, which he took with outward cahn, though we
fancied with inward unccrtaint}' as to how he must tlicrcin
comport himself. To Chavenau we gave a picture magazine
to occupy his eyes while we drew. But civilization comes
hard to them. The chairs seemed to act like electric bat-
teries, jerking their arms and legs into most uncomfort-
able and unnatural positions.
Little Colorado's feet were placed wide apart, his hands
grasped his knees as if for support, his big hat tipoed back,
giving his sober face the appearance of a wink ; and in
spite of his splendid red blanket, my drawing was a failure
— so we agreed that our only chance of making a picture
of Indians would be whilst they were quite at ease and
unconscious of notice.
In the afternoon we saw the chiefs by the Manitou Spring.
A crowd soon gathered round, and the romance of the spot
vanished ; but for the moment they completed my picture,
standing beside the waters which they once worshipped,
and to the spirit of which they offered their choicest gifts.
• All that time is with the past, and only here and there
is it possible to feel that once the red men held undi-
vided sway. We are too thankful that it is so, listening
to our friend the Colonel, as he tells us stories of Indian
horrors. He is so well known, and so thoroughly respected,
we know we can quite believe all he tells. Last night we
were in company with Governor Hunt, another notable char-
acter in the colony. All our interest and enthusiasm were
aroused as he described the life of his family since, sixteen
3
34 INDIANS.
years ago, they toiled across the plains in ox-wagons, and
settled in the wilderness of Denver, All the discourage-
ments and hard places of that life had but served to give
fresh impulse to ambition and exertion, and I mentally
added Gov. Hunt to my list of the nobles whom we have
met out here, who have kept the enthusiasm of youth bright
and warm. With manly courage and childlike hearts they
keep on their course ; modest and temperate, they are
also shrewd and large-hearted. God bless them for the
example which they give to the many young men here,
setting out in life, one of our boys among them ! If they
but follow those footsteps, bravely and honestly, they will
fill every desire of those who love them and watch their
progress with anxious hearts.
^he 6lirTib, ^hP'yer\r|e Garioq.
4^
egeipt^e ^^aiiffn
ILL ROGERS is this minute whittling some
sticks, to make sure of a fire. We had but two
matches, and he made a failure of the first. Good,
manly fellow he is, indeed. I am the sole companion of
him and his little wife, and they are getting ready the
lunch, while I am trying to get my nerves steady after
the weary ride from Manitou in that great wagon — the
one that Norah's pen has immortalized — the wagon which
carried these two all the way from BiUler, in Missouri,
nearly 800 miles across the plains.
Last night we were trembling in our cottage, shut up
there from the great storm. Such bellowings of thunder I
never heard, and when we ventured to raise the curtains and
look out, it was enough to make one think that the very last
night had come, that the world was surely on fire, and that
the flames would be on us in a moment. I little thought I
should be here to-day. But oh ! what a new-born, clean-
washed earth! What a wondrous sky! What glory and
purity, what new life over all, and within myself! Only once
before have I seen such color; it was early one morning, go-
ing into Naples, on one of the broad-decked Mediterranean
boats, when we sat and looked with heart and eyes on the
^6 CHEYENNE CANON.
lovely islands in the bay, and wondered at the tints to
express which we seek in vain for words. I would like to
shut my eyes in southern Italy, then open them here, and so
find out, by sudden contrast, what it is that makes the differ-
ence.
The fire is made, the kettle boils, the teapot (which has a
story of its own, to be told by Nellie some day) is charged
with tea. My dear little Abigail opens the big lunch-basket,
so exactly suited to the wagon, and which was filled by the
generous hands of our Manitou hostess, and we sit down to a
delightful meal. The horses are grazing by the camp, and
we leave bags and shawls unhesitatingly in the wagon, and
set out for the falls. I began to count the bridges over that
Cheyenne creek, made of stepping-stones and fallen logs, but
gave it up when I reached the twentieth ; so we stood before
the beautiful falls of Cheyenne Caiion, and tried to realize all
their beauty and the foolishness of the attempt to sketch
them with a woman's hand and a steel pen.
All our twenty odd bridges safely passed again, we
reached the camp, where we dined, and the small house-
(camp) wife packed up dishes and tidied things, while Will
went away a little distance to harness the horses. Looking
at our watches, we find it has taken three-quarters of an hour
to walk from the falls. This first rest which we take to-day,
is most grateful to our tired limbs. We hear the birds sing,
and one fellow, large and bold, breaks in with a sort of
scream. He is blue on the breast, with brown wings and a
crest of black. His loud scolding is because we are too near
CHEYENNE CANON. 37
his nest. I can make little effort to describe what I see
around in this most lordly, wild canon, but all the day has
been full of a grand sentiment, the gift of this glorious
Nature. Will comes back. He has harnessed Betsy and
Loo, and announces that Betsy is eager to get back to the
colt. These creatures speak English as near as hor^:es ever
did. Will tells how they comfort and scold, and stand up
for each other. Getting into the wagon and looking far
away over the prairie, it is just like going to sea again —
indeed this kind of vehicle is called a prairie schooner. We
are on a broad plateau, with no visible descent, and away off
lies the prairie, under heavy, wavey shadows, and there, in a
broad gleam of sunshine, stand the small houses of " Colo-
rado Springs " or " Newtown," very much like a group of
"Mother Gary's chickens." As far as motion goes, the
wagon is not unlike a ship, especially, when we get to a part
of the road that used to be a prairie-dog village.
Each moment of our descent the beauty grows ; now the
long, graceful lines of the mountains on the west run down
to meet the gentle undulation of the swelling prairie on the
east, and the sun runs in and out in eager hunt for beauty-
spots.
Will Rogers begins to sing some of the songs he learned
in camp, for he was a soldier for four years, and when he
leaves off singing the little wife begins again her story of
their journey across the plains. We are seated on chairs in
the centre of the " prairie schooner," and now and then run
great risk of being upset ; but I am assured that it is
38 CHEYENNE CANON.
because the wagon is not well laden ; so on we creep, with
the fresh air blowing away the fatigue of our morning tramp.
The small settlements, three of which we have passed since
leaving the caijon,send out their little, barking dogs, and the
men are coming home to supper at the camps, which dot the
roadside here and there close to Colorado Springs, and there
I leave my kind companions and the "schooner" for the
hotel and two or three days' sketching in the little, new
town.
HE Fountain Colony! I wish I could do justice
to the life of this street scene. Great ox-teams
cross the lines of the fences, and whole trains of
emigrant wagons surround the place of the new church
about to be built, and turn the pretty street into a holiday
scene. Happy children and men and women, just off their
long journeys, crowd the place, so glad to get into their
camping-grounds in the " Garden of the Gods," or up by
the great springs of Manitou. I have borrowed a chair,
and sit between the two largest trees of the village — single,
leafless trunks, set out a few months ago. The great wild-
flowers and weeds spring from the side of the irrigating
ditch through which the water runs at my feet as clear as a
real brook. Behind me stone-cutters are busily at work on
the walls of the Episcopal Church, whose corner-stone was laid
by Bishop Randal a week ago. Before me is the pretty
Presbyterian Church, and to the right, just back of Captain
de Courcey's rustic cottage, is the unfinished Baptist Church.
Yesterday, as we came from Cheyenne Canon, we passed a
camp which seemed to me just what I wanted for my sketch
of the new church and the bright little cottages of the new
40 COLORADO SPRINGS.
town, so again I breakfast at half past six and set off to get
it. It is a long walk, and I have a high wind to fight
with, but I persevere, remembering the home-like scene
which attracted me last evening: the two children play-
ing at an old man's knee, the grandmother getting sup-
per at a camp fire, the tent with door half open, the
I'lorses contentedly grazing, and the empty " schooner "
near by. But what a disappointment meets me this
morning, and what a sad story ! As I approach this
little settlement, so peaceful and comfortable-looking
last niglit, the children are seated on a chest, one of them
crying because father will not let her carry home a pet
prairie-dog, which she has on her knee. The old people are
packing up bag and basket. A strong young fellow lifting
the poor sick wife and mother into the wagon, which must
carry them back to their home in Kansas. As the sad little
group moves off, I catch a glimpse of a white face pillowed
inside ; the children sit quietly by the father, who is driving,
while the stout old couple walk slowly beside. A sad start
for home. The tent remains all tightl}' folded : they have
left it behind that they might have more room for the inva-
lid in the wagon. She came to Colorado too late; the
blessed air cannot heal lungs so far diseased as hers, and, as
I turn back sorrowTully to my hotel, I wonder if she will
reach her home, or if the}- will have to stop by the way to
seek a resting-place for her.
It is everywhere announced that rain is coming. The
great mountain is in a mist. The train has just come in,
LooKiq^ out, Gl^eyeqrie (feafjoq.
COLORADO SPRINGS. 4 1
and the omnibus dashes up with the i)asscngers, who stop to
dine before they go on to Pueblo or take the stage for Mani-
tou. The hindlord is going with a large party up Pike's
Peak, to see the sun rise. In spite of the threatening rain, it is
a jolly party which gathers in front of the hotel. Among
them I notice one old lady quite as gay as the young ones,
and who threatens to outdo them all. She must be sixty-
five, and I am astonished at her courage. There are but five
gentlemen in the party, and at least ten ladies. Later in the
evening we sit and watch, from the piazza, the camp fires
lighted half-wa}' up the Peak. Many parties go there in the
afternoon, rest in camp till three in the morning, and then
climb to the top in time to see the sun rise. Since this part}'
left there has been much rain, and we can imagine them get-
ting dried by the huge fires blazing on the mountain side.
