U.CO. UBRA8/ 
 
' 
 
 *' * X 
 
COLORADO 
 
 A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 BY 
 
 BAYARD TAYLOR. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 G. P. PUTNAM AND SON, 661 BROADWAY. 
 
 1867. 
 
 A* r% I I B !ft Jk IVtf 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by 
 
 BAYARD TAYLOR, 
 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of 
 New York. 
 
 RIVERSIDE, OAMBRIDaB: 
 
 STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY 
 
 H. 0- HOUGHTON AND COMPANY. 
 
THESE letters, originally published in the New York 
 Tribune, are reproduced in this form, in order to meet 
 the demands of a general interest in the regions they de 
 scribe. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. A GLIMPSE OP KANSAS 1 
 
 n. ON THE FRONTIER 8 
 
 III. UP THE SMOKY HILL FORK . . . .16 
 
 IV. CROSSING THE PLAINS 26 
 
 V. THE KOCKY MOUNTAINS AND DENVER . . 34 
 
 VI. FARMING IN COLORADO .... 41 
 
 VII. ENTERING THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS . . 49 
 
 VIII. CENTRAL CITY AND BLACK HAWK . . 55 
 
 IX. MINING AND MINING PROCESSES . . .61 
 
 X. To IDAHO AND EMPIRE .... 70 
 
 XI. CROSSING THE BERTHOUD PASS ... 78 
 
 XII. ADVENTURES IN THE MIDDLE PARK . . 88 
 
 XIII. THE UTE PASS, MIDDLE PARK . . .97 
 
 XIV. FINAL ADVENTURES IN THE MIDDLE PARK 108 
 XV. Two ROCKY MOUNTAIN PASSES . . . 116 
 
 XVI. THE ARKANSAS VALLEY AND THE TWIN 
 
 LAKES 126 
 
 XVII. IN THE SOUTH PARK 135 
 
 XVIII. THE RETURN TO DENVER . . . .144 
 
 XIX. A TRIP TO BOULDER VALLEY ... 153 
 
 XX. COLORADO AS A SUMMER RESORT. . . 161 
 
 XXI. HOMEWARD, ALONG THE PLATTB . . 168 
 
 XXH. GLIMPSES OF NEBRASKA .... 178 
 
COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 A GLIMPSE OP KANSAS. 
 
 LAWRENCE, KANSAS, June 8, 1866. 
 
 WHOEVER visits Kansas has the choice of two routes 
 from St. Louis, the North Missouri Railroad to St. Jo 
 seph, and the Pacific Railroad to Kansas City. The for 
 mer is three hundred and five miles long, and the trains 
 run at the rate of twelve and a half miles an hour ; the 
 latter has a length of two hundred and eighty-three miles, 
 and a speed of fifteen miles an hour is attained. The 
 former has the advantage of sleeping-cars (" palaces,'* I 
 believe, is the western term at least in advertisements), 
 the latter of finer scenery. Having had a dismal experi 
 ence of the former road some seven months ago, I chose 
 the latter, and have been well repaid. 
 
 In the United States, railroads avoid the finest scenery, 
 the best agricultural regions. This is especially the case 
 in the West, where settlement followed the rivers and the 
 old emigrant roads, forming belts of tolerably thorough 
 cultivation, between which the country even in Indiana 
 and Ohio is still comparatively rude. It is only within 
 a few years that railroads have begun to lead, instead of 
 follow settlement, and the line may soon be drawn beyond 
 which they will represent the most rapid growth and the 
 best cultivation. 
 1 
 
2 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 This reflection was suggested to me while observing the 
 country opened to the traveller's view by the Pacific Rail 
 road, between St. Louis and Jefferson City. There are 
 but three points which are at all picturesque, the wooded 
 and rocky banks of the sparkling Meramec, and the 
 mouths of the beautiful Gasconade and Osage Rivers, 
 and none which exhibit much more than the primitive 
 stage of agriculture. Yet the upland region, a few miles 
 south of the line of the road, is, I am told, rich, well- 
 farmed, and lovely to look upon. 
 
 Even when one reaches the Missouri, there is little in 
 that ugliest of all rivers to divert one's attention. A single 
 picture of the swift tide of liquid yellow mud, with its dull 
 green wall of cotton-wood trees beyond, is equivalent to a 
 panorama of the whole stream. For the seventy or eighty 
 miles during which we skirted it, the turbid surface was 
 unrelieved by a sail, unbroken by the paddles of a single 
 steamer. Deserted, monotonous, hideous, treacherous, with 
 its forever-shifting sands and snags, it almost seems to re 
 pel settlement, even as it repels poetry and art. 
 
 I travelled as far as Jefferson City in worshipful society, 
 five handcuffed burglars, three of whom had been Mor 
 gan's guerrillas. One of them, in utter opposition to all 
 theories of physiognomy, strongly resembled a noted re 
 former. As the other passengers, in referring to incidents 
 of the war, always said " Rebels " instead of " Confeder 
 ates," I inferred that their political condition was healthy. 
 Emigration is still rapidly pouring into the State, and, as a 
 young man from one of the way-stations said, " If we were 
 only all Black Republicans, we 'd soon have the first State 
 in the West." 
 
 When the road leaves the river, it enters one of the love 
 liest regions in the United States. The surface is a rolling 
 prairie, yet with a very different undulation from that of the 
 rolling prairies of Wisconsin and Northern Illinois. The 
 swells are longer, with deeper and broader hollows between, 
 
A GLIMPSE OF KANSAS. 3 
 
 and the soil appears to be of uniform fertility. On either 
 side the range of vision extends for eight or ten miles, 
 over great fields of the greenest grass and grain, dotted 
 here and there with orchards, and crossed by long, narrow 
 belts of timber, which mark the courses of streams. The 
 horizon is a waving purple line, never suddenly broken, but 
 never monotonous, like that of the prairies east of the Mis 
 sissippi. Hedges of Osage orange are frequent ; the fields 
 are clean and smooth as a piece of broadcloth ; the houses 
 comfortable, and there is nothing to be seen of that rough 
 ness and shabbiness which usually marks a newly settled 
 country. I have seen nothing west of the Alleghanies so 
 attractive as this region, until I left Leavenworth this 
 morning. 
 
 In the neighborhood of Sedalia, four or five hundred 
 farmers, mostly from Ohio, have settled within the past 
 year. I hear but one opinion in regard to the country 
 south of the railroad, extending from the Osage River to 
 the Arkansas line. Climate, soil, water, and scenery are 
 described in the most rapturous terms. One of my fellow- 
 passengers, pointing to the beautiful landscapes gradually 
 unrolling on either hand, said, Uhis is nothing to it ! " 
 Yet I was well satisfied with what I saw, and feasted my 
 eyea on the green slopes and swells until they grew dark in 
 thejwilight. 
 
 On reaching Kansas City, the train runs directly to the 
 levee, and the traveller is enabled to go directly on board 
 the Leavenworth boat, thus escaping the necessity of stop 
 ping at the hotel. I was very grateful for this fact, and 
 having already seen the forty miles of cotton-wood and yel 
 low mud between the two places, took my state-room with 
 an immense sensation of relief. We reached Leavenworth 
 at nine o'clock, in three days and ten hours from Philadel 
 phia. 
 
 This is the liveliest and most thriving place west of the 
 Mississippi River. The overland trade has built it up with 
 
4 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 astonishing rapidity, and it now claims to have a population 
 of 25,000. Kansas City, its fierce rival, having suffered 
 more than one blockade during the war, Leavenworth shot 
 into sudden prosperity ; but now that trade has returned to 
 its old channels, Kansas City expects to recover her lost 
 ground. It is a subject of great interest to the people of 
 the two places, and many are the speculations and predic 
 tions which one hears from both sides. As to the present 
 ascendancy of Leavenworth, however, there is no question. 
 The town has both wealth and enterprise, and its people 
 seem to me to be remarkably shrewd and far-seeing. In the 
 course of three or four weeks the two places will be con 
 nected by a railroad which follows the west bank of the 
 Missouri. 
 
 The Union Pacific Railroad (Eastern Division) opened 
 its branch road to Lawrence in May, and trains now run 
 regularly upon it, connecting with the main line for Topeka 
 and San Francisco. One of my objects in visiting Col 
 orado being to take a superficial view of both railroad 
 routes to the Rocky Mountains, I decided to go out by 
 way of Fort Riley and the Smoky Hill, and return along 
 the Platte to Omaha, in Nebraska. My first acquaintance 
 with the Pacific Railroad, therefore, commenced in Leav 
 enworth. The train starts from a rough piece of ground 
 outside of the town, follows the bank of the Missouri for 
 six or eight miles, and then strikes inland through a lateral 
 valley. 
 
 Here commence my new experiences. I have never be 
 fore been west of the Missouri River. Let me now see 
 what is this Kansas which for twelve years past has been 
 such a noted geographical name which has inspired some 
 thousands of political speeches, some noble poems, and one 
 of the worst paintings that mortal eye ever beheld. The 
 very repetition of a name, even in the best cause, some 
 times becomes a little wearisome. I frankly confess I have 
 so often been asked, " Why don't you visit Kansas ? " that 
 
A GLIMPSE OF KANSAS. 5 
 
 I lost almost all desire of visiting Kansas. Now, however, 
 I am here, and will see what there is to be seen. 
 
 We gradually rose from a bottom of rather ragged-look 
 ing timber, and entered a broad, sweeping, undulating re 
 gion of grass. Cattle were plenty, pasturing in large 
 flocks, and there were occasional log-cabins, great fields of 
 corn where the thrifty blades just showed themselves above 
 a superb growth of weeds, and smaller patches of oats or 
 wheat. Everybody complained of the incessant rains, and 
 this accounted for the weedy condition of the fields. The 
 soil appeared to be completely saturated, and the action 
 of the hot sun upon it produced almost visible vegetable 
 growth. 
 
 Here I first witnessed a phenomenon of which I had 
 often heard, the spontaneous production of forests from 
 prairie land. Hundreds of acres, which the cultivated fields 
 beyond had protected against the annual inundation of fire, 
 were completely covered with young oak and hickory trees, 
 from four to six feet in height. In twenty years more these 
 thickets will be forests. Thus, two charges made against 
 Kansas seemed to be disproved at once, drought and 
 want of timber, the former being exceptional, and the 
 latter only a temporary circumstance. 
 
 The features of the landscape gradually assumed a cer 
 tain regularity. The broad swells of soil narrowed into 
 ridges, whose long, wavelike crests generally terminated 
 in a short step, or parapet, of limestone rock, and then 
 sloped down to the bottom-lands, at angles varying from 
 20 to 30. Point came out behind point, on either side, 
 evenly green to the summit, and showing with a wonder 
 fully soft, sunny effect against the sky. Wherever a rill 
 found its way between them, its course was marked by a 
 line of timber. The counterpart of this region is not to be 
 found in the United States ; yet there was a suggestion of 
 other landscapes in it, which puzzled me considerably, until 
 I happened to recall some parts of France, especially the 
 
6 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 valleys in the neighborhood of Epernay. Here, too, there 
 was rather an air of old culture than of new settlement. 
 Only the houses, gardens, and orchards were wanting. 
 
 As I leaned on the open windows of the car, enjoying the 
 beautiful outlines of the hills, the pure, delicious breeze, and 
 the bright colors of the wild-flowers, the bottom-lands over 
 which we sped broadened into a plain, and the bluffs ran 
 out to distant blue capes. Along their foot, apparently, 
 the houses of a town showed through and above the timber, 
 and on the top of the further hill a great windmill slowly 
 turned its sails. This was Lawrence. How like a picture 
 from Europe it seemed ! 
 
 A kind resident met me at the station. We crossed the 
 Kaw Biver (now almost as muddy as the Missouri), and 
 drove up the main street, one hundred feet wide, where the 
 first thing that is pointed out to every stranger is the single 
 house left standing, when the town was laid in blood and 
 ashes, in August, 1863. Lawrence has already completely 
 arisen from her ruins, and suggests nothing of what she has 
 endured. The great street, compactly built of brick, and 
 swarming with traffic ; the churches, the scattered private 
 residences, embowered in gardens ; the handsome college 
 building on the hill, indicate long-continued prosperity, 
 rather than the result of nearly ten years of warfare. The 
 population of the town is now about 8000. 
 
 This afternoon my friends took me to Mount Oread (as 
 I believe the bluff to the west is named), whence there is a 
 lovely view of the Wakarusa Valley. Mexican vaqueros 
 were guarding their horses on the grassy slopes, and down 
 on the plain a Santa Fe train of wagons was encamped in 
 a semicircle. Beyond the superb bottoms, checkered with 
 fields and dotted with farm-houses, rose a line of undulat 
 ing hills, with here and there an isolated, mound-like 
 " butte," in the south. It was a picture of the purest pasto 
 ral beauty. 
 
 A little further there is a neglected cemetery where the 
 
A GLIMPSE OF KANSAS. 7 
 
 first martyrs of Kansas Barbour among them and the 
 murdered of Lawrence lie buried. The stockades of the 
 late war, and the intrenchments of the earlier and pro 
 phetic war, are still to be seen upon the hill. So young a 
 town, and such a history ! Yet now all is peace, activity, 
 and hopeful prosperity ; and every one, looking upon the 
 fair land around, can but pray that the end of its trial has 
 been reached. 
 
n. . 
 
 ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 JUNCTION CITY, KANSAS, THREE MILES WEST OP ) 
 FORT KILEY, June 20, 1866. J 
 
 As I recrossed the Kaw in order to take the train to To- 
 peka, I felt that my stay in Lawrence had been too short. 
 The day was warm and cloudless, with a delightful prairie 
 breeze, and the softly tinted dells beyond the Wakarusa 
 invited excursions. The main street of the town began to 
 swarm with farmers' wagons, pouring in from the rich coun 
 try to the south ; the mechanics were at work upon new 
 buildings in all directions ; the vans of the windmill on the 
 bluff were whirling merrily, and all sights and sounds spoke 
 of cheerful occupation. Fortunately, the people of Lawrence 
 do not expect their place to become " the greatest town in 
 the West, sir ! " so they are tolerably sure of a steady 
 and healthy growth for a good many years to come. 
 
 I reached Topeka twenty-nine miles by rail- in an hour 
 and a half. The road is laid along the Kaw bottoms, on a 
 grade as nearly level as possible. The valley has an aver 
 age breadth of five or six miles, and the uplands on the 
 north and south terminate in a succession of bluff head 
 lands, which, with a general family likeness in their for 
 mation, present a constantly changing variety of outlines. 
 The lateral valleys repeat the features of the main valley, 
 on a smaller scale. Sometimes the bluffs retreat so as to 
 form a shelving semi-basin, or amphitheatre, a mile or two 
 deep, a grand concave slope of uniform green, set against 
 the sky. At intervals of two or three miles the road crosses 
 
ON THE FRONTIER. 9 
 
 tributary streams of the Kaw, flowing in narrow, sunken 
 beds, the sides of which are fringed with trees. The land 
 scapes have a breadth and harmonious beauty, such as I 
 know not where else to find in the United States, outside 
 of California. 
 
 Indeed, there is much in Kansas to remind one of Cali 
 fornia. These hills, now so green, must be a golden brown 
 in the autumn ; the black soil takes or loses moisture with 
 equal rapidity ; the air has the same keen, bracing flavor of 
 life ; and there seems to be some resemblance in the meteor 
 ological conditions of the two countries. Certainly, next 
 to California, this is the most attractive State I have yet 
 seen. 
 
 The grain-fields along the Kaw bottom were superb. I 
 have seen no corn so forward, no wheat so close and heavy- 
 headed, this year. The farmers were taking advantage of 
 the day to work their corn-fields, the most of which were 
 in sore need of the operation. Rank as is the wild grass 
 of this region, the imported weeds have a still ranker 
 growth. Last year's fields are completely hidden under 
 crops of "horse-weed," every fence-corner has a grove of 
 giant datura (Jamestown-weed), and the roads are lined 
 with tall ranks of sunflowers. I saw no garden that was 
 entirely clean, and, what struck me with more surprise, 
 no attempt at an orchard. The beauty of the country lies 
 in its natural features; cultivation, thus far, has not im 
 proved it. 
 
 Topeka, at present, is the end of passenger trains on the 
 Pacific Railroad. In another week, however, they will run 
 daily to Waumego, thirty-five miles further, or one hundred 
 miles west of the Missouri River. We landed at a little 
 cluster of shanties, newly sprung up among the sand and 
 thickets on the north bank of the Kaw. Here an omnibus 
 was in waiting, to convey us across the pontoon bridge 
 or rather two bridges, separated by a bushy island in the 
 river. Beyond these the town commences, scattered over 
 
10 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 a gentle slope rising to the south for half a mile, when the 
 land falls again toward a creek in the rear. I found com 
 fortable quarters at the Capitol House. Mr. Greeley's 
 " vanishing scale of civilization " has been pushed much 
 further west since his overland trip in 1859. 
 
 Topeka is a pleasant town (city ?) of about 2500 inhab 
 itants. The situation is perhaps not so striking as that of 
 Lawrence, but it is very beautiful. Unfortunately, some 
 parts of the place are destitute of water, which must now 
 be hauled for the supply of families. There seemed to me 
 to be a greater number of substantial private residences 
 than in Lawrence. The building-stone a buff-colored 
 magnesian limestone, easily worked appears to improve 
 as we ascend the Kaw. It is found everywhere in the 
 bluffs, and the handsomest buildings one sees are those 
 constructed of it. 
 
 After calling upon Governor Crawford, and all the other 
 State officers, of whom I have to record that they are 
 very amiable and pleasant gentlemen, a friend treated 
 me to a delightful drive into the adjacent country. Land, 
 he informed me, is rapidly rising in value ; a farm adjoin 
 ing the city on the east has just been sold for two hundred 
 dollars per acre. The high price of grain for several years 
 past, and the present rise in real estate, have been of great 
 benefit to Kansas, enabling both farmers and speculators to 
 extricate themselves from their former embarrassments. 
 
 It rained heavily during the night, and in the morning 
 the roads were changed from dust to mud. Nevertheless, 
 as I had arranged to take the overland coach at this place, 
 thus saving myself twenty-four hours of fatiguing travel, I 
 engaged a livery team for Manhattan, fifty-five miles west of 
 Topeka. But I would advise any stranger visiting Kansas 
 to make himself independent of livery-stables, if possible. 
 The prices are rather more than double what they are in 
 California. From Topeka to this place, my expenses for 
 livery teams have averaged half a dollar per mile ! 
 
ON THE FRONTIER. 11 
 
 Leaving Topeka at nine o'clock, with some promise of 
 better weather, we crossed to the north bank of the Kaw, 
 and after floundering for a mile or two among mud-holes 
 in the timber, emerged upon the open, grassy level of the 
 valley. The sun came out bright and warm ; the bluff 
 capes and sweeping hills glittered in the light, fading from 
 pure emerald into softest violet; tufts of crimson phlox, 
 white larkspur, spikes of lilac campanulas, and a golden- 
 tinted cenothera flashed among the grass ; and the lines and 
 clumps of trees along the streams were as dark and rich 
 as those of an English park. The landscapes were a con 
 tinual feast to the eye, and each successive bend of the 
 valley seemed to reveal a lovelier and more inspiring 
 picture. 
 
 The larger streams we crossed Soldier Creek and 
 Cross Creek did not issue from close ravines between 
 the bluffs, as is usual in this formation, but each rejoiced in 
 its broad rich belt of bottom-land, stretching away for miles 
 to the northward. Most of these creeks are spanned by 
 bridges, where a toll of from fifteen to twenty-five cents is 
 charged. Their waters are clear and swift, and good mill- 
 sites are already being selected. The advantages of the 
 State, both in regard to wood and water, seem to me greater 
 than has heretofore been represented. 
 
 After a drive of twenty-two miles, we reached a neat, 
 whitewashed cabin, with the sign : " Hotel, A. P. Neddo." 
 The landlord was a giant half-breed, remarkably handsome 
 and remarkably heavy, familiarly known as " Big Aleck." 
 He has four hundred acres of superb land, and is accounted 
 wealthy. Big Aleck furnished us with a good dinner of 
 ham, onions, radishes, and gooseberry-pie. Among the 
 temporary guests was an Irish teamster, who had a great 
 deal to say about Constantinople and the Sea of Azof. 
 
 Within four miles of Topeka commences the Pottawot- 
 tamie Reservation, which extends westward along the Kaw 
 for twenty or thirty miles. Many of the Indians are now 
 
12 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 obtaining patents for their share of the land, in order to 
 sell to emigrants, and in a few years, doubtless, the entire 
 reservation will thus be disposed of. Here and there a 
 wretched cabin and a field of ill-cultivated corn denotes 
 the extent of Pottawottamie civilization. We met a num 
 ber of Indians and squaws on horseback one of the lat 
 ter in a pink dress and wearing a round hat with upright 
 feather, and her hair in a net. A little further, we came 
 upon a mounted band of twenty or thirty, all drunk. My 
 driver showed a little uneasiness, but they drew aside to let 
 us pass, and a few hoots and howls were all the salutation 
 we received. 
 
 St. Mary's Mission is a village of a dozen houses, with a 
 Catholic chapel, on this reservation. My eyes were here 
 gladdened by the sight of a thriving peach orchard. The 
 house and garden of the priest, in their neatness and evi 
 dence of care, offer a good model to the Protestant farmers 
 in this part of Kansas, whose places, without exception, 
 have a slovenly and untidy aspect. 
 
 We had a drive of fourteen miles from the Mission to 
 the village of Louisville, on Rock Creek. The road swerved 
 away from the river, occasionally running over the low bluffs, 
 which gave me views of wonderful beauty both up and down 
 the Kaw Valley. Every mile or two we passed wagon or 
 mule trains, encamped near springs of water, their animals 
 luxuriating on the interminable harvest of grass. I was 
 amazed at the extent of the freight business across the 
 Plains ; yet I am told that it has somewhat fallen off this 
 season. I have seen at least two thousand wagons between 
 Lawrence and this place. 
 
 The view of Rock Creek Valley, before we descended to 
 Louisville, was the finest I had had, up to that point. Even 
 my driver, an old resident of Kansas, broke into an excla 
 mation of delight. The village, at the outlet of the valley, 
 had a tolerable future before it, until the railroad estab 
 lished the new town of Waumego, two and a half miles dis- 
 
ON THE FRONTIER. 13 
 
 tant. In another week, the latter place will be the starting- 
 point for the overland coaches, which will give it a tempo 
 rary importance. 
 
 The bottom of Rock Creek is a bed of solid limestone, 
 as smooth as a floor. Just above the crossing, a substan 
 tial dam has been built, which furnishes a good water- 
 power. We did not stop here, but pushed on toward Man 
 hattan, over the rolling hills to the north, whence we looked 
 out upon grand distances, dark under the gathering clouds. 
 By seven o'clock, the thunder drew nearer, and there was 
 every indication of a violent storm. I therefore halted at 
 Torrey's, a farm where the Overland coach changes horses, 
 and was no sooner housed than the rain came down in tor 
 rents. The cabin furnished plain fare, and a tolerable bed, 
 although the storm, which raged all night, leaked in many 
 places through the roof. 
 
 Rising this morning at five o'clock, I found no abatement 
 of the rain. We were soon sodden and mud-splashed from 
 head to foot. The road, however, on the uplands, was 
 beaten hard, and we made such good progress that we 
 were at Manhattan, eight miles, in time for breakfast. 
 This town, of five hundred inhabitants, is situated at the 
 junction of the Big Blue with the Kaw. North of it rises 
 the Blue Mound, a bluff three hundred feet in height, 
 whence the view is said to be magnificent. There are five 
 churches in the little place, and a mile in the rear, on a 
 ridge, is the State Agricultural College, which already has 
 one hundred and thirty pupils. The houses are mostly 
 built of the beautiful magnesian limestone (resembling the 
 Roman travertine), which gives the place a very neat and 
 substantial air. This was all I could notice in the interval 
 between breakfast and the harnessing of a new team for 
 this place. With a Manhattan merchant as guide, I set 
 out again in the dismal storm, slowly making headway 
 through the quagmires of the bottom-lands. 
 
 I remarked that the bluffs were higher as we advanced, 
 
14 COLORADO : JL SUMMER TUT. 
 
 the scenery more varied and picturesque., and* if possible, 
 more beautiful. The wild-flowers grew in wonderful pro- 
 fusion and richness of color. I was surprised to see, at the 
 fool of one of the hfaffe, a splendid specimen of the jwrcti 
 flmmmttt*, in flower. We crossed the Wild-Cat a swift 
 dear stream, with magnificent timber on its bottoms, then 
 Eureka Lake (a crooked slough dignified by that titled 
 and after making ten very slow miles, reached Ogden, a 
 German settlement, with a down houses, one brewery, and 
 three beer-saloons. Here I saw one field of one hundred 
 and twenty acres of superb corn, completely inclosed by a 
 hi<fh stone walk 
 
 More *fc*y bottom ewe, the* low roffing hflls, and in 
 another hour we saw the btukfings of Fort Riley , crowning 
 a MIL two miles in advance Before reaching tke Fort, 
 we passed the site of Pawnee, noted during Governor 
 Seeder's admmfetration. in the eariy days of 
 Except two stone nouses, the town has entirely 
 peared. The Fort is charmingly situated the sweep of 
 
 . :.. , - .. v. .v : : . ^ ,v , v- ... ,: v ._- v 
 
 imvums wiucB unscvou w aw jvepuoucvn f onu 4MP WDBT 
 
 der it k * ferorite mffitary station I snould hare enjoyed 
 H more Ut for the dfaoowagn^ raia aad the 
 
 crossed the Republican am % floating bridge. 
 
 a rising ground at the base of the triangle fonaed 
 hytheSmokyHUI and the RepdbBcan Forks. It has four 
 or five hundred inhabitants, good hotel (the Ea^e), and 
 a kudMwae we^iy newspaper,* TVe Junction Oty Union.* 
 BdUb^s nearly all of stone are going up rapidly , and 
 trade is renr brisk, in anticipation of the place soon being 
 
 trabs wffi reach Fort ROej bj the irstof Agst, and then 
 a great part of the Oteriand 1m mH will no doutx be 
 
ON VH1- FRONTIER. 15 
 
 I must close, to catch the mail. The Denver coach has 
 just come- in. A through passenger, a fresh, rosy-cheeked 
 boy, informs mo that all is quiet along the route. To-mor 
 row the coach I take will Iv here. ;uul YOU will next hear 
 of me tYom some station on the Great American Desert** 
 
III. 
 
 UP THE SMOKY HILL FORK. 
 
 DENVER, COLORADO. 
 
 AFTER my arrival at Junction City, the rains which had 
 flooded all Eastern Kansas, stopping stages and railroad 
 trains alike, ceased entirely, and the weather became clear 
 and fine. Although my main object in visiting Junction 
 was to secure a good night's rest before setting out on the 
 Plains, I was immediately requested to lecture that even 
 ing. There was no hall, the only one having been recently 
 burned ; no church yet completed ; no announcement had 
 been made but in these far-western towns nothing is im 
 possible. A store-building, just floored and plastered, with 
 out windows, and, indeed, occupied by carpenters at work, 
 was selected ; planks carried in for seats, a temporary plat 
 form built, messengers sent around to give private infor 
 mation to the people, and in two hours' time lo ! there was 
 a good audience assembled. 
 
 All Tuesday I waited vainly for the Overland stage-coach. 
 The accounts from down the Kaw Valley represented the 
 streams as being impassable, and toward sunset the enter 
 prising population considered that my delay was now so far 
 extended as to warrant a second lecture. With less time 
 for preparation, they achieved the same result as the first 
 night ; and, truly, I have rarely had a more agreeable audi 
 ence than the hundred persons who sat upon the planks in 
 that unfinished store-building. What other people than the 
 Americans would do such things ? 
 
 While at Junction I witnessed a very interesting experi 
 
UP THE SMOKY HILL FORK. 17 
 
 ment. The bluffs of magnesian limestone behind the town 
 precisely resemble, in color and texture, that which forms 
 the island of Malta. In the quarry it has a pale buff tint, 
 with a soft, cheesy grain, which may be cut with a good 
 hatchet, or sawed with a common handsaw ; yet, after 
 some exposure to the air, it becomes hard and assumes a 
 rich, warm color. Messrs. McClure and Hopkins, of Junc 
 tion, had just received a sawing-machine, driven by horse 
 power, and several rough blocks were awaiting the test. 
 Nothing could have been more satisfactory. The saw cut 
 through the stone as easily and steadily as through a block 
 of wood, dressing a smooth face of eighteen inches square 
 in exactly two minutes. The supply of stone being inex 
 haustible, this is the beginning of a business which may 
 make the future cities of Kansas and Missouri the most 
 beautiful in the world. 
 
 I stated the population of the place at four or five 
 hundred, but I am told it is nearly one thousand, each 
 building representing thrice the number of inhabitants as 
 in the East. So I hasten to make the correction, for noth 
 ing annoys these frontier towns so much as either to under 
 state their population or underestimate their prospective 
 importance. Junction City will soon be the terminus of 
 railroad travel, and the starting-point of the great overland 
 freight business, which will give it certainly a temporary 
 importance. The people, I find, desire that the road shall 
 run up the Eepublican Valley, in order to secure, at least, 
 the New-Mexican trade for a few years ; but this is not a 
 matter to be decided by local interests or wishes. The dis 
 tance thence to Denver by the Republican route would be 
 one hundred and thirty-nine miles longer than by the 
 Smoky Hill route. 
 
 Another comfortable night at the Eagle Hotel, and 
 
 Wednesday came, warm and cloudless, without any sign of 
 
 the stage. Mr. McClure kindly offered to drive me to Sa- 
 
 lina, the last settlement on the Smoky Hill Fork, forty-five 
 
 2 
 
18 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 miles further, and we set out soon after breakfast. The 
 road along the bottom being too deep, we took that leading 
 over the rolling country to the north. Climbing through a 
 little glen to the level of the bluffs, we had a charming 
 backward view of the junction of the rivers, with the build 
 ings of Fort Riley crowning the wooded slopes beyond ; 
 then forward, over many a rolling mile of the finest graz 
 ing land in the world. Two miles further we found a train 
 of wagons just starting with supplies for the stage stations 
 along the line. Mr. Stanton, the superintendent, informed 
 me that he had come through from Denver to Fort Riley 
 this spring, with ox-teams, in twenty-seven days. He ex 
 pects to make three round trips this season, taking up corn, 
 and bringing back lumber for the houses and stables to be 
 built on the line. 
 
 We had occasional views over the bottoms of the Smoky 
 Hill, which, the people claim, are even richer than those of 
 the Kaw Valley ; but that seems impossible. Twelve miles 
 of pleasant travel brought us to Chapman's Creek, the first 
 stage-station. Here, however, the stream was nine feet 
 deep, and the people at the ranche informed us that we 
 would have to take a ford two miles higher up. It seemed 
 to me better to return to Junction and await the stage 
 there, than to risk missing it by leaving the main road ; 
 so we put about and retraced our journey. 
 
 At noon, when we had reached the bluffs and were think 
 ing of dinner, what should we see but the stage, at last, 
 driving toward us from the town ! Hunger, then', was to 
 be my first experience on the Overland journey. We 
 turned out of the road ; I alighted with my baggage, and 
 awaited the approach of a face well-known in the Tenth 
 Street Studio Building. There were two passengers, but 
 neither of them was my friend. In fact, the driver shouted 
 to me before he pulled up his horses, " Your friend did n't 
 come." One of the passengers handed me a letter from 
 the agent at Topeka, informing me that Mr. Beard would 
 
UP THE SMOKY HILL FORK. 19 
 
 probably not be able to reach that place for three or four 
 days, on account of the floods. My arrangements in Den 
 ver would not allow me to wait ; so I deposited myself, blan 
 kets and baggage, in the stage, and was fairly embarked for 
 crossing the Plains. 
 
 I traversed, for the third time that day, the route to 
 Chapman's Creek. The water was still rising, and we, 
 therefore, tried the upper ford, and successfully. The road 
 beyond this descended from the Smoky Hill, and followed 
 the broad, level bottoms of that river. The soil was, in 
 deed, of wonderful fertility, though but little of it, as yet, is 
 under cultivation. Toward sunset we reached the village 
 of Abilene, or Abeline (how or whence the name was de 
 rived I cannot imagine, unless it is an abbreviated corrup 
 tion of "Abe Lincoln "), and here I determined on having 
 something to eat. Upon questioning a stalwart fellow who 
 hung upon the coach while it was crossing Mud Creek, he 
 declared, with emphasis, " It 's the last square meal you '11 
 get on the road ! " My experience of a " square meal," 
 therefore, is that it consists of strong black coffee, strips 
 of pork fat fried to a sandy crispness, and half-baked, 
 soggy, indigestible biscuits. For these I paid the square 
 price of one dollar. 
 
 The sun set, there was no moon, and our coach made 
 toilsome progress over the muddy bottoms toward the Sol 
 omon's Fork. Mosquitoes began their attacks, and thence 
 forth worried us the whole night. About ten o'clock the 
 v driver commenced an imitation of the bark of the coyote, 
 which, it appeared, was a distant signal of our approach to 
 the ferryman at the Solomon Crossing. It was too indis 
 tinct to note anything but the dark masses of timber on 
 either side, and the gleam of water between ; but from the 
 length of time we occupied in crossing, I should judge that 
 the stream is a hundred yards wide. The bottom-land 
 along the Upper Solomon is said to be equal to any in 
 Kansas, and emigration is fast pouring into it, as well as 
 along the Republican and the Saline. 
 
20 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 I should not wonder if " The Great American Desert " 
 should finally be pronounced a myth. In my school geog 
 raphies, it commenced at the western border of Missouri ; 
 now, I believe, it is pushed some two hundred and fifty 
 miles further west, leaving some of the finest agricultural 
 land on the globe behind it. So far, I had found the re 
 verse of a desert ; I determined, therefore, to be on the 
 lookout, and duly note its present 'point of commencement. 
 
 What a weary drag we had that night over the deep mud 
 between the Solomon and Saline Forks ! Either sleeping 
 and stung to inflammation, or awake, weary, and smoking 
 in desperate defence, two or three hours passed away, until 
 the yelping and howling of the driver announced our ap 
 proach to the Saline. In the dark, this river appeared to 
 be nearly equal in volume to the Solomon. Its water is so 
 salt as sometimes to affect the taste of the Smoky Hill at 
 Junction City. 
 
 Nine miles more in the dark brought us to Salina, a vil 
 lage of two or three hundred inhabitants, and the end of 
 settlement in this direction. Our driver kept us wait 
 ing two hours for a new bit for one of his bridles, and in 
 this interval I snatched a little sleep. Of Salina I can 
 not say that I really saw anything, but I learned that it con 
 tains several stores and two physicians. The two or three 
 houses near the tavern were shanties of frame or logs. 
 Travellers west of Topeka are expected to sleep two in a 
 bed, and several beds in a room. It was only through the 
 courtesy of the landlord at Junction that I was exempted 
 from this rule. In other respects customs are primitive, 
 but not rough. People wash themselves more frequently 
 than elsewhere (because it is more needed), and there is as 
 much cleanliness in the cabins, all circumstances consid 
 ered, as in many hotels which I have seen. I even noticed 
 one man in Kansas, who carried a tooth-brush in his 
 pocket, which he pulled out now and then to give his teeth 
 a dry brushing. 
 
UP THE SMOKY HILL FORK. 21 
 
 On leaving Salina, the road strikes nearly due west across 
 the rolling country, to cut off the great southern bend of 
 the Smoky Hill. Two or three miles terminated the mud 
 and mosquitoes ; we struck a dry, smooth road, a cool, deli 
 cious breeze, and great sweeps of green landscape, slowly 
 brightening with the dawn. Distant bluffs and mounds 
 broke the monotony of the horizon line, and the gradual, 
 gentle undulations of the road were refreshing both to 
 team and passengers. 
 
