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 ^-^-^^Wi'ttfir--^' F^'H, ■ "% '