There are many delightful people to talk to and to admire with
me the great rainbow that throws its unbroken arch over the
vast mountain range, and fills the very sky with its colors. T
am told that I have not yet seen the best part of the caiion,
and a gentleman offers to be my guide there to-morrow.
Roufrhincf it in the " schooner " was well enough, but
quite another thing is this to start, at half past six o'clock,
after a good breakfast, in the lightest of carriages, with a spir-
ited horse. With a friend of taste and culture to talk to, a
knowledge of the route and of what we are to see, the toilsome
tramp of yesterday became a pleasure and delight in this
fresh morning air. A climb which brought out the great
strength and patient kindness of my guide, and on my part a
43 COLORADO SPRIXCIS.
little determination to " go on," brin^ us to the highest
attainable point of the canon, and from between the rocks
we gaze out on the plains. There was, really, not a word to
be said, and, with a long-drawn breath, I took refuge in utter
silence.
We had been talking a great deal of the wonders of the
mountain forms and their strange likeness to human beings,
how they seemed to be reproduced even in the clouds of
these peculiar skies ; but here our speech fell mute in
wonder and awe.
After an hour I found courage to attempt, with my pen,
even a feeble remembrance of the scene, and my guide took
his pencil. Looking up at his call, I saw a mighty eagle dis-
porting himself in the deep, intense blue. Ah, how express-
ive his sweeping, soaring motions of delight, and freedom,
and power!
TAKE my seat at the great hill's edge, with my
feet on wild gooseberry bushes, making an earnest
and most uncomfortable effort to get a view of the
old hotel of ManitOLi. It was here that our good friends of
"The Home" made their first dwelling, pending the build-
ing of their beautiful house. How full of interest are the
accounts of their coming here late in the evening of the
last day of December, '71, when they reached this "hotel,"'
a mere shelter of rough piiie boards, where all the airs
and the lights of heaven blew and shone through and
through the rooms ; but trouble and care could not abide
in that heavenly atmosphere, and hard work became play ;
rudest civilization seemed golden Arcadian in the trans-
lucent air of Colorado, and the fare might have pleased
the heathen deities themselves, so new and piquant
seemed every meal. Black-tail deer (most dainty of all veni-
son), buffalo and antelope, grouse and quail, trout from the
brooks, and the strange new animal, the mountain sheep.
" Sam," the trusty Scotch servant, was cook. He made
endless fun for the children, with his hat tilted back on the
very last hairs, his long, striding gait, and his white, even
teeth perpetually gleaming in his good-natured, smiling face.
44 THE OLD HOTEL.
The mountains rose twice as grand and mighty in the even-
ing sk)', and they seemed to watch and guard that first sleep
of the brave, adventurous family. The first morning was,
as they said, like waking in heaven, and altogether beyond
description, for here the seasons had refused to go, and liad
each waited for its successor to come and make good cheer;
so winter had kept a skating-pond and a good snow-ball
bank for the boys, while Spring came just beside to set the
brooks babbling and the birds singing, and Autumn had
insisted on "pre-empting" one sunny nook, where the late
flowers bloomed and the feathery grasses waved, for the
mother to deck rough wooden walls and tables. What a
strange, unreal effect must that have been when, one morn-
ing, as the children were playing, their hair and their blue
woolen dresses were suddenly sprinkled w ith shining frost-
powder, and a diaphanous snow-cloud descended and envel-
oped every form, till it was as if all walked in a " vision of
mist." Nights intensely cold, when every possible woven
fabric was pressed into service for covering, followed by days
of such heat that to bathe in the clear, bubbling spring, was
a luxury, and summer clothes and sun-bonnets a necessity.
Near the great mineral spring, fresh and virgin as Nature's
hand had left it, where it seemed Undine must emerge if one
lifted a stone, was the only habitation besides our own. It
was the dwelling of a hermit invalid, who had been carried
here, and who, in this healing air and with the use of the
spring, became, after a while, well and strong. The coming
of the M. family must have been a blessing to him ; the
THE OLD HOTEL. 45
young girls made broad for him and brought him many com-
forts.
Many visits were made by the Indians, who came eager to
" swop " everything and anything, from a bead belt to a
baby, and at last had to be forbidden a too near approach,
in the fear that the bright hair and dark eyes of little Daisy
might prove too tempting to them. The M. family are set-
tled in their beautiful, luxurious home now, but they all agree
that no sweeter remembrance comes to them than that of the
weeks spent in their rough shelter, waited on and cared for
by faithful servants, when each evening home-coming of
father and brothers made a festival, and their hearts were in
truest, happiest harmony, as they gathered round the table
spread with choicest morsels from the game-bag of Old Criss,
the hunter of Bereun's Park.
en
THE HOME.
UCH an excitement in the house, as well as through
the cafions and the great rocks, and the empt}-
watercourse that is welcoming the tempest beating
down and actually storming us, though we are safely shel-
tered in the great house. Over from the school-house dash
the boys, shouting with delight, and the dear foreign lady,
their governess, looks sorrowfully out, and says: "Ah!
the whole place is undermined ; our poor school-house is
washing away." All down the hillsides run wild torrents,
strong enough to cut instantly their own channels ; they
meet at points, and rush wildly together, till they reach
the thirsty creek, that rejoices in them like a giant refreshed.
What half-human voices come from the rocks around!
Only by those echoes can w^e tell where thev' stand, for
the sheeted waters beat over and hide them. The people
in the grounds fly and make for the barn, chased by this
tempest, so sudden, wild, and fearful. Yesterday this same
Ftorm overtook and almost drowned people coming into
tol^e Hon[\e-6leii ^yn'e.
(;len eyrie. 47
the town five miles away. This inoniing, how beautiful
was everything as I sat at the lodge gate ! Who could
have dreamt of such swift destruction ! But now we begin
to sec the rocks again — before I can finish writing of it,
the sun is out again, and the wonderful clouds are made
a thousand — thousand times more glorious ; and yet, with
a soft veil over all. I remember once in crossing the
ocean a huge iceberg came close to the ship. It was in
July, and in the sunset we sat on deck and wondered at
the magic scene — never have I beheld such heavenly tints
till now, among these rocks and clouds. From the Major
Domo to the vast pile of rocks where the echoes live,
stretches a great rainbow, which is three times repeated ;
behind it the gray escarpment and the outer wall of Glen
Eyrie are almost transparent, and of a greenish tint, while
the great red rocks stand sentinel in front, proud in their
eternal strength, and rear their wonderful shapes, challeng-
ing our wonder, awe, and admiration.
Eyes better used than mine, will you come and help me
to see what you have found in the awful architecture of
these rocks? Here, in the escarpment, is the titanic buffalo,
who looks down, solemnly watchful. Above him, a ruined
castle ; farther on, a pile of modern construction, with a
mighty chimney in the centre, the gable end perfectly out-
lined ; then, from the group of echo rocks, stands out a
face, lined and worn to the semblance of an agony of grief,
turned to heaven in awful supplication. It seems as if it
must be the face of that Echo, which, through all these
48 GLEX EVRIE.
ages, has answered only the cry of bird ;ind beast, the voice
of Indians, and the thunderings of the tempest.
I am gkid to be able to insert here a page from this rare
home-life of Glen Eyrie ; it will better finish the picture
than any of my own comments.
MRS. M 'S LETTER.
I THINK it is such a boon to children when the}' are
perm.itted to grow up in the midst of grand scenery. It
is a constant inspiration and uplifting. Looking at these
mountains gives one a desire to climb, mentally. Here
there is no false standard of life, no unworthy desires or
excitements to come between our children and nature's
great heart. Many a whisper do they hear and many a
lesson do they learn which needs no interpreter. The spirit
and influences of these grand scenes enter into the pure
young souls, and leave an impress which no time or trouble
can efface. It seems almost a crime to rear a child in the
city, to surround and hamper him with enervating habits
and artificial dress. k'or a perfect growth of soul, as of
body, a long, free, opoi air childhood is indispensable.
The sun is just coming up from behind the red rocks, to
cast his glory over the beautiful picture spread before me.
All Nature is waking. The birds arc beginning their matins,
and the brooks, with their never-ceasing music, make chorus
GLEN EVRIE. 49
to all other sweet sounds. All the household are sound
asleep ; but this strange, new life fills me with a spirit of
unrest, so I am up and on our piazza, to greet the lovely
opening of day. I would fain call you back, dear friend, to
share this clear, pure air with me, to rejoice with me in this
new w'aking of birds and flowers, and the happy, healthy
group of children, who rouse to answer the bright smile sent
in by the sun to their nests. This great, glad sun has already
tipped the rocks and hills down by " Melrose Abbey," and
sent a shaft of light round the corner of Echo rocks, and ere
I can finish this sentence, will have crowned the Major Domo
himself,* What a shame that we are not oftener witnesses of
the royal progress ! how it strengthens the body and refreshes
the mind to meet the long, hot hours of day, to respond to
the calls on sympathy, and patience, and love, that come
from the sturdy company of small people within the house.
There ! The opening note comes from Daisy. She has
waked Marguerite, and there is a busy chattering going on
in the dressing-room. The beautiful shoes sent by dear
Papa are to be put on. Mademoiselle Julie (a superb doll
brought by Mr. P.) is to have her breakfast and go out.
Plans are being made for the day — the walks to be taken,
the flowers to be picked, all in company with Clark, and
Nat, and Chase. Yesterday, just after I had left the din-
ner-table, poor Curly Head was attacked by giant Hot
Temper, and, I am sorry to say, completely conquered. All
* In whose great stone face the children have found a likeness to Abraham
Lincoln.