 By six o'clock we reached Pritchard's, the next station, 
 sixteen miles from Salina. Here there was a stable of 
 rough stones and mud, and a cabin cut out of the steep 
 bank, with a rude roof of logs and mud. I was surprised 
 by the sight of a pretty little girl of seven, and on entering 
 the cabin found a woman engaged in getting our breakfast. 
 The walls and floor were the bare soil ; there was a bed or 
 two, a table, two short benches for seats, and a colony of 
 tame prairie-dogs in one corner. I asked the little girl if 
 she would not like a companion to play with, but she an 
 swered, "I think I have more fun with the horses and 
 prairie-dogs ! " What a western woman she will make ! 
 
 Water was furnished plentifully for our ablutions, break 
 fast resembled the " square meal " of the preceding even 
 ing, with the addition of canned peaches, and we resumed 
 our seats with a great sense of refreshment. The air of 
 this region seems to take away all sense of fatigue ; it is 
 cool and bracing, even at mid-day. Soon after starting, 
 we saw a coyote sneaking along a meadow on our left ; 
 then a huge gray wolf, at which one of my fellow-passen 
 gers fired without effect. He trotted away with a disdain 
 ful air, stopping now and then to look at us. At the same 
 time a rattlesnake gave an angry signal by the roadside. 
 There was no longer a question that we were now beyond 
 civilization. 
 
 The limestone formation here gives place to a dark-red 
 sandstone, which crops out of the ridges in rough, irregu- 
 
22 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 lar walls and towers. Although rising to no great height, 
 they nevertheless form picturesque and suggestive features 
 of the landscape : in the distance they might frequently be 
 taken for buildings. 
 
 The flora seems also to undergo a change. The grass 
 was everywhere starred with large crimson anemones, a 
 variety of the helianthus, with golden blossoms, a velvety 
 flower of the richest brown and orange tints, white lark 
 spurs, and dark-blue spiderwort. For many a league the 
 country was one vast natural garden of splendid bloom. 
 There were places where a single flower had usurped pos 
 session of a quarter-acre of soil, and made a dazzling bed 
 of its own color. I have seen nothing like it, save on the 
 hills of Palestine, in May. 
 
 After leaving Clear Creek, fourteen miles further, we 
 approached the Smoky Hill. Two companies of the Second 
 United States Cavalry were drawn up on the plain. Look 
 ing out, we beheld the encampment of Fort Ellsworth 
 ahead of us. At present this is but a collection of tem 
 porary log barracks and stables, but the foundations of a 
 permanent post have been laid on the rising ground, a lit 
 tle further from the river. We only stopped to deliver 
 mails, but I had time for a brief interview with Lieuten 
 ant Lester, and a glass of excellent beer from a barrel in 
 the sutler's quarters. General Palmer was inspecting the 
 progress of the new fort, and I did not see him. Every 
 body especially the private soldiers was anxious to 
 hear about the Fenian movement. 
 
 There had been no Indian troubles on the road, but the 
 officers seemed to anticipate trouble from the continued 
 absence of Indians from the country. The old trappers 
 consider that withdrawal of intercourse, on the part of the 
 Indians, indicates preparations for an attack. The Smoky 
 Hill route, I find, is regarded with a little uneasiness this 
 year, on account of the troubles last fall. The traders and 
 train-men from Santa Fe represent that the tribes of the 
 
UP THE SMOKY HILL FORK. 23 
 
 Plains are not in an amiable mood ; and I confess I am 
 therefore surprised that a thoroughfare so important as the 
 Smoky Hill route is not more efficiently guarded. As far 
 as I can learn, the difficulty seems rather to lie in the ex 
 istence of a mongrel band of outcasts from various tribes, 
 half-breeds and a few whites, who are known, collectively, 
 under the name of " Dog Indians." Most of the atrocities 
 heretofore committed are charged upon this class, which 
 ought to be extirpated at once. 
 
 When we reached the station at Buffalo Creek, ten miles 
 from Fort Ellsworth, the driver surprised me by saying: 
 " Here 's where the attack happened, three weeks ago ! " 
 I had heard of no attack, and was informed by the agents 
 of the line that none had occurred. The account the driver 
 gave was, that a band of forty (Pawnees, he supposed) 
 had stopped the coach, attempted to upset it, and made 
 various insolent demonstrations for a while. One passen 
 ger, who made a show of resistance, was knocked down 
 with a club. " There was a Commodore aboard," said the 
 driver ; " he was terribly scairt ; and a woman, and she was 
 the coolest of 'em all." This band is supposed to be under 
 the command of Bent, a half-breed, son of the famous old 
 frontiersman. 
 
 At the next station, Lost Creek (fifteen miles), we found 
 a small detachment of soldiers posted. This looked threat 
 ening, but they assured us that everything was quiet. 
 Thenceforth, indeed, we ceased to feel any anxiety ; for, on 
 a ridge, two miles away, we saw our first buffalo, a dozen 
 dark specks on the boundless green. Before night small 
 herds of them grew quite frequent, making their appear 
 ance near us on both sides of the road. They set off on a 
 slow, lumbering gallop at our approach, their humps tossing 
 up and down behind each other, with the regular movement 
 of small waves. Several shots were fired from the coach, 
 but only one took effect, wounding a huge bull in the shoul 
 der. It is this wanton killing of their game, simply in the 
 
24 COLORADO : A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 way of amusement, which so exasperates the Indians. On 
 the Smoky Hill bottoms, toward evening, we saw the larg 
 est herd, numbering some four or five hundred animals. 
 The soldiers at Lost Creek had shot two or three the pre 
 vious day. They had a quarter hanging upon the stake, 
 but the meat both looked and smelled so disagreeably that 
 I had no desire to taste it. 
 
 Antelopes and prairie-dogs also made their appearance 
 in large numbers. The former were mostly single or in 
 pairs, leaping nimbly along the elevations, or lifting their 
 graceful heads in curiosity and watching us as we passed. 
 The prairie-dogs sat upright at the doors of their under 
 ground habitations, and barked at us with a comical petu 
 lance. Toward evening their partners, the owls, came forth 
 also to take the air. The rattlesnakes, I presume, were 
 still in-doors, as we saw but two or three during the whole 
 journey. 
 
 After passing a small stream near Fossil Creek, the driver 
 suddenly stopped the team and jumped down from his 
 seat. He leaned over the water, started back, took courage 
 again, and presently held up to view a turtle which would 
 weigh twenty-five or thirty pounds. The creature kicked 
 and snapped viciously, as he was suspended by the tail, nor 
 was his odor very attractive ; but such a prospect for soup 
 does not often arrive in this land of salt pork and indi 
 gestible biscuit ; so he was tumbled into the boot, and the 
 cover strapped down over him. For several miles, we.. on 
 ttie back seat could hear him scratching behind us, but 
 when the boot was opened at Big Creek Station, lo ! no 
 turtle was there. The driver's face was a picture of misery 
 and disgust. 
 
 As the cool, grateful twilight came down upon the bound 
 less swells of grass and flowers, I examined my sensations, 
 and found that they were of pure, peaceful enjoyment hi 
 the new and beautiful world which I now beheld for the 
 first time. The fatigue, so far, was trifling ; the fear of 
 
UP THE SMOKY HILL FORK. 25 
 
 Indians had disappeared ; the " square meals " had, some 
 how or other, managed to digest themselves ; and I heartily 
 congratulated myself on having undertaken the-journey. 
 
 Here I leave you, one hundred and seventy-five miles 
 west of Fort Riley, in the centre of what once was " The 
 Great American Desert." 
 
IV. 
 
 CROSSING THE PLAINS. 
 
 DENVER, C. T. t June 18, 1866. 
 
 AT Fort Ellsworth I was informed that the military sta 
 tion between Fossil Creek and Big Creek had been dis 
 continued ; yet this is not the case. Toward sunset the 
 driver handed me a mail-bag, asking me to pick out the 
 letters for Fort Fletcher, the name given to this post ; and 
 the assortment had scarcely been made, before the coach 
 was surrounded by a crowd of soldiers (apparently new re 
 cruits) clamoring vociferously, first for tobacco and then 
 for newspapers. It was difficult to decide which want was 
 the keener. I gave them what cigars I had in my pocket, 
 but was destitute of papers, and could only inform them 
 that the Fenians had not yet taken Montreal. I felt no 
 less disappointed than the poor fellows themselves, that I 
 could not better supply their wants. 
 
 My companions were no less interested than myself in 
 the projected railroad routes to Colorado, and we therefore 
 scanned the Smoky Hill Valley from every elevation, with 
 regard to two considerations, settlement and railroad ties. 
 So far, everything was favorable. The Smoky Hill was 
 everywhere marked by a line of timber, and we noticed 
 that at each junction with its numerous affluents, there were 
 large groves. The bluffs on the southern side were fre 
 quently covered, to their summits, with a growth of red 
 cedar. All the bottom-land is exceedingly rich and well 
 adapted for farming, while the broad, rolling uplands fur 
 nish the finest pasturage in the world. Near Big Creek, 
 
CROSSING THE PLAINS. 27 
 
 coal has been found, and there are also rumors of tin and 
 copper. With a sufficient force the road may be extended 
 from Fort Riley to Big Creek in a year's time, and carry 
 permanent settlement with it. 
 
 At Big Creek Station, which we reached after dark, we 
 took on board Mr. Scott, the Superintendent of the Middle 
 Division of the road. There was still no moon, and, for 
 tunately, no mosquitoes also. The night was fresh, yet 
 scarcely cool enough to require the blankets I had procured 
 for the journey. Half-asleep and half-awake, now lulled 
 into slumber by the slowness of our progress, now bumped 
 into angry wakefulness in crossing some deep gully, we 
 dragged through the night, and in the morning found our 
 selves at Downer's, forty-four miles further. Here an empty 
 coach had just arrived from Denver, the third I had met 
 going eastward without passengers. The Colorado people, 
 it seems, are still afraid of this route. 
 
 Our breakfast here was another " square meal," pork 
 fat and half-baked biscuits. At all the stations the people 
 complained of lack of supplies ; some were destitute of 
 everything but beans. They gave us what they had, and 
 we were very willing to pay a dollar rather than go hungry ; 
 but one would naturally expect that where a stage goes 
 decent food can be transported. As there is but one change 
 of teams at the stations, we were obliged to take the same 
 mules which had just arrived from Cornell Springs, twenty 
 miles further ; hence our progress was very slow and dis 
 couraging. On arriving there, a second tired team was 
 harnessed to carry us thirty miles, to Monument Station ; 
 so that we lost full four hours during this day's journey. 
 
 The driver of the down coach informed us that the 
 Cheyennes had appeared at Monument Station the day 
 before, but they had committed no depredations, and ap 
 peared to be friendly. The chief had even invited him, 
 on account of his red hair, to join their tribe. Mr. Scott, 
 however, who has had eight years' experience of the In- 
 
28 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 dians of the Plains, seemed to place little faith in their 
 professions. They are reported to have declared that they 
 must and will retain the Smoky Hill country, as it is the 
 best range for game between the Missouri and the Rocky 
 Mountains. 
 
 From the first rise after leaving Downer's, we saw, far 
 away to the right, a long range of chalk bluffs, shining 
 against a background of dark blue cloud. They seemed 
 like a stretch of the southern coast of England, breasting 
 the rolling green ocean of the Plains. Over great swells, 
 covered. with the short, sweet buffalo-grass, and starred 
 with patches of crimson anemone, pink verbena, unknown 
 orange and salmon-red flowers, we drove for two hours, 
 watching the isolated towers and fantastic masses of rock 
 detach themselves from the line of the bluff. They 
 assumed the strangest and most unexpected forms. Here 
 was a feudal castle of the Middle Ages ; there a shattered, 
 irregular obelisk, or broken pyramid; and finally, rising 
 alone from the level of a meadow, we beheld three perpen 
 dicular towers, eighty feet high, resting on a common base. 
 Their crests were of a bright orange hue, fading downward 
 into white. Beyond them extended the shattered battle 
 ments of a city, sparkling in the sunshine. The blue 
 ridges beyond the Smoky Hill, ten miles away, formed the 
 background of this remarkable picture. 
 
 The green of the Plains here began to be varied with 
 belts of dark purple, which we found to be what is called 
 " bunch-grass," a very fine and wiry growth, but said to be 
 excellent forage. At a distance it resembled the heather 
 bloom on the English moors. Over these brilliant green 
 and purple tints, the snowy fortresses of chalk started up 
 with a dazzling effect. There is not the least approach to 
 monotony in the scenery of the Plains ; but continual, in 
 spiring change. 
 
 We were to have another new experience that day. Our 
 route, for some distance, lay over an elevated plateau, 
 
CROSSING THE PLAINS. 29 
 
 around which, for an hour or two, dark thunder-clouds col 
 lected. Out of one of these dropped a curtain of rain, 
 gray in the centre, but of an intense indigo hue at the 
 edges. It slowly passed us on the north, split, from one 
 minute to another, by streaks of vivid rose-colored light 
 ning, followed by deafening detonating peals ; when, just 
 as we seemed to have escaped, it suddenly, wheeled and 
 burst upon us. 
 
 It was like a white squall on a tropic sea. We had not 
 lowered the canvas curtains of the coach before a dam gave 
 way over our heads, and a torrent of mingled wind, rain, 
 hail, and thunder overwhelmed us. The driver turned his 
 mules as far as possible away from the wind, and stopped ; 
 the coach rocked and reeled as if about to overturn ; the 
 hail smote like volleys of musketry, and in less than fifteen 
 minutes the whole plain lay four inches under water. I 
 have never witnessed anything even approaching the vio 
 lence of this storm ; it was a marvel that the mules escaped 
 with their lives. The bullets of hail were nearly as large 
 as pigeons' eggs, and the lightning played around us like a 
 succession of Bengal fires. We laid the rifles in the bot 
 tom of the coach, and for half an hour sat in silence, hold 
 ing down the curtain, and expecting every moment to be 
 overturned. Then the tornado suddenly took breath, com 
 menced again twice or thrice, and ceased as unexpectedly 
 as it came. 
 
 For a short time the road was a swift stream, and the 
 tufts of buffalo-grass rose out of an inundated plain, but 
 the water soon found its level, and our journey was not 
 delayed, as we had cause to fear. Presently Mr. Scott 
 descried a huge rattlesnake, and we stopped the coach and 
 jumped out. The rattles were too wet to give any sound, 
 and the snake endeavored to escape. A German frontiers 
 man who was with us fired a revolver which stunned rather 
 than wounded the reptile. Then, poising a knife, he threw 
 it with such a secure aim that the snake's head was pinned 
 
30 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 to the earth. Cutting off the rattles, which I appropriated, 
 we did him no further injury. 
 
 The Monument Station is so called from a collection of 
 quadrangular chalk towers, which rise directly from the 
 plain. At first sight, they resemble a deserted city, with 
 huge bastioned walls ; but on a nearer approach they sep 
 arate into detached masses, some of which suggest colossal 
 sitting statues. It is almost impossible to divest one's 
 mind of the impression that these are the remains of hu 
 man art. The station-house is built of large blocks, cut 
 out with a hatchet and cemented with raw clay. Here we 
 found stone-ware instead of pewter, although the viands 
 were about as " square " as those at the preceding stations. 
 The Indians had not again made their appearance. They 
 professed to have a camp four or five miles further down 
 the Smoky Hill, and I was a little disappointed that, after 
 so many rumors and warnings, I was likely to get over the 
 Plains without seeing a single redskin. 
 
 During this day's journey we kept more away from the 
 Smoky Hill, but we still saw, from time to time, its line of 
 timber and cedared bluffs in the distance. Near Monu 
 ment Station we found it much diminished in volume, but 
 with good, arable bottom-lands. Up to this point, two 
 hundred and fifty miles west of Fort Riley, we could not 
 detect the least impediment to the construction of a rail 
 road. Nor was there yet any indication of the Great 
 American Desert. 
 
 We had now shorter stations for some distance, and 
 made the distance to Pond Creek, forty-six miles, by two 
 o'clock in the morning. It was scarcely possible to sleep, 
 and yet we were too much fatigued to keep entirely awake. 
 I have an indistinct impression that there was a two-story 
 frame house at Pond Creek, and that we were delayed 
 there for an hour or two. I know that Mr. Scott informed 
 us, as he took leave, that we were two hundred and twenty- 
 five miles from Denver. At this point there is a new mili- 
 
CROSSING THE PLAINS. 31 
 
 tary post, called Fort Wallace. Fort Lyon, on the Ar 
 kansas, is but forty-five miles distant, in a southwestern 
 direction, and the road thence to Santa Fe about four hun 
 dred miles further. If the Eastern Branch of the Pacific 
 Railroad should follow the Smoky Hill route (which is cer 
 tainly the shortest and most practicable), Pond Creek will 
 probably become, for a while, the starting-point of New 
 Mexican travel and traffic. 
 
 We reached Willow Springs, eighteen miles, by sunrise. 
 A forlorn place it was ! The station-men lived in holes 
 cut in a high clay bank, and their mules had similar half- 
 subterranean lodgings. I saw no provisions, and they said 
 they could give us no breakfast. The team was speedily 
 changed, and we set out for Cheyenne Wells, twenty-five 
 miles distant, through a country more nearly approaching 
 barrenness than any we had yet seen. The timber almost 
 entirely disappeared ; the lateral streams ceased, arid 
 ^finally the Smoky Hill itself, now so near its source, be 
 came a bed of waterless sand. Still there was buffalo- 
 grass everywhere, and the antelopes were very abundant. 
 The fresh, delicious air of the Plains only equalled by 
 that of the African Desert refreshed us after the weari 
 some night, and our appetites became keen with enforced 
 fasting. 
 
 At Cheyenne Wells we found a large and handsome frame 
 stable for the mules, but no dwelling. The people lived in 
 a natural cave, extending for some thirty feet under the 
 bluff. But there was a woman, and when we saw her we 
 augured good fortunes. Truly enough, under the roof of 
 conglomerate limestone, in the cave's dim twilight, we sat 
 down to antelope steak, tomatoes, bread, pickles, and pota 
 toes a royal meal, after two days of detestable fare. 
 
 Here we saw the last of Smoky Hill Fork. The road 
 strikes across a broad plateau for twenty miles, and then 
 descends to the Big Sandy, a branch of the Arkansas. It 
 is a fine, hard, natural highway, over which we made good 
 
32 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 time. The country swarmed with antelopes, which pro 
 voked several shots from the coach, but without effect. 
 Two of them, to our surprise, appeared to be pursuing a 
 large gray wolf. They made boldly after it as often as 
 it stopped, and were evidently bent on driving it quite 
 away from their pasturage. While we were speculating on 
 their movements, a lovely little fawn sprang up from the 
 grass and made away over the hills. The old antelopes 
 were evidently its parents, and their boldness in facing and 
 intimidating the wolf was now explained. 
 
 From the western edge of the water-shed, we overlooked 
 many a league of brown, monotonous, treeless country, 
 through which meandered, not the water, but the dry, 
 sandy bed of the Big Sandy. We really seemed to have 
 reached at last the Great American Desert. At the stage 
 station we found two men living in a hole in the ground, 
 with nothing but alkaline water to offer us. I tasted it, 
 and finding the flavor not disagreeable, drank which 
 brought later woe upon me. Beyond this point even the 
 buffalo-grass died out, and we rolled along in the burning 
 sun and acrid dust, over dreary, gray undulations of weeds 
 and cactus. At Grady's Station, eighteen miles further, 
 there was but one man, a lonely troglodyte, burrowing in 
 the bank like a cliff-swallow. 
 
 Very soon, however, the grass began to appear again, 
 the country became green, and the signs of desolation van 
 ished. A distance of forty miles embraced all we had 
 seen of the Desert in fact, all there is of it upon this 
 route. In these forty miles a scattered settlement here 
 and there is not impossible, but is very unlikely. The ad 
 joining country, for a hundred miles both to the east and 
 west, is adapted to grazing, and will support a moderate 
 population. The road, however, will soon be carried from 
 Cheyenne Wells up the divide, entirely avoiding the Big 
 Sandy. This new route, I am told, shortens the distance 
 to Denver by twenty miles, and has good grass and water 
 all the way. 
 
CROSSING THE PLAINS. 33 
 
 Toward evening I was struck with a peculiar tint in the 
 shadow of a cloud along the horizon. After half an hour's 
 study, I pronounced it to be a mountain and, of course, 
 Pike's Peak. My fellow-travellers dissented at first from 
 this opinion, but as the clouds dissolved, the outline of a 
 snowy peak came out sharp and clear. It was something 
 like that of the Jungfrau, but stood alone, surrounded by 
 no sisterhood of Alps. At sunset we saw not only Pike's 
 Peak, but the tops of the Sangre de Cristo range, and the 
 Spanish Peaks, like little pimples on the line of the hori 
 zon. 
 
 What a night followed ! The hard " hack " bumped and 
 jolted over the rough roads ; we were flung backward and 
 forward, right and left, pummelled, pounded, and bruised, 
 not only out of sleep, but out of temper, and into pain and 
 exasperation. At one o'clock yesterday morning we were 
 at Hedinger's Lake, ninety-seven miles from Denver. I 
 thanked Heaven that no fifth night in the coach awaited 
 me. The hours dragged on with incredible slowness, until 
 dawn brought some refreshment, showing us a country of 
 high hills, occasional pine groves, and far-flashing snowy 
 mountains. 
 
 Before sunset we drove into Denver j but of the last 
 day's ride to-morrow ! 
 8 
 
V. 
 
 THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS AND DENVER. 
 
 DENVER, C. T., June 19, 1866. 
 
 FROM Hedinger's Lake to Denver a new cut-off has re 
 cently been made, shortening the distance about twenty 
 miles. Ours was the last coach which passed over the old 
 road, the stations and stock being taken up behind us, and 
 transferred across the country to their new positions. The 
 road from Cheyenne Wells to Denver is thus abridged by 
 forty miles, making the entire distance from Fort Riley to 
 the latter place four hundred and sixty miles. "When the 
 stations are shortened to an average of ten or twelve miles, 
 and the road as well stocked as it should be, the trip can 
 easily be made in three days. By that time, the trains on 
 the Pacific Railroad will be running to Fort Riley, and 
 twenty-four hours more will bring the traveller to St. 
 Louis. 
 
 I will not recapitulate our bruises during the night, but 
 rather pass at once to the sparkling morning which broke 
 upon us while crossing the divide between the Big Sandy 
 and the first tributary of the Platte. In the foreground 
 stretched a range of green, grassy hills, dotted with pastur 
 ing antelope, and crested with scattered groves of pine; 
 high above and far beyond them towered the keen, shining 
 wedges of the Rocky Mountains. Pike's Peak in the south 
 was apparently near at hand, although seventy miles dis 
 tant. Long's Peak, in the northwest, resembled an Alpine 
 horn in its sharp, abrupt outline ; and between these two 
 furthest outposts of the snowy range arose many a name- 
 
THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS AND DENVER. 35 
 
 less yet beautiful summit. The character of the scenery 
 had completely changed since the preceding sunset. I was 
 charmed out of all sense of fatigue, all feeling of discom 
 fort, except that of hunger. 
 
 At Reed's Springs we obtained our last " square meal," 
 with the inevitable bacon, for a dollar and a half. Thence 
 forth our road led over the high divides between the Beaver, 
 Bijou, and Kiowa Creeks, all of which flow northward to 
 the Platte. The country is grandly adapted to grazing, 
 and all the bottom-lands are capable of being farmed. The 
 pine along the ridges is of but moderate growth, but it 
 will, no doubt, become better and more abundant with pro 
 tection. A new flora here met us. The cactus, with its 
 showy crimson and golden blossoms, became scarce. I 
 found a splendid euchroma, with a spike of pure flame- 
 color ; great quantities of a wild vetch, with pink blossoms ; 
 and a thick growth of purple lupins. The grass was quite 
 different from that on the plains, and many portions of 
 these hills would furnish large quantities of wild hay. At 
 some of the stations along the -Smoky Hill, the men have 
 mowing-machines, with which they harvest a full winter 
 supply for their stock. 
 
 The view of the Rocky Mountains from the divide near 
 Kiowa Creek is considered one of the finest in Colorado. 
 From the breezy ridge, between scattered groups of pine, 
 you look upon one hundred and fifty miles of the snowy 
 range, from the Sangre de Cristo to the spurs away toward 
 Laramie. In variety and harmony of form, in effect against 
 the dark-blue sky, in breadth and grandeur, I know no ex 
 ternal picture of the Alps which can be placed beside it. 
 If you could take away the valley of the Rhone, and unite 
 the Alps of Savoy with the Bernese Overland, you might 
 obtain a tolerable idea of this view of the Rocky Moun 
 tains. Pike's Peak would then represent the Jungfrau ; a 
 nameless snowy giant in front of you, Monte Rosa ; and 
 Long's Peak, Mont Blanc. The altitudes very nearly cor- 
 
36 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 respond, and there is a certain similarity in the forms. The 
 average height of the Rocky Mountains, however, surpasses 
 that of the Alps. 
 
 Mid-day was intensely sultry, with the first dust we had 
 experienced. We took a hasty dinner at Running Creek, 
 and then made our slow way, with poor horses, across the 
 ridges to Cherry Creek, which we struck about fifteen miles 
 above Denver. Up to this point we had found no settle 
 ment, except two or three grazing ranches. The ride down 
 Cherry Creek, through sand and dust, on the banks, of the 
 muddy stream, was the most tiresome part of the overland 
 journey. Mile after mile went slowly by, and still there 
 was no sign of cultivation. At last, four miles from the 
 town, we reached a neat little tavern, beside which grew 
 some cotton-woods. Here there were two or three ranches 
 in the process of establishment. The water from the wells 
 was very sweet and cold. 
 
 Our next sign of life was the evidence of death, the 
 unfenced cemetery of Denver, on the top of the ridge. I 
 looked out ahead, from time to time, but could see neither 
 horse, tree, fence, or other sign of habitation. My fellow- 
 passengers had been loud in their praises of the place, and 
 I therefore said nothing. Suddenly I perceived, through 
 the dust, a stately square Gothic tower, and rubbed my eyes 
 with a sense of incredulity. It was really true ; there was 
 the tower, built of brick, well-proportioned and picturesque. 
 Dwellings and cottages rose over the dip of the ridge, on 
 either side ; brick blocks began to appear, and presently 
 we were rolling through gay, animated streets, down the 
 vistas of which the snowy ranges in the west were shining 
 fairly in the setting sun. The coach drew up at the Pacific 
 Hotel, where I found a hearty welcome and good quarters, 
 and in just four days and six hours from Fort Riley I sat 
 down, not to a " square meal," but to an excellent supper. 
 
 The two days which have since elapsed have given me a 
 good superficial acquaintance with the place. First, let me 
 
* 
 
 THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS AND DENVER. 37 
 
 say that the views which have appeared in the illustrated 
 papers are simply caricatures. Instead of being a cluster of 
 houses on a flat plain, with a range of clumsy mountains in 
 the distance, and Pike's Peak standing alone in the centre 
 thereof, it is built upon a gradual slope, rising eastward 
 from the junction of Cherry Creek with the Platte. It is 
 as well built as any town of equal size in the Mississippi 
 Valley. The Methodist Church and Seminary, the banks 
 and principal business houses, solidly constructed of brick 
 (the former edifice with considerable architectural beauty), 
 give the place an air of permanence, very surprising to one 
 who has just arrived from the East. Beyond the Platte 
 the land rises with a gentle, gradual slope, to the base of 
 the Rocky Mountains, twelve miles distant, and there is no 
 part of the town which does not afford a view of the great 
 range. Long's Peak, more than 15,000 feet in height, just 
 fills the vista of the principal business street. Pike's Peak 
 is far to the left, overlooking the head of the Cherry Creek 
 Valley ; consequently, a view of Denver, in which it is 
 made the prominent feature, does not correctly represent 
 the place. 
 
 Although business of all kinds is extraordinarily dull at 
 present, and the people are therefore as much dispirited as 
 Colorado nature will admit, Denver seems to me to have a 
 very brisk and lively air. A number of substantial build 
 ings are going up, there is constant movement in the streets, 
 the hotels are crowded, and the people one meets are brim 
 ful of cheerful energy. The stores and warehouses are 
 thoroughly stocked, and prices are lower than one, would 
 expect, considering the tedious and expensive land trans 
 portation. At the Pacific Hotel you pay four dollars per 
 day, no more than in New York, and have an equally 
 good table. There may not be such an excessive bill of 
 fare, but I could distinguish no difference in the cooking. 
 Vegetables in the market are plenty and cheap, and appear 
 to be of remarkably fine quality. 
 
I 
 
 38 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 The dryness of the climate and occasional extremes of 
 cold in winter, appear to me to be the principal drawbacks. 
 Near the mouth of Cherry Creek there is a grove of ven 
 erable cotton-woods, and perhaps a dozen other specimens 
 are dispersed singly through the lower part of the town. 
 Attempts are now being made to colonize this tree which 
 makes a green spot, ugly though it be around the houses 
 in the higher streets, and with a fair prospect of success. 
 The milk, cream, and butter from the adjoining farms are 
 better than they are in most of the Western States. Veni 
 son and antelope are abundant, and canned fruits supply 
 the want of fresh. 
 
 The situation of Denver is well selected. Were it nearer 
 to the mountains, it would furnish a more convenient depot 
 of supplies for the Clear Creek mining region, but it would 
 not concentrate, as now, so many radiating lines of travel. 
 It lies, apparently, in the centre of the chord of a shallow 
 arc of the mountains, governing the entrances of some half- 
 a-dozen different canons, and overlooking a belt of farming 
 land, fifty miles by ten in dimensions. 
 
 Its prosperity, of course, depends on the activity of min 
 ing operations in the mountains. There is at present a 
 stagnation, occasioned principally by the enormous price 
 of labor. Although the new methods of reduction promise 
 a much greater production of the precious metals, and fresh 
 discoveries of gold, silver, copper, and lead are being made 
 every day, wages are so high that many companies have 
 been forced to suspend business until the agricultural sup 
 plies at home, and the gradual approach of the Pacific 
 Railroad, shall have brought prices down. 
 
 I should estimate the population of Denver at about six 
 thousand. Probably no town in the country ever grew up 
 under such discouraging circumstances, or has made more 
 solid progress in the same length of time. It was once 
 swept away by the inundation of Cherry Creek ; once or 
 twice burned ; threatened with Secession ; cut off from in- 
 
THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS AND DENVER. 39 
 
 tercourse with the East by Indian outbreaks ; deprived of 
 a great portion of its anticipated trade by our war ; made 
 to pay outrageously for its materials and supplies and all 
 this within seven years ! 
 
 I was interested in noticing how attached the inhabitants 
 are to the place. Nearly every one who had recently been 
 East seemed rejoiced to return. Even ladies forget the 
 greater luxuries and refinements of the Atlantic coast, when 
 they see the Rocky Mountains once more. The people look 
 upon this glorious Alpine view as one of the properties of 
 the town. Every street opens (in one direction, at least) 
 upon it; and the evening drives along the Platte or over the 
 flowering ridges, become as beautiful as any in the world, 
 when the long line of snowy peaks flash down a brighter 
 gold than ever was unpacked from their veins. 
 
 There are no manufactories as yet, except a brick-yard 
 and two flour-mills the latter driven by water-power. A 
 good gray building stone is found about four miles off. The 
 timber is all brought from the mountains, which, I fear, are 
 in a fair way to become disforested. Coal, however, is com 
 ing into general use as fuel, several mines having already 
 been opened in the neighborhood. It resembles the brown 
 coal of Germany, burns freely, and is said to produce a 
 great amount of gas. General Pierce, the Surveyor-Gen 
 eral, considers the coal-bed of the Rocky Mountains one 
 of the largest in the world. Along the Smoky Hill there 
 are indications of an uninterrupted supply all the way to 
 Kansas. 
 
 I find myself constantly returning to the point which my 
 eyes seek, with unwearied interest, whenever I lift them 
 from the paper. Ever since my arrival I have been study 
 ing the mountains. Their beauty and grandeur grow upon 
 me with every hour of my stay. None of the illustrations 
 accompanying the reports of exploration, and other Gov 
 ernment documents, give any distinct idea of their variety 
 and harmony of forms. Nowhere distorted or grotesque 
 
40 COLORADO : A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 in outline, never monotonous, lovely in color and atmos 
 pheric effect, I may recall some mountain chains which 
 equal, but none which surpass them. From this point 
 there appears to be three tolerably distinct ranges. The 
 first rises from two to three thousand feet above the level 
 of the Plains ; it is cloven asunder by the canons of the s 
 streams, streaked with dark lines of pine, which feather 
 its summits, and sunny with steep slopes of pasture. Some 
 distance behind it appears a second range of nearly double 
 the height, more irregular in its masses, and of a dark, 
 velvety, violet hue. Beyond, leaning against the sky, are 
 the snowy peaks, nearly all of which are from thirteen to 
 fifteen, thousand feet above the sea. These three chains, 
 with their varying but never discordant undulations, are as 
 inspiring to the imagination as they are enchanting to the 
 eye. They hint of concealed grandeurs in all the glens 
 and parks among them, and yet hold you back with a doubt 
 whether they can be more beautiful near at hand than when 
 beheld at this distance. 
 
 To-morrow I shall move nearer their bases. 
 
VI. 
 
 FARMING IN COLORADO. 
 
 GOLDEN CITY, C. T., June 21, 1866. 
 
 I VERILY think that if those who six years ago saw noth 
 ing but arid hills and fields of cactus, forbidding cultiva 
 tion, could behold some parts of Colorado at present, they 
 would open their eyes in astonishment. My approach to 
 Denver did not furnish the least suggestion of farming, and 
 all the attempts which one sees from the city are a few 
 patches of vegetables along the Platte. But the agricultu 
 ral interest, without which a mining community so remote 
 as this cannot subsist, has really reached a development 
 which is remarkable, when we consider the discouragements 
 to which it has been subjected. 
 
 I am fast inclining toward the opinion that there is no 
 American Desert on this side of the Rocky Mountains. 
 Belts of arid and sandy soil there certainly are, but I doubt 
 if any of these are more than fifty miles in breadth, while 
 there are many points where an unbroken line of habitable 
 territory may be followed from the Missouri to the base of 
 the mountains. I remember that as late as 1859, the low 
 est computation of the extent of the Desert was two hun 
 dred miles ; yet in the Smoky Hill route I saw less than 
 fifty miles to which the term could properly be applied. 
 What I have since learned of farming under these new 
 conditions of climate and soil, leads me to suspect that time 
 and settlement may subdue even this narrow belt; that 
 there may some day be groves and farms on the treeless 
 plains ; that wheat may usurp the place of buffalo-grass, and 
 potatoes drive out the cactus. 
 
42 COLORADO : A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 It almost seems as if Nature were in the habit of making 
 a last desperate attempt to resist the subjugation of her 
 wild, unploughed domains. For a few years the settlers are 
 obliged to battle with a combination of hostile influences. 
 The droughts of Kansas, and the grasshoppers of Utah and 
 Colorado are exceptional agents, which have given a false 
 impression in other parts of the Union. I found Kansas, 
 as you may have noted, a land of rain, of soggy meadows, 
 and swollen streams ; I find Colorado, where farming was 
 pronounced almost hopeless, already crossed by zones of 
 the richest agricultural promise. The effect of energy and 
 industry upon the soil even now shows its fruits ; the effect 
 of cultivation upon climate (an agency generally under 
 estimated) is yet to follow. 
 