50 CI.KN KVRIE.
the tribe fled to my room for safety, the little lion ru.shin<^
after, lost to all reason, wild with raijc. I caught him in my
arms, told him how sorry I was that the giant had used him
so badly, and to see him waste the strength which he
needed to make him grow into a man ; and when he was a
little calmer, I sent him out to the piazza to cool off
and think it ov^er. Daisy, who had looked on gravely at the
whole scene, followed the culprit, and with a face full of
sympathy, sat down beside him, patting and kissing him,
and called out to me, " Oh, come and see now ; Clark is so
pretty dis minnit."
And pretty enough the)^ both looked, sitting in the sun-
shine. Curly head, w^ith his rage all gone, his eyelashes still
wet with tears, his face full of sadness, bent down to receive
the loving caresses of the little comforter ; conquered again,
but this time by the love of the little flower-like sister.
Well for him that love surrounds him to help him in the
hard fight with giant Hot Temper. Since I have begun to
write he is up and dressed, and has gone down stairs singing,
hand in hand with little Daisy — another version of the lion
and the lamb. He is seven years old to-day, our Curly
Head. He told me yesterday he would rather I should
whip him when he is bad than scold him, because it did not
take so long 1 " * * * *
The Clematis is dripping all fresh from last night's rain.
Yesterday in the hotel at Manitou the hostess had the hand-
some dining-room wreathed with it ; we thought it lovely
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GLEN EYRIE. 5 I
then, and praised her taste ; but here, oh liere ! It makes
wreaths at its own wild will, around and over and into the
shrubs where I sit by the gate of Glen Eyrie, whence I see
the very prettiest picture possible under the Eagle's Rock,
where the nest hangs straight over. This is the Lodge of
rustic work, with its diamond-paned windows, where the sun-
light is dancing ; the boys are frisking around it, while Lottie,
invested v/ith sovereign power, is preparing lunch. To-day is
high holiday, we are to have absolutely our own way, and are
not to be called to account for any misdemeanor whatever.
At last these children understand that I am just as young
at heart as they, while I am at my out-of-door work, and I
share their confidences and enter into their plans beautifully.
There is plenty of fire-wood, and in the Lodge is an iron
stove, and there is Lottie, if my eyes see aright, making pies
and heating the oven ! Flour, baking-powder, butter and
salt are mixed, and biscuits of the lovely primrose-tinted
Colorado flour, are "rising" as light as our spirits. The
water is boiled and tea is made. The boys give the room an
energetic sweeping. Chase has taken off shoes and stock-
ings, and is darting around promiscuously. Johnny Blair
brings the wood and water. All help to set the table with
tin cups and plates, pewter spoons and forks. Lunch is
almost ready. Tea and biscuits, cold meat and fowls, and
fruit, duly spread out, we " fall to " with real woodland
appetites. Then the talk gets lively. Chase warns me of
the rattle-snakes — he has killed them close to this spot.
"When you hear a noise like a grasshopper," he says, "look
3-'
GLEN EYRIE.
out ; " and when presently he goes to the rushing brook for
water, he brings back, as convincing argument, the skin of a
huge rattle-snake on a stick.
Last evening, when thunder and lightning waged war
against my work, I grew heavy-hearted and despairing over
it, and I thought, " How foolish to attempt to draw such
scenery!" But I begin to find that here the spirit of the
scenery enters within your innermost, and that it was the
weather only which had darkened my spirit and weakened
my hope. This morning is, indeed, a blessed revelation ;
never was such air to breathe, such freshness of color, such
depth and purity of light, and as for odors ! —
Clark makes dashes here and there for handful of wald
flowers; he says, "When you get a most beautiful smell,
that's a primrose!" and he holds a bunch to my nose.
" Tip always smells them out." Now Tip, who is an ill-
mannered pup, not out of his A B Cs, feels the fine free state
of things, and jumps, all dripping from a souse in the creek,
right on my dress, knocks down chair and umbrella, and
otherwise misconducts himself. Hugh, the pleasant Scotch
gardener, stops, as he opens the gate, to say : " Eh, mem !
but this is a mairnin' gude for mon an' beastie as weel's
the thirsty groun.' "
Another time I should have groaned over my stupidity in
having forgotten just the piece of paper which I needed, but
grumbling is not to be thought of with this hour of full
pleasure to live in, and already Clark is halfway back to get
the missing paper for me, with Tip in hot pursuit.
GLEN EYRIE. 53
These children make a rare story-book for me ; their home
is an " Arabian Nights," Robinson Crusoe, and Sandford
and Merton, all in one, and mingled by an artist hand. A
shrill whistle, and — " Look at here ! Here we are ! " and
between the bushes stands Clark, holding in triumph a
Larkspur twice his own height, his face all aglow with
pleasure, and the sunshine sending back into his black eyes
the glory of that blue flower. I think of the fountain of life
that the blue bird in the Arabian tale sung of, and even Tip
behaves as if he had had a draught from it, and had quite
forgotten that he had ever been sent from the room in dis-
grace. Behind my boy come two of the ladies, and we hear
a little scream, and " It's a snake ! I know it is ! '' but
Clark laughs them to scorn, and shouts, " It's only a big
toad ! "
He comes to my side while I draw, and tells me they came
here from the old hotel before the great house was finished,
and sa}'s how much afraid they all were, it was so wild and
lonely. He was only six years old, and was sure it must be
just the place for gypsies. " Oh, I'd not come here, then, for
anything ; I was sure the lions must be here, and the ani-
mals, so I kept close to the house. We saw wolves and
foxes, and we heard barking up the mountains, oh, awfully!
it was wolves or bears. We were up the school-house canon
— oh, mercy ! we tvcrc so frightened ! We came rushing
down the canon, oh, didn't we! Lottie, Chase and I, and told
Brunette the wolf was coming ! "
" And are you ever afraid now?"
54 GLEN EYRIE.
" No-o-o ; we're not afraid now — wc were city boys then.
We have such fun now ! We killed a skunk yesterday, and
then for the stink ! Over there's the snakes' burying-
ground — such a lot of graves, and didn't we put them in
deep! We thought it was such a wonderful thing to see the
stones, we thought a little bit of stone was so beautiful ; and
oh, the big rocks! Now we climb, just for fun, away up to
the top of the rock over the eagle's nest." And then I hear
the story of how Margey was out with the baby and Daisy,
and how an eagle came swooping down, and was going to
carry off little Daisy. Margey made a great shake at him
with the baby in her arms, so he had to fly away. How
frightened they all were when Margey came home and said
she'd never go there again with the babies ; and the eagle
did take a pet guinea-hen away ; and the young bear they
were taming tore at Nat's leg one day, and had to be sent
away.
Here came Nat himself, to bring me in to dinner.
"Ginrj T5ur]ker's Pulpit,
itn
1 tt I II i t ♦
EFORE we reach " Rainbow Glen," the opening of
" Ute Pass," there looms before us a mass of rock,
crowning the mountain. It is named Tim Bunker's
Pulpit, in honor of a literary gentleman (Rev. Mr. Clift), who
writes under this noin de phimc. Just below this mountain
is the mineral spring called "The Captain." On the left of
the road is a log hut, and above its open door the word
"Bakery," in staring red letters. An American flag floats
valiantly from a shingle on the roof, and, within the rough
domicile, various pies, sandwiches, and antelope pasties,
invite the wayfarer to "refreshment." The lord of the log
hut is a wholesome-looking and amiable Englishman ;
his wife, the compounder of all the eatables, is a Cock-
neyess, unmodified and convinced that all Nature's glories,
all splendors of forest and stream and mountain, are
as naught contrasted with the lost Eden of her boarding-
house near Berkeley Square, where her drawing-rooms were
so elegantly carpeted, and where the flower of " the gentry "
56 TIM bunker's rui.riT.
resorted for " furnished lodgings." Their daughter, lovely
and blooming as a mountain nymph, has met and brought
me to the cabin, where I am warmly entertained, and treated
to many stories of their first wonder-filled experiences of the
new country. The father of the beautiful girl — and a troop
of bright-looking children besides — relates many amazing
adventures, the crowning of all of which is, that once a roar-
ing lion rushed at him and his comrade as they were
descending the mountain, causing them much terror and the
loss of many valuables cast aside in their narrow escape.
But next day I learn from good Mrs. Steen that the lion
could only have lived in the Londoner's excited mind — there
are none ; but perhaps she felt she had robbed me of a tell-
ing point in my notes, for she said, with haste to make up
for my lost lion, " If you want to write down something real
wonderful, there it is ! " she points to a steak of fresh beef
hanging in her tree larder. " You can tell how, in half a
day's drying, that piece of beef will be fit to cJiip for tea, and
the nights are so dry that you may wash out your clothes in
the evening, hang them up out there, and in the morning
they are quite fit to put on ! "
t
t tn ^
unnn*
OMING to the entrance of the canon this morning,
very early, I turned to look at the fountain playing
in front of the house, and find I have not taken the
best view. It is lovely now, when the trees make a sombre
background. It fairly sparkles, this fair home, before these
trees and the Major Domo standing black against the hot
sky. I stop to note down this new idea of it on my way to
Lady Ellen's Bower^ where now I sit at ease, content with
life. It is quite the same to me that there is a storm com-
ing, and that excursionists pass by, curiously peering at me.
My drawing finished, I lean back against the pine-tree
seat, and listen to a story from the voice of Lady Ellen her-
self — the story for which I have earnestly begged — of real
Indian life, quite true and unexaggerated. If I could as
well give the manner of the relator ! — but that and the
beauty of this bower that bears her name, are alike beyond
the power of my pen to reproduce.
5 8 QUEEN S CANON.
LADY ELLEN'S STORY.
My only brother was killed by Indians four years ago.
He had been a fur trader for many years, and in his youth
had hunted over this very ground. I remember him, when
I was a little girl, telling me of the springs which we now
call Manitou, how beautiful was their site, how sparklingly
they bubbled up, and how wonderfully healing were their
waters. The Indians came to camp around, to bathe in
and drink of them. Coming in these after years with my
children, all these stories came back to me vividly as I
stood with my little people in the veritable wonderland,
at the foot of Pike's Peak. While on my wedding tour we
made a visit to Ottertail Lake, one hundred and ninety
miles north of St. Paul, Minnesota. My brother was en-
camped there with his Indians. The journey was made in
those clumsiest of vehicles, the Indian Red River carts,
wooden — without a bit of iron. A wretched little Indian
pony toiled along with each cart, getting many a blow from
its Indian driver. I think it is Porte Crayon who has made
such a good drawing of one of these trains. When night
came there was a halt ; we being in spring wagons went on,
leaving the train behind us, and never saw it again till we
had been ten days in camp. But it would be impossible for
me to relate to you all the adventures of this wild trip. My
brother's wife was an Indian. In their wild hunting life,
the care of children had been too hard for both parents and
little ones, so their two children had been in my charge ever
queen's canon. 59
since their infancy, and it was five years since their mother
had seen them. Now I was bringing them to meet her. At
almost the end of our journey, one of our horses failed us,
and as the Sioux were on the war-path, it was decided that
I should take the children and go on to the camp, conducted
by an Indian called "The Eyes," because of his wonderful
sight, and send back fresh horses. We drove across the
prairie where no road had ever been, and at nightfall reached
a birch forest on the borders of a lake. The great birch
trees, white and ghost-like, stood up around me, while the
two children slept soundly. Far out on the lake were
Indians in their canoes, fishing by their flaring birch-bark
torches ; beside me sat the silent Eyes, neither able nor will-
ing to speak a word to me. It was late at night when we
reached the camp. I had covered my face with a thick veil,
to keep off the mosquitoes. The wagon stopped. Eyes
stood up and called out something which I recognized as
my brother's name. I uncovered my face, but could see
nothing, all was thick darkness ; but suddenly, as if they
had come out of the ground, Indians crowded around with
torches. If I had had an artist hand, I could have made
a wonderful picture of that weird scene — those wild figures,
the wigwams and lodges, the children roused from sleep,
their faces full of wonder, the strange light from the glaring
torches, and the quiet lake shining and glancing. While I
sat spell-bound, the mother of the children came to the
wagon's side — one long look she gave, turned half round,
buried her head in her blanket, and uttered such a cry ! It
6o queen's canon.
was as if some dumb creature had been suddenly gifted
with voice. It expressed the very agony of joy. It had
been her wish that the children should come to me ; but
the prospect of ever seeing them again must have seemed so
vague, so improbable, that she could only hope for its reali-
zation in the land of the Great Spirit — and now they were
here ! I am a mother now, so I can understand what that
meeting was to her.
Next day my husband and brother came safely into camp.
We stayed about two weeks, and led a life so wild, so unreal,
it comes back to me now like a dream out of another exist-
ence. My brother visited us many times afterwards, at
long intervals, generally leaving the children with us. He
was one of the noblest specimens of mankind I ever saw.
At his last visit he took his children back with him, having
made a home on a ranche in Montana. Some years later,
his wife having died, he determined, at our mother's urgent
wish, to move back to St. Paul ; but the intention was never
fulfilled. Sitting one evening with his eldest daughter at a
game of chess, there was a knock at the door, and six
Indians came in. Supper was prepared for them, and having
eaten, they opened their business. They had, they said,
brought back some horses which had been stolen from my
brother by some of their young braves, and if he would
send his sons a few yards with them, they would drive the
horses into the ranche. Only the oldest boy was at home,
and he went with them, they telling him to ride in advance,
as he had the best horse. They had gone but a little way,
queen's canon. 6 1
when the boy heard a pistol snap behind, and turned
quickly ; but the Indian had already hidden the pistol, and
was, with seeming innocence, snapping a whip. My nephew
understood it all, yet rode on as coolly as he could. But
a few minutes, however, and the same Indian, coming close
to him, said, " You have a great heart," and at the same
moment shot him, the ball entering near the ear and passing
through the cheek. As he fell from his horse, several Indians
sprang upon him, rifled his pockets, and left him for dead.
Among the Indians at the house was a young man who
had been brought up by my brother. He had been sitting
with his blanket drawn around him, apparently in trouble.
My brother, noticing this, said to him, " Natuscho, what has
gone wrong with you ? Come out and tell me what ails
you, and we will see what can be done for you." They went
out into the bright moonlight, and the other Indians imme-
diately rose and took their guns from the walls where they
had hung them, and went toward the door. One of the chil-
dren called out, "What are you going to do with the guns?"
" To shoot at a mark," was the reply. As they passed out,
one of the Indians turned, and, taking the youngest child in
his arms, said : " I don't want them to do it." Instantly the
eldest girl sprang to her feet, crying, " You mean harm to
my father. If you touch him, the very forest leaves will cry
out against you ! " As she rushed to the door she saw her
father fall, shot through the heart by the wretch whom he
had brought up ! Was it not like nursing the adder?
My nephew had dragged himself, wounded and bleeding,
62 queen's canon.
to the house, calling, " Father, father !" just as that dear
father fell murdered. In a moment my poor niece compre-
hended the whole dreadful plot, and passing by her dead
father, right through the group of savages that surrounded
his body, went to her brother, whom she raised and bore
to the house, and laid him on the bed. Again she went,
taking with her the old grandmother, and, between them,
they bore my brother's body, and laid him beside his still
living son. All that dreadful night they passed together
with but the doors between them and the fiends half-mad-
dened by this taste of blood. When, long after, their
father's mother asked them," What did you do, my children?"
they said, "What could wc do, grandmamma, but pray?"
Once during the night, when the brother was fainting from
loss of blood, a little sister, only twelve years old, took a
bucket and passed out through the room where the wretches
were gathered. Looking at them calmly, she said : " Yo'u
dare not touch me! " Awed by the sight of this brave child,
they let her go unmolested a quarter of a mile from the
house to the spring. Nor had one of them courage to enter
the room where their victims lay. Many times through the
night the handle of the door had been turned, but they came
no farther. When morning dawned they rode away, having
destroyed everything which they could not carry off; the
whole party numbered thirty.
When they were gone the eldest girl walked half a mile
to the toll-gate, told what had happened, and, returning to
the house, waited for help to come.
queen's canon. 6
My nephew recovered, and still lives on the ranchc. The
younger brother has since been killed by Indians. The girls
are with my sister in Minnesota. Looking over a memo-
randum-book of my mother's, the other day, I saw : " Au-
gust, — , — . My poor boy murdered by Indians ! " and I
wondered if any of the Peace Commission had such a record
among their private memoranda. My brother's only offense
was having strongly opposed the war projected by these red
devils against the white settlers. They feared his influence,
so murdered him in this, their own cowardly fashion. Im-
mediately after his death the Pequod war broke out. * * *
NELLIE'S CLIMB UP THE CANON.
"Yesterday" and "to-day" are words bearing very
opposite meanings to me just now ; for, while stiff and ach-
ing, I think only of to-day's pain, yesterday's pleasure being
left far behind, till
" Remembrance wakes with all her busy train,
Swells at my breast, and turns the past to "
The rhyme is spoiled, for I must put pleasure instead of
pain
I congratulated myself on being finely equipped for the
tramp up the Canon — short walking-dress, stout boots, and
veil tied over my much suffering and rebellious nose, for
the sun burns fearfully here. But after the first quarter of a
mile, which brought us to " The Bath," the loveliest ever
64 queen's canon.
Naiad bathed in, my heart misgave me. My boots seemed
most unfit to be trusted, my dress a mere incumbrance, my
veil no shield ; for, looking upward, there rose before us a
straight wall of stones, bedded in gritty sand. Netta
was the foremost of the climbers, Lottie and the boys fol-
lowed, and I, poor I, brought up the rear, dolefully con-
scious of my Eastern inability to affront these aspiring
paths. Chase, with a tin pail full of lunch, was my partner
and help, for he showed me where to plant each footstep,
how to get a moment's grasp on the loose and slippery
stones, and how to dig my feet in the rolling sand, so as not
to roll with it. I had my little basket of fruit strapped to
my belt, but never was fruit so scattered, even by Ceres
herself, as was my small store by the time we got to the
top, burned and gasping. There we found the others sitting
quietly under the shade of a pine tree. A long rest, and a
slight refreshment with the remains of my fruit-store, gave
us courage to contemplate the situation, and decide on the
choice of the different ways to explore the canon.
The Bath, called also the Punch-bowl, is a great pool hol-
lowed out of the solid rock, eight or ten feet wide. Unless
one swims across this, the only alternative is to climb the
mountain, descend on the other side, and walk four miles
through the bed of the creek, stumbling over dry branches
and briers, and crossing the occasional wet places on natural
bridges of logs. This we determined to do, and with one
look at the view spread before us, we commenced the de-
scent. Around us rose the rocks, one piled on another,
queen's canon. 65
reaching farther than sight could follow in the dazzling sun-
light ; below us, f^ir down in the valley, the stream rushed
over the stones, singing so loud that we could hear it even
at that height, great silver pines bordering the bed of the
stream, blue-jays darting among them "like winged flowers."