 Two days ago Captain Sopris took me out to his farm on 
 Clear Creek, about five miles from Denver. Crossing the 
 new and substantial plank bridge over the Platte, we first 
 glanced at the adjoining vegetable garden. I must con 
 fess, however, that I saw more sunflowers than anything 
 else. Only a part of the garden appeared to be cultivated ; 
 the soil was black and deep, and with proper care there 
 would be but little limit to its productiveness. The profu 
 sion of sunflowers not an indigenous growth, I believe 
 is remarkable. From Fort Kiley to the Rocky Mountains, 
 wherever a wagon has made a rut in the soil, there springs 
 up a rank hedge of the plant. The pig-weed, horse-weed, 
 and datura stramonium are also rapidly advancing westward. 
 I found them some distance this side of Fort Ellsworth. 
 
 Rising to what are called "the second bottoms," a 
 gently inclined shelf, extending from the mountains to the 
 Platte, we had a view down the river, and saw the first in 
 dications of farming. Near at hand was a farm of three 
 hundred and twenty acres, the owner of which is inclosing 
 the whole with a high post-fence, at a cost of about two 
 dollars and a half per rod. A neat cottage farm-house, at 
 the commencement of the river-bottoms, pleasantly hinted 
 
FARMING IN COLORADO. 43 
 
 of permanent occupation. Beyond this farm, still mostly 
 in the rough, stretched a succession of dark-green fields of 
 wheat, on both sides of the stream, which, divided into 
 many arms, sparkled between its islands and banks of cot 
 ton-wood. The rising grounds were already beginning to 
 grow tawny under the summer sun, and these low-lying 
 belts of grain and trees made a dazzling contrast of color. 
 For some miles down the Platte I could trace a continuous 
 line of farms and preemption cabins. 
 
 The undulating higher ground across which we struck 
 in a straight line, toward Clear Creek, was covered with 
 grass, lupins, a multitude of brilliant flowering-plants, and 
 cactus. Dry as it appears, it furnishes good pasturage 
 during the whole year, and irrigation will convert the whole 
 of it into grain-fields. I remember that my admiration of 
 the agricultural capacities of California, in 1849, subjected 
 me to many derogatory epithets ; hence, one who crosses 
 these brown plains at the end of summer, may laugh in 
 credulously when I say that all the country between the 
 river and the mountains every upland and ridge where 
 water can be made to flow will in time be as rich a farm 
 ing region as any in the East. The capacity of soil to hold 
 moisture will increase ; trees will then grow where it would 
 now be hopeless to plant them ; hedges will take the place 
 of costly fences, and the character of the country will un 
 dergo a complete change. 
 
 Captain Sopris's ranche is on a bluff" overlooking the val 
 ley of Clear Creek. From the window of his parlor I 
 looked out upon several miles of beautiful wheat, a long 
 pasture-ridge beyond, and the grand summit of Long's Peak 
 in the distance. Ten farmers here have united their forces, 
 and made a ditch ten miles in length, by which their fields 
 are irrigated. The usual yield of wheat, under this system, 
 is thirty bushels to the acre, and the price, up to this time, 
 has ranged from five to twenty-five cents per pound. You 
 can see that farming, even at the lowest rates, is a good 
 
44 COLORADO : A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 business in Colorado Oats produce about forty, and corn 
 fifty bushels to the acre, the price ranging from two to five 
 dollars per bushel. 
 
 It is remarkable how soon the farmers have adapted 
 themselves to the new conditions of their occupation. They 
 seem already to prefer the secure yield which irrigation 
 offers, to the uncertain prospects of a more variable cli 
 mate. The principal labor and expense is the construction 
 of the irrigating canal ; that once made, it is an easy mat 
 ter to watch and flood their fields whenever necessary. 
 This season it has not yet been generally needed ; but 
 from now until the end of July, when the wheat ripens, 
 the process must be frequently repeated. Against the 
 plague of grasshoppers there is no protection ; this year, 
 however, promises to be free from that scourge. 
 
 The vegetables in the garden at the foot of the bluff 
 were thriving finely. But out of three hundred grape-vines 
 which Captain S. has imported, only a dozen are now liv 
 ing. Although the winters are remarkably mild, there are 
 now and then days of such extreme cold that vines and 
 fruit-trees of all kinds perish. If the young trees were pro 
 cured from Minnesota rather than nurseries further south, 
 they would probably be more likely to endure the climate. 
 Thus far the attempts at fruit-growing have been failures ; 
 yet the fact that at Salt Lake, much further to the north, 
 there has been perfect success, should encourage the Col 
 orado farmers to try again. 
 
 After dining with the Captain and his amiable family, 
 we returned by a road skirting Clear Creek to Fisher's 
 Ranche, where I saw six hundred acres of grain in one 
 body. The entire number of acres planted in the Territory 
 this year is estimated at seventy thousand which will 
 supply the wants of the entire population. The more san 
 guine expect to send a small surplus to Montana. This is 
 really an astonishing fact. In a Territory only seven years 
 old, six hundred miles from other settlements, which attracts 
 
FARMING IN COLORADO. 45 
 
 principally a mining and speculating population, and was 
 supposed to have the most limited capacity for agriculture, 
 the people are already independent, self-sustaining, in re 
 gard to food ! 
 
 My friend, Mr. D. T. Smith, piloted me around the im 
 mediate neighborhood of Denver, and gave me further 
 opportunities for strengthening the views which my trip 
 to Clear Creek had suggested. I saw that the country to 
 the east of Cherry Creek and the Platte is quite as fertile 
 as that to the westward, and could easily credit the asser 
 tion of General Pierce that the supply of water is sufficient, 
 with an adequate irrigating canal, to bring under cultiva 
 tion four hundred thousand acres of land. I have no doubt 
 it will be found true of all parts of the Plains, that wher 
 ever water can be had, farming will be profitable. Even 
 where there are no running streams, wells with water- 
 wheels driven by wind, as in California, may supply their 
 place. An old frontiersman assured me that wherever 
 there is a town of prairie-dogs, water will be found at a 
 depth of from twenty to thirty feet. Now, in my memory, 
 the road from Fort Ellsworth to the Platte is one grand 
 prairie- dog metropolis \ so there ought to be no scarcity of 
 water. In Kansas, living springs are making their appear 
 ance, as the country becomes cultivated. Nature, after 
 vainly attempting to drive off Man, makes up her mind to 
 reward his persistence. Perhaps I dwell a little pertina 
 ciously upon this one point ; but, the truth is, I have never 
 been more astonished than on finding this vast central 
 region so very different from what previous accounts had 
 led me to imagine. 
 
 A private company is now at work, constructing a large 
 ditch, which is to water the streets and gardens of Denver. 
 This will give the place the one charm it now lacks. Add 
 verdure to its superb situation, and it will be one of the 
 most delightful inland cities in the country. There is at 
 present a small stream, the water of which is chiefly applied 
 
46 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 to the encouragement of young cotton-woods, both poplar 
 and willow-leaved, which are set out so thickly around some 
 houses that the owners evidently do not expect the half of 
 them to grow. Some of the trees were flourishing vigor 
 ously, with a good prospect of life ; others, although irri 
 gated, were withered and dying. The difference, no doubt, 
 lay in the care with which they had been transplanted. 
 
 This morning I left Denver for my mountain tour. As 
 far as this place, at the base of the first range, a distance 
 of about fifteen miles, the country is rapidly coming 
 under cultivation. Ditches are being carried from Clear 
 Creek over all parts of the undulating slope stretching 
 down from the mountains, and it was a cheering sight to 
 find a large field of the greenest wheat upon one of the 
 highest points, in the midst of a plain studded with cactus. 
 A short distance from Denver, one of the ditches has been 
 turned into a natural basin a mile in diameter, forming a 
 lake of that extent, around which large herds of cattle 
 were grazing. We found a number of men at work, con 
 structing new ditches by a very simple process. Several 
 furrows are first ploughed, and then the dirt is shovelled 
 out rapidly by a broad frame of timber, drawn by horses 
 in a lateral direction. Our course was sometimes im 
 peded by the number of these ditches, which are not yet 
 bridged, especially in descending toward Clear Creek, 
 which we struck three miles below the point where it is 
 sues from the mountains. 
 
 Here we were favored by an invitation to visit the farm 
 of Mr. Miles, and try the flavor of Colorado strawberries. 
 This gentleman, I learn, sold his last year's wheat crop at 
 eighteen cents the pound (ten dollars and. eighty cents per 
 bushel), and is now selling his entire stock of strawberries 
 at ninety-six dollars a bushel ! The severe winter two or 
 three years ago destroyed almost his entire stock of plants, 
 but the few he saved are now richly repaying him for the 
 loss. 
 
FARMING IN COLORADO. 47 
 
 Mr. Miles was not at home, but his wife welcomed us to 
 their neat cottage of concrete, which, with the barn, sta 
 bles, and haystacks, already wore an air of old settlement. 
 The garden, though still in the rough, was very luxuriant. 
 The strawberries (Albany Seedlings) seemed to me of 
 smaller size, but of finer flavor than in the East. With the 
 golden cream which our friendly hostess furnished, we could 
 not have asked for anything more delicious. Around the 
 house the lupin, coreopsis, larkspur, and sweet-pea were 
 growing wild. 
 
 I here noticed a new, and to me a surprising, result of 
 cultivation. Part of the bottom-land was originally alka 
 line, the white streaks being still discernible ; yet the crops 
 growing upon it were, if anything, more luxuriant than else 
 where. Captain West, my companion to Golden City, in 
 formed me that upon his own ranche an alkaline patch, 
 bare of vegetation, has now become the best part of his 
 garden. The use of manure is said to neutralize the alkali 
 in a very short space of time. 
 
 Before us rose the curious elevation known as the Table 
 Mountain. As seen from Denver it resembles a slice of 
 cheese lying on its side, and with a crack through the mid 
 dle. Immediately behind it is the first range of the Rocky 
 Mountains, and this apparent crack is the canon through 
 which Clear Creek makes its way. On approaching nearer, 
 the straight, slanting summit breaks into a very irregular 
 outline, with bold, rocky buttresses and deep indentations. 
 The top, on both sides of the Creek, is a mesa, or table 
 land, which furnishes superb pasturage for cattle through 
 out the entire year. A small lake supplies the herds with 
 water, and the grass, however parched in autumn or dry in 
 winter, never seems to lose its fattening properties. 
 
 A drive of about two miles through the gorge between 
 the two parts of Table Mountain, brought us to the beau 
 tiful little circular valley in which Golden City lies hidden. 
 Just above the place is the present limit of farming. The 
 
48 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 canon of Clear Creek is walled in by steep, forbidding 
 mountains, but there is pasturage on all the heights. Each 
 one of the Creeks which issue from the mountains to join 
 the Platte, is attracting a farming population. On Bear 
 Creek, to the south, and the branches of Boulder Creek, 
 to the north, I hear there are already many fine farms. 
 
 If a new system of agriculture has been learned, and 
 such results attained within six years, is it too much to 
 assert that the farming interests of Colorado will keep pace 
 with the development of her extraordinary mineral wealth, 
 and that, no matter what amount of population may here 
 after be attracted to her mountains, her plains are capable 
 of feeding them ? 
 
vn. 
 
 ENTERING THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 
 
 CENTRAL CITY, June, 23, 1866. 
 
 GOLDEN CITY enjoys the distinction of being the capital 
 of Colorado Territory. That is, the Legislature regularly 
 meets there, but adjourns to Denver before transacting any 
 other business. The population is not more than three 
 or four hundred, and the place has a quiet and rather for 
 lorn appearance at present. It possesses, nevertheless, 
 several substantial stores, a school-house, two flour-mills 
 (Clear Creek furnishing excellent water-power), and a 
 manufactory of fire-brick. From this time forward it 
 will rise in importance. 
 
 The discovery of coal is of scarcely less consequence to 
 this region than that of gold and silver. Along the east 
 ern base of the range, brown coal of excellent quality has 
 been found for a distance of three hundred miles, and the 
 indications continue through Montana. I saw, forty miles 
 east of Denver, among the Platte Hills, a bold out-crop of 
 coal, projecting two or three feet above the earth. Further 
 in the mountain, the Albertine, or oil-bearing coal, yielding 
 one hundred and four gallons to the ton, has been discov 
 ered. The supply of fuel for the Pacific Railroad, and for 
 all smelting and manufacturing purposes, is therefore as 
 sured for centuries to come. 
 
 I visited the veins of fire-clay and coal, which are found 
 in conjunction, within half a mile of Golden City. The 
 clay is found in large beds of a chocolate color and greasy 
 texture. Two horizontal shafts have been opened into the 
 
 4 
 
50 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 side of the hill, and the carts are loaded directly at their 
 mouths. The clay is first burned, then ground, after which 
 it is moulded and pressed into the requisite forms. Although 
 the business is in its very commencement, enough has been 
 done to assure its entire success. The proprietors have 
 already commenced the manufacture of tiles for roofing, 
 which, I suspect, will ere long come into general use. 
 
 The coal, commencing at the surface with a streak of 
 " color " (as the miners say of gold), broadens so rapidly 
 that at the depth of twenty-five feet I found a vertical stra 
 tum fourteen feet in breadth. If it continues to increase 
 at the same rate for one hundred feet further, the immense 
 supply may easily be imagined. This Rocky Mountain 
 coal, I understand, is always found in vertical seams, while 
 the bituminous coal along the Smoky Hill Fork is disposed 
 in horizontal strata. The valley of the Platte, after leaving 
 the rolling country at the base of the mountains, appears 
 to lie between the two formations. The examination, how 
 ever, is so superficial, that nothing very positive can yet be 
 asserted. Coal is beginning to be found abundantly in 
 Southern Kansas, and it is possible that the gaps between 
 the beds already discovered may yet be filled up. 
 
 Standing on this great bed of coal and fire-clay, at Golden 
 City, I looked eastward across the creek, and saw a ridge 
 of limestone rock, and the indications of a quarry which 
 has just been opened. My companions pointed out to me 
 the location of beds of the finest iron ore, all within the 
 radius of a mile. The iron is said to be of unusually fine 
 quality. Mr. Loveland of this place has proposed to erect 
 a rolling-mill, and manufacture rails for the Pacific Com 
 pany, enabling them to commence the road eastward from 
 the base of the mountains, to meet the branches starting 
 from Omaha and Wyandotte. Considering that all the 
 requisite heavy machinery must be freighted across from 
 the Missouri River, this would seem, at first sight, to be a 
 hazardous enterprise ; but, on the other hand, the saving in 
 
ENTERING THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 51 
 
 the cost of transporting rails for the road would be so im 
 mense, that I cannot pronounce the plan unreasonable. It 
 is quite certain that all the rails for the central division of 
 the road must be manufactured here and in Nevada. 
 
 There will, in time, be a railroad from the mining regions 
 on the upper waters of Clear Creek to Golden City ; and 
 many of the companies will then find it to their advantage 
 to establish their smelting works at the latter place. Let 
 no one be deceived by present indications. The quiet of 
 Golden City will not endure much longer ; and the day 
 may not be far off when the smokes from its tall chimneys, 
 rising up behind Table Mountain, will be seen at Denver. 
 I only wish that the vulgar, snobbish custom of attaching 
 " City " to every place of more than three houses, could be 
 stopped. From Illinois to California it has become a gen 
 eral nuisance, telling only of swagger and want of taste, 
 not of growth. Why not call it " Goldenport " (as it will 
 become a sort of harbor to which the ores will be shipped), 
 or any other simple name ? In the Russian language two 
 unnecessary accents usurp one seventh of the typography ; 
 and in Colorado, if one talks much about the mining towns, 
 he must add one seventh to his speech in repeating the 
 useless word " City/' 
 
 The age of law and order has not yet arrived. The peo 
 ple pointed out to me a tree, to which some of them had 
 hung a Mexican, last week, on account of an attempted 
 assault upon two ladies of the place. The criminal was 
 taken from the sheriffs hands and lynched ; and the few 
 remaining Mexican residents, who appear to have had no 
 fellowship with him, are ordered to leave the place. Affairs 
 of this kind make an unpleasant impression. The impro 
 vised code of a new settlement is no longer necessary here, 
 and it seems to exist by virtue of a lingering taste for rude 
 and violent justice. 
 
 I found simple but clean quarters, and an excellent table, 
 at Cheney's Hotel ; addressed a limited audience in the even- 
 
52 ' COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 ing, and took the coach for this place yesterday morning, at 
 ten o'clock. The new road, following Clear Creek canon, 
 has been made impassable by floods ; and the old road, some 
 miles further eastward, is now used. It pierces the first 
 range of the Rocky Mountains by the canon of a small 
 stream, at the mouth whereof are four or five log-houses, 
 styled Gate- City ! The defile is very narrow, abrupt, and 
 with such sudden turns that for a space the road seems 
 every moment to come to a sudden termination. Huge 
 masses of dark red and purple rock topple on either side ; 
 there is little timber to be seen, but a profusion of wild 
 gooseberries and currants, and a bush resembling the 
 broom. The bed of the brook is crowded with young cot 
 ton-woods and box-elders, in the shade of which new vari 
 eties of wild flowers grow luxuriantly. I hailed the Alpine 
 harebell as an old friend, and inhaled the delicious per 
 fume blown from clumps of mountain roses. The wild 
 hop-vine was very abundant, spreading its arms over the 
 rock, in lieu of other supports. 
 
 After two or three miles the pass became broader and 
 straighter, and we could look up to the crest of the moun 
 tains. It was dismal to see how much of the pine forests, 
 with which the steeps were clothed, have been wantonly 
 or carelessly destroyed by fire. The rock now appeared to 
 be a kind of gneiss, gray, with pale orange oxydations, 
 which gave the scenery something of the character of the 
 Apennines. I did not find, as I expected, much vegetation. 
 The dry soil, the bare masses of rock, the dusty road, and 
 the hot, cloudless sky overhead, all suggested Southern 
 Europe, rather than Switzerland or our mountain regions 
 of the East. 
 
 We followed this canon for some eight or ten miles, oc 
 casionally passing a saw-mill, or tavern-ranche, patronized 
 by the freighters. Then we reached Guy's Hill, where the 
 road crosses the divide, and we were requested by the 
 driver to climb to the summit on foot. It was but half a 
 
ENTERING THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 53 
 
 mile of rather breathless walking in the thin air, and we 
 stood upon a narrow crest, overlooking a deep, pine-clad 
 valley in the heart of the mountains. The dark summits 
 of the second range rose against the sky, and only one 
 small snowy peak was visible. Here the forests, although 
 neither large nor dense, were still untouched, and multi 
 tudes of silvery aspens were mingled with the pines. 
 
 The descent looked dangerously steep ; but our driver, 
 with locked wheels, went down on a trot, passing two ox- 
 teams with wonderful skill. The valley we now entered 
 was greener and fresher than the first, and with a tolera 
 bly level bottom, along which we bowled to the Michigan 
 House, where dinner awaited us, an excellent meal, at 
 one dollar and fifty cents. The water was unsurpassed in 
 coolness and agreeable flavor. 
 
 The road now gradually swerved to the left, rising to 
 another divide, whence the splendors of the snowy range 
 burst upon us. Broad wedges of rock and snow, soaring 
 to a height of fourteen thousand feet, glittered in the clear 
 sky, apparently close at hand, although they were still 
 fifteen miles distant. Our own elevation above the sea 
 could not have been less than eight thousand feet. The 
 air was thin, but wonderfully cool, pure, and transparent. 
 The only thing the scene lacked was fresh mountain turf, 
 a feature which I have not yet found. 
 
 We descended from this crest into a deep glen, the sides 
 of which were better wooded. Here and there we passed 
 a grazing-ranche or saw-mill, and the road was filled with 
 heavy freight teams. Two miles of rapid descent, and we 
 suddenly emerged upon the canon of North Clear Creek. 
 Here commenced, at once, the indications of mining. The 
 precipitous sides of the canon were freckled with the holes 
 and dirt-piles of experimental shafts ; the swift waters of the 
 stream had the hue of " tailings ; " and presently the smoke 
 from the smelting works of the Lyons Company began to 
 cloud the pure mountain air. 
 
54 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 Beyond this point, which is already thickly studded with 
 houses, and is called Lyonsville, a sudden turn in the road 
 discloses a view of Black Hawk, with its charming church 
 perched above the town, on the extremity of the headland 
 which separates Gregory Gulch from that of Clear Creek. 
 We at once entered a busy, noisy, thickly populated region. 
 The puff of steam, the dull thump of the stamp-mills, and 
 all the other sounds of machinery at work, filled the air ; 
 the road became a continuous street, with its hotels, stores, 
 livery stables, and crowded dwelling-houses. 
 
 Turning into Gregory Gulch, we slowly mounted through 
 Black Hawk and Mountain City to this place ; but all three 
 places form in reality one continuous town, more than two 
 miles long, and with over six thousand inhabitants. The 
 houses are jammed into the narrow bed of the canon, em 
 ploying all sorts of fantastic expedients to find room and 
 support themselves. Under them a filthy stream falls down 
 the defile over a succession of dams. It is a wonderfully 
 curious and original place, strongly resembling Guanajuato 
 in its position and surroundings. 
 
vm. 
 
 CENTRAL CITY AND BLACK HAWK. 
 
 CENTRAL CITY, COLORADO, June 25, 1866. 
 
 THIS place and the adjoining towns of Black Hawk and 
 Nevada are so buried in the wrinkles and crevices of what 
 I have termed the second range of the Rocky Mountains, 
 that I could not fully comprehend their position until last 
 evening, when I went upon the point called Bates Hill, 
 which divides Gregory Gulch from the valley of North 
 Clear Creek. On that station, the maze of mountains and 
 gulches gradually untangled, and the relation of the differ 
 ent mining localities to each other became clear. The 
 South Clear comes down from the snowy range in a south 
 easterly direction ; while Gregory Gulch, rising from it at 
 a general angle of about twenty degrees, extends nearly 
 due west for about three miles, gradually losing itself in 
 minor gulches and ravines among the summits of the 
 mountains. 
 
 Black Hawk commences a little below the intersection, 
 and thrusts an arm up either gorge, like the letter Y, ex 
 cept that the left-hand arm has outgrown the other, and 
 now forms a continuous line of building and business, up 
 Gregory Gulch to Mountain City, which is a connecting 
 link between Black Hawk and Central City. The latter 
 place continues the line of compact settlement up the bot 
 tom of the gulch for a mile further, and almost forms a 
 connection with Nevada City, which occupies the highest 
 position, near the summit. Black Hawk is exactly eight 
 thousand feet above the sea, and the upper part of Nevada 
 is at least a thousand feet higher. 
 
56 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 The view of the intersecting ravines (they can hardly 
 be called valleys, and " gulch " is a mining term) and the 
 steep, ponderous mountains which inclose them, has a cer 
 tain largeness and breadth of effect, but is by no means 
 picturesque. The timber has been wholly cut away, except 
 upon some of the more distant steeps, where its dark green 
 is streaked with ghastly marks of fire. The great, awk 
 wardly rounded mountains are cut up and down by the 
 lines of paying " lodes," and pitted all over by the holes 
 and heaps of rocks made either by prospectors or to secure 
 claims. Nature seems to be suffering from an attack of 
 confluent small-pox. My experience in California taught 
 me that gold-mining utterly ruins the appearance of a 
 country, and therefore I am not surprised at what I see 
 here. On the contrary, this hideous slashing, tearing, and 
 turning upside down is the surest indication of mineral 
 wealth. 
 
 Commencing at Black Hawk, where the sole pleasant 
 object is the Presbyterian Church, white, tasteful, and 
 charmingly placed on the last step of Bates Hill, above 
 the chimneys and mills in the uniting ravines, we mount 
 Gregory Gulch by a rough, winding, dusty road, lined with 
 crowded wooden buildings: hotels, with pompous names 
 and limited accommodations ; drinking saloons, " lager 
 beer " being a frequent sign ; bakeries, log and frame 
 dwelling-houses, idle mills, piles of rusty and useless ma 
 chinery tumbled by the wayside, and now and then a cot 
 tage in the calico style, with all sorts of bra'ckets and 
 carved drop-cornices. In the centre of the gulch rushes a 
 stream of muddy water, sometimes dammed up to broaden 
 the bed and obtain a little more foothold for houses. Be 
 yond the large mill built by ex-General Fitz-John Porter 
 for an unfortunate New York company, who paid a large 
 sum to repeat the experience of the National Government, 
 Black Hawk terminates; but the houses, mills, drinking 
 saloons, and shops continue just the same, and in another' 
 half-mile you find yourself in Central City. 
 
CENTRAL CITY AND BLACK HAWK. 57 
 
 This place consists mainly of one street, on the right- 
 hand side of the gulch ; the houses on your left, as you 
 ascend, resting on high posts or scaffolding, over the deep 
 bed of the stream. Half-way up there is a single cross- 
 street some three hundred feet in length, where the prin 
 cipal stores are jammed together in an incredibly small 
 space. With one exception, the buildings are frame, dry 
 as tinder at this season ; and a fire, starting at the top of 
 the town, with a wind blowing down the ravine, would wipe 
 out the place in half an hour. The whole string of four 
 cities has a curious, rickety, temporary air, with their build 
 ings standing as if on one leg, their big signs and little 
 accommodations, the irregular, wandering, uneven street, 
 and the bald, scarred, and pitted mountains on either side. 
 Everything is odd, grotesque, unusual ; but no feature can 
 be called attractive. 
 
 I took quarters at the St. Nicholas Hotel, of which I will 
 only say that the board is five dollars per day. The unac 
 customed thinness of the air caused me considerable incon 
 venience at first. I felt a painful giddiness for an hour or 
 two, could scarcely walk twenty steps without halting to 
 take breath, and have had bleeding at the nose for three 
 mornings in succession. This is a common complaint with 
 new-comers, and the old settlers can always recognize such 
 by their bloody pocket-handkerchiefs. The days are hot 
 and rather sultry, but the mornings and evenings are lovely 
 in their freshness, clearness, and the delicious purity of the 
 air. Two things are hardly to be surpassed, water and 
 sleep. The water is like crystal, icy cold, and so agree 
 able to the palate that I am tempted to drink it when not 
 thirsty. It is said to contain a slight proportion of alkali, 
 and a common phrase among the people attributes their 
 irregularities to the " thin air and alkali water." The prop 
 erties of the latter, however, are said to be an aphrodisiac, 
 which is rather an advantage than otherwise, in a new 
 country. As for sleep, I don't know when I have found 
 
58 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 it so easy to obtain, or so difficult to relinquish. When I 
 awake in the morning the half-conscious sense that I have 
 been asleep is so luxurious that I immediately sleep again, 
 and each permitted nap is sweeter than the last. The 
 people seem to be remarkably healthy. Incipient disease 
 of the lungs is almost always healed in this high and dry 
 atmosphere, while it is fatal to the more advanced stages. 
 Rheumatism and the mountain-fever are the most usual 
 ailments. There is, at the same time, less tendency to dis 
 ease, and less recuperative power when a person is once 
 attacked. 
 
 In this population of from six to eight thousand souls, 
 one finds representatives of all parts of the United States 
 and Europe. Men of culture and education are plenty, 
 yet not always to be distinguished by their dress or ap 
 pearance. Society is still agreeably free and unconven 
 tional. People are so crowded together, live in so primi 
 tive a fashion for the most part, and are, perhaps (many 
 of them), so glad to escape from restraint, that they are 
 more natural, and hence more interesting than in the older 
 States. Owing to the latter cause, no doubt, it is some 
 times difficult to recognize the staid New Englander in the 
 sunburnt individual in sombrero and riding-boots, who 
 smokes his pipe, carries his pocket-flask, and tells any 
 amount of rollicking stories. He has simply cast off his 
 assumed shell and is himself; and I must confess I like 
 him all the better. 
 
 Last Saturday night, at Black Hawk, at the close of a 
 lecture in the pretty church already mentioned, a gentle 
 man came to me and said : " It was a long way from here 
 where we last met." He had a familiar face, but I could 
 not at once detach it from the tens of thousands in my 
 memory. "Do you remember," he asked, "riding into 
 Kautokeino, in ' Lapland, one cold winter night, in a rein 
 deer sled ? " " It is impossible ! " I exclaimed, recognizing 
 Herr Bergcr, the Norwegian merchant, who took me into 
 his house in that Arctic solitude, after twenty hours of 
 
CENTRAL CITY AND BLACK HAWK. 59 
 
 frozen travel among the wastes of snow ! It was he him 
 self, come all the way from Hammerfest, in latitude 71, 
 to be, first a soldier in the Union Army, and now a miner 
 in Colorado ! He visited me yesterday, and we had a long 
 talk about old times and mutual friends inside of the Arc 
 tic Circle. In three years he had lost every characteristic 
 of the hyperborean, except an intense longing for the per 
 petual daylight of the Arctic summer. 
 
 The day before, I was suddenly accosted by a fellow- 
 voyager from China to New York, via St. Helena ; who, 
 after enduring the horrors of Southern prisons, has come 
 here to recruit as a mountaineer. 
 
 Perhaps the " thin air and alkali water " may account 
 for the rage for owning " claims " and " lodes," which seems 
 to possess all classes of the community. Every man you 
 meet has his pocket full of " specimens." When you are 
 introduced to a stranger he produces a piece of " blossom 
 rock," a " sulphuret," or a " chloride." The landlord of the 
 hotel where you stop confidentially informs you that he 
 owns 25,000 feet "the richest lode in the country 
 assays $1300 to the cord, sir ! " The clerk is the happy 
 possessor of 10,000 feet; the porter (where there is any) 
 has at least 5000 ; while the chambermaid boasts of her 
 own " Susanna Lode " or " Bridget Lode." The baker has 
 specimens beside his bread ; the dispenser of lager beer 
 looks important and mysterious ; the druggist is apt to 
 give you " chlorides " instead of aperients ; and the lawyer, 
 who takes his fees in " feet " (money being scarce), dreams 
 of realizing millions after the Pacific Railroad reaches 
 Denver. 
 
 I have disgusted several individuals by refusing to buy, 
 but the jargon has already infected my speech, and, after 
 hearing a man at the table ask, " Is there a pay-streak 
 in that bacon ? " I found myself on the point of asking the 
 waiter to put a little more sulphuret in my coffee. The 
 same waiter afterward said to me : " Pie 's played out, sir ! " 
 If I had then requested him to " corral the tailings," he 
 
60 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 would have brought me the fragments from the other 
 plates. 
 
 The Colorado dialect, in other respects, is peculiar. A 
 dwelling-house is invariably styled " shebang ; " and the 
 word, in many cases, is very appropriate. The Spanish 
 corral (always mispronounced corrett) has become com 
 pletely naturalized, and is used as a verb, meaning to catch 
 or collect. A supply of any kind is an " outfit ; " a man 
 does not shout, but " lets a yell out of him ; " and one who 
 makes a blunder " cuts open a dog." I cannot recall, at 
 this moment, half the peculiarities of the dialect, but I am 
 learning them as fast as possible, in order to conform to 
 the ways of the country. 
 
 Some friends took me over the hill to Quartz Gulch, the 
 other day, in order to try some mountain-brewed ale. Af 
 ter the intense still heat of the air the beverage was very 
 refreshing, and greatly superior in its quality to the lager 
 beer of the mountains. The owner of the brewery lives in 
 a neat log-cabin, the steps whereto are ores of gold and 
 silver, and inside the rough walls an accomplished lady sat 
 down to her piano and played for us some choice compo 
 sitions. 
 
 There is also a theatre here, with performances every 
 night. Mr. Waldron, of California, takes the leading tragic 
 and melodramatic parts, while Mr. Langrish, the manager, 
 is himself a very admirable comedian. A good deal of 
 swearing is introduced into the farces, to please the miners. 
 I went in one evening and found the house crowded. 
 There is a daily paper here, and one in Black Hawk, both 
 well supported, I believe certainly very well printed. 
 The editorial dialect, to meet the tastes of the people, is 
 of an exceedingly free-and-easy character. A collection of 
 very curious specimens, both of approbation and attack, 
 might easily be made ; but I am too fatigued by the thin 
 air to make the attempt to-night. 
 
 I must also postpone an account of mining operations 
 and interests until to-morrow. 
 
IX. 
 
 MINING AND MINING PROCESSES. 
 
 CENTRAL CITY, COLORADO, June 26, 1866. 
 
 ALTHOUGH I have come to Colorado to look at scenery 
 rather than at gold and silver mines, it is impossible to re 
 main in the centre of mining operations without feeling a 
 desire to learn something concerning their character and 
 prospects. Indeed it is quite necessary to acquire some 
 general knowledge of the peculiarities of the ores and the 
 technical terms describing them, in order both to under 
 stand three fourths of the conversation one hears, and to 
 avoid the enthusiastic explanations which would be imme 
 diately proffered if one should confess entire ignorance. 
 One would soon " cap out," or " peter out," socially, if he 
 did not yield so much to this community. 
 
 The region hereabout first drew miners, and afterward 
 capitalists, from the rich discoveries made by Gregory, in 
 the spring of 1859, and from its greater proximity to Den 
 ver. It is but one of a long chain of gold-bearing districts, 
 many of which are still but half explored. Many more, 
 no doubt, are yet undiscovered. Here, however, the most 
 has been done in the way of development, and we can there 
 fore better judge what dependence can be placed on the 
 promise of the precious minerals. The deserted mills, the 
 idle wheels, and the empty shafts and drifts for miles along 
 this and the adjoining ravines the general decrease of 
 population everywhere in the mountains indicate a pe 
 riod of doubt and transition, which is now, I believe, on the 
 point of passing away. Colorado has been, alternately, the 
 

 62 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 scene of exorbitant hopes and equally extravagant 'disap 
 pointments. Out of these violent reactions a new order 
 of things is gradually being evolved. Great mistakes have 
 been made. Ignorance has learned (at an enormous ex 
 pense) to recognize istelf. A terrible deal of swindling 
 has been perpetrated, and the natural result is, that the 
 country now has a worse reputation than it deserves, in 
 most parts of the Union. As I do not own, or propose to 
 own, one foot of any lode in the Territory, my own opin 
 ions on the subject whatever they may be worth will 
 be at least unprejudiced. 
 
 In the first place, gold is found here under very differ 
 ent conditions from those of California. " Free gold," as it 
 is called (native or virgin gold), is much less abundant. 
 Owing to the conformation of the mountains, there is but 
 a limited space for " gulch " or surface washing, and the 
 rush of miners to the country in 1859 and '60 soon ex 
 hausted the best of these. The " blossom-rock " (partially 
 disintegrated quartz, with the gold mostly in a "free" 
 state) gradually followed, leaving the great storehouse of 
 the mountains still untouched, but containing the gold in 
 such stubborn and difficult combinations, that by the old 
 processes from fifty to eighty per cent, was lost, or, as 
 they say here, " went down the creek." Then came dis 
 couragement, despondency, failure of experiments, and a 
 general collapse, the results of which are everywhere ap 
 parent. Yet new lodes were all the time being discovered, 
 and each succeeding assay showed the richness of the min 
 eral. 
 
 As a general rule the gold is found in combination with 
 copper, and the silver with lead. The silver ore, in fact, is 
 simply a very rich argentiferous galena. Some mineralo 
 gists say that the ores are copper and lead, in reality, hold 
 ing the nobler 'metals in combination. It is immaterial 
 which name we give, provided the latter can be completely 
 extracted by some cheap method. This is now the problem 
 
MINING AND MINING PROCESSES. 63 
 
 which is vexing Colorado which suspends enterprise and 
 holds back emigration, for a time. Out of the many proc 
 esses proposed, two only have been put in operation 
 Keith's and Lyon's. Mourner's and Kenyon's have not yet 
 been actively tested. A few of the old stamp-mills are still 
 running, and those companies which can afford to mine 
 their ores a considerable time in advance of crushing them, 
 will still make a profit by this method. The yield of gold 
 is said to be fully doubled, by allowing the ore to be exposed 
 to the air for the space of a year. Probably two thirds of 
 the companies, however, are waiting the result of experi 
 ments. 
 