We, the petticoated ones of the party, tucked our draperies
taut and snug, and went sliding, slipping, tripping, tumbling,
till we felt we must be turning into atoms of an avalanche,
whirling down that awful slide till we came breathless and
almost stunned to the other side of " The Bath." But
through it all the brave bearer of the tin pail stuck to it
with unswerving constancy. Luckily for us, by and by,
when, hungry and tired, we found in its good contents the
material of a famous lunch. Now, after a short pause for
repairs, commenced our four-mile walk. Many a tumble
from the slippery stepping-stones into the shallow water ;
many a merry laugh as the boys, over-brave and daring,
soused into the holes, getting their blue flannel suits well
wet. Over logs and branches of fallen trees, crossing and
re-crossing the little stream for an hour, we came to a pretty
sparkling water-fall. This seemed to be the end ; but,
going farther, we found a little way up, cut through the
mountains, a narrow pass, where only three could go abreast.
Through this, we came upon the loveliest view of all.
Rocks piled up on every side, of every variety of shape and
color, all life and vegetation crushed out of their arid sides,
save now and then a pine clinging desperately in some slight
crevice ; over our heads they towered threateningly, taking
66 queen's canon.
no note of our noisy party save a grand, solemn echo, which
they now and then sent back to our puny shouts. Silent
and awful, the}' hold their secrets and their treasures, wait-
ing till the " open Sesame " of science comes to wrest them
from their keeping. Turning in this pass to the right, we
came to a nearly perpendicular rock, and here were the fore-
most of our explorers, who had climbed a round, smooth
boulder, a few feet separated from the rocky wall. Like
flies they looked, clinging to its smooth surface, afraid to
move an inch, lest they should slip into the deep water flow-
ing between their perch and the main rock. Netta"s
brother was there, luckily; he, with his broad, flat climbing
shoes, clinging more firmly, and was able to help the rest. Nat
declared he would try the " other way ; " so, with hands
upon the main rock, and feet striding the stream, and rest-
ing on the boulder, he crept and sidled to the end. I,
inspired with sudden ambition, rushed at the rock, but once
on it, there the impulse ended. I could neither advance nor
retreat, but adhesiveness, suddenly developed to a most
unexpected extent, enabled me to keep my hold. One slip,
and in full expectation of a plunge in the cold water be-
neath, I felt myself going — but my feet were seized by Nat,
Mr. M. caught my hands, and I was safe. A few steps now,
and we were at the end of the Queen's Canon, that is, at
the farthest point yet reached, and one to which few explor-
ers have attained. I could hardly understand how we had
succeeded in getting to it, till Mr. M. bade me look back
and see how, by catching at every slight projection of the
queen's canon. 67
rock, and lying flat on the rounded boulder, we had one by
one made the passage.
Here our lunch-pail nobly fulfilled its high destiny, for the
delicious bread and butter and cold meat which it had kept
cool and dry for us were of priceless worth in giving us new
strength and vigor, and after the last crumb had been eaten,
we gathered ourselves up to push on again. Half a mile far-
ther we reached the " Seven Baths," the most beautiful, but
the most difficult spot we had yet encountered, with many
new obstacles added to like ones of the preceding part of our
excursion.
We had succeeded in getting past five of the seven
"bowls" (or baths), and found then that our only chance of
getting onward, by a part of the rock rounding at a certain
turn, was precluded by a sharp, uncompromising rock jutting
out just in our path. One of our boys scaled up the face of
the rock, but found a pass.age quite hopeless ; at his call for
help to get back, we tried to reach him, but at that moment
a large piece of rock was loosed and came tumbling down on
the head of poor Netta, stunning her and causing univer-
sal consternation. Cold water, freely applied, restored her,
but the accident effectually checked all further efforts at the
exploration of Queen's Cafion for that day. We turned
back rather crest-fallen, but the merriment was restored to
our party by Lottie's sudden splash and flounder in the
water. Startled by the noise, I let my paper and pencil slip
from my hand, and off they sailed, rejoicing in happy escape
from the miserable sketch to which they had been doomed ;
68 queen's canon.
but a brave dart and clutch recaptured them, and I had, at
our halt, the pleasure of securing the first view of " The
Seven Baths " that has ever yet been put on paper.
A thunder-shower, with pelting rain, accompanied our
homeward march.
What a condition we were in as we reached our longed-for
home — wet and dilapidated, and oh, how weary I But bath
and brush soon made all right, and the eventful day was
closed by a merry dance and lovely music, and our sleep was
sweet, although broken now and then by a sudden start, as in
our dreams we fell off the dreadful precipices and plunged
into the rushino; stream.
T is high holiday for the children of the " New
Town," to-day, for the circus has arrived, and
causes no little excitement. Away out here a cir-
cus is an event of the utmost consequence, and, as it is the
first time of its appearance in Colorado Springs, the whole
population is stirred, the news has spread far and wide, send-
ing men, women and children, who could by any means find
horses to bring them, and coin enough to admit them to cir-
cus delights. This morning there was a gorgeous procession
of the ''Company," the "Forest Monarch" marching along
as dry and dusty as the road itself, and two young buffaloes
looking savage and solemn on the crowds gathered around.
Our children had come from Glen Eyrie, their eyes dancing
in anticipation of the wonders awaiting them at the after-
noon performance. Special trains came puffing along the
" narrow gauge," mightily important, but a little taken down
by their having been of space too circumscribed to admit the
" Fat Woman," who had to come rolling on in a prairie
schooner; but she did come, true to time, and the tents
went up, with the lemonade and candy booths, the drums
and brass band, and all the belongings of a real traveling
70 THE NEW TOWN.
circus. In the evening, when wc " honored the perform-
ance," we could sec another proof of the " enterprise " of the
Company, in the flaring jets of gas which they manufactured
" as required." What startling effects of color came out !
The lads and lasses in true Western toilettes, where blue con-
tends with scarlet, orange with green. Knots of purple,
pink, or yellow, adorned the hair of the belles, which was
worn simply flowing over the shoulders; they had but fol-
lowed Dame Nature's summer fashion-plate, wherein glow
and sparkle blue mountains without any softening veil of dis-
tance green ; green trees, snow-white soapflowers (or Spanish
daggers), and long stretches of goldenest sunflowers. The
entertainment, not bad of its kind, fulfilled its end of giving
intense pleasure to young and old. There was much lemon-
ade circulated quietly, but more briskly as the performance
drew to a close, and at the last anxiously pressed on the
attention of beaux, who were urged to refresh their fair com-
panions. " Only half-price, gentlemen ; elegant lemonade,
ladies and gentlemen, only half-price ! " but there was much
stock left on hand, for the audience were already dispersed,
and almost before the last lingering little boy had departed,
the tent was down and rolled awa}^, the animals hustled on
the waiting car, the fat woman, with the squeaking-voiced
dwarf cuddled close to her comfortable lap, stowed into the
" schooner," and the great Western Circus was only a suc-
cession of dots in the distance.
"Well, Clark, w^hat did you like best?"
Little curly-head looked up. " I liked it most when the
man put his head in the elephant's mouth I "
o
M
N the gay party assembled for an excursion to
Pueblo and the coal mines, I had the good fortune
to be included. The feelings of our entire com-
pany are expressed in a letter'"'^ of warm and sincere thanks
to General Palmer, and the officers of the Central Colorado
Improvement Company, for their many kindnesses and
courtesies.
On that trip I first comprehended the luxury of travelling
by a "special" train; resting in an easy chair, listening to
stories of long-ago in these regions, when railroads were
unthought of — rushing at a speed of forty miles an hour,
but stopping at will wherever scenery or incident invited our
stay. This was the very poetry of motion, or, at least, the
refinement of steam traveling. As we approached Pueblo,
a great change was apparent in the character of the scenery.
Pike's Peak was grander, the Spanish Peaks and Cheyenne
Range more lofty and varied in outline, the Arkansas more
rapid and winding, with the added beauty of tall, graceful
cottonwood-trees risino- to a f^reat height on its banks.
* In Colorado Springs Gazette of l6th August.
J2 PUERI.O AND THE COAL MINES.
Pueblo, now a bright and growing business town, is new
and fresh in ahnost all its streets and buildings. A few
of the low adobe houses, which were once the only dwellings
of the town, still remain at the entrance ; but the new city
has taken its station on a high, breezy bluff, one of the
loveliest possible sites. From Pueblo to the coal mines is
the wildest bit of country I have yet seen. The climate in
winter is very fine, and there is a large hotel projected close
to a spring of iron and soda, where invalids may pass the
whole season in comfort of sky and sunshine, both of which
w^e nearly forget as we enter the mines. By the twinkling
lamps carried in the miners' hats we see and wonder at all
the dark processes of mining. A friend wrote for me some
of the salient points in the history of these mines and of
the miners ; and, only that my space is too small, I would
gladly transcribe his letter. The men whose lives are spent
in these sad underground shades can have but gloomy and
cheerless lives. He says : •' The work is very hard. Often
the ' cuts ' are made by the miner while lying on his side,
the pick used by working it over the shoulder, the hole
drilled, filled with powder, and blasted, the daring workman
still in this uncomfortable position. Some compensation
they do manage to find in the spending of their hardly-
earned wages." Beef, mutton, vegetables, and pudding,
cloth, muslin, silk, and shoes are their ideas of " comfort, of
life ! " As we emerged from the black pit into the day,
made dazzling by contrast, a huge miner, who has been our
guide and general informant, calls out to " Dave," to know
3
o
GO
£■
o
a?
PUEBLO AND THE COAL MINES. JT,
if the new beer had come. Now, " Dave " has been pointed
out to us as the character of the phice — I should say, Dave
and his mule, as the two are but parts of one character,
whole and indivisible. The Dave part is a hunchback, the
mule a marvel of strong thews and long ears. Dave's voice
is as the herald and proclaimer of all mining movements,
heard long before even the ray of his lamp or the tip of the
mule's ear reach the mouth of the mine. They bring out
the coal and, blessed compensation, bring in the beer.