 Another cause operates, though in a less degree, to check 
 enterprises on a larger scale. Labor is scarce and very dear. 
 Mechanics demand from six to ten dollars, and the com 
 monest miner five dollars per day. Iron, lime, chemical ma 
 terials, and even fuel, are also very expensive. Moreover, 
 nothing is more certain than that when wheat is supplied 
 at three cents per pound instead of ten (as it probably will 
 be this fall), and when freight from the East is reduced 
 from fifteen to six cents per pound, the expense of mining 
 and separating the metals will be less than one half of what 
 it now is. For this good time, which is not only coming, 
 but is actually near at hand, the whole mountain popula 
 tion is waiting. 
 
 The descent into a mine is one of the inevitable things 
 which a traveller must perform. It is a moist, unpleasant 
 business, but no one can speak authoritatively of " capping 
 out," " wall rock," " flukin's," &c., who has not been down and 
 seen the articles from beginning to end. Mr. Hayes, the 
 Superintendent of the " Gregory Consolidated," offered to 
 pilot me to a depth of three hundred feet, which I consid 
 ered would be as much as a strict sense of duty could exact. 
 I have no subterranean tastes, and honestly confess that I 
 would have been glad of any valid excuse to omit the de 
 scent. But there was none : so I repaired to the engine- 
 
64 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 house and business office, high up the steep hill-side, put 
 on stiff brown boots, a clayey coat, and a bespattered slouch 
 of a hat, received my tallow candle with a sigh, and in 
 spected with a new interest the photograph of Speaker 
 Colfax and his party, taken after their return from the 
 realms under my feet. 
 
 The steam-engine was undergoing repairs, and two hun 
 dred and fifty feet of perpendicular ladders, beside the 
 pump-shaft, furnished the only means of descent. Mr. 
 Rule, the never-tired Cornishman, led the way ; then Mr. 
 Hayes, with his tallow candle, while I, with mine, brought 
 up the rear. Through a little trap-door we passed from 
 the blazing noon sunshine into a square, upright box of 
 damp darkness, filled, somewhere far below, with sounds 
 of dropping and trickling water. The ladders are about 
 sixteen feet in length, separated by narrow platforms, where 
 we can now and then take breath. On one side is the well, 
 with its iron tubes, vanishing above and below. I cannot 
 pretend to describe the operation of the machinery, and 
 will only say that the work is of the most massive and 
 durable character. There was plenty of leisure to inspect 
 it before we reached the bottom. 
 
 Having accomplished the descent, I found myself in a 
 horizontal drift, which followed the direction of the lode, 
 into the heart of the mountain. Moving lights in the dis 
 tance, and the sounds of pick and hammer, guided us to the 
 further end, where the workmen were busy tunnelling into 
 the stubborn rock the design being to carry the drift to 
 the limit of the Company's property. A new drift, seventy- 
 five feet below this, has been started, and will be carried, 
 horizontally, to the same point ; after which, the crevice 
 will be worked out from below upward. Its width, at the 
 depth I reached, is from four to six feet. Contrary to the 
 experience of other mining countries, the ore becomes 
 richer as you descend, though at the same time more 
 refractory. 
 
MINING AND MINING PROCESSES. 65 
 
 The lodes, in this region, appear to be nearly vertical, 
 and are so much alike in their features that a description 
 of one will answer for all. The vertical crevice, sunk to 
 an unknown depth in the primitive rock, has sides more or 
 less curved or waved, so that one side, from irregular up 
 heaval, sometimes overlaps the other : the granite, or gneiss, 
 meets, and cuts off the streak of ore. This is called " cap 
 ping out." The first discovery thereof occasioned a good 
 deal of consternation. It was supposed that the lode was 
 at an end, and that, in all probability, the Rocky Mountains 
 were only rich on the surface. Now, however, when a lode 
 caps out, the owner strikes through the isthmus of " wall 
 rock," certain of finding his " pay streak " below. Some 
 times the lode is only " pinched," not entirely cut off. Of 
 course the crevices vary in width and the ores in richness, 
 but there is great similarity in all other conditions. 
 
 It was easy to track the glittering presence of the sul- 
 phurets and pyrites along the walls of the drift. When a 
 light was held near the rock, it brought out sparkles of 
 golden, scarlet, pink, and bright blue lustre, equal to any 
 peacock coal. This ore, which is accounted very rich, is 
 found in large masses, and it required a vigorous handling 
 of the pick to get off a few specimens. I found it difficult 
 to obtain any clear estimates of the yield. The ore is 
 absurdly measured by " cords," an ordinary two-horse 
 wagon-load being called a quarter of a cord and one 
 cord may represent from eight to twelve tons. Fifty dol 
 lars a ton may perhaps represent a fair average yield 
 but this is a guess rather than a calculation. 
 
 Crossing a gulf on a suspended ladder, we climbed into 
 an upper drift, communicating with a part of the crevice 
 which had been worked down from above, and gave us a 
 distant glimpse of daylight. Here we found the lode again, 
 and could make some estimate of the value of the ores 
 packed between us and the bottom of the mine. The way 
 in which the lodes are cut into claims, which fall into the 
 5 
 
66 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 hands of different companies, is a great obstacle to the 
 economical working of them. A horizontal drift, from the 
 point where the lode strikes the bottom of Gregory Gulch, 
 would be a self-acting drain ; but the Company, since it does 
 not own this portion of the lode, is driven to the enormous 
 expense of pumping from a depth of nearly four hundred 
 feet. Moreover, when one company suspends operations 
 for a time, 4 and the water collects, the companies above it, 
 on the same lode, are unable to work. These are some of 
 the inevitable, yet very unpractical, features which still be 
 long to Colorado mining. 
 
 As we were returning to the lower drift, there was a 
 sudden smothered bellowing under our feet, the granite 
 heart of the mountain trembled, and our candles were ex 
 tinguished in an instant. It was not an agreeable sensation, 
 especially when Mr. Rule informed me that another blast 
 would follow the first. However, the darkness and uncer 
 tainty soon came to an end. We returned to the foot of 
 the ladder, and, after a climb which, in that thin air, was a 
 constant collapse to the lungs, we reached the daylight in 
 a dripping, muddy, and tallow-spotted condition. 
 
 Mr. Hayes was kind enough to accompany me to the 
 smelting-works of the Company, and point out the principal 
 features of the Lyons process. I shall not attempt to give 
 a technical description. The process, I believe, is imported 
 from Wales, with very slight modifications. The ores are 
 ground, washed, released from the rock, desulphurized by 
 heat, smelted, the gold and silver separated from the lead 
 and copper, and finally delivered in cakes which contain 
 about seventy-five per cent, in weight, of silver, and some 
 eighty per cent, in value, of gold. The lead and copper 
 are not saved, except so much of the former as is used in 
 smelting, in the form of litharge. 
 
 I believe this is the only process, at present, in operation, 
 which saves the silver. Whether the amount gained thereby 
 is sufficient to balance the greater expense of reducing the 
 
MINING AND MINING PROCESSES. 67 
 
 ores, I cannot say. Professor Hill, who has just returned 
 from Swansea, in company with Mr. Hermann, of the firm 
 of Vivian & Co., brings a proposal, I am told, to send " mats " 
 of the metals, unseparated, to Wales, the value of the cop 
 per alone being enough to pay the cost of transportation 
 and smelting. Mr. Hermann considers the ores immensely 
 rich, and has commenced a series of assays, the result of 
 which, I presume, will not be immediately made public. 
 
 The only objection I have heard urged against the Lyons 
 process is its expensive character. In other respects it 
 must be satisfactory, since the Company is now buying the 
 " tailings " of the stamp-mills, at the rate of fifty dollars per 
 cord, for the purpose of smelting. Statements on either 
 side must be received with a certain amount of allowance, 
 and many communications are made to me which I forbear 
 repeating. I can only say that the energy and activity dis 
 played by the Lyons Company indicate success. 
 
 Mr. Lathrop took me to-day to Keith's Mill, which is in 
 the Clear Creek Valley, about a mile from Black Hawk. 
 The process here is very simple. The ore, after being 
 ground, is placed in hollow cylinders, where a number of 
 small iron balls reduce it to powder. After being desul 
 phurized by heat, it is placed in the cylinders and pulver 
 ized a second time. Finally, the usual treatment, by water 
 and quicksilver, is employed to take up the gold alone, sil 
 ver, lead, and copper being lost. Mr. Keith claims that by 
 the process he obtains one hundred per cent, more than 
 the stamp-mills probably eighty to eighty-five per cent, 
 of the whole amount of gold. The advantage of his method 
 is its cheapness. The handling of the material, from first 
 to last, is done by machinery, and the different stages of 
 the process are so conveniently connected that four men 
 can reduce two cords of ore daily. Mr. Keith seems to 
 have great faith in the success of his method, which is cer 
 tainly destined to supersede the stamp-mills. The loss of 
 
68 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 the silver, however, strikes me as an objection to its use in 
 many parts of Colorado. 
 
 The stamp-mill of the Black Hawk Company is still at 
 work, pounding out the less refractory ores from the Bob 
 tail Lode. It is a model mill of the kind, admirable in its 
 arrangement, thoroughly regulated, and with a refreshing 
 air of permanence in all its departments. I am told that 
 its average production is two hundred and twenty-five 
 ounces of gold per week, whereof twenty-five ounces are 
 profit. I suspect this is only a guess. 
 
 One thing is certain : the mines of Colorado are among 
 the richest in the world. I doubt whether either California 
 or Nevada contains a greater amount of the precious metals 
 than this section of the Rocky Mountains. These peaks, 
 packed as they are with deep, rich veins seamed and 
 striped with the out-cropping of their hidden and reluc 
 tantly granted wealth are not yet half explored. They 
 are part of a grand deposit of treasure which will eventu 
 ally be found to extend from Guanajuato and Real del 
 Monte to the Mackenzie and Coppermine Rivers, and 
 which, if properly worked, will yield a hundred millions 
 a year for a thousand years ! Colorado, alone, ought to 
 furnish the amount of the national debt within the next 
 century. The gold is here, and the silver, the copper, and 
 lead, possibly, platina (there are already rumors of it), 
 and all that is needed is invention, intelligence, and prop 
 erly organized enterprise. 
 
 There is an immense number of fools in the world, and 
 many of them either found their way to Colorado, or in 
 vested in mythical mines of fabulous productiveness. More 
 than the usual amount of folly and swindling was located 
 here for a time hence the reaction, the effects of which 
 are still felt 
 
 Before leaving Central City, I must say that it is the 
 most outrageously expensive place in Colorado. You pay 
 
MINING AND MINING PROCESSES. 69 
 
 more and get less for the money than in any other part of 
 the world. I am already tired of these bald, clumsy shaped, 
 pock-marked mountains ; this one long, windy, dusty street, 
 with its perpetual menace of fire ; and this never-ending 
 production of " specimens " and offer of " feet," and shall 
 joyfully say good-by to-morrow morning. 
 
TO IDAHO AND EMPIRE. 
 
 EMPIRE, FOOT OF THE SNOWY RANGE, June 27, 1866. 
 
 MY friends in Central City will not take offence when I 
 say that I left not them, but the place with a cheerful 
 sense of relief. I had been for four days jammed down 
 among the torn and barren hills, and yearned mightily for 
 a freer out-look and more attractive scenery. As the stage 
 left the narrow ravine, through which the wind draws the 
 dust as through a funnel, and climbed around the steep 
 toward Russell's Gulch, the air seemed to become at once 
 gentler and purer. The mountains, though still for the 
 most part bare or gray, with burned forests, 'swept broadly 
 into the distance ; and between their gaps, to the eastward, 
 shimmered the hot blink of the Plains. There were specks 
 of snow near their summits, but the dividing range to the 
 west of us was still invisible. 
 
 Russell's Gulch, from top to bottom, a distance, ap 
 parently, of two or three miles, and all its branches, show 
 the traces of gold-washing. The soil has been turned up 
 side down, hollowed out and burrowed into, in every direc 
 tion. Around the edges of this desolation stand the de 
 serted cabins of the former miners, a chance one still oc 
 cupied. I noticed, here and there, some feeble attempts at 
 gulch mining, but the large new mill near the head of the 
 glen was a better sign of enterprise. The stamp-mills, all 
 of primitive pattern, were mostly idle ; yet every vein in 
 this region is covered by claims, and the specimens they 
 show are of great richness. Here, as elsewhere, the owners 
 are waiting for the new process. 
 
TO IDAHO AND EMPIRE. 71 
 
 Our road led southward, across several shoulders or 
 undulations of the range, gradually ascending, until we 
 reached the divide between the waters of North and South 
 Clear Creeks, at an elevation of more than nine thousand 
 feet. Two or three peaks of dazzling snow came in sight, 
 apparently very near us, so sharply were they relieved 
 against the hard, dark blue of the sky. Segments of the 
 Plains scarcely to be distinguished from the sea ap 
 peared to the eastward ; while directly in front of us rose 
 the three picturesque summits, which have been named the 
 Chief, the Pappoose, and the Squaw. The first of these 
 reaches a height of more than twelve thousand feet, its 
 bare pyramidal summit shooting far above the timber line. 
 It has several times been ascended. 
 
 The height from which one looks upon these mountains 
 greatly lessens their apparent altitude, and thus diminishes 
 the effect of the scenery. When you have penetrated so 
 far within the Rocky Mountains that all view of the great 
 Plains is shut out, you naturally measure the elevation of 
 the ranges from the beds of the valleys. But these beds 
 rise very rapidly as you advance, and you are constantly 
 brought nearer the line where forests cease and snow be 
 gins. The thin air and deeper color of the sky indicate the 
 level you have reached, but the mountains seem no higher 
 than before. 
 
 After crossing the divide, the road descends to South 
 Clear Creek, through a long, winding glen. I here noticed 
 a bush-maple, a variety of the alder-tree, and great quan 
 tities of wild currants and gooseberries. Far and near, all 
 over the steep sides and flanks of the mountains, were the 
 traces of prospecters. In some places " blossom rock " had 
 been found and abandoned, probably making a poor assay ; 
 in others, holes had been quarried to the depth of six or 
 eight feet without any perceptible result. In the narrowest 
 part of the glen, however, we came upon a pile of fresh 
 ore, which showed a strong " color," and was said to yield 
 
72 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 from two hundred to one thousand dollars per ton. One 
 of the owners, at least, was very enthusiastic, and it was 
 plainly to be seen that the vein was being actively worked. 
 
 While I was admiring the bold, grand outlines of the 
 Chief, which became more and more striking as we de 
 scended, the glen suddenly opened, and we found ourselves 
 in the valley of the South Clear. " Ah, this begins to be 
 Alpine ! " I exclaimed. Here, at last, there was a little 
 breadth and space, a floor from an eighth to a quarter 
 of a mile in width, bordered by mountains, which towered 
 up, up, behind their huge escarpments of rock, into the 
 region of snow. Here the ranges were more detached, al 
 lowing something of form to be traced ; the forests were 
 not all burned or levelled ; glimpses of green meadows 
 shone down from the higher slopes ; and the cold, clear 
 gtream, fed from the fields of melting snow, foamed and 
 flashed in the sun. 
 
 We came at once upon a straggling yillage of log-huts, 
 which, after having outlived a variety of names, is now 
 called " Idaho," the inhabitants fondly supposing that 
 this word means " the gem of the mountains." [I need 
 hardly say that the Indians have no such phrase. Idaho 
 is believed to mean " rocks."] I here left the stage, Mr. 
 Sisty having kindly offered to take me on to Empire in the 
 afternoon. In this queer, almost aboriginal village, with 
 its charming situation, there is the best hotel in Colorado. 
 It has just been completed ; the opening ball occurred after 
 I reached Central City. The Astonished stranger here 
 finds a parlor with carpets as showy, horse-hair sofas as 
 shiny and slippery, looking-glasses with as much gilding, 
 tables as marbled-topped, and everything else as radiant 
 with varnish or gypsum, as the laws of American taste in 
 such things could require. The bedrooms are so fresh 
 so unsuggestive of a thousand unwashed previous occu 
 pants that I regretted not being able to enjoy the luxury 
 for one night. 
 
TO IDAHO AND EMPIRE. 73 
 
 While I was preparing to accompany Mr. Sisty to the 
 soda springs of Idaho, I was accosted by an old Norwegian, 
 a native of Drammen. The kindly feeling which all Scan 
 dinavians have for any one who has ever visited their 
 country is remarkable. In Kansas, I bought a pair of 
 blankets from a Swede, who instantly abated one dollar of 
 the price, when I addressed him in his native tongue. Al 
 though my Norsk is very halting, from long disuse, the 
 old fellow borrowed a fishing-rod, and in an hour presented 
 me with seven mountain-trout for my dinner. And such 
 trout ! Admirable as was the hotel-dinner, over which 
 Mrs. Beebe presided, I was obliged to slight it for the 
 special dish she prepared and placed before me. I hope 
 to fall in with many more Norwegians before I leave the 
 mountains. 
 
 The soda springs are already turned to service. Two 
 bath-houses have been built for summer guests. In one 
 of these the water js so regulated, that the bather may 
 choose whatever temperature he prefers, the hot spring 
 being about ninety-five degrees as it issues from the earth. 
 It has a deliciously refreshing and exhilarating quality, as 
 I founcl after taking it warm. The taste resembles a weak 
 and rather flat citrate of magnesia ; but, as the water has 
 not yet been analyzed, I cannot give the ingredients. The 
 hot and cold springs come up so close together, that one 
 may dip a hand in either at the same time. 
 
 But neither these springs nor the gold mines comprise 
 all the riches of Idaho. Further down the valley, some 
 where, there is a vein of rough opal eighteen inches thick. 
 I have a piece of it in my pocket at this moment, and it is 
 undoubtedly opal, though of faint, imperfect fire, as if its 
 quality were faded by long exposure to the weather. Small 
 specimens of a similar variety, from Montana, are frequent 
 in Colorado ; but I have seen nothing yet with the infinite 
 sparkle of the Hungarian or the prismatic lustre of the 
 Honduras opal. It is unreasonable, however, to ask for 
 
74 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 the precious gems, where so much other wealth has been 
 given. 
 
 After dinner, Mr. Sisty produced a buggy and a pair of 
 fast horses, and we set out up the valley. The road was 
 smooth, as if macadamized ; the cold, pale-green creek 
 roared beside us, sweeping around pine-clad capes or un 
 der the shadow of mighty cliffs, and the snows of the 
 higher summits brightened in the sunshine. This was in 
 spiring travel, reminding me (dimly, I must confess) of 
 the Upper Valley of the Rhine, between Splugen and the 
 Via Mala. After two or three miles the valley contracted, 
 becoming a mere canon, walled in by overhanging preci 
 pices ; a stream, which we crossed on a toll-bridge, came 
 down through a gorge on the right. Beyond the bridge 
 there was a hotel, commanding a view of the wonderful 
 " Notch." I noticed that one of the upper windows of this 
 hotel had been removed ; then I saw the end of a mahl- 
 stick moving about in the open place ; then a mass of 
 flowing locks, an easel, and an absorbed countenance. It 
 was Mr. Beard, working with might and main to catch the 
 lovely, fleeting effects of light and shade on the rocks and 
 pines. On the veranda below sat General Pierce, his com 
 panion, more patient than Science usually is, when it must 
 wait for Art. 
 
 We halted an hour, and I made a wretched attempt at a 
 sketch of the place. You cannot cram this scenery into 
 the compass of a block-book ; it requires a large canvas, 
 and the boldest and broadest handling. The eye is con 
 tinually cheated, the actual being so much more than the 
 apparent dimensions of all objects. Though so familiar 
 with the effect of extraordinarily pure, thin air, and great 
 clearness of outline, I am still frequently at fault. What 
 one sees small, is always small in the drawing. Even pho 
 tographs here have the same dwarfed, diminished expres 
 sion. I can now see how naturally Bierstadt was led to a 
 large canvas. 
 
TO IDAHO AND EMPIRE. 75 
 
 Leaving the artist at his work, we drove through the 
 gorge into another open stretch of the valley. Westward, 
 directly in front, a peak of the central snowy range tow 
 ered over all ' the intermediate heights ; while on the left 
 Mount Douglas, throwing its own shadow over a thousand 
 feet of vertical precipice, guarded the entrance to George 
 town Valley. Three or four miles up this valley lies the 
 little village of that name, with promising leads and lodes ; 
 while beyond it, among the snowy tangle of mountains at 
 the southeastern corner of the Middle Park, is the famous 
 silver district, recently discovered, and now known by the 
 name of " Argentine." The mineral is there said to be of 
 fabulous richness, but more than ten thousand feet above 
 the sea. Assays, I am informed, give between three and 
 four thousand dollars to the ton. 
 
 In ascending the South Clear, the rise averages about 
 one hundred feet to the mile, and the estimated elevation 
 of Empire is nine thousand feet. Take the altitude of the 
 Catskill Mountain House above the Hudson, and place 
 that on the top of Mount Washington, and you will have 
 the elevation of this place, where people live, work, and 
 carry on business ; where, in the Rocky Mountains, cattle 
 have excellent pasture, and potatoes are raised ! More 
 than this, the little mining village of North Empire, a mile 
 from this place, is one thousand four hundred feet higher ; 
 yet even there the inhabitants pass the winter with less 
 discomfort than one would suppose. On the table-lands 
 of the Andes, under the equator, we find towns at an equal 
 height, but nowhere else in the world. Among the Alps, 
 at an elevation of nine thousand feet, there is not a blade 
 of grass ; even moss and lichens disappear. 
 
 Empire enjoys a very picturesque situation. The pop 
 ulation may possibly be three hundred; the houses are 
 mostly cabins of hewn logs, but their inhabitants are men 
 of intelligence and enterprise. On reaching the White 
 House (kept by Mr. White), I found Mr. Byers, editor of 
 
76 COLORADO : A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 " The Rocky Mountain News," who is to be our pilot and 
 companion through the Parks. Mr. Beard has since 
 arrived, and the other two gentlemen of our party (Messrs. 
 M'Candless and Davis, of Pittsburg) were already await 
 ing us. Here, therefore, we shall take leave of such civil 
 ization as gold-mining carries with it, and strike into the 
 wilder regions beyond. Our preparations are few and 
 easily made. The horses and mules, belonging to Charley 
 Utter, the famous trapper and trader of the Middle Park, 
 will be in charge of Mr. White's son. Mr. Byers has 
 superintended the laying in of supplies (consisting chiefly 
 of biscuit, fat pork, ham, coffee, and sugar), and our blank 
 ets and overcoats will furnish the necessary bedding. 
 Luxuries we discard except, in my single case, a few 
 cigars of doubtful quality. No cases of bottles, or boxes 
 of tin cans, accompany us ; we have no forks, nor plates, 
 but one tin cup apiece, and a single spoon for the whole 
 company. The culinary utensils consist of a frying-pan 
 and a coffee-pot. To be sure, we have visions of moun 
 tain-trout, and of elk-steak, broiled on skewers ; but these 
 may be fairly permitted, without branding us as epicu 
 reans. The whole outfit is of the Robinson Crusoe char 
 acter, and necessarily so, for pack animals must be lightly 
 burdened on the trails which we are to follow. 
 
 1 have just been lecturing in the Methodist church 
 
 (the same in which the Colorado Conference has been held 
 this week) to an audience of more than a hundred persons. 
 The effect of speaking, at an altitude of nine thousand feet, 
 is not attended with the fatigue which I had anticipated 
 during the act ; but it is followed by a sense of complete 
 exhaustion. The audience, for calm, steady attention, 
 might have belonged to New York or New England. No 
 one went out for a drink, as is the custom in the mining 
 communities of California. I missed and to my regret 
 a type of face which I have found in every Colorado 
 audience, until this evening. In fact, I came to look for 
 
TO IDAHO AND EMPIRE. 77 
 
 the face naturally ; it struck my fancy in Denver, the first 
 evening, and I found it, slightly varied, for eight nights in 
 succession. It represents a type unique among civilized 
 races, and only to be found (and that only of late years) in 
 the United States a type expressing the precise point 
 where the elements of the rowdy begin to disappear, and 
 those of the gentleman manifest themselves. The square 
 of the face rounds into the oval ; the forehead is good, the 
 eyebrows straight and dark, the hair generally dark also ; 
 the eye is remarkably beautiful ; the nose would be good, 
 but for the least bit of tendency to turn up at the end ; 
 there is generally a mustache, full yet firm lips, a strong, 
 manly chin, and (here the rowdy mark remains !) a square 
 animal jaw. The face expresses a fine and noble quality 
 of manhood, not yet wholly detached from a coarse, rude 
 basis. This type so interested me, that I found myself in 
 voluntarily singling out the best specimen and addressing 
 myself specially to him and always with a sense that it 
 was right to do so. I should be glad to think that this 
 face represents a general fact 
 
XL 
 
 CROSSING THE BERTHOUD PASS. 
 
 CAMP IN THE MIDDLE PARK, June 29, 1866. 
 
 OUR plans for the mountain journey had been fixed 
 before leaving Denver, and we adhered to them in spite 
 of warnings and persuasions. Mr. Byers is an accom 
 plished mountaineer, to whom much of the ground is fa 
 miliar, and I preferred taking his advice to that of others 
 who spoke from hearsay rather than experience. It would 
 be difficult, if not impossible, to cross Berthoud Pass, 
 many persons asserted ; the hardships of Colonel Babcock's 
 party, a fortnight ago, were constantly cited, and the spec 
 tres of risk and danger, which those who stay at home de 
 light to evoke for those who travel, accompanied us up 
 to the very moment of starting. 
 
 At Empire, however, the people contented themselves 
 with predicting that we could not get over the Pass in a 
 day ; and, indeed, there seemed a strong probability that 
 they were right. White set out at daybreak to corral the 
 horses and mules ; we also rose early, washed our faces in 
 the frosty air, in the midst of a panorama of rose-tinted 
 Alps, took an early " square " breakfast, and tied our equip 
 ments in comfortable parcels for packing. But the ani 
 mals, well suspecting what was before them, refused to be 
 corralled. First one assistant, then another, was dispatched, 
 until five persons were busy, and nine o'clock had arrived 
 before there was any prospect of our departure. In the 
 mean time, the landlord produced a boiled ham, and a tin 
 kettle full of hot biscuit, which we put into a coffee-bag. 
 
CROSSING THE BERTHOUD PASS. 79 
 
 " They might ha' been sadder," said he, speaking of the 
 biscuit ; " they pack better when they 're sad." 
 
 General Pierce had set out on his return to Denver, tak 
 ing with him our " biled shirts and store clothes." We were 
 attired in flannel, and becomingly rough, each with the 
 handle of a tin cup hooked into the button-hole of his coat, 
 his trousers tucked into huge riding-boots, spur on heel, 
 and buckskin gloves on hand. By this time White had 
 arrived with the animals, two cute little pack-mules, a 
 lean dun mare for myself, and a large brown mule for Mr. 
 Beard. The other gentlemen had their own beasts. The 
 packing, strapping, and other final preparations were done 
 hastily, and by ten o'clock we were in the saddle. " You '11 
 camp on this side of the Pass to-night," said Judge Cowles ; 
 and so we rode out of Empire. 
 
 I wish we had a word in the English language corre 
 sponding to the German " reiselust " because that word, 
 and none other, expresses the feeling with which one sets 
 out on a journey, in the pure upper air of a mountain 
 region. The blood circulates with nimble alacrity; the 
 lungs expand with a tingling sense of delight ; all sights 
 and sounds of Nature have a character of cheer and en 
 couragement ; life is a most agreeable condition, and one's 
 fellow-men are good fellows, every one of them. 
 
 It was a superb day. The wind blew down from the 
 snow-fields, tempering the heat of a dazzling sun in a 
 cloudless sky. The village behind us showed between 
 groups of tall, dark fir-trees ; the creek, dammed for a 
 stamp-mill, spread out a bright lake in the lap of the valley ; 
 and southward the sharp summit of Montgomery Peak rose 
 high above all the surrounding mountains. We had still a 
 good wagon-road, with rough bridges across the torrents 
 which came down from every rocky glen. The pack-mules 
 maliciously strayed hither and thither, shaking out of bal 
 ance their hastily arranged loads, and sometimes even hid 
 ing behind the trees in the hope of escaping their destiny. 
 
80 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 The valley gradually narrowed, and we entered a defile 
 far grander than anything I had yet seen in the Rocky 
 Mountains. On either side enormous masses of dark-red 
 rock towered over our heads to the height of fifteen hun 
 dred feet, so torn and split- into colossal towers, walls, and 
 buttresses, that every minute presented a new combination 
 of forms. The bed of the glen was filled with huge frag 
 ments/ tumbled from above. Even here, high up on al 
 most inaccessible points, the prospectors had left their 
 traces, lured by the indications of ore in cliffs above, to 
 which they dare not climb. Our necks ached with gazing 
 at the sharp sky-piercing summits, in the hope of detecting 
 mountain sheep ; but none were to be seen. 
 
 We forded the South Clear, which, swollen by the melt 
 ing snows, reached to the horses' bellies, and was so swift 
 that they could scarcely keep their footing. The road then 
 entered a forest of fir and pine, over the tops of which we 
 now and then caught the glimmer of snowy summits. But 
 the new and beautiful flora of the mountains kept my gaze 
 to the earth. Both new flowers and new varieties of fa 
 miliar families made their appearance. A lovely species 
 of the columbine (aquilegia), large and white, the horns 
 and external petals of a pale violet, would be a great orna 
 ment to our gardens. There, were also several handsome 
 varieties of sedum and saxifrage, the flame-colored euchro- 
 ma, and an unknown spicy flower of the purest turquoise 
 blue. The mahonia, here called the " Oregon grape," is 
 very abundant in the forests. I have found it in all parts 
 of the mountains which I have yet visited. 
 
 Beyond the rocky gorge which I have described, the 
 valley opens again, revealing its head, inclosed by a semi 
 circular sweep of the snowy range. As this is one of the 
 points suggested for the passage of the Rocky Mountains 
 by the Pacific Railroad, we took careful note of its confor 
 mation, and the facilities offered for overcoming the alti 
 tude of the range. The average fall of Clear Creek, from 
 
CROSSING THE BERTHOUD PASS. 81 
 
 the base of the dividing ridge to the Plains near Denver, 
 is about one hundred feet per mile, and there is no diffi 
 culty in building a road through that part of the valley 
 which I traversed. On reaching the head of the valley, 
 three passes offer themselves. The first is the famous 
 Berthoud Pass, on the right, offering a way into the Middle 
 Park through a depression in the main chain. Five miles 
 further is the Vasquez Pass, also on the right hand. This, 
 however, is rather a trail, over the crest of the mountain, 
 than a pass. Some four or five miles further, at the very 
 head of the valley, is a new pass, recently discovered by 
 Mr. Jones, who is at present engaged in Constructing a 
 wagon-road over it into the Park. Both the latter passes 
 are higher than the Berthoud, but the new one is said to 
 offer the easiest approaches. It has not yet been surveyed, 
 and may prove the most favorable for a railroad. 
 
 At the foot of the Berthoud Pass, we had already risen 
 more than nine thousand feet above the sea, leaving about 
 two thousand feet still to be surmounted. We were eight 
 miles from Empire, and three from the summit. Our pack- 
 mules were forced, with great difficulty, to leave the wagon- 
 road, and take the narrow trail which struck directly up 
 the steep flank of the mountain. It was, indeed, a terrible 
 pull which awaited them. We had not made a hundred 
 yards before our horses stopped, almost gasping for breath. 
 I could feel the heart of my lean mare knocking rapidly 
 against her ribs. A few little knobs or projections from 
 the line of descent favored the poor beasts for awhile, but 
 it was not long before these ceased, and the terrific slant of 
 the mountain presented itself unrelieved, to be overcome. 
 The trail was a mere mark in the gravelly soil, where a 
 stone loosed by the foot would find no rest until it reached 
 the level of the valley. The angle of descent was in some 
 places not less than 50. Here there were few trees, and 
 the valley yawned under us like an enormous green basin, 
 with a jagged white border. 
 
82 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 From this point I overlooked the course of Clear Creek 
 from its very source. The main valley seemed to be formed 
 out of four or five small ones, radiating down from between 
 the buttresses of the main chain. It appeared to be doubt 
 ful whether a railroad could obtain a sufficient return curve 
 to overcome the first precipitous part of the Berthoud Pass 
 without running up to the head of the valley on the oppo 
 site side in which case, each of these lateral valleys, or 
 rather glens, would be an obstacle. Still judging merely 
 by the eye the difficulty did not seem to be much greater 
 than in the case of the Pennsylvania Central, or the Balti 
 more and Ohio roads. What lay beyond the angle of the 
 mountain we were climbing I could not see ; but there is 
 certainly valley enough above the foot of the Berthoud 
 Pass to effect a rise of one thousand feet, which (with a 
 tunnel three miles in length, cutting off fifteen hundred 
 feet of elevation) is all that would be necessary. 
 
 Mr. Beard and myself were so moved by the breathless 
 toil of our animals that we dismounted at a safe place, and 
 walked. In five minutes we were in a worse condition than 
 the horses ; our knees tottered, our bodies were drenched 
 with sweat, our eyes dim, heads giddy, and lungs utterly 
 collapsed! At every tenth step we were obliged to pause 
 in order to breathe, and after not more than three hundred 
 steps I defied the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to 
 Animals, and mounted again. I am no light weight, and 
 therefore it was Cruelty to Man (which is worse) to carry 
 one's self up such a steep. I think we must have climbed 
 in this style for a mile and a half; it seemed interminable. 
 Then the angle of ascent fell off very greatly ; the fir for 
 est grew thick around us, shutting off the view of valley 
 and mountains, and heaps of rotten snow began to appear 
 in shady places. Where the trail had been shovelled out 
 of drifts a month ago, we now rode over moist earth, be 
 tween dripping, crumbling walls of snow. Another quar 
 ter of an hour, and the steeps fell back in front, leaving a 
 
CROSSING THE BERTHOUD PASS. 83 
 
 lovely Alpine meadow, dotted with clumps of pine, the 
 vivid green of its turf sprinkled with snowy star-flowers, 
 and a brook of icy crystal winding through it. 
 
 I was delighted when Mr. Byers gave the word to un 
 saddle. It was barely three quarters of a mile, he said, to 
 the summit of the Pass ; whether we could cross was still 
 a doubtful matter ; and, before attempting it, both beasts 
 and men must be fed. The former were turned loose to 
 graze at will, with their long lariats dragging after them ; 
 the latter unhooked the cups from their button-holes, 
 opened the coffee-bags, cut the ham with hunting-knives, 
 and partook of the biscuits which were not sufficiently 
 " sad." The water of the brook was so intensely cold that 
 it almost made one scream. Yet immediately out of and 
 through it grew clusters of a flower so purely beautiful 
 that we all cried out with admiration on discovering it. 
 Out of a ring of broadly ovate leaves (under the water) 
 rose a straight stem twelve to fifteen inches in height, 
 crowned at the top with a cluster of dark crimson-velvet 
 flowers, about the size and with the rich mealy bloom of 
 the polyanthus. It is called, here, the " Alpine primrose ; " 
 but I know of neither cowslip nor primrose that will com 
 pare with it. The odor is very peculiar, resembling that 
 of Russia leather. Here is a treasure for our florists ! 
 
 While we took our lunch and rested our bones Mr. Byers 
 and White discussed the passage of the mountains. Di 
 rectly in front of us a depression in the fir-clad ridge indi 
 cated the summit of the Pass, on either side of which bald, 
 snowy peaks rose considerably above the timber line. 
 White had crossed the range last week, with a drove of 
 twenty-two government horses ; but he had gone consider 
 ably to the northward of the Pass, in order to avoid the 
 snows. It was a question whether we should try to reopen 
 the old trail, or follow his example and climb the frightful- 
 looking steep on our right to a point beyond the timber. 
 Being a green hand, I said nothing ; but I felt relieved 
 
84 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 when the Pass was selected, for the snows had been melt 
 ing very rapidly, and I was convinced that we could falsify 
 the predictions of our friends. 
 
 The horses were saddled, the mules repacked, and we 
 set out upon the uncertain adventure. There was snow 
 all around us, some drifts, even, lay on the meadow, 
 and, even where it had melted, the soil was such an elastic, 
 treacherous bog, that we did not venture to ride. On all 
 sides rills came rushing down, uprooted trees barred the 
 way, or pools of black mud had collected. It was impossi 
 ble to follow the trail, although we could trace it by the 
 marks of the shovels. Slowly, in single file, stopping every 
 two minutes to lean upon our horses' necks and gasp for 
 breath, spattered with mud and wet with snow-water, we 
 climbed through the forest, taking heart from the knowledge 
 that this was our last hard pull. The trees rapidly grew 
 thinner, the roaring rills became noiseless threads of water, 
 the snow-drifts overlapped each other and must be waded, 
 and then the steep suddenly flattened, and a keen wind 
 blew over the summit of the Pass. 
 
 It is a sharp crest, with not ten yards between the oppo 
 site declivities. Here there was an open space, covered 
 with bunch-grass, among the fields of snow. We were 
 just at the limit of timber, a little more than eleven 
 thousand feet above the sea-level. No general panorama 
 of the range is visible, but there are inclosed views to the 
 east and west. Behind us, a sweep of bleak, frosty sum 
 mits, too near (apparently), too hard and sharp, to be beau 
 tiful. Before us, far away over the deeps of endless dark- 
 green forest, a grand Alpine range, 
 
 " lifting there 
 
 A thousand shadow-pencilled valleys 
 And snowy dells in a golden air." 
 
 Still further, thirty or forty miles behind it, arose two great 
 snowy pyramids, evidently beyond the North Park, and not 
 inferior in height to Mont Blanc. This view was superior, 
 
CROSSING THE BERTHOUD PASS. 85 
 
 in all the elements of sublimity, to anything I had seen 
 since entering the mountains. In the centre of the bare 
 spot where we gathered grew a ranunculus, a blossom of 
 which I transferred to my note-book. 
 
 Beyond us, on the Pacific slope, we could see nothing 
 but a waste of snow. Our two mountaineers, therefore, 
 determined to make a preliminary exploration. Plunging 
 into the drifts, wherein they sank to their thighs at nearly 
 every step, they disappeared from sight, while we discussed 
 the chances of reaching the Park before night. It was 
 now two o'clock in the afternoon, the distance somewhere 
 between twelve and fifteen miles, and unknown hardships 
 and perils on the way by no means an encouraging pros 
 pect ! In half an hour Mr. Byers and White made their 
 appearance, very much fagged and not particularly cheer 
 ful. The former simply said, " We '11 try it ! " and took 
 his horse's bridle. We followed, keeping the pack-mules 
 near the centre of the line, and commenced the descent. 
 
 The snow, we soon found, was of very irregular texture. 
 After walking three or four steps on the surface, we would 
 suddenly plunge into a loose, melting mass, men and horses 
 floundering together. It was necessary to lead by a long 
 rein, to avoid the leaps and struggles of the latter. Where 
 the descent was steep, I frequently found myself buried 
 nearly to the hips and thrown upon my face, with the 
 horse's head resting on my back. Now and then a rock, a 
 log, or the top of a sharp knoll offered us a resting-place, 
 and the chance of shaking off the snow, the penetrative 
 cold of which pierced to one's very marrow. In one place 
 there was a gulf of snow overhanging an arrowy torrent. 
 I cleared it with a leap, and then, as my mare prepared to 
 follow, took a second leap, to give her room to land. For 
 a moment she hung by her forefeet, but a strong pull on 
 the bridle brought her out of the danger. The dry, horny 
 branches of the firs were also to be avoided ; they both 
 stabbed and tore, and in our headlong plunges it was not 
 
86 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 easy to keep out of their way. After nearly a mile of this 
 travel, when strength, hope, and courage were on the point 
 of giving out, the drifts diminished, and we could now and 
 then walk in a bog of black mud, which was a pleasant 
 relief. A little further, and Mr. Byers announced that the 
 trail was found, although not yet practicable we must 
 still break our own way. 
 
 Our faces were smarting and our throats were parched, 
 yet the snow-water, which set our teeth on edge with its 
 coldness, did not seem to quench thirst in the least. We 
 were soon enabled, however, to mount, and throw the bur 
 den of fatigue on the horses. After a short but very steep 
 descent, the path was barred by an impetuous torrent, 
 which was crossed at one point by a frail arch of snow left 
 from a drift. White boldly walked over, leading his horse 
 after him : but no one else dared to follow. After a little 
 search we found a fordable place, and crossed, with the 
 water foaming up to our saddles. There was yet another 
 branch of the same river before us, and this proved to be 
 both deeper and swifter. Mr. Beard's mule tottered and 
 gave way, but regained his footing just on the brink of a 
 rapid, and with a little care we all got safely over. 
 
 We were now afrle to follow the trail, except where it 
 led into boggy holes, where the horses frequently sank to 
 their bellies. On account of the fallen timber, it was a 
 work of considerable difficulty to get around these holes. 
 An interminable forest surrounded us. During the first 
 four or five miles, we had an occasional glimpse of open 
 green meadows on our right, and spurs of the snowy range 
 towering beyond ; afterwards, nothing but a dark wilder 
 ness of pines, firs, and aspens. The descent was very 
 gradual so much so, that after travelling for three hours, 
 we were still in the midst of snow-drifts. My boots were 
 completely sodden, and my feet and legs soon became so 
 icy cold that I was forced to walk a good part of the way, 
 although the exercise seemed to rack every joint in the 
 
CROSSING THE BERTHOUD PASS. 87 
 
 body. Mile after mile and hour after hour passed by, and 
 still the same gloomy, dreary forest ; still snow, mud-holes, 
 and fallen logs. We had forced the Berthoud Pass, and 
 expected to camp in the Park, which was cause for con 
 gratulation ; but how devoutly we longed for the valley to 
 open ! 
 
 A break in the wood showed us the evening shadows 
 high on the opposite mountain. The air was already damp 
 and chill, and the open, level portion of the Park was yet 
 two miles distant. All at once the trail entered a meadow 
 of deep grass, two acres in extent, and our leader dis 
 mounted under a clump of trees. Mr. Beard and myself 
 rolled out of our saddles, ungirthed, turned the animals 
 loose, and then threw ourselves down before the fire (which 
 had been immediately kindled), too fatigued to be very 
 conscious of rest. It was very fortunate that Mr. Sumner 
 has a talent for cooking ; had the meal depended on either 
 of us, I fear it would have been of the " square " order. 
 A pot of coffee hot, black, and strong soon circulated 
 among us, a veritable lubricating oil to stiff joints, and an 
 anodyne to bruised muscles. 
 
 There were no songs and stories around the camp-fire. 
 Each one made haste to find a portion of the earth's sur 
 face as little lumpy as possible, and dispose his blankets 
 with a view to warmth and comfort. The artist and I 
 united our stock of bedding, and I added a mattress of fir 
 boughs, but we had little comfort during the night. The 
 mosquitoes were plentiful, the noises of the animals dis 
 turbed us, and toward morning it became wretchedly cold. 
 The meadow was flooded with splendid moonlight, and 
 whenever I opened my eyes on the mysterious mazes of 
 light and gloom in the depth of the forest, I became ex 
 cited and restless. It seemed a long while until the chilly 
 dawn arrived ; but then, the last nap I took, while some 
 body else was kindling the fire, refreshed me more than all 
 the broken sleep of the night. 
 
XII. 
 
 ADVENTURES IN THE MIDDLE PARK. 
 
 CAMP NEAR BLUE RIVER, MIDDLE PARK, July 1, 1866. 
 
 OUR first morning in camp found us sore, stiff', and but 
 half refreshed after the hardships of crossing the Pass. 
 Nevertheless, we breakfasted, saddled, packed, and got 
 under way with alacrity, encouraged by the prospect of 
 a restorative bath at the Hot Springs, which are said to 
 heal all sorts of ailments, bring the hair to bald heads, and 
 put new blood into old veins. 
 
 The trail bore away to the left of Frazer River, over 
 gently undulating ground, still wooded ; but the trees were 
 smaller, the soil dry, and the increasing gleams of sky 
 through the topmost boughs indicated that we were getting 
 out of the mountains. On the way we found a geranium 
 pink, veined with purple ; a beautiful orchid, almost 
 identical with the cyclamen of Italy and Greece ; violets ; 
 rose-colored pogonias, with a delicate, peach-blossom odor ; 
 and huge beds of a snow-white, golden-hearted star-flower. 
 The occasional openings among the pines were natural 
 gardens, which I regretted to see trampled upon by the 
 hoofs of our beasts. 
 
 After riding thus for half an hour, there was an exclama 
 tion from the foremost of the party. The long, long forest 
 was at an end ; we found ourselves at the head of a superb 
 meadow stretching westward for five or six miles ; bounded 
 on the north, first by low gray hills of fantastic shape, then 
 by great green ascending slopes of forest, and above all, 
 jagged ranges of rock and snow. On the south were low 
 
ADVENTURES IN THE MIDDLE PARK. 89 
 
 swells of pine and aspen, near at hand ; twenty miles be 
 hind them detached spurs of mountains, conspicuous among 
 which rose a lofty wedge-like peak. Although on the Pa-, 
 cific slope of the Rocky Mountains, the dividing ridge, or 
 water-shed between the two oceans, embraced us on three 
 sides. The main chain meanders through Colorado in a 
 curiously tortuous course. It comes down the west side of 
 the North Park (which is drained by the head-waters of 
 the North Platte) ; then turns directly eastward, separating 
 the North from the Middle Park ; then southward, bound 
 ing the Middle Park (the waters of which flow to the Col 
 orado and the Californian Gulf) on the east ; then due west 
 ward, dividing the Middle from the South Park (which 
 collects and unites the waters of the South Platte) ; and 
 finally, after making an abrupt curve around the head-wa 
 ters of the Arkansas, strikes southward toward New Mexico. 
 The Parks form a very remarkable feature of the mountain 
 region. They resemble, on a smaller scale, the lofty, moun 
 tain-bounded table-lands of Cashmere and Thibet. They 
 are still but imperfectly explored, and still more imperfectly 
 represented on the maps. I have not been able to find any 
 minute description of their scenery, soil, and climate ; 
 hence, every step of the present journey has been full of 
 interest. In fact, none of the accounts of travel among 
 the Rocky Mountains seem to me to present their individ 
 uality, as mountains, very distinctly to discriminate be 
 tween what is original, and peculiar to them, and those 
 general features which all mountain regions possess in 
 common. Each day, thus far, has brought me its new 
 surprises ; but I shall content myself, at present, with giv 
 ing the details of the journey. 
 
 The change from the forest to this meadow was that from 
 confinement to liberty. Our animals seemed to feel it also, 
 and trotted forward briskly through the thick green grass. 
 Near the head of the meadow we passed a large hay-stack 
 and squatter's shanty, where the horses pastured in the 
 
90 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 Park are fed during the winter. Only one man Jones, 
 who discovered the new pass has attempted to establish 
 a ranche. He has sowed sixty acres of grain on the lower 
 part of Grand River, but White informs me that the attempt 
 does not promise much. The average level of the Park 
 above the sea cannot be less than eight thousand feet. 
 Although the extreme of cold is not so great as in Denver, 
 the winter is so long, and the summer nights so cool, that 
 it is doubtful whether grain (except barley and oats) can 
 be raised. 
 
 My lean mare was evidently not adequate to the task ; 
 so White, catching sight of a herd of horses and mules, 
 near the further end of the meadow, promised me an Indian 
 pony in exchange, and rode off in advance to drive in the 
 herd. The animals, like those we had taken from Empire, 
 belong to Charley Utter, whom we had hoped to have as a 
 companion for the journey ; but he had joined the rush of 
 gold-hunters for Bear River (a hundred miles west of the 
 Middle Park), and had not yet returned. Mr. Beard, also, 
 groaned over his McClellan saddle, and the gait of his mule. 
 We both, therefore, looked forward with some impatience 
 to the noonday halt. 
 
 After crossing a number of swift, swollen streams which 
 came down from the left, we reached a higher and dryer 
 part of the meadow, and the strong, juicy grass gave place 
 to sage-bush and flowers a plain of silver-gray, sprinkled 
 with a myriad minute dots of color. The odor which filled 
 the air was so exquisite as slightly to intoxicate the senses. 
 For miles I seemed to be riding through a Turkish bazaar, 
 and inhaling the mingled scent of cloves, sandal -wood, and 
 attar of roses. My aches and cramps were forgotten : I 
 swam in an atmosphere of balm, half narcotized with the 
 rich, voluptuous delight of breathing it. 
 
 White started up a very large fox, which was cunning 
 enough to keep out of rifle-range. We skirted the wood 
 on the left, and left the meadow for a low, dry plateau, 
 
ADVENTURES IN THE MIDDLE PARK. 91 
 
 which was one mile-long bed of blue larkspurs and scarlet 
 star-wort. The grazing animals had been added to our 
 caballada, and we sped merrily along the trail, increasing 
 the breadth and sweep of our panoramic landscapes, as we 
 penetrated deeper into the hilly region. I exchanged my 
 mare for a tough little yellow Indian pony, barefooted, but 
 nimble and intelligent: after inspecting me with his nose, 
 and apparently finding no objection, he established confi 
 dential relations at once, and has served me, thus far, with 
 unswerving fidelity. 
 
 It was a singular country through which we rode, and I 
 regret that I am not able to describe its geological char 
 acter. Hills wooded with aspen, and narrow, grassy dells, 
 alternated with wide sweeps of irregular table-land, treeless 
 and bare, except for a growth of sage and larkspur. The 
 valleys of the larger streams which thread the Middle Park 
 were shut out from view, but the distant cincture of Alpine 
 summits met the eye, in every direction. We rode twenty 
 miles, two thirds of the distance to the Hot Springs, 
 made a brief noon-camp beside a brook, and then pushed 
 forward again toward a lofty range of hills which arose be 
 fore us. 
 
 Gradually, all the eastern portion of the Park came into 
 view. I readily distinguished the Berthoud Pass, as well 
 as that at the head of Clear Creek, and could roughly meas 
 ure by the eye both their elevation above the Park and 
 the character of the approaches which they offer for a rail 
 road. On this side of the mountains there seems to be no 
 difficulty, except such as might arise from heavy snows 
 during the winter. To the northeast Mr. Byers pointed 
 out the Bowlder Pass, which rises above the timber line, 
 but is almost bare of snow. It is practicable for wagons, 
 but is very little travelled. An isolated chimney rock, two 
 or three hundred feet in height, stands like a beacon on the 
 very summit of this pass. 
 
 I can add to my own Mr. Beard's testimony as to the 
 
92 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 originality of the Park scenery, in an artistic point of view. 
 The features are large and broad, with outlines to some 
 extent fantastic, yet not inharmonious. In color, gray pre 
 dominates, but a gray most rare in landscape, silvery over 
 the sage-plains, greenish and pearly along the slopes of 
 bunch-grass, and occasionally running into red where the 
 soil shows through the thin vegetation. In the grand views 
 
 fifty miles in extent from the ridge we were climbing, 
 there were no positive tints, but the most delicate and sur 
 prising succession of broad half-tints, to which sunshine 
 and cloud-shadows lent the loveliest effect. The brush 
 only can describe landscapes so new in character. I found 
 myself thinking of Central Asia, of the regions of Ko 
 kand and Kashgar, as I imagine them to be. From this 
 point, there were no forests, except aspen groves, on the 
 crests of the hills ; the gray undulations swept into the 
 distance, dipping here and there into hollows of singular 
 form, and leaning, far away, against the feet of mountain- 
 ranges, where there was the faint green glimmer of a mead 
 ow at the foot of every snowy ravine. The flushed snows 
 of the farther summits did not seem lofty and inaccessible, 
 
 our own elevation reduced the highest of them to less 
 than seven thousand feet, but their irregular character and 
 great variety of outline gave the true background for such 
 landscapes. 
 
 The animals occasioned us much trouble during this 
 day's journey. Our little black pack-mule, Peter, has a 
 diabolical knack of shifting his load, so that the proper 
 balance is lost, and the pack-saddle turns. On one of 
 these occasions, while White and I were engaged in re 
 packing, Mr. Beard rode up and offered his services. It was 
 fortunate that we did not need them, for he afterward con 
 fessed that he had tried to dismount, and (in consequence 
 of the previous day's hardships) was unable to do so. I 
 was in scarcely better plight, but had no reason to com 
 plain ; I had been wishing for severe physical fatigue, and 
 
ADVENTURES IN THE MIDDLE PARK. 93 
 
 now I have it in abundance. We were obliged to drive 
 with us an Arapahoe mare, belonging to the new herd, and 
 a more outrageous creature never grazed. By some sort 
 of animal magnetism, she immediately took command of 
 all our horses, and mules, and yet never lost an opportunity 
 of biting, kicking, and driving them from the trail. The 
 more violent her behavior toward them, the more they 
 were fascinated with her. Her vicious eyes were always on 
 the lookout ; while we watched her all was quiet, but the 
 moment we became absorbed in scenery or some topic of 
 conversation, she would dash at one of the animals and 
 break up the line of march. White confessed that she had 
 exasperated him to such a pitch that he shot at her, and 
 was now sorry that he missed. 
 
 Gradually climbing the hills, among beds of crimson and 
 violet lupins, scarlet star-flowers, and many showy unknown 
 plants, we came at last to a divide, whence the trail sloped 
 down to the valley of Grand River at the Hot Springs, now 
 four miles distant. Mr. Byers pointed out a bluff, covered 
 with scattering clumps of red cedar, as the objective point 
 of our day's journey. On our right towered a lofty ridge, 
 thrusting out buttresses of perpendicular rock, crowned 
 with pines ; and beyond the Grand River arose a similar, 
 but much grander and more abrupt formation. Between 
 the two the river issued, winding away westward among 
 green, interlocking hills, until we could only guess its gate 
 way out of the Park among some snow-peaks, thirty or forty 
 miles away. 
 
 The prospect of a sulphur-bath helped us over the re 
 mainder of the way, and in another hour we dismounted 
 in a meadow on the banks of the Grand River, directly 
 opposite to the Hot Springs. Mr. Byers looked at the 
 stream, and meditated ; White did the same thing. It was 
 fluid ice (for coldness), forty or fifty yards wide, swift as an 
 arrow, and evidently too deep to ford. On the opposite 
 bank we saw a rough log-cabin, on a little knoll, and a 
 
94 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 stream of white, smoking water tumbling down a rock, ten 
 feet high, in a smoking pool below. Forms were moving 
 amonor some cotton-woods on the river bottom ; their red 
 
 O 
 
 blankets announced that they were Indians. While we 
 were hesitating, some rheumatic eremite whom White 
 knew, came down to the bank, and with much difficulty 
 shouted across above the roar of the water, that it was im 
 possible to cross ; we must go eight miles higher up the 
 river. (But eight miles on the opposite side meant fifteen 
 on ours.) Two of us, at least, were in no mood to remount 
 that day, and the rest of the party did not seem very en 
 thusiastic. 
 
 It was finally decided that we should camp where we 
 were, and those who wished to visit the Hot Springs should 
 swim the river. White and I stripped to our shirts and 
 drawers, mounted our animals bare-backed, and rode down 
 to the water. While we were trying to force them in, they 
 refusing with all their might, we were again hailed from the 
 other side, and warned against making the attempt. A 
 short distance below us the river entered a canon, and be 
 came a cataract. This fact, combined with the fearful 
 coldness and swiftness of the current, made us pause. It 
 was no doubt well that we did so, well that we silently 
 turned and rode back to the camp. All I can say of the 
 Hot Springs, therefore, is, that they gush from the earth in 
 a stream almost large enough to turn a mill ; that they 
 make a smoking cascade, with a hot pool below ; that they 
 are said to work wonderful cures ; and that two gentlemen 
 dispute the priority of preempting them. 
 
 There we were, on the bare plain, without a tree for shel 
 ter, our only fuel the rubbish left from former camp-fires, 
 and a black thunder-storm coming up. Turning the horses 
 loose to drag their lariats and graze, we first kindled a fire, 
 and then set about securing our baggage from the rain. 
 Forming a sort of platform with fragments of wood, we 
 placed our blankets and sacks thereon, and covered them 
 
ADVENTURES IN THE MIDDLE PARK. 95 
 
 with india-rubber cloth. Mr. Beard was at great pains to 
 find a place for his umbrella under the water-proof; and 
 not until the storm was over, leaving us half-soaked, did it 
 occur to him that he might have used it! Fortunately, 
 there was more wind and thunder than rain, and the su 
 perb indigo-gray of the. mountains in shadow repaid us for 
 the drenching. Toward evening, it became very evident 
 that the Arapahoe mare was slyly leading our animals out 
 of our view, in order to make off with them. White trudged 
 away through the wet grass and brought them back ; but 
 it was necessary, moreover, to catch and picket the mare. 
 
 It was easier to decide that this should be done, than to 
 do it. The mare was separated from the other animals, 
 and driven into a corner of the meadow between the river 
 and the bluffs at the entrance of the canon. One of the 
 gentlemen then took his stand above, while White cau 
 tiously approached with a lariat. Skill and strategy were 
 alike in vain ; with a whirl and a dash she avoided the fly 
 ing noose, and shot off between her pursuers. Others went 
 to the rescue, and the scene soon became very exciting. 
 All the other horses and mules left off grazing, drew near, 
 and watched the contest with the most absorbed interest. 
 It was perfectly evident that they understood this was to 
 be a test of power, settling the question whether they were 
 to be ruled by us or the mare. They were politicians on 
 the fence, and reminded us of newspapers and individuals, 
 who and which shall be nameless. To watch them was to 
 me the most interesting part of the spectacle ; they fol 
 lowed every movement of men and mare, standing knee- 
 deep in rich grass which they never thought of cropping. 
 It was nearly an hour before the provoking beast was finally 
 cornered, noosed, and tied to a tree. The other animals 
 then turned away and went to their grazing, paying not 
 the slightest heed to her. She was nobody, now that she 
 could no longer kick nor patronize. Then I thought of 
 certain political leaders. 
 
96 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 White's rage was not yet allayed. He took a piece of 
 sapling, and laid it heavily on the mare's hide. Then lie 
 came back and sat down by the fire, declaring that she 
 should have no pasture that night. Half an hour passed ; 
 the rest of the herd were luxuriating on the meadow, while 
 the culprit, sore and hungry, hung her head dejectedly be 
 side the tree. White arose, stole quietly away, made a 
 picket, brought the mare down to the meadow, and fastened 
 her in good pasture. " She looked kind o' pitiful," he said. 
 
 We made our bed on the wet earth, expecting to be 
 rained upon during the night ; but the heavens were mer 
 ciful, and we enjoyed sound and tolerably dry sleep. I 
 experienced three distinct electric shocks, probably from 
 the fact that I was insulated by the india-rubber cloth upon 
 which I lay, and then touched the earth with my 'hand. 
 On the snowy ranges persons are sometimes so charged, 
 that there are sparks and crackling sounds at every move 
 ment of their bodies. Men unacquainted with the phe 
 nomenon imagine that bees have gotten into their hair, and 
 that rattlesnakes are at their heels. Many strange stories 
 are told of the effect of the fluid, which seems to manifest 
 itself in an eccentric but not a dangerous form. 
 
XIII. 
 
 THE UTE PASS, MIDDLE PARK. 
 
 BRECKENRIDGE, BLUE RIVER, July 2, 1866. 
 
 WE arose from our moist couch on the banks of Grand 
 River, to find the stream still rising, and a thick mist, fore 
 boding rain, spread over the face of the earth. Mr. Byers's 
 friend, Dr. Wharton, who was encamped at the Springs, 
 came down to the opposite bank, and some notes, tied to 
 stones, were exchanged. I received in this way a pink 
 malva, which made the airy journey without damage. Our 
 further route gave rise to a serious consultation. In three 
 days more I had appointed to be in Breckenridge, at the 
 head of Blue River, about seventy-five miles from the 
 Springs. There was no probability that we could ford the 
 Blue, in the present swollen condition of all the mountain 
 streams, and the regular trail lay beyond that river. We 
 were aware, indeed, that the Ute Indians made use of 
 another trail on this side, striking directly across the Mid 
 dle Park (the diameter of which is nearly a hundred 
 miles), but none of our party had ever traversed it, or 
 knew anything about it beyond the rumor that it was ex 
 ceedingly difficult and dangerous. 
 
 Yet there was no alternative we were limited to the 
 choice of this unknown route. It was a matter of great 
 regret that we had failed in reaching the Hot Springs, and 
 I proposed to start for Breckenridge in company with 
 White, leaving the rest of the party to cross the Grand at 
 the upper ford if they preferred. They decided, however, 
 that we should keep together, and we made immediate 
 preparations for departure. 
 7 
 
98 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 We first retraced our trail for two miles or more, then, 
 turning westward, crossed a high ridge wooded with aspen, 
 and descended toward the Grand over aromatic slopes of 
 sage-bush. The mist rolled into clouds and hid all the 
 higher mountains from view, which I greatly regretted, 
 as from this point we might have seen the Rabbit-Ears 
 two remarkable Alpine horns on the western border of the 
 North Park. We struck the Grand in the canon below 
 the Springs, and for some distance the path was notched 
 along the side of a fir-wooded steep, over the roaring flood. 
 Small brooks, invisible under dense willow thickets, came 
 down on our left, making deep side-dells in the bluff. It 
 was not very far, however, before the canon opened, reveal 
 ing a broad gray landscape, through which the Grand could 
 be traced into the distance by its belt of cotton-woods. 
 
 We rode forward over what is called the " second bot 
 tom " a low table-land, rising into hills a mile from the 
 river, covered with a uniform growth of silvery sage, and 
 dotted with grazing antelope. The sun came out, the mist 
 arose from the snowy ranges, and all aspects were cheerful 
 except the company of the Arapahoe mare, which, thank 
 Heaven ! was not to last long. We heard the cry of an 
 eagle circling in the air over our heads, and had not pro 
 ceeded half a mile further before we discovered an eagle's 
 nest in the top of a cotton-wood, just under the edge of the 
 bluff. We were able to ride within a hundred feet and 
 look into it. Three eaglets awkward, owlish creatures, 
 completely covered with thick gray down sat on the 
 edges of the nest, which was a huge structure of sticks, 
 and yelped piteously. It was a rare piece of good fortune 
 for all of us, none of whom had ever seen (and probably 
 will never see again) an eagle's nest with the brood in it. 
 Mr. Beard, with the aid of a good glass, made a permanent 
 acquisition ; and when his picture is exhibited, I can testify 
 that he paints what he has seen. 
 
 Williams Fork, or, as it is better called, Roaring Fork, 
 
THE UTE PASS, MIDDLE PARK. 99 
 
 a large affluent of the Grand, now announced itself in 
 front, by the tops of its timber rising above the bluff. It 
 was also much swollen, and the fording was a matter of 
 some difficulty. Mr. Byers, as usual, led the way, breast 
 ing the icy water, which, striking his horse's side, almost 
 swept over its back. We all took an extremely cold leg- 
 bath, and my pony came within an ace of being carried 
 down the stream. On the opposite bank we divided our 
 party, White taking the spare animals (including the Ara- 
 pahoe mare) to Charley titter's cabin, five miles further 
 down the Grand, while the rest of us determined to try the 
 Ute trail, up the west bank of Roaring Fork. This ar 
 rangement would save us several miles of the journey, as 
 White, on his strong mule, could easily rejoin us during 
 the afternoon. Somewhere ahead of us lay the famous 
 moss-agate region, which we were especially desirous of 
 visiting, each one having his private hopes of jewelry for 
 wife or sweetheart. 
 
 The soil on the narrow bottoms of Roaring Fork is the 
 purest humus, producing grass of astonishing rankness and 
 richness, which our animals snapped at with crazy eager 
 ness. We had not proceeded a mile, however, before our 
 way was barred by an abrupt mountain, through the centre 
 of which the stream forced its way, in a narrow, rock-walled 
 slit a canon (funnel) in the strictest sense of the word. 
 The trail led us into this cleft, taking the very edge of a 
 precipice two hundred feet in perpendicular depth, where 
 there was barely room for our horses to set their hoofs. 
 Under us the river was a mass of foam : opposite not a 
 stone's throw across rose the jagged walls of dark-red 
 rock, terminating in fantastic pinnacles. It was an excit 
 ing passage, not unmixed with fear, especially when the 
 disarrangement of a saddle in advance forced Mr. Beard 
 and myself to halt for five minutes in the narrowest part 
 of the pass, where portions of the rock under us had crum 
 bled away. 
 
100 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 A valley succeeded ; then a second and loftier range, 
 where the dividing canon disclosed the most singular for 
 mations of rock natural fortresses and towers. One trail 
 wound away to the right; another (possibly an old elk- 
 path) seemed to lead directly into the gorge. The former 
 was preferable, on account of the pack-mules ; but Mr. 
 McCandless and myself determined to try the latter, be 
 lieving that we might gain in time what we lost in labori 
 ous travel. The ascent was so steep, that we could with 
 difficulty keep our foothold in climbing ; and it was won 
 derful to see the confidence which the horses had in our 
 leadership and the dexterity with which they followed us. 
 My pony used his hoofs as I did my hands, taking hold of 
 grass-tufts and projections of rock, and resting with his 
 nose on my shoulder when I stopped to take breath. Huge, 
 detached masses of rock and bushes prevented our having 
 a good view of the chasm, but the general wildness and 
 picturesqueness of the scenery was an ample repayment 
 for our toil. From the highest part of the Pass another 
 grand gray landscape opened to the southward, magnifi 
 cently bounded by a dark-green mountain chain, every 
 summit of which was a jagged pyramid of snow. 
 
 After half an hour of rather laborious scrambling, I 
 reached the grassy meadow beyond the canon. Looking 
 back, I saw the others of the party slowly creeping over a 
 mountain ridge a mile or more to the west. I thereupon 
 struck a diagonal course, and presently came upon the 
 Indian trail, on the "second bottom." Here the ground 
 was strewn with rough agates, but with all my search I 
 could find no mossy specimens. When the others arrived, 
 in the course of half an hour, I found that their experience 
 had been precisely similar. Our dreams of complete sets 
 of jewelry diminished to a single brooch or ring, and then 
 faded into the thin atmosphere of disappointed hopes. 
 None of us found a single moss-agate. 
 
 Here and there on the trail we could detect the marks 
 
THE UTE PASS, MIDDLE PARK. 101 
 
 of lodge-poles, which, we supposed, were made by the Utes 
 in passing from Blue to Grand River. As this was our 
 only guidance through the unknown portion of the Park, 
 we followed it, although its general direction seemed too 
 much east of south. The mountain range in front was 
 apparently a spur thrust out from the south into the very 
 heart of the Park, and we must cross it in order to reach 
 the Valley of Blue River. The government maps were of 
 no assistance, they omitted the mountains, and inserted 
 streams which have no existence. Directly in front of us 
 towered a splendid peak, not less than fourteen thousand 
 feet in height ; and there seemed to be no practicable pass 
 across the range except immediately on either side of it : so 
 long, therefore, as our trail tended toward it, we could not 
 go very far astray. It was about twenty miles to the base 
 of the range, the intermediate country being a mixture of 
 rich, grassy valleys, sage-clad table-land, and picturesque, 
 broken hills, flecked with groves of aspen and fir. 
 
 We started up several sage-hens, with their broods of 
 young. They are a kind of grouse, about the size of the 
 prairie-chicken, and of gray, mottled plumage. Their color 
 seems to be their chief protection, as was shown by their 
 reliance upon it. The young birds scarcely took the 
 trouble to get out of our way, and one of them was caught 
 sitting under a sage-bush, and looking with bright, un 
 shrinking eyes directly in the face of its captor. Of course 
 we did not shoot the hens, an act of self-denial (our salt 
 fare being considered) which ought to be set down to our 
 credit. Ere long we reached meadows again, threaded by 
 swift tributary brooks of the Roaring Fork. The passage 
 of these streams, small as they were, gave us some trouble, 
 owing to the treacherous character of the soil. Mr. Beard's 
 mule went down and rolled over upon him, pinning him 
 fast in the mud, and my pony only avoided a like disaster 
 by his great shrewdness and agility. 
 
 At one o'clock we camped on the banks of a brook, and 
 
102 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 our fishers immediately got their gear in readiness for 
 trout. Two of us determined on a bath in spite of mos 
 quitoes and ice-water ; and while a portion of the party 
 were playing leap-frog solitaire, in the search for grasshop 
 per bait, another portion landing an occasional diminutive 
 fish, and the remainder attempting to dry their tingling 
 skins, there was a sudden cry of " How, how ! " across the 
 low willow thickets. Indians, with vermilion faces and 
 streaming black hair ! There were two braves and squaws, 
 mounted, and two pappooses. They crossed to us without 
 ceremony, shook hands, and attempted conversation, which 
 was not very edifying until we discovered that one of them 
 understood a little Spanish. We then learned that they 
 were on their way from the Blue to join the remainder of 
 their tribe on the head-water's of the Grand ; their chief, 
 Colorado, was at Breckenridge, and they thought the rivers 
 could be forded. One of the men who wore, singularly 
 enough, an Austrian military coat (from Maximilian's 
 army ?) possessed some tact and discretion. He pre 
 vented the other from going too near our luggage, and 
 withdrew with him to a little distance when we sat down 
 to our meal. He showed a little curiosity about a satchel 
 of mine ; but when I told him it was " medicine," and 
 made certain mysterious signs, he seemed satisfied. The 
 squaws brought their shy pappooses to look at us beau 
 tiful beings, all of them, with paint-smeared faces, and 
 hideously suggestive hair and blankets. Uncas and Cora, 
 heroes and heroines of romance ! 
 
 Presently another horseman appeared, galloping toward 
 us over the hills, from the opposite direction. It was White, 
 who, to our great joy, had a sage-hen at his saddle-bow, and 
 a supply of antelope-venison for our supper. He, too, had 
 crossed a corner of the moss-agate patch, without finding 
 any of the jewels. Considerably refreshed by the bath and 
 by one delicious trout apiece, (would it had been a dozen !) 
 we pushed forward, entering a hilly region, where dense 
 
THE UTE PASS, MIDDLE PARK. 103 
 
 tracts of woodland alternated with fields of flowers. The 
 tracks of elk, deer, and even bear, were frequent, but much 
 as our hunters dashed away from the trail, they brought us 
 nothing. After some miles, we found ourselves suddenly 
 on a bluff, overlooking Roaring Fork, which issued, with 
 many a snaky twist, from a stretch of pine forest. Into this 
 forest went the trail, so obstructed with fallen timber that 
 our progress was an unintermitted series of leaps. We 
 outdid all the performances that were ever made with bars 
 in the circus-ring. 
 