" Who will you have to bring in this beer?" calls General
Palmer down the shaft. A great shout from mingled voices
answers, " Dave !" and Dave responds lustily, and the mule
rattles his bell gayly, as both disappear with the refreshing
can. We turn away from these living tombs with a little
slow of comfort in our minds, as we know that there is still
even that compensation left to the hard lives passed in the
Pueblo Coal Mines.
t ■*■, +
|l|oiiii:iij nt paijli*
AND THE GARDEN OF THE GODS.
Extract from a letter of GENERAL Palmer.
HE remarkable rock formations which I have at-
tempted to delineate, may seem to be rather the
creation of the artist's fancy than the result of even
the most eccentric contortion of nature. The letter which
I am kindly permitted to use, is given not alone for its attes-
tation to my honesty ; but because of its vivid description
of the weird region, which cannot be observed from too many
stand-points. It was written several years ago, during an
early exploration of the country.
* * * * * vf * * 4:- *
" Right along the base of the Rocky Mountains where the
first range struggles to leave the plain, sixty-two miles
south of Denver, is a park of surpassing loveliness, covered
M'ith verdure, and interspersed with fantastic forms of stone.
From the upper end, rises dark and frowning, over a thou-
sand feet perpendicular, the mountain wall ; here, showing
the bare cliffs and peaks of granite and porphyry ; there,
covered with dense forests of pine. Out of this wall open
^or\urT\er\t -Pai-U.
Mor\urt\er\l -Park.
MONUMENT PARK. 75
deep, rugged canons, immense chasms and ravines, whence
come dancing and leaping the glad water, which we shall
guide off into lakes and send up in fountains, until the naiads
and water nymphs shall be tempted to make this their home.
" Up these caiaons we shall be able to explore till we reach
the very summit of the Rocky Mountains, whence we can
look down into South Park, that magnificent valley in the
clouds, and catch a view of the snow peaks of the range.
At our feet will surge the great ocean of the Plains, visible
for two hundred miles to the eye that can see so far, — all
the grand rolls and high ridges smoothed into a gently rip-
pled sea. There is no danger of exhausting this field of dis-
covery, for the whole side of the mountain range is furrowed
with these tortuous and solemn ravines. How quiet they
are — except for the rushing water as it hurries from its inac-
cessible heights and recesses — how weird are those dark old
pine trees counseUing with each other in a dismal moan.
Will you care for the great boulders which try to block up
your way ? or will you delight to climb over them and up
the rugged mountain side with an alpen-stock ?
" Our home itself, nestled quietly at the foot of these giant
cliffs, will have no commonplace feature; for standing
around everywhere are piles of rock, taking all imaginable
shapes of humanity and of human constructions ; there are
o-oblins which came out from their cavernous home in the
o
mountains one night, and were fascinated by the beauty of
the place into a too prolonged stay ; the rays of the morning
sun caught them, and before they could hurry back, they
y^ MONUMENT PARK.
were turned to stone. It is impossible to describe the
quaint and sombre character these eldritch forms lend to
the scene. Some have the shape of huge frogs petrified as
they leaped — others, of tall grenadiers, straight and soldierly
as on the tour of duty ; donjons and ramparts, Chinese man-
darins, and vast furnaces bulged out by heat.
" The imagination might busy itself for a life-time in deci-
phering the curious shapes found here and in the region
stretching for many miles north and south along the moun-
tain base. The most wonderful of all being in that strange
enclosed park called the Garden of the Gods."
fPjG Goi-deq of \.[\e Gods.
igergnii s P
rit*
T last we are in our camping-ground, with Park
lands stretching around us so far and broad
that all sense of locality is lost, and we would
find it hard to say whence we had come ; we only know
that we have been sent in advance of the main camp,
and are here with leisure for sketching and for enjoying the
most " realizing sense " of true ranche life. Sitting at break-
fast, near, but not in the log house, the table of rough pine
boards adorned with red cloth and a fresh bouquet of exqui-
site prairie flowers, mutton-chops, potatoes mashed and
browned to perfection, coffee and milk and cream ; near us
are cows and horses, and the beautiful, graceful, antelopes ;
broad slopes of green pasture, with long, cool shadows
thrown here and there ; skies of purest blue, and mountains —
mountains, all around — they surround us, but the grand dis-
tances take away the feeling of being imprisoned by them,
and Pike's Peak is so softened and mellowed by the atmos-
phere, that all sharpness and grimness are quite melted
away. This ranche, forming in itself a noble estate, is the
78 bergun's park.
centre of Bergun's Park. A novelty in ranche life meets us
on entering, for the English and comfort-loving Mr, T., the
proprietor, has made a fine vegetable garden, neatly fenced
around. Shining tin pans drying against the brown logs,
denote milk and cream. A deep shed or alcove contains the
stove ; next to that the large kitchen and dining-room com-
bined ; on one side of this a sleeping-room, on the other the
ranchero's particular pride and care, the dairy.
In our wagon were three English friends, and our good,
newly-arrived English Ann and her husband, whose mission
it was to cook and do for us. Ann had been a servant of
Mr. T.'s family in England, and her long, pathetic look at
log walls and earthen floor, and Mr. T.'s hands and face,
browned with real toil, expressed distress, and pity, and
regret. " Indeed, ma'am," she said, with a heavy sigh, " 'tis
strange to see 'im 'ere ; but," she added, reflectively, " 'e
looks much 'ealthier."
But Mr. T. did not seem to share in her depressed feelings
— he was deeply engaged in preparing our " apartments,"
a supplementary log house, the second story of which was
reached by a ladder from the outside. He saw to every-
thing ; and brought me a great basket of green peas to shell
for dinner ; two little gray kittens were coiled on a huge buf-
falo robe ; " That is my bed," said he, pointing to it ; and
when I groaned, " How you must ache every morning ! " he
laughed, and replied, " That was a small item in a rancli-
man's life."
Next day our party had come, and, with a regretful good-
bergun's park. 79
bye to beautiful Bcr^un, and Mr. T.'s ranclic, we started in
full procession for real camp life. The baggage-wagons had
been sent to the Platte River, forty miles away, but we
camping people filled five " ambulances," as the wagons
used for camping are called. At our halts we had often to
depend on these for shade, in which to rest or lunch, for the
days were hot, though lovely and clear. The long morning
and afternoon rides were full of novelty and enjoyment ;
some of us on horseback, with all sorts of devices for saddles
and riding-habits, made marks for the jests and merriment
of the rest, but often the wildest fun was silenced suddenly
as some overpowering beauty of view opened before us, and
the sunsets were of a glory beyond the power of words to
describe.
Our first night did not disappoint our hopes of an adven-
ture, for two of our wagons strayed from the rest, and were
honestly, veritably lost. We were with the stragglers, and
very strange and eerie it felt, trying to find the track in the
deepening gloom, our only light coming from a small oil-
lamp, owned by one of the provident ladies. We had been
promised fresh trout and grouse for supper by Governor
Hunt, but supper and Governor Hunt seemed vanished into
illimitable space. But soon a ranche light greeted us, and
brightened hope and faith. A true Western welcome was
given to us, and preparations for affording us shelter for the
night were quickly made. We learned that we had diverged
eighteen miles from the proper route. Weary and hungry,
we took most gratefully the tea, and bread and ham, and
8o bergun's park.
delicious butter, and then disposed our cramped limbs as
best we could on the long combination couch. The kind
mistress of the ranche had unpacked all her winter wraps to
furnish us coverlets. The gentlemen betook themselves to
barn and hay-loft, and all got through the night comfort-
ably.
Colonel Kittridge and his wife made our breakfast a feast,
with goodness and hospitality presiding. We had to go in
companies to the table, but that was no hindrance to our
glee, for those who waited had the glorious air and the grass
and prairie flowers outside to compensate ; there was plenty
of time for a drawing, and, inside, the picture was too strik-
ing to leave without some reminding sketch. Such a won-
derful deep and shadowed chimney-corner, built of clay and
stones ; split log walls, hung with some pictures ; a clock,
antique and ponderous, making its appearance there an
utterly unsolvable enigma ; a great tub of water ; a sewing-
machine ; and a guitar ! and the dominant figure of all was
the lovely " ranche mother," with her pure and refined face,
blue eyes, and wavy hair. She consented to be made a
picture of, as she held her baby in her arms ; and, while this
was being done, she spoke much of their life, its enjoyments
as well as hardships ; they had many visitors in winter, and
these, with the magazines and journals from the East, made
the weary months pass pleasantly.
Again on our march, we come through ranches thickly
stocked with fine cattle, on traces of our lost main party —
they had pinned a notice of where we were to go on a tree
Col. Kith-edge's -I^aqc?].
Our Carr\p by f*ass Creek.
r.ERGUN'S PARK. 8 I
which thc\- thought wc could ncjt fail to sec. At noon we
met Governor Hunt, and presently we got into camp at the
head of the Platte Canon, in South Park. In the afternoon
tents were pitched, our stove-fire lighted, and dinner cooked.
Our dining-room was a large tent, a piece of canvas spread
for table-cloth, carriage cushions for seats. In the open, or
sky kitchen, wonderful feats of cookery were exhibited.
Our ebony empress, Victoria Jones, queening it superbly in
that dominion, and George, equal as to shade, inferior as to
position and capacity, is prime minister. There is revolt in
his manly breast, though, for his sable dignit}' feels it an
affront to be " ordered about " by — a woman. Then Thomas,
our waiter, comes with the kettle full of fragrant tea in one
hand, in the other the pot of steaming coffee. From tin
cup and platter we derive nectar and ambrosia ; but the
table (i'lidte of Olympus must have been flat and tame, com-
pared to ours. Trout just caught, and game, for our gen-
tlemen are all mighty, if somewhat bragging hunters, and
occasionally deign to accept a weaker vessel as companion.