 On emerging from this wood we found ourselves in the 
 loveliest meadow-park, several miles long, opening before 
 us directly to the foot of the great snowy peak. A swift 
 brook sped down it, under bowery thickets and past clumps 
 of trees ; the turf was brilliantly green and spangled with 
 flowers ; low hills bounded it on either side, the forests with 
 which they were covered sending out irregular capes, and 
 arms embracing bays of grass ; and over the sweet pasto 
 ral seclusion towered the Alpine chain, here smitten with 
 gold by the sinking sun, there glooming broad and blue 
 under the shadows of thunder-clouds. Nothing could have 
 been more unexpected than the change from aspen woods 
 and silvery hills of sage to this green, pine-enframed, Ar 
 cadian landscape. We made our camp for the night in a 
 grove of trees, which our huge fire of pine-logs illuminated 
 with magical effect. Moreover, we had fresh meat for the 
 first time, couches on a matting of pine needles, the best 
 of pasturage for our beasts, and for the first time since 
 leaving Empire, enjoyed a feeling of comfort. It rained 
 during the night, but the trees made a partial shelter. OUT 
 day's travel could not have been less than thirty miles. 
 
 It was now very evident that the pass we sought lay to 
 the right of the high peak, and that the Valley of the Blue 
 was beyond the range. The majestic mountain has no 
 name. It is very near the centre of the Middle Park, and 
 its summit must command a view of this whole inclosed 
 
104 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 region. I therefore suggest that it be called Park Peak 
 (rather than such a name as Cummings or Doolittle), and 
 if no one has any objection will so designate it. 
 
 We soon reached the head of the meadow, where a jungle 
 of willow-bushes, threaded by a net-work of streams, lay 
 between us and the mountain. The trail was wet and 
 boggy, and the dripping boughs through which we forced 
 our way, wet us to the skin. Then ensued a horrible scram 
 ble, which lasted for nearly two miles. We either floun 
 dered in mud in the bottom of a glen, climbed over piles 
 of fallen timber, or crept up and down slippery, crumbling 
 staircases, of loose soil. In such places our pack-mules 
 showed a wonderful talent. The skill with which they 
 passed between trees, leaped logs, and steadied themselves 
 along the edge of ticklish declivities, without disarranging 
 their packs, could never be imagined by one who had not 
 seen it. We considered these two miles equal to ten of 
 good road. The trail gradually improved, and we entered 
 a region, which was a perfect reproduction of the moun 
 tain-dells of Saxony. Meadows of velvet turf lay embedded 
 in tall, dark forests of fir, which stretched up the slopes 
 above us until they formed a fringe against the sky. At 
 every winding of the valley, I looked, involuntarily, for the 
 old, mossy mill, and the squares of bleaching linen on the 
 grass. Snow-drifts made their appearance where the shade 
 was deepest, and the few aspens and alders were just put 
 ting forth their leaves. 
 
 This part of the Pass was so beautiful, that we reached 
 the summit much sooner than we expected almost 
 with regret. We had not risen more than a thousand feet 
 above the general level of the Park. From the top we 
 looked down a narrow, winding glen, between lofty parapets 
 of rock, and beheld mountains in the distance, dark with 
 shadow, and vanishing in clouds, j The descent was steep, 
 but not very toilsome. After reaching the bed of the glen, 
 we followed it downward through beds of grass and flowers, 
 
THE UTE PASS, MIDDLE PARK. 105 
 
 under the shade of castellated rocks, and round the feet 
 of natural ramparts, until it opened upon wide plains of 
 sage-bush, which formed the shelving side of an immense 
 valley. The usual line of cotton-wood betrayed a stream, 
 and when we caught a glimpse of the water, its muddy tint 
 the sure sign of gold-washing showed that we had 
 found the Blue River. We had crossed the Ute Pass, as 
 it is called by the trappers, and are among the first white 
 men who have ever traversed it. We now looked on Park 
 Peak from the west side. 
 
 Instead of descending to the river, our trail turned south 
 ward, running nearly parallel with its course, near the top 
 of the sloping plane which connects the mountains with the 
 valley. The sun came out, the clouds lifted and rolled 
 away, and one of the most remarkable mountain landscapes 
 of the earth was revealed to our view. The Valley of the 
 Blue, which, for a length of thirty miles, with a breadth 
 varying from five to ten, lay under our eyes, wore a tint of 
 pearly silver-gray, upon which the ripe green of the timber 
 along the river, and the scattered gleams of water seemed 
 to be enamelled. Opposite to us, above this sage-color, rose* 
 huge mountain-foundations, where the grassy openings were 
 pale, the forests dark, the glens and gorges filled with 
 shadow, the rocks touched with lines of light making a 
 chequered effect that suggested cultivation and old settle 
 ment. Beyond these were wilder ridges, all forest ; then 
 bare masses of rock, streaked with snow, and, highest of 
 all, bleak snow-pyramids, piercing the sky. From south to 
 north stretched the sublime wall the western boundary 
 of the Middle Park ; and where it fell away toward the 
 canon by which Grand River goes forth to seek the Col 
 orado, there was a vision of dim, rosy peaks, a hundred 
 miles distant. In breadth of effect in airy depth and 
 expansion in simple yet most majestic outline, and in 
 originality yet exquisite harmony of color, this landscape is 
 unlike anything I have ever seen. I feel how inadequate 
 
106 COLORADO : A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 are my words to suggest such new combinations of tints 
 and forms. There is greater vertical grandeur among the 
 Alps : here it is the vast lateral extent which impresses you, 
 together with the atmospheric effect occasioned by great 
 elevation above the sea. You stand on the plane of the 
 Alpine glaciers ; a new vegetation surrounds you ; a darker 
 sky is over your head ; yet the grand picture upon which 
 you look is complete in all its parts, or, if any element is 
 wanting, its absence is swallowed up in the majesty that is 
 present 
 
 " If Gifford were only here ! " said Beard ; and did not 
 take out his own sketch-book. 
 
 We enjoyed this landscape for several miles, until the 
 hills, reaching across the valley, formed a canon, to avoid 
 which we crossed spurs which shut everything but the 
 snowy range. The base of Park Peak, on our right, offered 
 many picturesque features ; but I will not attempt to de 
 scribe them. Other snowy summits appeared before us, 
 overlooking the head of Blue River Valley ; charming val 
 leys opened among the nearer mountains ; yet the remem 
 brance of what we had seen made us indifferent to them. 
 In the afternoon we came upon several lodges of Utes, one 
 of which I entered, not without misgivings. The occupant 
 was a sharp, shrewd Indian, who wanted to trade a buck 
 skin for much more powder than it was worth. There were 
 but two men at home, but a number of squaws and chil 
 dren. A herd of rough ponies was grazing near. We 
 found little to interest us, and presently left Mr. Low 
 (Low, the poor Indian, as the people here say) to his 
 own devices. 
 
 A mile or two further we came to a swift stream, which 
 we supposed to be Snake River, and the prospect of trout 
 was so promising that, after effecting a crossing, we en 
 camped for the night, calculating that we were within fif 
 teen miles of this place. Hunters and fishers went forth, 
 while the artist and myself tried both pencil and pen with 
 
THE UTE PASS, MIDDLE PARK. 107 
 
 little effect. We agreed that we were demoralized by fa 
 tigue, and that lying on our blankets before the fire was 
 better than either Art or Literature. 
 
 Though so near Breckenridge, we were not yet out of 
 the woods, as my next will show. 
 
XIV. 
 
 FINAL ADVENTURES IN THE MIDDLE PARK. 
 
 BUCKSKIN JOB, SOUTH PARK, July 3, 1866. 
 
 WHEN we awoke in our camp, on the banks of the river 
 which we supposed to be Snake, yesterday morning, the 
 ground was covered with a white frost, and the water re 
 maining in our tin cups was turned to ice. To bathe a sun- 
 blistered face on such a morning, is a torture rather than a 
 luxury ; yet the air was at once a tonic, a stimulant, and a 
 flavor. The peaks across the valley not much less than 
 fifteen thousand feet in height flashed in rosy splendor ; 
 the dew sprinkled with diamonds the silver of the sage- 
 fields ; the meadow-larks sang joyously, and our spirits rose 
 with the belief that the uncertain portion of our journey 
 was nearly over. 
 
 A ride of three miles up the valley brought us to another 
 river a fuller stream than the last, foaming down through 
 a wild gap in the mountains on our left. At this place the 
 Blue receives a considerable affluent on the opposite side 
 a circumstance which told us precisely where we were. 
 The stream where we had encamped is still nameless ; it 
 was the Snake which we had now reached. We forded it 
 with some difficulty, the water rushing over our saddles, 
 and followed a barely discernible trail along the foot of the 
 mountains. The Valley of the Blue became narrow, hemmed 
 in by the feet of spurs from the main chain. The bottom 
 land was marshy and full of pools, and we were sometimes 
 forced to climb around quagmires and fallen timber, at 
 points of threatening steepness. Sometimes, also, a slide 
 
FINAL ADVENTURES IN THE MIDDLE PARK. 109 
 
 of rocks had come down from above, leaving piles over 
 which the animals must slowly and cautiously be led. The 
 little gray coneys sat on the stones above, and barked at us 
 as we passed. 
 
 It is rather difficult to measure distance during travel 
 of this kind ; but I suppose we had made about three miles 
 after fording Snake River, when the trail or, rather, 
 what was left of it terminated at the Blue. There were 
 signs that the stream had been crossed here, and as we had 
 been looking with longing eyes at the pleasant open bot 
 toms on the other side, we imagined our troubles at an end. 
 Mr. McCandless plunged in, his mule breasting the impet 
 uous current, and, after being carried down some yards, 
 succeeded in getting out on the other bank. Mr. Byers 
 followed, and then the pack-mule, Peter ; but, on reaching 
 the centre of the stream both were carried away. I was 
 watching the horse, madly endeavoring to swim against the 
 current, when there was a sudden call for help. The drift- 
 timber had made a raft just below, the force of the stream 
 set directly toward it, and horse and rider were being 
 drawn, as it appeared, to inevitable destruction. Mr. Sum- 
 ner sprang into the water and caught Mr. Byers's hand ; 
 but the next moment he was out of his depth, and barely 
 succeeded in swimming ashore. 
 
 All this seemed to take place in a second. The river 
 made a short curve around a little tongue of land, across 
 which we sprang, in time to see Mr. Byers catch at and 
 hold the branch of a drifted tree, in passing. In another 
 moment he had extricated himself from the saddle. White 
 rushed into the water with a lariat, and the danger was 
 over. Horse and rider got out separately, without much 
 trouble, although the latter was already chilled to the bones 
 and nearly benumbed. The pack-mule, with all our luggage, 
 was completely submerged, and we should probably have 
 lost everything, had not White grasped the mule's ear at 
 the turn of the river, and thus assisted the beast to recover 
 
110 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 his footing. It was all over before we were clearly aware 
 of the full extent of the danger and of our own fears. 
 
 When the wet clothes had been wrung out, and the wet 
 pistols fired, we set forward, compelled to follow the east 
 blank of the Blue, with no trail. We had the choice between 
 mud-holes and fallen timber, or a steep of loose gravel and 
 sliding stones, which defied us to get a firm foothold. 
 Thus we worked our way along, with almost incredible la 
 bor, for an hour or more, when we reached an overhanging 
 rocky wall, at the foot of which the river foamed and roared 
 in a narrow channel. When we had climbed around the 
 rocks and reached the mountain side above, a fearful-look 
 ing slant of disintegrated shale, through which a few stunted 
 aspen bushes grew, lay before us. One more degree of 
 steepness would have made the pass impossible. The 
 crumbled rock slid from under our feet, and rattled in 
 showers from the brink of the precipice info the water 
 below ; and but for the help which the bushes gave us in 
 the worst places, we should probably have followed. Messrs. 
 Byers and Davis, who were in advance, seemed at times to 
 be hanging in the air. In the midst of this pass, a badger 
 whisked around the corner of a rock, tempting one of the 
 party to let himself down to the edge of the bluff in the 
 hope of getting a shot ; but the animal was safe in some 
 hole or crevice. 
 
 While resting among the roots of a pine-tree, which en 
 abled me also to support my pony, I descried Mr. McOand- 
 less riding up the meadows beyond the river, with a mounted 
 Indian on each side of him. I noticed, moreover, that the 
 latter kept pace with him, and took pains to keep him be 
 tween them. As they were Utes, there was no trouble to 
 be feared, and we supposed they were guiding him toward 
 Breckenridge. Beyond this perilous corner of the moun 
 tain we found a faint trail, with a promise of better travel 
 ahead. Mr. Beard and White were in the rear, and it was 
 amusing to watch them follow us, clinging for life to the 
 
FINAL ADVENTURES IN THE MIDDLE PARK. Ill 
 
 bushes and roots, while their animals, with more than hu 
 man cunning, picked their way step by step, through the 
 sliding fragments. 
 
 A mile or two more, and a broad valley opened on our 
 left. A very muddy stream which could be none other 
 than Swan River came down it to join the Blue. Mr. 
 McCandless and one of the Indians here rode down to the 
 opposite bank and hailed us. The latter was the famous 
 Ute chief, Colorado ; he said we could now either ford the 
 Blue, or take a good trail to Breckenridge on our side of 
 the river. We chose the latter, and presently came in sight 
 of Delaware Flats a collection of log-cabins, across the 
 open valley. Leaving them to the left, we struck toward 
 another settlement called Buffalo Flats ; both places are 
 inhabited by miners engaged in gulch washing. The cattle 
 pasturing on the grassy bottoms were a welcome sight, after 
 five days of savage Nature. I greeted a young fellow, 
 herding mules on horseback, with a very superfluous feel 
 ing of friendship ; for he made a short, surly answer, and 
 rode away. 
 
 Being now but four miles from Breckenridge, we spurred 
 our weary animals forward, taking a trail which led for a 
 long distance through a burned forest. It was scenery of 
 the most hideous character. Tens of thousands of charred 
 black poles, striped with white where the bark had sprung 
 off, made a wilderness of desolation which was worse than 
 a desert. The boughs had been almost entirely consumed ; 
 the sunshine and the blue of the sky were split into a myr 
 iad of parallel slices, which fatigued and distracted the eye, 
 until one almost became giddy in riding through. I cannot 
 recall any phase of mundane scenery so disagreeable as 
 this. 
 
 Finally the wood came to an end, and green meadows 
 and snowy peaks refreshed our eyes. Over ditches, heaps 
 of stone and gravel, and all the usual debris of gulch-min 
 ing, we rode toward some cabins which beckoned to us 
 
112 COLORADO : A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 through scattered clumps of pine. A flag-staff, with some 
 thing white at half-mast ; canvas-covered wagons in the 
 shade ; a long street of log-houses ; signs of " Boarding," 
 " Miner's Home," and " Saloon," and a motley group of 
 rough individuals, among whom we detected the beard of 
 our parted comrade and the blanket of the chief such 
 was Breckenridge ! 
 
 The place dates from 1860 yet ? of the five thousand 
 miners who flocked to this part of the Middle Park in that 
 year, probably not more than five hundred remain. At 
 present there is a slight increase of life. Some new cabins 
 are going up, and for some distance beyond the limits of 
 building one sees lots staked out, and signs displayed, 
 
 " Preempted by ." At the first house we reached, 
 
 we found a long table set for dinner, and a barrel of beer 
 on tap, which had come over the snowy range from Mont 
 gomery the previous day. The host, Mr. Sutherland, sus 
 pected our impatient hunger, and only delayed the meal 
 long enough to add the unexpected delicacy of oyster soup. 
 Then, taking the bugle with which he blew the signal for 
 the immortal Light Brigade to charge at Balaklava, he 
 made the notes of " Peas upon a trencher " ring over the 
 shanties of Breckenridge. Since that splendid Crimean 
 episode, Mr. Sutherland and his bugle have done loyal ser 
 vice in a Colorado regiment. I was glad of the chance 
 which made us almost the first guests of his new establish 
 ment especially as his bounty in providing equals his 
 gallantry in fighting. 
 
 In strolling up the street, after dinner, I discovered that 
 the apparent flag of truce at half-mast was in reality a na 
 tional ensign, out of which the mountain rains had washed 
 every particle of color. The Stars and Stripes were only 
 to be distinguished by the seams. There was comical cause 
 of mourning ; the bully of Breckenridge a German gro 
 cer had been whipped, the day before, by the bully of 
 Buffalo Flats ! The flag-staff is planted in front of a log 
 
FINAL ADVENTURES IN THE MIDDLE PARK. 113 
 
 court-house. While I was gazing upon the emblem of 
 defeat and regret, L noticed two individuals entering the 
 building. One was middle-aged, and carried a book under 
 his arm ; he wore " store clothes." The other, a lively 
 young fellow, with a moustache, sported a flannel shirt. 
 The latter reappeared on the balcony, in a moment, and 
 proclaimed in a loud voice, 
 
 " Oh yes ! Oh yes ! The Honorable Probate Court is now 
 in session ! " 
 
 Thereupon he withdrew. The announcement produced 
 no effect, for he immediately came forth again, and cried, 
 
 " Oh yes ! Oh yes ! The Honorable Probate Court is now 
 adjourned ! " 
 
 I waited, to see the Honorable Probate Court come forth, 
 with the book under his arm ; but, instead of that, the lively 
 young man made his appearance for the third time, with a 
 new announcement, 
 
 " Oh yes ! Oh yes ! The Honorable Commissioners' Court 
 is now in session ! " 
 
 How many other Courts were represented by these two 
 individuals, I am unable to say ; but the rapidity and ease 
 with which the sessions were held gave me a cheerful im 
 pression of the primitive simplicity and peace of the pop 
 ulation. To be sure, the flag at half-mast hinted of other 
 customs ; yet these may not be incompatible with an idyllic 
 state of society. 
 
 We discovered a hotel or its equivalent kept by 
 Mr. and Mrs. Silverthorn, who welcomed us like old friends. 
 The walls of their large cabin were covered with newspa 
 pers, and presented a variety of advertisements and local 
 news, from New Hampshire to Salt Lake. If the colored 
 lithographs on the wall were doubtful specimens of art, 
 there were good indications of literature on the table. The 
 kind hostess promised us beds, real beds, with sheets and 
 pillows, and the good host would have taken me to any 
 number of lodes and gulch-washings, if I had not been 
 8 
 
114 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 almost too sore to bend a joint. I barely succeeded in 
 going far enough to inspect a patch of timothy grass, grown 
 from the wild seed of the mountains. It is a slight experi 
 ment, but enough to show what may be made of those por 
 tions of the Middle Park which are too cold for grain. 
 The residents of the place profess to be delighted with the 
 climate, although there is no month in the year without 
 frost, and the winter snow is frequently three or four feet 
 in depth. They have very little sickness of any kind, and 
 recover from wounds or hardships with a rapidity unknown 
 elsewhere. I was informed that the Honorable Probate 
 and Commissioners' Court once tumbled down a fearful 
 precipice, and was picked up a mass of fractures and dis 
 locations yet here he was, good for several sessions a 
 day! 
 
 Our friends, Byers and Sumner, were so chilled to the 
 marrow by their adventure in the Blue River, that neither 
 the subsequent ride, nor dinner, nor the hot noonday sun, 
 could warm their benumbed bodies. They therefore built 
 a fire in the adjoining wood, and lay beside it nearly all the 
 afternoon. I would gladly have joined them, but for the 
 duty of recording our journey, and the task which awaited 
 me in the evening. The court-house, to my surprise, was 
 filled with an attentive and intelligent audience, and I re 
 gretted that I was unable to comply with their request that 
 I should recite Mrs. Norton's poem of " Bingen." 
 
 There had been some doubt concerning the practicability 
 of the pass across the main chain to Montgomery, which is 
 in the South Park, on the head-waters of the South Platte ; 
 but in the afternoon Mr. Matthews arrived, having ridden 
 from Buckskin Joe to pilot us over. This is called, I be 
 lieve, the Hoosier Pass ; a little to the east of it is the Tarry- 
 all Pass, from Hamilton to Breckenridge, which is traversed 
 by vehicles, even during the winter. There is also a direct 
 trail from Breckenridge to Georgetown, near the head of 
 Snake River. Without doubt other and probably better 
 
FINAL ADVENTURES IN THE MIDDLE PARK. 115 
 
 points for crossing the mountains will be found, when they 
 are more thoroughly explored. 
 
 Mrs. Silverthorn kept her promise. When the artist and 
 myself found ourselves stretched out in a broad feather 
 bed, with something softer than boots under our heads, we 
 lay awake for a long time in delicious rest, unable to sleep 
 from the luxury of knowing what a perfect sleep awaited 
 us. Every jarred bone and bruised muscle claimed its own 
 particular sensation of relief, and I doubted, at last, whether 
 unconsciousness was better than such wide-awake fulness 
 of rest. 
 
 I shall always retain a very pleasant recollection of 
 Breckenridge, and shall henceforth associate its name with 
 the loyal divine, not the traitor politician. 
 
XV. 
 
 TWO ROCKY MOUNTAIN PASSES. 
 
 ORO CITY, COLORADO, July 4, 1866. 
 
 WE deserved no credit for early rising at Breckenridge, 
 The room wherein we slept was also a family-room, dining- 
 room, and parlor, and the ladies of the house could not 
 properly set the breakfast-table in the presence of four gen- 
 . tlemen in shirts. So we issued forth early, to find a white 
 frost on the meadows and a golden glitter of snow all 
 around the brightest of morning skies. Among the Alps, 
 such a morning is a rare godsend ; here, it is almost a 
 matter of course. Whatever effect the climate of the Rocky 
 Mountain region may have upon the permanent settlers, 
 there is no doubt that for travellers it is one of the most 
 favorable in the world. It takes fat from the corpulent 
 and gives it to the lean ; it strengthens delicate lungs, and 
 paints pallid faces with color ; and in spite of " thin air and 
 alkali water," it invigorates every function of the system. 
 I doubt whether any of us, at home, could have ventured 
 on wading in the snow, being ducked in ice-water, and 
 camping on the damp earth with the same impunity. 
 
 We still followed up the Blue River, now so diminished 
 that its clear, swift waters had no power to stop our prog- 
 __ ress. After passing through dilapidated forests of fir and 
 pine for an hour, the trail entered a sloping mountain 
 meadow, several miles long, with a vista of shining peaks 
 at either end. New flowers turquoise-blue, purple, and 
 yellow sprinkled the turf; the air was filled with resin 
 ous odors, ajad the sunshine had just sufficient power to 
 
TWO ROCKY MOUNTAIN PASSES. 117 
 
 take the icy edge off the air and make it fresh and inspir 
 ing. The trail, for the most part, was dry and firm, and 
 our travel became something more of a luxury than it had 
 been during the previous days. 
 
 Near the head of the valley, immediately under the 
 snowy ridge, there was a great tract which the gold-washers 
 had gone over with unsparing hand. It must have been 
 a rich placer, for two or three inhabited cabins remain, and 
 there were signs of recent labor. The snow-drifts lay thick 
 all around, the grass was just beginning to shoot, and the 
 three-months' summer of the higher ranges, during which 
 only gold-washing can be carried on, had barely made its 
 appearance. The residents were absent (probably pros 
 pecting), and there was no living creature to be seen, ex 
 cept a forlorn donkey. 
 
 Beyond this spot we came unexpectedly upon the sum 
 mit of the pass. Our ascent from Breckenridge had been 
 very gradual, and we had not guessed the great elevation 
 of the latter place above the sea-level. This route hasn 
 been surveyed, and our guide, Mr. Matthews, pointed out 
 the stakes from time to time with great satisfaction. The"" 
 top of the pass is a little below the timber line, and the 
 stake there is marked " 11,000 feet." The average ascent 
 on the south side is ninety feet to the mile, while the de 
 scent on the north only averages seventy feet. The build 
 ing of a railroad would not be attended with the slightest 
 difficulty. This pass, dividing the Middle from the South 
 Park, is, as I have explained in a former letter, also the 
 water-shed between the Atlantic and Pacific. The grand 
 oif-shoots of the main chain of the Rocky Mountains, so 
 numerous and so lofty, are apt to lead the eye astray, and 
 give an impression of difficulties, which disappear on a 
 closer acquaintance with the region. The first entrance of 
 the Pacific Railroad into the mountains will be found, I 
 suspect, quite as difficult as the passage of the dividing 
 ridge. 
 
118 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 We halted on the summit, to enjoy the narrow but very 
 striking views into the opposite Parks. Northward, we 
 looked down the long green meadow, with its inclosing 
 slopes of forest, to a line of snow-clad peaks in the middle 
 distance, and then a higher and fainter line, rosily flushed, 
 a hundred miles away the northern wall of the Park. 
 Southward, the valley of the Platte, a deep gray-green 
 trough, curving out of sight among the lower ranges, bore 
 a striking resemblance to the upper valley of the Saco, as 
 you look upon it from Mount Willard. Beyond it, the in 
 creasing dimness of each line of mountains told of broad, 
 invisible plains between ; and the farther peaks, scarcely 
 to be detached from the air, were the merest Alpine phan 
 toms. Directly to the west of us, however, rose a knot of 
 tremendous snowy steeps, crowned by a white, unbroken 
 cone. This is Mount Lincoln, believed to be the highest 
 point in Colorado. The estimates vary between fifteen and 
 eighteen thousand feet ; but the most trustworthy measure 
 ment which also corresponds with its apparent elevation 
 above the pass is sixteen thousand six hundred feet. 
 Later in the season, it can be ascended without much dif 
 ficulty. 
 
 It is fortunate that this prominent summit is so appro 
 priately named. It is the central point from which at least 
 four snowy ranges radiate, is one thousand feet higher than 
 any peak which has yet been measured, and the view from 
 its snowy apex can hardly be drawn with a shorter radius 
 than one hundred and fifty miles. Although not standing 
 alone like the volcanic cones of Oregon, but in the midst 
 of a sublime Alpine world, it yet asserts its supremacy, and 
 its huge, wintry buttresses form a prominent feature in the 
 landscapes of the South Park. 
 
 We now turned to the right, in order to visit Mont 
 gomery, which lies on the very head-waters of the South 
 Platte, at the foot of Mount Lincoln, whose rocky sides are 
 veined with the richest ores. In less than a mile after 
 
TWO ROCKY MOUNTAIN PASSES. 119 
 
 leaving the top of the pass, we saw the neat little town 
 lying below us, and could detect the signs of mining all 
 around and above it. I had a surfeit of mining plans and 
 prospects in Central City, and will only say that the people 
 of Montgomery are just as sanguine as those of the former 
 place, and their ores, so far as I could judge from speci 
 mens, are just as rich and abundant. It would interest 
 those who own stock in the North Star, the Pioneer, and 
 other companies, if I should . minutely describe their sepa 
 rate lodes ; but most of my readers, I presume, will be 
 satisfied with the general statement that the wealth of 
 Colorado has not been, and cannot easily be, exaggerated. 
 
 Descending a long and toilsome declivity to the town, 
 we drew up at the post-office. Friendly hands took charge 
 of our animals, and a dinner was promised in commemora 
 tion of our return to the Atlantic side of the Rocky Moun 
 tains. Mr. Valiton, I am glad to say, has become a thor 
 ough American in everything but his knowledge of cookery ; 
 and the repast he furnished us, although commencing with 
 oyster soup and ending with peaches, bore no resemblance 
 to the dreary fare served up in most of our hotels. When 
 it was over, and we were enjoying the pipe of peace in the 
 sun, the intelligent company of Mr. Rey, formerly Consul 
 of France at Montevideo, and several American gentlemen, 
 gave an air of refinement and ancient culture to the place. 
 It required an effort to recall the fact that I was in the 
 wildest nook, the very heart, of the Rocky Mountains. 
 
 Montgomery, like Breckenridge, is a deserted town. It 
 once had a population of three thousand, and now numbers 
 three or four hundred. But as the cabins of those who left 
 speedily became the firewood of those who remained, there 
 are no apparent signs of decay. On the contrary, the place 
 seems to be growing a little, and as soon as the " new proc 
 ess" is satisfactorily ascertained, it will shoot up into 
 permanent importance. We had only time to make our 
 nooning there, my place of destination being Buckskin Joe, 
 eight miles further. 
 
120 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 We rode five miles down the South Platte, then climbed 
 over one of the many insteps of Mount Lincoln, into a nar 
 rower valley, running westward along the base. Near its 
 head, ten thousand feet above the sea, lies the town of the 
 lovely name a somewhat larger and more active place 
 than Montgomery. The people, for the space of two or 
 three years, made a desperate attempt to change the name 
 to " Laurette," which is slightly better ; but they failed 
 completely, and it will probably be Buckskin Joe to the 
 end of time. At least, it is not a " City " which, in Col 
 orado, is quite an honorable distinction. There are worse 
 names in California than this, and worse places. If I failed 
 to find a blacksmith, and my barefooted pony must go 
 unshod, we had a carpeted room at the Pacific House, an 
 audience of near a hundred collected in the evening, and 
 everything was done to make my visit comfortable. These 
 remote, outlying mining communities have made a most 
 agreeable impression upon every member of our party. 
 The horde of more or less ignorant adventurers having 
 drifted away to Montana and Idaho, those who remain are 
 for the most part men of education and natural refinement, 
 and their hospitality is a favor in a double sense. 
 
 In the evening there was a dismal fall of mingled s,now 
 and rain, and I found a fire necessary for comfort. The 
 bare slopes around the village were white for an hour* after 
 sunrise. We were here joined by Mr. Thomas, of Chicago, 
 who came from Denver with a mule-team, and brought us 
 late news from the world and letters from home. This 
 morning we took leave of White, who started for Empire 
 with our faithful pack-mules. The latter were a plague at 
 times, with all their service, and we are not sorry to be rid 
 of them ; but I miss White's honest blue eyes. 
 
 There are two roads from Buckskin Joe to this place, 
 one practicable only in midsummer for horses, directly 
 over a lofty spur of the snowy range ; the other a rough 
 wagon-trail, which goes down the Platte twelve or fifteen 
 
TWO ROCKY MOUNTAIN PASSES. 121 
 
 miles before crossing to the Arkansas Valley. Mr. Beard, 
 exulting at his escape from the saddle, took the mule wagon 
 with Mr. Sumner; the rest of us determined to try the 
 shorter and more difficult pass. Mr. Willet, of Buckskin 
 Joe, offered his services as guide, promising to pilot us 
 safely over, although no horses had yet crossed this season. 
 So, wearing the scarlet " Matthews tie," as a memento of 
 that gentleman's kindness, we bade good-by to Buckskin 
 Joe, without visiting the abundant " pay-streaks " in its 
 neighborhood. 
 
 One evidence of the richness of the locality met us, how 
 ever, at the outset. We rode along the borders of a nar 
 row gulch now all stones and gravel out of which five 
 hundred thousand dollars were washed in 18*60. Thence, 
 two miles over a rough, timbered mountain brought us to 
 Mosquito, another mining village of a hundred inhabitants, 
 at the mouth of a narrow, winding gorge, issuing out of 
 snow-streaked heights to the southward. Into this gorge 
 led the trail, difficult in places, but not to be compared to 
 the swamps and rocky ladders of the Middle Park. Mr. 
 Willet walked briskly in advance, entertaining us with sto 
 ries of his winter journeys on foot over the pass, carrying 
 the weekly mail. He did not appear to be troubled by the 
 rarity of the atmosphere, of which I was very conscious, 
 even in the saddle. 
 
 The ascent was quite gradual, yet we soon passed the 
 timber line, and the fields of snow crept down the steeps 
 of grass and rock, ever nearer, feeding the torrent which 
 rushed through the gorge. On the left towered an appar 
 ently inacc:ssible mass of dark-red rock, to the height of 
 two thousand feet ; a field of snow in front, shining against 
 the sky, was equally impassable, and the steep on our left 
 must be scaled. We dismounted, and commenced the heart 
 breaking task. Climbing a dozen steps at a time, and then 
 halting to recover breath, we slowly toiled upward, around 
 a great slant of melting snow, which had lodged under the 
 
122 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 cornice of the mountain. I could take no note of the won 
 derful scenery which opened and widened under us, for 
 every pulse throbbed as if ready to burst, my eyes were 
 dim and my head giddy in the endeavor to fill my collapsed 
 lungs. The pony climbed faithfully at my side, and more 
 than once I should have fallen but for his supporting neck. 
 
 We circumscaled the snow at last, and came over the 
 sharp crest upon an upland a mile or two long, bounded 
 by the highest summits. It was a bleak, Arctic landscape ; 
 where the snow had melted there were patches of brick- 
 colored rock and brown grass, or pools of dull, chilly water. 
 The great cliffs across the gorge cut off the distant moun 
 tains and valleys from view ; we were alone in an upper 
 world as bleak as that on the Norwegian fjelds. The sum 
 mit-ridge we were to cross lay to the southward, but we 
 could detect no way to reach it without crossing broad and 
 apparently dangerous drifts. Mr. Willet, however, who 
 had frequently made the journey in storm and mist, 
 marched on with a confident air, leading us across the 
 table-land, up a stony angle of the mountain, with snow- 
 filled ravines on either side, until we reached a point where 
 it was necessary to dismount for the last climb. 
 
 This was the toughest work of all. The trail became a 
 rocky staircase, crossed by drifts thirty or forty feet in 
 depth, where, after walking firmly on the surface for a few 
 yards, man and horse would sink down unexpectedly and 
 flounder in the melting snow. In those lofty regions there 
 is no such thing as getting a " second wind " every step 
 is like a blow which knocks the breath out of one's body. 
 I was conscious of a dry, disagreeable, tingling sensation 
 in the lungs, which the most rapid, open-mouthed inhala 
 tion of air could not allay. At every tenth step we were 
 forced to pause, overcome by what I may call respiratory 
 fatigue. The air, nevertheless, was deliciously pure and 
 bracing, and none of us experienced any nausea, bleeding 
 at the nose, or dimness of vision, such as great altitudes 
 
TWO KOCKY MOUNTAIN PASSES. 123 
 
 frequently produce. When we stood still, the physical dis 
 comfort soon passed away. The ledges of naked red rocks 
 increased as we climbed; the dark-blue sky sank lower 
 behind the crest ; and at one o'clock in the afternoon we 
 stood upon the summit of the pass. 
 
 Our elevation above the sea-level could not have been 
 much less than thirteen thousand feet. The timber line 
 was far below us ; near at hand we were surrounded by a 
 desolation of snow and naked rock. Mount Lincoln, on 
 the north, gathered together the white folds of the separat 
 ing mountain ranges, and set his supreme pyramid over 
 them ; while far to the southeast, where the sage-plains of 
 the South Park stretch for a hundred miles, all features 
 were lost in a hot purple mist. Before us, however, lay the 
 crowning grandeur. The ridge upon which we stood slid 
 down, like the roof of a house, to the valley of the Upper 
 Arkansas, which we could trace to the very fountain-head 
 of the river, its pine groves and long meandering lines of 
 cotton-wood drawn upon a field of pearly gray-green. Start 
 ing from Mount Lincoln, the eye followed the central chain 
 the backbone of the continent in a wide semicircle 
 around the head of the valley until it faced us on the oppo 
 site side, and then kept on its course southward, on and 
 ever on, slowly fading into air a hundred miles of eter 
 nal snow ! Beyond the Arkansas Valley (where there is a 
 pass considerably below the timber line) glimmered, as if 
 out of blue air,' the rosy snow of other and farther ranges. 
 Westward, seventy miles distant, stood the lonely Sopris 
 Peak, higher than Mont Blanc. 
 
 New landscapes are often best described by comparison 
 with others that are known ; but I know not where to turn 
 for any mountain view at all resembling this in wondrous 
 breadth and extent in the singular combination of sub 
 dued coloring with great variety of form. It is at once 
 simple, sublime, and boundless. With a very clear atmos 
 phere, the effect might be different ; as we saw it, the far- 
 
124 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 thest peaks and ranges melted insensibly out of the line of 
 vision, suggesting almost incredible distances. There were 
 no glaciers, thrusting down their wedges between the for 
 ests ; no great upper plateaus of impacted snow, pouring 
 their cataracts from rocky walls, as in the Alps. The snow- 
 line, though broken by ravines, was quite uniform ; but the 
 snows were flushed with such exquisite color, and cut the 
 sky with such endless variety of outline, that they substi 
 tuted a beauty of another and rarer kind. This, and the 
 view of the Blue River Valley, in the Middle Park, are 
 representative landscapes ; and they alone are worth a jour 
 ney across the Plains. 
 