Those who can put the grasshopper bait on the hook, and
take off the poor, wriggling prey without faintheartedness
like to go — all who can't — decline. A last affecting keep-
sake to our departing train in Colorado Springs was a pow-
erful, if not melodious, tin horn. To the dismal wail of
this we must rise, dress, breakfast, pack up, and decamp.
This last proceeding is the only part of the time in which
getting a sketch is possible, and pen and ink are in rapid
use while the horses are being put to, and bundles and all
82 bercun's park.
tb.c innumerable belongings of camp-life arc being stowed
away; then we gather into the ambulances and look our last
on the traces of our short stay.
But it is in the evenings, round our blazing camp fires,
that wc feel the full magical delight and romance of our life.
Between the tin horn's sad howl and the chill damp of
morning, the first hour of day draws rather heavily on
patience and courage, and the noonday rides are often hot
and weary; but at night everything inharmonious has disap-
peared ; in genial circle we surround the blazing logs, and
with T}-rol zither, merry wit and thrilling story, the hours
spin on till they are nearly merged in the " wee sma' " ones,
before we make up our minds to separate.
As we near the Platte the grass is heavy and rich — it is
orange, and red, and green. Nature revels in riches of
color and material. Many minerals are found, and moss
agates are plentiful. We come on a modern house, built
by Mr. Hall, and we alight and are invited to come in and
see Mrs. Hall's collection of minerals, which proves to be
very fine.
CALIFORNIA GULCH.
In passing through California Gulch, wc see where some
of the most earnest mining experiments have been made.
The scenery is very grim. Rocks torn and thrown together,
sparse verdure of blue-green tint, twisted pines, often with-
ered and bare. The little vignette on the cover is a picture
of a miner's cabin, and the miner, a blue-eyed, fair-haired
BERGUN S PARK. 83
German, lived there alone, workinj^ for gold, washing" it out
of the creek. He told us, in liis native tongue, never having
learned English, a long story of great good fortune, followed
by cruel wrong, from a dishonest " partner," and after losing
his hard-earned gold, he had come back, patiently and per-
sistently to wring fortune a second time from the grudging
earth, this time refusing all partnerships.
At " Granite" a mishap befell, for we overtook one of our
carriages lying on its side, two wheels gone, and nothing of
the occupants to be seen ! We pushed on to the village, a
most forlorn and miserable assembly of log cabins. In the
one " store '' we found a human being with sufficient life
and intelligence to answer our questions. None of the
upset ones had been hurt. They had passed the dangerous
part of the hill before the break-down, and had all gone on
to Twin Lakes. We turned and drove over the hills, all
covered with wild sage brush, and presently came upon
another mining village. Here we had to make a haphazard
choice between two roads — a wild enough one it proved to
be, the one we took, unmarked by much save a lonely little
graveyard on a dreary hill, overlooking a log village, itself
very much resembling a burying-ground ; however, we ar-
rived at our wished-for destination — -Twin Lakes. There it
was necessary to ford the Arkansas, to reach the road. The
water nearly came into the carriage, and the horses ' im-
proved the occasion ' by taking a hearty draught, and there
we had such a mountain view ! A man, carr}'ing home a
great string of fish, tells us we are more than nine thousand
84 13ERGUN S PARK.
feet above tlie sea. The air was sharp and cool as we crossed
from the first beautiful Lake to its Twin close by.
There we found the camp all pitched and supper being
prepared, so we fresh arrivals turned in, and attended to
sleeping arrangements.
Next day there was a division in the camp-y-an amicable
one, however — some went fishing, others sketching, others
exploring the canon near the lake. This involved much
rough riding and grievous bumping over the stony road. A
mighty rain descended, driving us back to the camp shelter ;
but we, too, had our misfortune while returning, for, at a
particularly disagreeable part of the gulch, we were over-
turned on the sharp rocks. The terror of knowing that we
were "gone," was a striking sensation, but we escaped Vvith-
out much severe injury. Two of the ladies had sprained
ankles, and we were all thoroughly frightened. We man-
aged to reach the hotel by the lake, when one of our part)-,
the lady who has made herself so well-known by her letters
on Colorado, exhausted by fear and fatigue, fainted. The
hostess, a sensationally-minded person, ruslied to the rescue,
exclaiming, " Oh! what an honor to have Grace Greenwood
faint on my floor ! "
PASS CREEK.
After recovering from our fright, and having refreshed our
hungry selves, wc returned in the carriages with many misgiv-
ings at the ominous slides and lurches which wc encoun-
tered. At evening we were in a cafion, the grandest but
^Wiq liaises.
^[]e Deserted ffiill.
bergun's park. 85
most gloomy wc had yet passed. The little ones cried with
fright, and cv^en the elders shivered and quaked at this ter-
rific look into the hiding-places of Nature, It was truly, as
one of the party said, the very valley of the shadow of death.
Yet the most imposing name which they could find for this
mighty canon was " Pass Creek ! "
Oh ! how cheery the camp-fires looked, and how comfort-
ing was their blaze, coming from the awful valley and the
pouring rain. The fishers came in with their tribute to the
supper-table, and night and rest were very welcome to us
all.
Beside the lower lake they were trying to make the camp
fire burn, but it was a difficult matter, for there had just
been a heavy shower. In a little while the sun comes out
hot enough to dry, in five minutes, the sacques and hats
which were wringing wet. Fish has been caught and is
brought home in triumph, which compensates fully for the
wetting incurred in catching them. The drawing of the
"Deserted Mill" is finished, and it is pleasant to lie beside
the crackling fire on the skins and blankets spread over the
wet grass, watching the preparations for dinner, which go
briskly forward. Governor Hunt should be a "cordon
bleu" — he quite excels our two cooks in all delicacies of
broiling and baking, and how fresh and bright is his talk the
while he works ! " For twenty-seven years," he says, " I
have been learning this ; it would be a shame if I did not do
it well." While we lunch, a man comes up and " squats " a
little way off, to have a chance word with us. He is owner
86 ibergun's park.
of the only inhabited log hut around the mill. Wc ask why
this mill is idle, and he says when the mining work fell off,
there was no work left for it. He staid here for love of the
place, and because he has some horses. Of these he likes to
talk, and of one especially, which loves sugar, and can be
coaxed by it to do anything, and is not to be frightened even
by a buffalo-robe. This leads to a description of buffalo-
hunting on the plains, last winter. What a grand set of
teeth the wild fellow has! They gleam as he tells how, half
the time he has been away from the States, he has had
nothing but a knife to eat with, and only antelope or veni-
son, without bread or salt, to live on. His coat is in tatters,
but he talks of " fixing up " his place, so that all the folks
from the States that come a-pleasuring may be more com-
fortable than they can be now, for many stay a night or two
with him when they are here fishing— there is better fishing
here than up at the lakes; and it is certainly a lovely
stream, this broad river rushing down from the Twin Lakes.
What a country! What bewildering beauty, taking speech
away, but giving, in return, a strange pleasure in life — a
happy, care-for-nothing sort of feeling.
Our camp, on the shore of the upper lake, was close and
warm that night, and we were glad to leave it for the fresh,
pure air almost at sunrise, and to look again at the lake,
lovelier even than it had seemed the night before. The
miners' deserted village was to be visited after breakfast, and
a drawing to be made. The village was rather disappointing
as a subject, and looked sad and dreary ; no blue smoke
bkrgun's park. 87
curling against the mountain-side ; no miners' garments, red
or blue, hanging up to dry ; no babies, to open their big
eyes at the strangers; only a little old shoe, patched by some
thrifty mother with pieces of cloth, lying at my feet, among
the wild sage-bushes. On the steps of the nearest house a
man is seated, and, after a long look at us, he comes across
the stream, and talks a while. The name of the place is
Da}'ton ; its chief inhabitants, now, are prairie dogs. He is
very lonely here, and, if agreeable to us, would like to talk.
By degrees we learn his history. A Bavarian, from near the
Rhine; he had made his way from the poverty around him,
and came to Illinois, where he had worked at hard day-
labor ; but his health failed, and he mended shoes, not hav-
ing talent enough to make them ; and, finding much time on
his hands, he studied English, and a little Latin, to help him
with the roots. From this awakening of the love of knowl-
edge followed the study of botany and conchology, and the
forming of a fine collection of specimens, the introduction to
eminent men, and, at last, his appointment as botanist to the
Wheeler expedition. In "Wood's Botanist and Florist " he
has now a credit for twenty-seven new species of plants ; and
in the '' American Journal of Conchology " a credit for seven
new species of shells. A brave, self-made man, indeed,
worthy of all respect, and of the emulation of many a
struggling youth.
The drawing finished, the conversation over, we said good-
bye, and mounted into the wagon just drawn up by Governor
Hunt, and began the passage through the valley of the
88 bergun's park.
Arkansas, a wild, rougli gorge, with many a steep climb for
the unflagging ponies. But the moon shone bright, and
gave us hope and courage, and songs and stories lightened
the way. Among all those strange scenes which, in the
moonlight, made continually changing illusions to our senses,
we felt perfectly disposed to believe all the wild tales of
Indian raids and " scares," and of the adventures which our
guide and friend, Gov. Hunt, had to relate ; and, as his
last and most awe-inspiring story came to a close, so did our
night-ride, and we found ourselves once more at our camp-
home.
MOUNT LINCOLN.
August 30-31.