 We celebrated the day with none but the most loyal 
 and patriotic sentiments. Our toasts were few, for there 
 was little of the material out of which they grow; our 
 speeches short, for breath was a scarce commodity ; but we 
 duly remembered the American Eagle, and magnified the 
 shadow of his wings. There has been no loftier celebra 
 tion this day in the United States, I am sure. 
 
 It was impossible to mount our horses until a certain 
 point, nearly two thousand feet below us, had been reached. 
 There was no snow on the southern slope ; but a zigzag, 
 headlong path over bare stones (among which Mr. Byers 
 saw constant indications of gold) for two miles or more, 
 and we reached the bottom with trembling knees and drip 
 ping faces. After this the path gradually fell into one of 
 the lateral glens which debouch into the Arkansas Valley, 
 and we pushed merrily on through pine groves and over 
 green meadows, stung by the gadfly of hunger. Mr. 
 Willet insisted on taking us out of the direct path to see 
 the evidences of gold-washing in California Gulch. We 
 objected, preferring to see a dinner; but he was our guide, 
 and he had his way. The obdurate man made us ride 
 along a mile of hideous gravel-pits and piles of dirt, smack 
 ing his lips over the hundreds of thousands of dollars 
 which had been dug out of them, while every one of us 
 
TWO ROCKY MOUNTAIN PASSES. 125 
 
 was suffering indescribable pangs. What was it to us that 
 men are even now washing out one hundred dollars a 
 day? 
 
 Log-cabins made their appearance at last, then miners, 
 then more log-cabins, then a street with several saloons, 
 eating-houses, and corrals, and that was Oro City. The 
 place did not promise much, I must confess ; but one must 
 never judge from the outside in Colorado. What we found 
 I will relate in my next. 
 
XVI. 
 
 THE ARKANSAS VALLEY AND THE TWIN LAKES. 
 
 SALT WORKS, SOUTH PARK, July 6, 1866. 
 
 I SAID we were hungry on arriving at Oro City, but the 
 word gives no description of our sensations. After climb 
 ing over a crest only a few hundred feet lower than the 
 Swiss Jungfrau, we descended to the level of human life 
 with a profound interest in the signs of " Boarding " and 
 " Miners' Homes," which greeted us on entering the place. 
 Even the " Saloon," with its cubicular bottles of Plantation 
 Bitters, suggested smoked herring and crackers ; and these 
 in our condition would have been welcome luxuries. Be 
 fore we had dismounted, a gentleman of most cheery and 
 hospitable face threw open his door, disclosing arm-chairs 
 and rocking-chairs, a long table, and a dim vision of beds 
 in the background. We entered, and there were presently 
 sounds of dulcet hissing and sizzling in the rear ; grateful, 
 but ah ! most tantalizing odors in 'the atmosphere ; and then 
 the trout were set before us us, who would have rejoiced 
 over raw pork ! It was a meal worth pining for, and I do 
 less than my duty in recording the name of our host, Mr. 
 Wolf Londoner, who not only fed but lodged the whole 
 party, with the most generous disregard of his own and his 
 wife's comfort. I consider that hospitality perfect which 
 does not allow you to feel the sacrifices it imposes; and 
 such was the kind we received in Oro City. 
 
 We passed the afternoon in a state of luxurious and 
 commendable idleness. There was no work going on in 
 the gulch, every one was enjoying the national holiday ; 
 
ARKANSAS VALLEY AND THE TWIN LAKES. 127 
 
 Major De Mary came across the valley with a kind invita 
 tion to his ranche and mineral springs, and joined our club 
 of idlers. We not only learned that gulch mining is still 
 profitable in this region, one company producing one 
 hundred dollars per day per man, but were presented by 
 our unparalleled host with evidences of the fact, in the 
 shape of nuggets. A lump, found the day before our 
 arrival, weighed three ounces. Promising lodes have been 
 struck, but none are worked as yet. 
 
 In the evening one of our party lectured in the Record 
 er's office, which was draped with flags, and temporarily 
 fitted up as an auditorium. A number of ladies were 
 present, and the new type of face which I have described 
 in a previous letter reappeared again. The question re 
 turned to me, whence is it produced ? From the climate 
 of our central regions, the circumstances of life, or the 
 mingling of blood? Possibly a mixture of all three. 
 Whatever it may be, here is the beginning of a splendid 
 race of men. I remembered having been very much puz 
 zled a year ago by the face of a waiter on one of the Mis 
 sissippi steamers. I fancied I saw both the Irish and the 
 German characteristics, which is such an unusual cross, 
 that I ascertained the man's parentage, and found it to be 
 Scotch and German. The Celtic and Saxon elements seem 
 to supply each other's deficiencies, and to improve the 
 American breed of men more than any other mixture. 
 The handsome Colorado type may be partly derived from 
 this source. 
 
 After the lecture there was a ball, which all the ladies 
 of the Upper Arkansas Valley hardly a baker's dozen 
 attended. The sound of music and dancing, and the assur 
 ance that we would be acceptable in our flannel shirts and 
 scarlet " Matthews ties," could not, however, overcome the 
 seductions of Mr. Londoner's beds. To cross the Rocky 
 Mountains two days in succession, speak to the multitude 
 in the evening, and dance afterward, is beyond my powers. 
 
128 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 " Fatigue," as Mr. Beard truly remarks, when laying aside 
 a half-finished sketch, " demoralizes." Our host and hostess 
 very properly resolved not to be cheated out of their holi 
 day ; and after all the labor our advent had caused, they 
 enjoyed the ball until three in the morning, and then arose 
 at five to make ready for our breakfast. 
 
 Our proposed route was down the Arkansas to Canon 
 City, a distance of a hundred miles, which we hoped to 
 accomplish in three days. The head-waters of the river 
 are at the western foot of Mount Lincoln, the dividing 
 ridge making a horseshoe curve around them. The pass 
 at the head of the Arkansas Valley is probably the lowest 
 between the South Pass and Santa Fe, but on each side of 
 it the ranges rise rapidly above the line of perpetual snow. 
 That on the east, which we had just crossed, is merely a 
 long spur of the Rocky Mountains, dividing the South 
 Park from the Arkansas Valley. It gradually diminishes 
 in height, and finally terminates altogether at Canon City, 
 where the river issues upon the plains. The range on the 
 west, called the Sahwatch, is at first the dividing ridge of 
 the continent, lifting its serrated crest of snow to the height 
 of fourteen thousand feet. In the course of fifty or sixty 
 miles, however, it divides ; the eastern branch uniting with 
 the Sangre de Christo and Raton Mountains, while the 
 western becomes merged in the Sierra Madre of New 
 Mexico, dividing the waters of the Gila from those of the 
 Rio del Norte. The Sahwatch Range is one of the most 
 beautiful of the various divisions of the Rocky Mountains. 
 Its forms are even finer than those seen from Denver. 
 The succession of tints is enchanting, as the eye travels 
 upward from the wonderful sage-gray of the Arkansas bot 
 tom, over the misty sea-gray of the slopes of buffalo-grass, 
 the dark purplish green of fir forests, the red of rocky 
 walls, scored with thousand-fold lines of shadow, and rests 
 at last on snows that dazzle with their cool whiteness on 
 the opposite peaks, but stretch into rosy dimness far to the 
 south. 
 
ARKANSAS VALLEY AND THE TWIN LAKES. 129 
 
 Counting the gradual lower slopes of the mountains on 
 either side, the Arkansas Valley is here five or six miles 
 in breadth ; and you may therefore imagine the splendid 
 morning landscape in pearly shadow, the Sahwatch illumi 
 nated from capes of timber, and sage-plains spangled not 
 less with flowers than with dew, as we rode southward 
 toward the Twin Lakes. Major De Mary and Mr. Lon 
 doner accompanied us. Our business was first to find 
 Messrs. Beard and Sumner, who had started with the mule- 
 team from Buckskin Joe, and were expected to camp at a 
 deserted ranche eight or ten miles down the valley ; then 
 to accept the invitation of Mr. Leonhardy of the Twin 
 Lakes, and dine with him before proceeding further. On 
 reaching the crossing of the Arkansas, a good field-glass 
 showed us the artist a mile away in pursuit of a mule ; 
 whereupon two gentlemen set off on a gallop to his assist 
 ance. The rest of us forded the river, and pushed forward 
 with wet legs down the western bank. 
 
 There are very few lakes in Colorado, hence these belong 
 to the shows of the Territory. They lie at the foot of the 
 Sahwatch Range, about fifteen miles south of Oro City. 
 The day was hot and sultry, and we experienced not a little 
 relief when the road, leaving the treeless bed of the valley, 
 mounted to a hilly region covered with clumps of pine. 
 It was miserable to see how many trees had been barked 
 on one side or completely girdled ; and I was on the point 
 of anathematizing the settlers, when one of the party 
 charged the outrage upon the elks. The destruction of 
 this noble game is now a matter of less regret. I don't 
 think, however, that the wanton burning of the Rocky 
 Mountain forests can be attributed to these animals. 
 
 Nothing could have been more refreshing than the sud 
 den flash of a sheet of green crystal through an opening in 
 the grove. A cool, delightful wind blew across the- water, 
 and far down in its depths we saw the reflected images of 
 snow-peaks which were still hidden from us by the trees. 
 9 
 
130 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 The lower lake is nearly four miles in length by one and a 
 half in breadth, and its softly undulating, quiet shores, 
 form a singular contrast to the rugged mountains beyond. 
 A straight, narrow terrace, twenty feet in height a natu 
 ral dam separates it from the upper lake, which is a mile 
 and a half in length, lying, as it were, between the knees 
 of the mountains. A triangular tract of meadow land 
 slopes upward from the farther end of this lake, and is 
 gradually squeezed into a deep, wild canon, out of which 
 the lake-stream issues. On this meadow there is the com 
 mencement of a town which is called Dayton. The people, 
 with singular perversity, have selected the only spot where 
 a view of the beautiful lake is shut out from them. 
 
 Mr. Leonhardy had tempted us with descriptions of six 
 and eight-pound trout ; so, when we reached his cottage 
 and were informed by Mrs. L. that he was upon the lake, 
 Mr. Byers, whose love of trout would lead him to fish even 
 in Bitter Creek, at once set off across the meadows. We 
 followed, leaving him to embark in the shaky little craft, 
 while we sought good pasturage for our jaded beasts. The 
 meadow turf was beautifully smooth and green, but before 
 we had ridden twenty yards my pony sunk suddenly to his 
 belly, and I found myself standing a-straddle over him. 
 Looking ahead, I saw Mr. McC. similarly posed over his 
 mule, while the others were making rapid detours to avoid 
 our company. My pony extricated himself by a violent 
 effort, and, taught by instinct, gained safe ground as rap 
 idly as possible ; but the mule, being a hybrid, and there 
 fore deficient in moral character, settled on his side, 
 stretched out his neck, and yielded himself to despair. 
 Neither encouragement nor blows produced the least 
 effect ; he was an abject fatalist, and nothing but a lariat 
 around his body, with a horse as motive power at the other 
 end, prevailed upon him to stir. The lariat proved effi 
 cient. When his hind feet had thus been painfully dragged 
 out of the mire, he pulled out his fore feet and walked 
 away with an air of reproach. 
 
ARKANSAS VALLEY AND THE TWIN LAKES. 131 
 
 The large specimens of trout did not bite, they never 
 do when there is a special reason for desiring it, but we 
 had no right to complain. Mr. Leonhardy's dinner was a 
 thing to be remembered a banquet, not for the gods, but 
 (much better than that) for men. There came upon my 
 plate a slice of dark fragrant meat, the taste whereof was 
 a new sensation. It was not elk at least of this earth 
 nor venison, nor antelope, nor bear, nor beaver ; none of 
 these ever possessed such a rich, succulent, delicate, and 
 yet virile, blood-invigorating flavor. It was mountain sheep 
 the wild, big-horned American ibex and to my indi 
 vidual taste it is the finest meat in the world. The trout 
 followed ; and the bread, butter, and milk, could not be sur 
 passed in Switzerland. Lastly came a pudding, stuffed 
 with mountain berries, to crown what already seemed com 
 plete. The perfection of the dinner was not in the mate 
 rials, excellent as they were, but in the refined, cultivated 
 mind which directed their preparation. 
 
 The degree of refinement which I have found in the 
 remote mining districts of Colorado has been a great sur 
 prise. California, after ten years' settlement, retained a 
 proportion of the rough, original mining element ; but Mon 
 tana has acted as a social strainer to Colorado ; or, rather, as 
 a miner's pan, shaking out a vast deal of dirt and leaving 
 the gold behind. Mr. Leonhardy and his neighbors live 
 in rude cabins, but they do not therefore relinquish the 
 graces of life. It is only the ^o7/*-cultivated who, under 
 such circumstances, relapse toward barbarism. Mountain 
 life soon rubs off the veneering, and we know of what 
 wood men are made. 
 
 Some miles up the canon behind the lakes is Red Moun 
 tain, which is said to be streaked through and through with 
 the richest gold and silver lodes. The specimens I saw 
 give the greatest promise, and I regretted that we could 
 not have visited the spot whence they were taken. This 
 region, like the others, is waiting for the best and cheapest 
 
132 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 method of reducing the ores. It is a vast treasure-house, 
 lacking only the true key to open it. 
 
 We took leave of our generous hosts immediately after 
 dinner, and pushed on down the Arkansas Valley, still 
 accompanied by Mr. Londoner. The road led along the 
 banks of both lakes, close to their deep, dark waters, yet 
 unsounded ; and over their cool floor the dry, lilac-tinted 
 mountains in the distance shone as if swept with fire. We 
 had received particular directions in regard to fording the 
 creek by which the lakes overflow into the Arkansas. It 
 was so swollen that the usual ford was impracticable ; and, 
 on reaching its banks, Mr. Byers judged it prudent to 
 make a platform of drifl-wood upon the wagon-bed, in 
 order to lift our baggage and provisions above the water. 
 When all was ready for the trial, he remounted his horse 
 and led the way. 
 
 Plunging into an eddy where the water, though above 
 the horse's belly, was tolerably still, he skirted a little 
 island of willow bushes, beyond which the main current 
 raced by with a very perceptible slant, indicating both 
 depth and force. We followed in single file, slowly and 
 cautiously, and did not attempt the current until we saw 
 that he had fairly reached the opposite bank. When my 
 turn came, I fully expected to be carried away. The water 
 rushed over the saddle, the horse lost his footing, and 
 nothing but a plucky heart in the beast carried him through. 
 Then came the mule-team, Mr. Sumner driving and Mr. 
 Beard perched upon the, platform, with the precious box 
 of colors in his lap. I watched them creeping along under 
 the lee of the island, slowly venturing out into the swift, 
 strong flood then the mules began to give way, and pres 
 ently the whole team started down stream, with one mule 
 under water. 
 
 Mr. Sumner succeeded in getting a little out of the cur 
 rent, and two horsemen went to his assistance. The wagon 
 and mules were half urged, half dragged into stiller water, 
 
ARKANSAS VALLEY AND THE TWIN LAKES. 133 
 
 and there they stuck. The nose and ears of the drowning 
 mule were held up by main force ; he was unharnessed, 
 and free to rise. But he, too, had already given up hope ; 
 he lay passive, and every effort to inspire him to make an 
 effort was fruitless. More than half an hour passed anx 
 iously, four of the gentlemen working hard in the ice-cold 
 water, when an application of the lariat, drawn by horses, 
 brought the wretched beast to his legs. The baggage was 
 then carried across, piece by piece, on horseback ; the 
 mule hauled over and contemptuously turned to graze ; 
 another mule harnessed in his place ; the lariats made fast 
 to each other and attached to the wagon-tongue ; and 
 finally, the wet and chilly horsemen crossed, to be ready 
 to take their places in hauling. Again the wagon started ; 
 the artist clasped his color-box (and my carpet-bag I grate 
 fully add) with renewed energy ; the mules entered the 
 current, wavered again, and were swept away. Six of 'us, 
 pulling at the lariats with all our strength, held the team 
 and wagon floating for a moment, then the current swung 
 them to the bank, foothold was gained, and we hauled 
 them out with a shout of triumph. The adventure lasted 
 forty minutes, by the watch. Those who had been loudest 
 in their praises of savage nature up to this point, now 
 began to admit the beauty of bridges. 
 
 The summits of the Sahwatch were veiled in clouds, and 
 the sky became overcast, as we resumed our journey ; our 
 animals were all fatigued and chilled, and our progress for 
 the next six or eight miles was slow. My pony had never 
 been shod, and the hard mountain travel began to tell on 
 his feet ; so when we reached Cache Creek, where there 
 are three taverns, a store, a saloon, and some gulch mining, 
 my first inquiry was for the blacksmith. At Buckskin Joe 
 I had failed ; at Oro the shop had been burned ; and now 
 at Cache Creek the blacksmith, when found, proposed that 
 I should wait a day. This was impossible, although three 
 taverns, a landlord with a bunged eye, and an enterprising 
 
134 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 landlady, offered accommodation enough. We had already 
 waited an hour before the blacksmith could be found ; and 
 now, a little dispirited, we set out in a drizzling rain. 
 
 A little below Cache Creek the Valley of the Arkansas 
 contracts. The road winds through rocky hills, covered 
 with scattered timber, sometimes following the river down 
 narrow winding glens, sometimes forced over steep heights 
 to avoid an impassable canon. We travelled some four or 
 five miles through this scenery, and encamped in a mead 
 ow, at the foot of a huge gray precipice. A bonfire of 
 dead pine trunks dried our half-drowned adventurers, and 
 two stately trees made shelter for our beds. 
 
xvn. 
 
 IN THE SOUTH PARK. 
 
 CAMP, SOUTH PLATTE RIVER, July 8, 1866. 
 
 WHEN we encamped on the Arkansas, we were still 
 seventy miles from Canon City, by the practicable trail. 
 Under ordinary circumstances, this would have been an 
 easy journey, but our animals were fagged by the severe 
 mountain travel, the sky was threatening, our provisions 
 were short, and there was no settlement on the way, except 
 a few miles below us, in the Arkansas Valley. Neverthe 
 less, we determined to push on as far as possible, and, if 
 need be, divide the party at the end of the day. 
 
 It was a little hard to come back to the normal diet of 
 salt pork and biscuit, but Mr. Londoner, our faithful ally, 
 set us the example. We slept soundly on elastic mattresses 
 of fir, breakfasted early, and continued our slow way 
 down the valley. There was a deep creek to be forded, 
 and we took the precaution of attaching lariats to the 
 wagon-tongue, whereby a catastrophe like that of the pre 
 vious day was prevented. After this, the rough, broken 
 country ceased, the valley opened out more broadly, and 
 we saw or would have seen, but for gathering clouds 
 the Sahwatch Range. An irrigating ditch from the river 
 pleasantly surprised us. Following it, we came to a large 
 inclosed field of wheat the first since leaving the neigh 
 borhood of Denver. The place is called Frenchman's 
 Ranche from its owner, whom we saw at a distance, en 
 gaged in looking after his growing crops. It is a cheerful 
 oasis in the wilderness. 
 
136 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 Two miles further we crossed the Arkansas on a rude 
 but substantial log bridge. The river is here a flashing, 
 foaming torrent, about the size of the Saco at Conway. 
 The road, clinging for a mile or two to the grassy meadows 
 and scattered groves of the valley, gradually climbs along 
 the hills on its eastern side, and then suddenly enters a 
 narrow, winding glen. A little further to the south the' 
 great Canon of the Arkansas, through which no road has 
 yet been made, commences ; and all the travel from the 
 farming country below Canon City to the mining regions 
 about the head of the river must cross the lower part of 
 the South Park. Fortunately, the mountain boundaries 
 of the Park are here broad and low, and the passage of 
 them is not difficult. Not far from the commencement of 
 the Arkansas Canon there is a pass across the Sahwatch 
 (the " Poncho Pass ") into the great San Luis Park, which 
 is drained by the Rio del Norte, and extends two hundred 
 and fifty miles southward into New-Mexico. Governor Gil- 
 pin says that the San Luis Park is the centre of the Conti 
 nent " the best gem upon its zone " with a " velvety " 
 atmosphere, and scenery of a cosmical character. 
 
 With the first winding of the glen we entered, the Ar 
 kansas Valley disappeared, and the scenery instantly 
 changed. The hills were heaps of dark red boulders, ar 
 ranged in fantastic piles Cyclopean pyramids, sometimes 
 topped by single blocks, twenty or thirty feet in diameter, 
 sometimes disposed so as to form apparent bastions in front 
 of long, tumbling ramparts. Every undulation of the 
 ranges, far and near, was crowned with these natural ruins. 
 Out of the thin, sandy soil, grew clumps of pinones (a pine 
 with edible cones), which denoted a warmer climate than 
 we had yet found in the mountains. The cactus, also, reap 
 peared, and these two features gave a savage picturesque- 
 ness to the landscapes. 
 
 After a few scorching sun-bursts, the sky became over 
 spread with a gray film, gathering into blackness along the 
 
IN THE SOUTH PARK. 137 
 
 Alpine ranges behind us. For mile after mile we wound 
 through the labyrinths of rocks and bushy pines, a slow, 
 straggling, and rather melancholy procession. My poor, 
 shoeless pony could not be persuaded to trot. Mr. D.'s 
 mule refused to carry him, and he was added to the wagon- 
 load, greatly discouraging its team. Mr. Byers's horse, 
 alone, seemed equal to the emergency. Two of the party 
 pushed ahead, in the hope of finding game, and the re 
 mainder of us lagged so much that we were obliged to 
 camp at noon without overtaking them. The rest and pas 
 ture slightly encouraged our animals, but it was very evi 
 dent that we could no longer depend upon them. 
 
 We had travelled eight miles after entering the hills, be 
 fore there were any signs of a " divide." What seemed to 
 be the highest ridge then rose before us. Its crest was 
 bare, and as we emerged from the trees and looked back 
 ward, a most remarkable landscape was revealed. Over a 
 foreground of hill-tops, from which shot up hundreds of 
 rocky towers and pyramids, we looked down into the Ar 
 kansas Valley, which here formed a basin several miles in 
 breadth. Seen through the filmy atmosphere, the silvery 
 sage-plains seemed to be transparent. The meandering 
 lines of timber which marked the courses of the Arkansas 
 and its tributaries, were of the purest ultramarine hue. In 
 the background, the intensely dark clouds, resting on the 
 summits of the Sahwatch, were lifted in an arch, which 
 was filled with a marvellous glow of pale-gray light, en 
 shrining a great snow-peak in the centre. This was the 
 luminous part of the picture all else was seen through 
 transparent shadow, the gradations of which were so ex 
 quisite, the tones so rare and delicate, that Color itself 
 could scarcely represent them. 
 
 We picked up our foiled hunters, whom we found sitting 
 beside a fire, in an attitude of dejection, which may have 
 been the effect of hunger. On the summit of the divide 
 the rain began to fall, though not rapidly enough to ob- 
 
138 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 scure the beauty of the long and lovely valley on the other 
 side. As we descended this valley, it soon became evident 
 that we were not yet in the South Park ; it turned west 
 ward and slanted toward the Arkansas. Mr. Byers and I 
 held a consultation as we rode, he proposing that we twain 
 should push on for Canon City, leaving the others (who 
 had no lectures to deliver) to make for Denver. To do 
 this, however, we must take no baggage, and very little 
 provender, ride twenty miles further before camping, and 
 run the risk of my pony giving out on the way. We were 
 on the point of deciding for this plan, when the sky closed 
 over us more darkly than ever, the rain fell in steady, 
 dreary streams, and the road (which, meanwhile, had 
 almost imperceptibly crossed another ridge and entered 
 the South Park) divided into two trails. One of these, 
 Mr. Londoner informed us, led to the Salt Works, about 
 five miles distant, where we could find food and shelter ; 
 the other to Canon City, with a single deserted ranche on 
 the way. 
 
 It was four o'clock in the afternoon : we were hungry, 
 wet, and sore : our horses seemed scarcely able to drag 
 their feet through the mud : the water was slowly soaking 
 through our shoulders and trickling into our boots ; and 
 the heroic resolutions of half an hour previous rapidly 
 melted away as we paused at the parting of the ways. 
 Like many another, the narrow and difficult trail lost its 
 self-denying attractions ; the short and broad trail became 
 suddenly very fascinating. The wind blew and the rain 
 dashed more harshly in our faces ; we yielded, turned our 
 horses' heads, and rode silently toward the Salt Works. 
 
 A lone mountain, glimmering dimly across the melan 
 choly plain, was our beacon. Another hour brought to 
 view a column of smoke, rising from its base the wel 
 come sign of habitation and shelter ! Then we saw graz 
 ing herds white patches of saline incrustations shan 
 ties and cabins, and just before nightfall the goal was 
 
IN THE SOUTH PARK. 139 
 
 reached. The house of Mr. Hall, the superintendent of 
 the works, received our dripping party, so rejoiced to find 
 warmth, food, and protection from the storm, that I am 
 afraid we were not fully aware of the inconvenience we 
 occasioned to our kindly hostess. Ourselves, blankets, sad 
 dles, and other traps, almost filled the little cottage ; we 
 made a solid circle around the stove ; yet, somehow, the 
 bountiful supper was swiftly and quietly prepared, and two 
 strangers who came after us were received with equal hos 
 pitality. The life of a settler in Colorado necessarily en 
 tails these duties, and if they are always so cheerfully and 
 kindly performed as in our case, the Territory may be 
 proud of its citizens. 
 
 Mr. Hall gave me some information concerning the Salt 
 Works, from which it appears that the yield of the springs, 
 which are very strongly impregnated, is capable of supply 
 ing the wants of Colorado, for many years to come. In 
 spite of the high price of labor, fuel, and supplies, the pro 
 duction of salt is now vigorously and successfully carried 
 on ; the capacity of the works will soon be doubled. I 
 ought, properly, in my character of traveller, to have vis 
 ited them : the curious reader, perhaps, may not be willing 
 to excuse my neglect ; but, at the time, I found it so much 
 more agreeable to nurse my soaked existence beside the 
 stove than to trudge a quarter of a mile in mud and rain, 
 that I suppressed the voice of conscience. We all know, 
 however, that a salt spring is like any other spring, except 
 as to taste ; that the water is evaporated by boiling, and 
 that the importance of the works depends on the quantity 
 and quality of the water. I believe Mr. Hall stated twenty 
 thousand gallons per day as the present yield : the per 
 centage of salt is equal to that of the best springs in 
 the world. 
 
 That night, we filled the sofas, benches, and the floors of 
 the kitchen and sitting-room. Fir in the trunk, I discov 
 ered, makes a much more uneasy bed than fir in the bough. 
 
140 COLORADO : A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 Toward morning the sleepers were restless, and if we arose 
 before the sun we deserved no special credit for it. The 
 South Park was still moist, sodden, and shrouded in mist. 
 Canon City being now out of the question, Colorado City 
 and Pike's Peak were next discussed. Seventy-five miles, 
 partly of very rocky travel, and no blacksmith's shop on 
 the way, were altogether too much for my pony, and we 
 finally decided to make for the little mining village of 
 Fairplay, twenty miles distant, to the north. Thence to 
 Denver is a three days' journey, along the South Platte. 
 Our animals had enjoyed the richest pasturage during the 
 night, and a lick of salt, so that they were in rather better 
 condition when we started. 
 
 This part of the South Park is a nearly level plain, cov 
 ered with the finest grass. Detached hills, or short moun 
 tain-ridges, some of them streaked with snow, occasionally 
 interrupt the level ; but, looking northward, the view 
 always reaches to Mount Lincoln and the lofty summits of 
 the central chain. On the eastern and southern sides the 
 mountains are lower, although they rise toward Pike's 
 Peak, which derives its apparent height and imposing ap 
 pearance from its isolation. It is separated by a distance 
 of fifty or sixty miles from the snowy spurs of the Rocky 
 Mountains. The altitude of the South Park is considera 
 bly higher than that of the Arkansas Valley : it is, in fact, 
 equal to that of the Middle Park between eight and 
 nine thousand feet above the sea. Hence, it is doubtful 
 whether grain can be successfully grown. 
 
 Although the mist gathered into clouds, these latter 
 hung low for several hours, hiding the mountains, which 
 constitute the finest feature of the Park scenery. We 
 passed Buffalo Springs, forded several small affluents of 
 the Platte, vainly tried to plunder an eagle's nest on the 
 top of a pine-tree, and then entered on a slightly undulat 
 ing plain, eight or ten miles in breadth. Now, at least, the 
 sky cleared, revealing snowy chains in front and on both 
 
IN THE SOUTH PARK. 141 
 
 sides of us ; stretches of evergreen forests on the lower 
 elevations; isolated ranges to the eastward landscapes, 
 shifting in the relation of their forms, but never to be 
 measured with a radius of less than thirty miles. We 
 should have enjoyed the scenery more keenly, but for our 
 anxiety to reach Fairplay. Mr. Byers pointed out the lo 
 cation of the place near the foot of the northern moun 
 tains, yet many a weary mile still intervened. The plain 
 terminated in a belt of scattering timber, then dropped 
 down a slope into broad meadows, crossing which we found 
 ourselves on the edge of a bluff, with the main stream of 
 the South Platte foaming fifty feet below us. 
 
 The bridge had been washed away, and fording, after our 
 previous experiences, was anything but an agreeable neces 
 sity. The water was so very swift that I fully expected to 
 see Mr. Byers carried away ; but it proved not to be deep, 
 and the bottom was firm. Leaving the others to haul the 
 wagon across, I pushed on up the other bank to Fairplay, 
 left my pony with the blacksmith, and engaged dinner for 
 the party in a spacious log hotel, kept by the genial and 
 loyal Judge Castillo. Fairplay is a quiet little place, with 
 perhaps two hundred inhabitants, at the foot of a wooded 
 slope, looking to the south, with a charming view far down 
 the Park. There is gulch-mining along the Platte and its 
 small tributaries, and lodes, I am told, in the adjacent 
 mountains. Although the rains returned in the afternoon 
 and the sky was threatening, we determined to make ten 
 miles more before night. 
 
 The road was rolling, and still heavy from the rains, 
 crossing the low spurs and insteps of hills thrust out from 
 the snowy range. We made slow and weary progress, but 
 the latter part of the way was illuminated with a wonder 
 ful sunset. Under the glowing orange of a cloud-bank in 
 the east, the mountains around Pike's Peak lay in ashen 
 shadow, and all the broad, intervening plain, rosy-gray, 
 shimmered with faint, evanescent tints of green and tur 
 quoise-blue and gold, where the light struck across it. 
 
142 COLORADO : A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 This was no fleeting effect : it lingered for at least half an 
 hour, slowly darkening until the contrasts of light and 
 shade became as weird and unearthly us in some of the 
 sketches of Dore. Before the stars appeared, we reached 
 our destination, " Dan's Ranche," a two-story frame tavern, 
 kept by a German. There was a dark, dirty bar-room, in 
 which half a dozen miners were waiting for supper ; good, 
 clean beds and bed-rooms, and a landlady who conversed 
 enthusiastically with me about Schiller. 
 
 Four or five miles north of this ranche lies Hamilton, 
 at the foot of the Tarryall Pass, by which wagons cross the 
 snowy range to Breckenridge. The soil, in all this portion 
 of the Park, shows " color," and the beautiful swells and 
 undulations which delighted our eyes are destined, no 
 doubt, to be dug up, washed down, and torn to pieces. 
 Already hydraulic mining has commenced, and the yield 
 of the earth is half an ounce a day per man. This is the 
 only part of Colorado where I have seen this form of min 
 ing applied. There was a slight attempt at gardening at 
 the ranche, apparently made without much hope of success, 
 yet I thought it promised very well. 
 
 This morning we awoke to a cloudless sky every shred 
 of vapor had disappeared, and the dewy plains glittered in 
 the sunshine. We saddled immediately after breakfast, 
 and set out to cross the northeastern, corner of the Park 
 to the opposite mountains, which were ten or twelve miles 
 distant. Had our beasts been fresher, it would have been 
 an inspiring ride. The ground was traversed by Fremont 
 in one of his explorations (I think in 1842 or '43), but 
 how little he has told us of the scenery ! The idea one gets 
 from his descriptions and those of other explorers, is that 
 of dark, stern, northern mountains, the Adirondacks or 
 White Mountains on a larger scale, whereas, in color and 
 atmospheric effects they have all the characteristics of a 
 southern latitude. The chain of the Taurus in Asia Minor 
 most resembles them. They have nothing in common with 
 our conventional American scenery. Bierstadt's large pic- 
 
IN THE SOUTH PARK. 143 
 
 ture gives a fair representation of some of their forms 
 (though the height of his central peak is exaggerated), but 
 he has not chosen their peculiar atmosphere. 
 
 When we had noticed Hamilton at a distance, and the 
 two log-cabins which mark the site of the deserted town 
 of Jefferson ; when we had caught sight of Pike's Peak 
 through a long vista between the hills, passed ruined 
 ranches where men were murdered, and meadows of peat 
 which burned under all the winter's snows, the boundary 
 of the South Park was reached, and we climbed the bare 
 steep, from the summit of which we should look upon it for 
 the last time. 
 
 At this point it has the appearance of a little enclosed 
 world, like the Valley of Mexico. The lesser undulations 
 of the soil vanish, but the loftier ridges scattered over its 
 surface and more or less wooded, make dark waves on its 
 broad ground of faint golden-gray. At a distance of twenty 
 or thirty miles the colors appear transparent ; still further, 
 the purple peaks, capped with snow, are painted on the air. 
 The most distant tints are pale lilac rather than blue. On 
 the right, the great snowy range carries its grand, solid, 
 positive features beyond the line where the Park becomes 
 more of a vision than a reality, and its sharp rock-shadows 
 and snow-fields keen against the sky form a wonderful con 
 trast to the airy, sunlit gleam of the plains below. On 
 the one hand there is softness, delicate color, and vanish 
 ing distance ; on the other, height, strength and dazzling 
 clearness. 
 
 Yet, as I write, I feel only what my words fail to convey. 
 All the rarer and subtler qualities of the picture fade in 
 the effort to express them. If the characteristic features 
 of Rocky Mountain scenery can be inferred from the frag 
 ments of description scattered through these letters, I shall 
 be satisfied. It is impossible to compress them into a sin 
 gle paragraph. Each day's travel, and almost every land 
 scape of each day, has its own distinct individuality. 
 
xvin. 
 
 THE RETURN TO DENVER. 
 
 DENVER, COLORADO, July 12, 1866. 
 
 WITH the parting view of the South Park we left the 
 chief glories of the Rocky Mountains behind us. The 
 main branch of the South Platte finds an outlet to the 
 plains through a canon which is yet impassable, and the 
 road to Denver strikes diagonally across the eastern spurs 
 of the snowy range, where the scenery is generally of a 
 rough, cramped, and confined character. For some miles 
 we had very fine views of the lofty peaks at the south 
 eastern corner of the Middle Park, but after passing the 
 "Kenosha House," a lonely tavern-ranche, the road lay 
 mostly through close, winding dells, leading us to one of 
 the branches of the Platte. Our anglers succeeded in 
 getting a dozen trout, which made a welcome addition to 
 our diminishing stores. We might have found a tolerable 
 " square meal " at the tavern, but our camp-life was draw 
 ing near its close just as we were becoming properly habit 
 uated to it, and there was no dissenting voice to the propo 
 sition that we should avoid both kitchens and roofs for the 
 rest of the journey. A single exception was allowed, 
 toward evening, in the purchase of a loaf of bread. 
 