The ascent of Mount Lincoln began from Fair Play, to
which place we had come from the Twin Lakes. The
horses of our baggage-wagons had turned rebels and run
away; so, camping not being possible, we were obliged
to find beds in the hotel — not a pleasant change after the
camp — but we looked on it as so much of preparation for
the climb.
So, on the last day of August, we set forth, a happy party ;
lumber-wagons, carriages, horses and mules, each bore a part
in conveying us. The morning was fair, indeed. Autumn
tints had already touched the trees ; the earth lay round, bro-
ken and rugged from the miners' work ; mountains stood beau-
tiful in the pure air ; over all towered Mount Lincoln, so
named by the miners in honor of the man whom they loved.
Passing Alma, Dudley, and many camps and little settle-
bergun's park. 89
ments of miners' luits, we reach the silver mine. In strange
and inharmonious contrast to the bright tints around, lay,
here and there, freshly fallen snow ; and, as we toil our slow
way up the Mount, we glance down the great crescent-
shaped basin of the foot-hills, rising on either side of the
Platte Valley, where, just then, hundreds of miners were
cooking their mid-day meal. More and more tortuous does
our path become, till we must look upward to steady eyes
and nerves. The carriages of the advanced party seemed
just ready to topple over on us. We soon left all verdure
behind, only great splashes of a plant, crimson-red, still ap-
pear among the broken rocks, till we come to the Montezu-
ma— the highest mine in North America— and then we stand
on a still higher point, to look over the vast expanse of
mountain, and upon the Divide, a narrow ridge, rising be-
tween mountains, where, should you pour a cup of water,
half of it would run on one side to the Pacific, and the other
half to the Atlantic.
We went to the huge " Smithy," and saw some of the
wonders of mining. The drilling and blasting, and sorting
of ore into bags. William Cotton, the foreman, has charge
of three mines ; he has spent thirteen years in mining. The
wood which they burn costs $60 per cord ; but they have
good food, excellent beef, and the bread which we saw
the handsome young baker putting in the oven was of the
most encouragingly light appearance.
The miners gave us a most friendly invitation to stay and
share their meal. They told us that Anna Dickinson and
90 BERGUN S I'ARK.
her party had dined with them. There were seventeen men
together, and their trim house, with everything, beds, cook-
ing arrangements, and fair-spread dinner-table, gave one the
idea of a well-manned ship at sea. Stopping to look back,
after we had left their house, to get a sketch of it, we saw
that the miners had gathered round Miss Dickinson, who
had come back to say good-bye to them. They stood in
honestly-expressed admiration of her pretty, gay costume,
and of her bright face. They had, while our party were
there, been telling one another how famously she and Grace
Greenwood were to " write up " their mines.
Ten minutes later a thick snow was falling, and we were
half-way down before we saw the sun again. The evening
light was on the mountain when we reached the base; the
last burro (Mexican donkey) has begun its climb, a little keg
of water slung on either side, to the cabins of the miners,
which are far distant from even the snow-water.
In Fair Play again, and across to our pleasant camp on the
other side of the Arkansas, thence home by a different route
through South Park, to behold fresh beauties and move
with constant delight forty miles each day over a " natural "
road, coming into camp at night fresh and vigorous as we
had quitted it in the morning. The evening round our last
camp fire was a gay one — we had our Queen and Lady
Ellen, Grace Greenwood and the Governor, the iNIajor and
his lady, our President and the General, and a chorus of
young people, to make us forget with song and story and
merry gossip that our happj' party would be scattered on the
Snor|te:;un\a5nir\e
Fair play.
4
bergun's park. 91
morrow. Two great pictures abide in my memory always.
If 1 could describe them truly in words or color, I should
make immortal fame for myself; they are : our first look
into South Park — our last on leavnn;/ it.
0ttiitaii|^ #^0l0ng.
f E have come home to Colorado Springs. When we
first saw the place, how lonely and far off it
seemed ! Men working hard with brains and
hands, dwellings so new-looking and scattered, women and
children rare and admirable incidents. It had been our
home for but a few weeks, yet, in that time, how we have
found out the people, their goodness and hospitality, their
earnest, aspiring lives, their true refinement of nature. One
cannot come into such close, genial relations with these
people, and not feel that from among them will come the
greatest race that the earth has yet produced. I speak
especially of the women of Colorado, present and future.
There is here, perhaps, less worship of women's beauty and
accomplishments, but man places her nearer to himself — she
shares and guides his life and thought, is the light, the com-
fort, the home. With the history of this colony are con-
nected tales of heroism which must, perhaps, wait for
another generation to recognize and honor as is fitting ; but,
from the lives of the people and their wondrous experiences,
I carry back to my tame Eastern home, recollections which
THE FOUNTAIN COLONY. 93
will long stir my heart and nerve me with strength and faith
for all future work.
This I take for consolation, amid all the sense of incom-
pleteness and self-dissatisfaction which my attempts to por-
tray Colorado scenery have left with me. This evening, a
little weary after our great camping expedition, and feeling
the reaction of all the excitement and novelty of the past
two weeks, I am very conscious of this depressing sense of
failure, for, the sunshine being gone, we have nothing better
to do than to watch the clouds shifting and circling around
the purple-black mountains, and to remember longingly the
grandeur and brightness which defy the most royal of the
kings and rulers in Art to portray them, and I think shame-
facedly and faint-heartedly of my little pen-and-ink bits
No landscape in the many countries which I have seen has
equaled this. Even this dreary evening, how Cheyenne
Mountain stands in noble lines of beauty — from lofty sum-
mit to green slope and plain, dotted with little rustic houses ;
how deep the voices of Nature in the canon ; how the
seven water-falls dash into the swift currents ; and how the
eagles, in their solitary places above, sweep through the
misty skies, and the great pines make wild music through
the deep ravine ! A sweet perfume comes into the open
room. There is close to the window a pretty flower garden.
Some one says, " Even the flowers are dull to-day; no won-
der we are sad." So we close the window and turn thank-
fully to the blazing wood-fire, and to the bright, inviting
tea-table, with its gleaming silver and damask, the fair and
94 THE FOUNTAIN COLONY.
dear house-mother giving to all a brighter light, a subtler
charm. It is a tiny dwelling, built at cost of a few hundred
dollars, but it gives most significantly the meaning of the
word " Home," word of unfailing melody everywhere, and
of perfect music in this far, new country. Our talk round
the bright hearth is all of ranching, homesteads, claims, and
pre-empting. We have found out so much about these
important things, of the time necessary to live on a home-
stead or claim, so as to protect it from the wretches, unprin-
cipled and unscrupulous, who would "jump" your claim
and enter your homestead ; of the difficulty of finding a
ranche properly supplied with water and trout, buffalo,
antelope, and all kinds of game. Nora, anxious to make
provision for next summer, is off to-day searching for Jier
ranche, with the aid and advice of our good Governor Hunt.
The log house is already planned, great stock of books laid
up on dairy management, bcc culture, and care of mules,
horses, and half-a-dozen cows. Then the proprietor of the
magnificent ranche called " Holt's," comes to join our fire-
side talk. His face, pale enough, as he tells us, with care
and anxiety a year ago, is beaming with life and happiness
to-day, for all the vast interests and machinery of his under-
taking are fully organized, and now in smooth working
order. It is his ambition to make it the largest and finest
stock ranche in the United States. There are now upon it
one thousand four hundred cows, one thousand young oxen
and other cattle, three thousand sheep, and thirty horses.
These great herds live and flourish on the luxuriant grasses :
THE FOUNTAIN COLONY. 95
in winter open corrals are sufficient shelter. The natural
grasses, dried on the stalk, make better food than Eastern
hay. Three hundred acres of richest " bottom land " are
being irrigated for the culture of wlieat, oats, and roots, and
to scatter all this wealth abroad, the Kansas Pacific Railroad
is ready only twenty miles distant. But to us, who could
hardly bear to leave Colorado without a very real prospect
of return, the most attractive project is that of the Eldo-
rado, or Arcadia, or Eden, if you will, planned by Dr. Bell
in Bergun's Park, where Mr. Thornton's ranche, already
visited and written of by us, is now preparing to furnish all
dairy and garden supplies. Here the beautiful park, more
like a carefully laid out landscape garden than the pure gem
of nature which it is, is to be made homelike by many
strong and comfortable, though rather rough and small, cot-
tages. They are really and truly being built at this day ;
and before we left we saw sewing machines driving merrily
at the long seams of bed-linen and table-damask destined
for the future inmates of the cottages. Families who would
see Colorado more freely, naturally and inexpensively than
they can in the hotels, can here settle for the whole season
in an enchanting home, supplied with pure and wholesome
food, with fishing, hunting, and endless attractions of scenery
within a little distance. Even ponies trained for ladies and
little people are to be in readiness. We talk, this last even-
ing, of our Colorado life (for Denver can hardly claim a
place in that), of what we hope to see and do next summer
in this paradise of Bergun's Park. Many a dream we had
96 THE FOUNTAIN COLONY.
of it while in the camp, and in the company of some very
near and dear kindred spirits ; how we will bring around us
for ourselves and the young people the best influences, with
real noble education of mind and body; how we could make
the beautiful our study under such favoring conditions as
surely nowhere else can fall to mortal lot ; how kid gloves
and conventionalities should be as things that had never
been and never could be. It does not seem so easy now as
it all looked to us then and there ; but, at least, there is the
possibility, and I close the portfolio of my Summer's Etch-
ings in Colorado, and say farewell to the glorious land, hop-
ing and praying for the fulfillment of that sunny dream of
Arcadia that came to us under the sunset lighting Pike's
Peak, as for the last time we turned into the tents gleaming
beside the blazing pine logs of our last camp fire.
THE END.
14 DAY USE
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