 I have no doubt that, had the course of our journey been 
 reversed had we been fresh from the monotony of the 
 Plains we should have found the scenery very delightful. 
 Though the glens were hot, close, and dusty, the road occa 
 sionally passed over breezy ridges, whence there were bold 
 views of the lower mountains. We missed the breadth and 
 
THE RETURN TO DENVER. 145 
 
 sweep of the Parks and the Arkansas Valley, with their 
 new and wonderful coloring. During the last fortnight the 
 soil has become parched and dry, and even the narrow 
 patches of meadow, fed by living springs, have a brownish 
 hue. The absence of vivid green turf, the scarcity of ferns, 
 and the lack of variety in the forms of the timber, are 
 noticeable in this portion of the mountains. It occurs to 
 me, as I write, that I have not discovered the first speci 
 men of moss since reaching Colorado. Even where there 
 is perpetual moisture, moss is absent ; the rock-lichens, 
 also, are rare. On the other hand, the flora is superb. 
 We had found but very few flowers in the South Park ; 
 but now the road was fringed with the loveliest 'larkspurs, 
 columbines, wild roses of powerful and exquisite odor, gilly 
 flowers, lupines, sweet-peas, and coreopsis. The trees were 
 principally fir, pine, and aspen. A variety of balsam-fir, 
 with young shoots of a pale-blue tint, grew in moist places. 
 Those of us who suffered with sunburn or bruises opened 
 the gummy blisters of the young trees, and anointed our 
 selves with the balm. In my own case, the effect was 
 marvellous, the pain of days was healed in an hour or 
 two. 
 
 We passed two ranches, with their beginnings of agri 
 culture, during the afternoon, and encamped before sunset 
 in a charming spot on the banks of the stream. Great 
 towers of rock rose on either side, leaving us barely room 
 for the beds and camp-fire, beside the roaring water. Up 
 the Valley we saw mountain forests and a distant snowy 
 peak. Mr. Beard and I decided that our fir-bed, now much 
 more skilfully made than at tne start, was preferable to 
 lodging in any hotel in Colorado. We had stories around 
 the camp-fire that evening ; and for the first time during 
 the trip no one seemed in haste to get under his blankets. 
 
 We had not gone a mile down the Valley next morning 
 before we came upon another camp, much more luxurious 
 than our own. There was a powerful two-horse wagon, a 
 10 
 
146 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 tent, trunks, and provision boxes. The party which had 
 thus preempted one of the prettiest spots in the Valley 
 consisted of Mr. Ford, the artist, of Chicago, with his wife, 
 and Messrs. Gookins and Elkins, also Chicago artists. 
 They had made the entire trip from the Missouri in the 
 wagon, and were now on their way into the Parks for the 
 summer. Mrs. Ford, I was glad to notice, was not the 
 least satisfied member of the party, though the artists were 
 delighted with what they had found and the best was 
 yet to come. Mr. Whittredge, who crossed the Plains with 
 General Pope, was at that time in the neighborhood of 
 Pike's Peak ; so that Art has sent jive pioneers to the 
 Rocky Mountains this Summer. 
 
 While we were looking over the sketches, the hospitable 
 mistress of a ranche a little further down the stream made 
 her appearance, with a basket of eggs for Mrs. Ford. She 
 could have brought nothing more scarce and valuable 
 not even nuggets of gold. We passed a pleasant hour with 
 the artists, and then left them to push on toward the South 
 Park, our own hope being to get out of the mountains 
 before camping. 
 
 Leaving this branch of the Platte, we struck across the 
 line of the ranges, which are here intersected by many lat 
 eral valleys. There is a good wagon-road, of a much more 
 easy grade than that from Denver to Central City. In one 
 of the giens I met Mr. L., of Philadelphia, who called out, 
 in passing, " The President has signed the Railroad 
 Bill ! " This was good news to the Coloradians of the 
 party. The Smoky Hill route, on account of its forming 
 the shortest and most direct connection with St. Louis 
 and the eastern cities as far as New York, is becoming 
 more and more popular here, especially since it is un 
 certain whether the Central Pacific Railroad will touch 
 Denver. 
 
 The day was excessively hot, not only in the glens, but 
 upon the heights ; and our animals suffered much from the 
 
THE RETURN TO DENVER. 147 
 
 attacks of flies. We had a journey of more than thirty 
 miles to make ; or nearly ten hours, measuring by the pace 
 of the weary horses. When we halted at noon, the mules 
 ran into a willow thicket and there remained ; while my 
 pony left off grazing and came to me, holding down his 
 neck that I might brush away his tormentors. There was 
 so little variation in the scenery that I should only confuse 
 the reader by attempting to describe it in other than gen 
 eral terms. The peaks of the snowy range were seldom 
 visible. It was, apparently, a broken, hilly region, out of ^ 
 which rose wooded ridges or isolated summits, faced with 
 bold escarpments of rock. The soil was thinly covered 
 with grass, gray on the slopes and green in the bottoms ; 
 timber was plentiful but not of large size; yet the few 
 evidences of farming which we met from time to time 
 showed that a great part of the region may be made pro 
 ductive. We passed a number of ranches in the course 
 of the day, in one of which a notable speculation was 
 recently made. A daughter being about to be married, 
 the mother invited the neighbors far and near to the num 
 ber of forty. They came, supped, danced, and wished 
 good luck to the nuptials, and were each presented with 
 a bill of six dollars ! 
 
 As we drew nearer to the Plains, the signs of settlement 
 and travel increased. We passed a saw-mill in operation, 
 a two-story hotel at a place called Junction (whence there 
 is a road to Central City), and many a "preempted " tract 
 in the sheltered little valleys. Late in the afternoon we 
 reached Bradford's Hill, Mr. Byers cheering us up the 
 ascent with the assurance that it was the last of the Rocky 
 Mountains. For nearly -two miles we toiled along in the 
 scorching sun, sometimes pausing in the thin aspen shade 
 to look backward on some rock-buttressed peak. The 
 summit was wooded, but an opening presently disclosed to 
 our sight a far, blue horizon-line, probably a hundred miles 
 to the eastward. It was only a passing glimpse, and as 
 "comforting as water in a thirsty land. 
 
148 COLORADO: A SUMMER 'TRIP. 
 
 On the first step of the descent, I found for the first 
 time oaks. They were small saplings, which had sprung 
 up where the large primitive trees had been felled. Mr. 
 Byers informed me that he had frequently seen trunks two 
 feet in diameter, all of which have now disappeared. The 
 mountain pine is a soft, spongy wood, liable to a great deal 
 of shrinkage ; the carpenters even declare that it shrinks 
 " endwise." Cotton-wood is only fit for interior work, so 
 that good building lumber is scarce, in spite of the abun 
 dant forests. I am not surprised that the oaks were swept 
 away, but I regret that it was necessary. 
 
 I have said nothing of the wild fruits of the mountains, 
 which have become of some importance in the absence of 
 orchards. The currants, gooseberries, and service-berries 
 (amelanchier) are found everywhere ; the bushes are small, 
 yet bear profusely. Whortleberries are also found, but not 
 in such quantities. There is a wild red cherry, a plum, 
 and, in the southern part of the territory, grapes. Straw 
 berries carpet the forests up to the line of snow, but will 
 not be ripe for two or three weeks to come. They resem 
 ble precisely the small, fragrant fruit of Switzerland and 
 Norway. With the exception of the " Oregon grape " (ma- 
 honia), I noticed no new varieties of fruit. The cones of 
 the pinones appear to be the only edible nuts. There is a 
 singular poverty in the Rocky Mountain sylva. 
 
 While we were discussing the matter of oaks, the road 
 climbed a little ridge, turned around a bare, stony head 
 land, and there ! Half a continent seemed to lie beneath 
 us. We stood on the eaves of the mountains, above all 
 the soil between us and the Atlantic Ocean. As from the 
 car of a balloon, or the poise of a bird in mid-air, we looked 
 down on an immense hemisphere of plain, stretching so 
 far that we could only guess at its line of union with the 
 sky. North, south, and east, the vision easily reached a 
 hundred miles. Wild plain, farm-land, and river-courses 
 were as distinctly marked and colored as on a map. We 
 
THE RETURN TO DENVER. 149 
 
 saw the South Platte, issuing from its mountain gateway, 
 gathering Plum, Cherry, and Bear Creeks, skirting Den 
 ver, and curving far away on its course toward Julesburg 
 and Nebraska. Beyond Denver, the valleys of Clear Creek, 
 Boulder, Thompson, and St. Vrains were distinctly marked, 
 and somewhere in the vapors of the horizon lay Cache-la- 
 Poudre. Scarcely a house or a tree in all this vast land 
 scape was hidden from view. Its uniform tint of dead 
 gold contrasted exquisitely with the soft blue-gray and 
 pink-flushed snows of Long's Peak and his neighboring 
 summits in the north. 
 
 Looking at the base of the mountains immediately be 
 low us, I became aware of a remarkable feature of their 
 structure. Parallel with the general direction of their 
 bases, and from a quarter to half a mile distant, ran a 
 straight outcropping of vertical rock, abruptly broken 
 through by the streams which issued upon the plains. 
 Each section of this ridge, which was from one to two 
 hundred feet in height, resembled a ship's hull, keel up 
 ward. They are called " hog's-backs " in Colorado. Not 
 only is their formation distinct from that of the mountains, 
 but they are composed of different rock mostly lime 
 stone, gypsum, or alabaster. Their peculiar appearance 
 suggests the idea of their having been forced up by the 
 settling back of the great chain of the Rocky Mountains, 
 after upheaval. I am told that this formation extends for 
 a long distance along the eastern base of the mountains. 
 
 As the road wound back and forth down the bare, tree 
 less slope, contracting the semicircle of the plains, the ob 
 jects enclosed within this lower rampart attracted us more 
 and more. Much of the space near at hand was already 
 farmed, and green with lush fields of wheat, and the nar 
 row terrace which it formed, seemed, at first sight, to have 
 been inhabited for thousands of years. What appeared 
 to be the ruins of giant cities arose behind the walls of 
 rock, casting their shadows across the green. Rude natu- 
 
150 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 ral towers, obelisks, and pyramids, monoliths two hundred 
 feet in height, of a rich red color, were gathered in strange 
 labyrinthine groups, suggesting arrangement or design. 
 Beyond the Platte there was a collection of several hun 
 dred of these. Mr. Byers, who had visited the place, 
 assured me that they greatly surpass the curious rock- 
 images near Colorado City, called the " Garden of the 
 Gods." A nearer view of them through a glass filled me 
 with astonishment. I saw single rocks a hundred feet 
 square, and nearly as high as Trinity spire, worn into the 
 most fantastic outlines, and in such numbers that days 
 might be spent in examining them. On our own road 
 there were several detached specimens of lesser height, 
 and beyond Bear Creek two lofty masses of a rude Gothic 
 character. The wonders of Colorado have not yet been 
 half explored, much less painted. 
 
 Our proposed camping-place lay inside the nearest " hog 
 back," at the foot of one of those rocky masses. We came 
 down the long slant and reached the spot before sunset, 
 less fatigued by the journey than by the great labor (both 
 of spirit and flesh) of keeping up the failing courage of 
 our animals. Our bread was at an end, but Colonel Brad 
 ford's ranche, with its stately stone residence, seemed to 
 offer indefinite supplies; so, after unsaddling beside the 
 rock and turning the beasts loose to graze, we called upon 
 the Colonel in a body. He kindly gave us all he had 
 not bread, but flour and soda, a bunch of onions from the 
 garden, and a wash-basin full of lettuce. Moreover, we 
 had unlimited water from a spring in the garden, and milk 
 from the dairy. The Colonel, a native of Alabama, is 
 justly proud of his ranche, the location of which is won 
 derfully picturesque. 
 
 Mr. Sumner and I made slapjacks of the flour, and with 
 a little exertion we got up a passable meal at twilight. 
 Our beds were soon made among the fragrant herbs, and 
 the night passed rapidly and quietly, except that a coyote 
 
THE RETURN TO DENVER. 151 
 
 stole the remainder of our pork. The breakfast, however, 
 was a matter of little consequence, as we expected to dine 
 in Denver. A fierce African sun came up in the cloudless 
 sky, driving away in ten minutes the scanty dew that had 
 fallen. After more coffee and slapjacks we packed hastily 
 and started on the last pull of sixteen miles. Four of the 
 gentlemen determined to go up Bear Creek and fish for 
 trout; Messrs. Beard and Thomas, with the mule-team, 
 and I on my pony, made a direct line for civilization. 
 
 By the time we reached Bear Creek crossing, the heat 
 was intense. My pony had at last reached the limit of his 
 performance, and I was fain to dismount, seat myself in the 
 rear of the wagon, and pull him after us with the lariat. 
 We resisted the shady invitation of the " Pennsylvania 
 Hotel " beside the stream, admired as much as was possi 
 ble in our condition the splendid fields of wheat, farm suc 
 ceeding to farm from the mountains to the Platte, and then 
 took to the rolling, fiery upland. Two hours more, and 
 from a ridge we hailed Denver, only three miles away, its 
 brick blocks flashing in the sun, its square spire shooting 
 above the dark green cotton-woods, and its shallow river 
 reflecting the blue of the zenith a consoling sight I 
 
 What life there was in the mules, had to come out then : 
 we all became suddenly conscious that we were dirty, rag 
 ged, hungry, thirsty, and terribly fatigued. An intense 
 longing for the comforts and conveniences of life moved 
 our souls : Denver became to us what New York is to the 
 moral native of Connecticut. I am not ashamed to confess 
 that we halted at the lager-beer brewery, half a mile from 
 the town, and took a refreshing draught to correct the 
 effects of the " thin air and alkali water." 
 
 The Platte bridge was crossed and we entered the streets, 
 a party more picturesque than respectable in appearance. 
 There were three battered wide-awakes ; three flannel 
 shirts, one scarlet, one blue, and one gray ; three brown 
 
152 COLORADO : A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 faces, one skinless nose, and one purple ditto. ; dusty rolls 
 of blankets, a bent coffee-pot, a box of colors, and some 
 saddles. This was the picture which slowly moved up 
 Laramie and F Streets, and stopped at the door of the 
 Pacific Hotel. 
 
XIX. 
 
 A TRIP TO BOULDER VALLEY. 
 
 DENVER, COLORADO, July 14, 1866. 
 
 MY days in Colorado are drawing rapidly to an end. The 
 term of the summer holiday which I have allowed myself 
 is nearly over ; yet while I have every reason to be satis 
 fied with what has been seen and done in a brief space of 
 time, I find myself regretting, at the close, that I am not 
 able to make my survey of the territory more complete. 
 
 The change from camp-life in the mountains to the com 
 parative luxury of a hotel in Denver, was so very agreeable 
 that for two days I did little else than enjoy it, and com 
 plete my lost knowledge of the world's doings, up to the 
 point of comprehending the telegrams of national and for 
 eign news. The weather was almost insupportably hot 
 during the day 98 in the shade and the better part 
 of one's life was expended from eight o'clock in the morn 
 ing until sunset, in a vain effort to be cool. Every after 
 noon a lurid mass of clouds gathered along the sunny 
 range, distant thunders echoed among the peaks, lightnings 
 dashed feebly through the shadows, and the storm dissolved 
 again. ^ We were just near enough to gasp in its sultriness, 
 without catching a drop of its refreshment. 
 
 Before setting out on my mountain trip, I had made an 
 engagement to visit the Boulder Valley, twenty-five miles 
 to the north of Denver. Yesterday was the appointed day, 
 and when the morning came with a burning, breathless 
 heat, I lamented, for a moment, only, the necessity 
 of the journey. It was the usual shudder before the 
 
154 COLORADO : A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 plunge. My faithful pony had been sent back to his pas 
 tures in the Middle Park, and I took a saddle-horse at five 
 dollars per day, at a livery-stable. I had the owner's word 
 that he was a good animal ; but the result proved, for the 
 hundredth time, a truth which I long ago discovered 
 that all men who have much to do with horses become de 
 moralized. Mr. Thomas, of the " Chicago Tribune," had 
 agreed to accompany me, so that I was sure, at least, of 
 cheerful society on the way. 
 
 We rode out of Denver by the Salt Lake stage road, 
 which runs northward, parallel with the mountains, for near 
 a hundred miles. In the morning air, the snowy peaks, 
 from Pike's to far beyond Long's, were free from clouds, 
 and I was struck with the great diminution of snow upon 
 their sides, since I first saw them. At the same rate of 
 melting they will be almost entirely bare in another month. 
 I doubt whether the line of perpetual snow can here be 
 placed lower than thirteen thousand feet : in the Alps it is 
 not more than eight thousand. Their forms were no less 
 imposing, after seeing the grand landscapes of the Parks, 
 and there was a constant refreshment in turning from the 
 heated shimmer of the Plains to the sight of their gorges 
 in cool shadow, the dark, cloudy patches of their pine for 
 ests, and even the bare outlines of their rocky pinnacles, 
 suggesting tempered sunshine and the breezes of the upper 
 sky. 
 
 In four miles we reached Clear Creek, at a point above 
 Captain Sopris's ranche. The stream was so swollen by 
 the melting snows, that half the bottom was overflowed, 
 and we rode for a furlong in water up to the horses' bellies. 
 Irrigation seemed unnecessary ; but the cultivated land is 
 a mile or more in breadth, and we found the outer ditches 
 full. The wheat is in head, and finer crops I never saw, 
 except in California. We p'assed no field which will pro 
 duce less than thirty bushels to the acre. It is now con 
 sidered secure beyond damage from smut or grasshoppers. 
 
A TKIP TO BOULDER VALLEY. 155 
 
 The sight of such splendid and bounteous agriculture, 
 here, in the very heart of the continent, is inexpressibly 
 cheering. 
 
 The roads leading into Denver from the east, and out of 
 it toward the west, north, and south, now begin to be pop 
 ulous with the usual summer emigration. A considerable 
 number of wagons bring settlers to the Territory though 
 less than there would be, were its climate and resources 
 generally understood ; large freight trains are on their way 
 to Salt Lake (which I hear has become an important 
 business centre, with a population of twenty-five thousand) : 
 and many emigrants, bound for Montana and Idaho, have 
 been obliged to make a detour of two hundred miles, 
 through Denver, in order to get over the swollen Platte. 
 One meets, every day, the same variety of characters 
 the lazy, shiftless emigrant, always trying new countries 
 and prospering in none ; the sharp, keen, enterprising emi 
 grant, who would do fairly anywhere, and will rise very 
 rapidly here ; the shabby-genteel adventurer, on the look 
 out for chances of speculation or office ; and the brutal, 
 ignorant adventurer, who, some morning, will leave the 
 country " up a tree." The " Rocky Mountain News " will 
 then chronicle the fact in a paragraph headed : " And he 
 went." 
 
 The white wagon-covers of some of these parties con 
 tribute to the popular literature of the Plains. Many of 
 them are inscribed with the emigrant's name, home, and 
 destination, " accompanied " (as the applicants for auto 
 graphs say) " with a sentiment." I noticed one which was 
 simply entitled " The Sensible Child." Another had this 
 mysterious sentence, which I will not undertake to explain : 
 " Cold Cuts and Pickled Eel's Feet." " The Red Bull," 
 and " Mind Your Business," were equally suggestive ; but 
 the most thrilling wagon-cover was that which met our eyes 
 on crossing the Platte Bridge, and whereon we read : " Hell- 
 Roaring Bill, from Bitter Creek ! " In the shade of the 
 
156 COLORADO : A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 cover, between the wheels, Hell-Roaring Bill himself was 
 resting. He looked upon us with a mild, sleepy eye ; his 
 face and breast were dyed by the sun to almost the exact 
 color of his hair ; his general appearance was peculiar, but 
 not alarming. When we returned this morning he had de 
 parted, and, if all they say of Bitter Creek be true, I think 
 he has done well in changing his residence. 
 
 After leaving the wheat fields of Clear Creek, we rose 
 again to the " second bottoms," or rolling table-land (this 
 sounds like a bull, but it describes the thing), where the 
 crimson and golden blossoms of the cactus burned in the 
 intense sunshine, all over the scorched, cracked soil. Thus 
 we rode over the tawny, treeless swells, for seven or eight 
 miles, in a suffocating heat. We then left the stage road, 
 and took a trail leading to the iron and coal mines of Bel- 
 mont, at the base of the mountains. The thunder-storm 
 was already collecting in the southward, and drew toward 
 us, following the range and blotting out peak after peak in 
 its course. Presently the clear, cool shadows crept down 
 from the upper heights, quenching the fiery red glare of the 
 masses of rock, two thousand feet in height, before us ; 
 then it touched the Plains, crept nearer to us, and the sting 
 of the sun was withdrawn. 
 
 The local limits of these storms was very strikingly 
 marked. At the distance of a few miles from the moun 
 tains the clouds ceased to spread. Though behind us they 
 gloomed like night, and under their grand, majestic arch 
 we looked into distant floods of rain and lightning, the 
 eastern half of the sky remained cloudless, and the Plains, 
 for leagues away, smouldered in fiercest heat. The rain, 
 also, seemed to be confined to a second limit, inside the 
 line of cloud. The great irregular pyramid of Long's 
 Peak, full in front of us, became a shadow on the air ; the 
 vast nearer piles of red rock were silvered with slanting 
 sheets, and we expected, every moment, to feel the drops. 
 But the sheets moved on, northward, as if with half-spread 
 
A TRIP TO BOULDER VALLEY. 157 
 
 wings : we only touched their outer edge, on reaching Bel- 
 mont, and that, because we rode toward them. 
 
 This is a charming little valley, at the base of the moun 
 tains. The outcropping of limestone, and the black piles 
 at the mouths of coal drifts indicated our approach to it. 
 On dropping into a little winding hollow, we soon saw the 
 massive smelting furnace surrounded by clustered cabins. 
 Mr. Marshall, the proprietor, received us at the door of his 
 residence, and, after dinner, piloted us to the furnace and 
 mines. There are eleven veins of coal, varying from four 
 to twelve feet in thickness, in the space of half a mile ; 
 iron ore of a richness of fifty per cent, just beyond it, and 
 the best limestone, in almost inexhaustible quantities. Mr. 
 Marshall, however, has only experimented with the native 
 ores sufficiently to establish their value. ^He finds it more 
 profitable to buy up abandoned machinery at a trifling cost, 
 and recast it. The furnace is not only substantially but 
 handsomely built, and has thus far done a thriving and suc 
 cessful business for its owner. 
 
 Our inspection of the place was necessarily hurried, as I 
 had an engagement for the evening at the new town of Val- 
 mont, some eight or ten miles down the Boulder Valley. I 
 looked longingly toward the magnificent gorge by which the 
 South Boulder issues from the mountains, and the sheltered 
 semi-basin beyond, where we saw the town of Boulder 
 above the cotton-woods ; but there was not time (without 
 better horses) to extend our journey so far. The extent 
 and beauty of the cultivated land watered by the two 
 streams, was a new surprise. For miles farm followed 
 farm in uninterrupted succession, the breadths of wheat, 
 black-green in its richness, or overrun with a yellowing 
 gleam, dotted with houses and clumps of trees, like some 
 fenceless harvest-plain of Europe ! A spur of softly-tinted 
 hills in the north, the solitary, rock-crowned hill of Val- 
 mont in the east, the snows of Long's Peak to the north 
 west these were the features enframing the lovely val- 
 
158 COLORADO : A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 ley. Here I saw again how much Civilization improves 
 Nature. 
 
 We were full two hours in reaching Valmont, on account 
 of the very independent habits of the Colorado farmers. 
 The second bottoms being devoted to grazing purposes, 
 they have found it necessary to fence the outer edge of the 
 farm land ; and, in so doing, they cut off the road with the 
 most utter disregard of the public. If there are laws in 
 relation to roads, they seem to be a dead letter. That 
 which should be the first business of a territorial govern 
 ment, is left to a time when it can only be regulated by a 
 great deal of trouble and expense. Our National Govern 
 ment acts in the most niggardly manner toward its incipi 
 ent States. There should be at least a million of dollars 
 annually spent in each Territory between the Mississippi 
 and the Pacific, on roads and bridges. 
 
 In spite of the tedious zigzags we were forced to make, 
 the views of the broad, prosperous, and thickly-settled 
 Boulder region, made our ride very enjoyable. On ap 
 proaching the isolated hill which had been pointed out to 
 us as indicating the position of Valmont, we were surprised 
 to find no sign of a village. The dark wheat-plains swept 
 up to its base, masses of rock looked down from its summit, 
 and the rosy ridges toward St. Vrains lay beyond. We 
 turned a corner where the fields had almost forced the road 
 off the level, and there stood perhaps a dozen new cabins, 
 and a few scattering cotton- woods. But of these cabins 
 one was a store, one a printing-office, and one a Presbyte 
 rian church. So it was Valmont. 
 
 We found comfortable quarters at the house of Mr. 
 Jones, a farmer, who has been on the spot six or seven 
 years, and has made himself a pleasant home. After sup 
 per, the other farmers began to arrive from up and down 
 the stream, and even from St. Vrains shrewd, intelligent 
 men, every one of them, and with an air of health and 
 vigor which speaks well for the climate. I would have 
 
A TRIP TO BOULDER VALLEY. 159 
 
 much preferred talking with them all the evening to lec 
 turing in the church. I wondered, on arriving, where an 
 audience was to come from, and was not a little astonished 
 to find more than a hundred persons gathered together. 
 What I had looked upon as a task became a pleasure, and 
 the evening I spent at Valmont was one of my pleasantest 
 in Colorado. 
 
 The people informed me that the farming on the St. 
 Vrains is fully equal to what I saw on the Boulder that 
 the valleys of the Big and Little Thompson, and even of 
 the Cache-la-Poudre, are settled and cultivated, and will this 
 year produce splendid crops. The line of settlement is 
 thus not only creeping northward and southward from 
 Denver, but, also, following the tributaries of the Platte, it 
 advances eastward to meet the great tide approaching it. 
 I verily believe that it will not be more than two or three 
 years before there is a continuous belt of settlement 
 probably two of them from the Missouri to the Rocky 
 Mountains. 
 
 I was introduced to one of the original eight squatters in 
 Boulder Valley. He tells a singular story of their experi 
 ence with the Indians, when they first settled here, in 1859. 
 Where the town of Boulder now is, was one of the favorite 
 camping-grounds of the former. They not only warned 
 the intruders away, but threatened to exterminate them if 
 they remained. The eight men, however, constructed a 
 rude fort, and made preparations to stand a siege. Hostil 
 ities commenced and were carried on for some time, when, 
 one day, the besieged noticed signs of commotion in the 
 Indian camp. Toward evening a warrior arrived, demand 
 ing a parley. They hesitated for a while, but finally ad 
 mitted him, whereupon he stated that the medicine-man of 
 the tribe had dreamed, the night before, of stars falling 
 from heaven and a flood from the mountains sweeping away 
 their camp. This he interpreted as a warning that they 
 should leave, and the tribe, therefore, were preparing to 
 
160 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 depart. The next morning they packed their tents, and 
 after uttering in concert a mighty howl of lamentation, 
 went out on the Plains, and never afterward returned. 
 
 We started early this morning, to avoid the terrific mid 
 day heats. For our entertainment and that of our horses, 
 at Valmont, we were only asked to pay two dollars and a 
 half each. The farms were lovelier than ever in the fresh 
 morning light, and as we paused on a ridge to take a last 
 look at the place, we pronounced it the prettiest village-site 
 in Colorado. Then came the open, unsheltered, rolling 
 Plains, gathering heat and dryness from hour to hour. 
 Toward noon the inevitable storm crept along the moun 
 tains, but we were outside of its shadow, under the burning 
 half of the sky and long indeed were the last few miles 
 which brought us into Denver. My face still burns with 
 the blistering heat absorbed during the ride ; but I rejoice 
 that I have seen Boulder Valley before leaving the Rocky 
 Mountains. 
 
XX. 
 
 COLORADO AS A SUMMER RESORT. 
 
 DENVER, COLORADO, July 15, 1866. 
 
 THIS is my last night in Denver. After a month beside 
 and amon<r the Rocky Mountains, I am going (as the peo 
 ple here say) "to America." My place is taken in the 
 stage which leaves to-morrow morning for the East, by the 
 Platte route. 
 
 Had not the commencement of the rainy season and the 
 condition of our animals prevented me from reaching 
 Canon and Colorado cities, my tour would have embraced 
 all of the mountain regions which are easily accessible, 
 and some that are not so. What I have seen is amply 
 sufficient to convince me how much more there is to 
 see. During a journey on horseback of four hundred 
 miles, which led me through two of .the three Parks, and 
 thrice across the great range, I have obtained a tolerably 
 extensive knowledge of the climate, scenery, and other 
 features of a region which is destined, I think, to become 
 for us what Switzerland is to Europe. Our artists, with 
 true instinct, have first scented this fact, and they are the 
 pioneers who point out to ignorant Fashion the way it 
 should go. 
 
 Whoever comes to the Rocky Mountains with pictures 
 of the Alps in his memory, expecting to find them repeated 
 on a grander and wilder scale, will certainly be disappointed. 
 He will find no upper world of unbroken snow, as in the 
 Bernese Oberland; no glaciers, thrusting far down be 
 tween the forests their ever-moving fronts of ice ; no con- 
 11 
 
162 COLORADO : A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 trast of rich and splendid vegetation in the valleys ; no 
 flashing waterfalls ; no slopes of bright green pasturage ; 
 no moss ; and but rarely the gleam of lakes and rivers, 
 seen from above. With no less lofty chain can the Rocky 
 Mountains be measured, it is true ; but it is merely a gen 
 eral comparison of height, not of resemblance in any im 
 portant feature. 
 
 In the first place, the atmospheric effects are those 
 which result from the intense dryness of the heart of 
 a continent in the temperate zone. The Alps not only 
 touch the Mediterranean at either extremity, but are no 
 further from the Atlantic than from here to the Missouri 
 River. Four or five cloudless days in succession are con 
 sidered a rare good fortune by the tourist; the higher 
 peaks are seldom without their drapery of shifting cloud. 
 Here a clear sky is the rule. There is seldom vapor 
 enough except just at present, during the brief rainy 
 season for the artist's needs. Perspective is only ob 
 tained by immense distances. The wonderful, delicate 
 grays of the mountain landscapes demand changes of light 
 and shadow which are often lacking ; they lie too barely 
 in the broad, unobstructed sunshine. Yet an air more 
 delicious to breathe can scarcely be found anywhere. It is 
 neither too sedative nor too exciting ; but has that pure, 
 sweet, flexible quality which seems to support all one's hap 
 piest and healthiest moods. Moreover, it holds in solution 
 an exquisite variety of odors. Whether the resin of the 
 coniferous trees, the balm of the sage-bush, or the breath 
 of the orchis and wild rose, it is equally grateful and life- 
 giving. After a day in this atmosphere you have the light 
 est and most restorative slumber you ever knew. 
 
 On first entering the Rocky Mountains, you find the 
 scenery rugged, cramped, and somewhat monotonous. 
 Press forward, and they open anon the higher the sum 
 mits become the more breadth of base, the clearer outline 
 they demand. They push away the crowd of lower ridges, 
 
COLORADO AS A SUMMER RESORT. 163 
 
 leaving valleys for the streams, parks with every variety of 
 feature, and finally gather into well-defined ranges, or 
 spurs of ranges, giving you still broader and grander land 
 scapes. 
 
 The San Luis Park, from the accounts I have heard, 
 must be equally remarkable. It is on a much grander 
 scale, and has the advantage of a milder climate, from its 
 lesser elevation above the sea-level. The North Park is 
 rarely visited except by an occasional prospecter or trap 
 per. It has no settlement, as yet, and I have met with no 
 one who has thoroughly explored it. There are a number 
 of smaller parks on both sides of the main chain, and 
 some of them are said to possess great natural beauties. 
 The singular rock formations at the eastern base of the 
 mountains furnish in themselves a rare and most original 
 field for the tourist and the artist. The glimpse I had of 
 those on the south bank of the Platte, on my return, from 
 the South Park, satisfy me that they surpass in magnitude 
 and picturesque distortion the celebrated basaltic forma 
 tions of Saxony. 
 
 It was part of my plan to have ascended either Pike's or 
 Long's Peak, but I find that it is too soon in the season to 
 make the attempt. Pike's Peak is comparatively easy of 
 ascent; the summit, thirteen thousand two hundred feet 
 above the level of the sea, has several times been reached 
 by ladies. It is a very laborious, but in no sense a danger 
 ous undertaking. On account of its isolated position, the 
 view from the top, in favorable weather, must be one of the 
 finest panoramas in the world. Long's Peak has never yet 
 been ascended. Mr. Byers, two years ago, reached a point 
 about five hundred feet below the summit, and was then 
 compelled to return. He is quite confident, however, that 
 it can be scaled from another side, and if the summer were 
 six weeks further advanced, I should be willing to join him 
 in making the attempt. On the northern side he says 
 there is a valley or rather gulf, with walls of perpendicular 
 
164 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 rock between two and three thousand feet in height, resem 
 bling a section of the Yosemite. 
 
 A comparison of this peak with Mont Blanc the alti 
 tude of both being just about the same may give a clear 
 idea of the differences between the Alps and the Rocky 
 Mountains. When you see Mont Blanc from the western 
 part of Lake Leman, in July or August, he appears to 
 you as a dome of complete snow, the few rocky pinnacles 
 which pierce his mantle being hardly discernible specks. 
 He is a white vision on the horizon. Long's Peak, at the 
 same distance, is of the faint blue or purple which a rocky 
 mass assumes, veined and streaked with white, but showing 
 only one snow-field of much apparent extent. His outline 
 is very fine, a little sharper than Mont Blanc, the 
 western side (as seen from Denver) having convex, and 
 the eastern principally concave curves. He rests on a dark, 
 broad base of forest and rock, his snows marking the 
 courses of deep clefts and ravines. At present, the top 
 most summit is bare on the southern side. It is rare that 
 one sees Mont Blanc from summit to base : I have not 
 yet seen Long's Peak (except during a passing thunder- 
 shower) otherwise. 
 
 I do not think the parks and the upper valleys of the 
 mountains will produce anything except hardy vegetables, 
 and perhaps barley and rye. But they abound with the 
 richest grasses ; and " Colorado cheese " may one day be as 
 celebrated as Gruyere or Neufchatel. They offer precisely 
 those things which the summer tourist seeks pure air, 
 lovely nights, the finest milk, butter, trout, and game, and 
 a variety of mineral springs. The summer climate I know ; 
 and I am told that the winter is equally enjoyable. It 
 sounds almost incredible to hear of persons in the latitude 
 of New York, and eight thousand feet above the sea, rarely 
 needing an overcoat during the whole winter season. 
 There is a great depth of snow, and an occasional severe 
 day, but the skies are generally cloudless, and the air tern- 
 
COLORADO AS A SUMMER RESORT. 165 
 
 perate and bracing. The extremes of heat and cold are 
 greater in Denver than in the mountains. As nearly as 1 
 can learn, the coldest weather yet experienced in San Luis 
 Park, was seven degrees below zero ; in the Middle Park, 
 fifteen degrees ; and in Denver, thirty degrees below. 
 
 The heavy snow-fall, while it is a godsend to the agri 
 culture of Colorado, by swelling all the streams at the very 
 season when water is needed for irrigation, nevertheless 
 interferes with the mining interests. There are many rich 
 placers in the mountains where gold-washing can only be 
 carried on for three or four months in the year, and even 
 the stamp and smelting mills are hindered in procuring 
 their supplies. It will also be the principal difficulty 
 which the Pacific Railroad will be obliged to overcome. 
 All other obstacles are much less than I had imagined. 
 Greater achievements have already been done in rail 
 roading than the passage of the Rocky Mountains. By 
 the Clear Creek, the South Park, or the Arkansas Valley, 
 the Pacific slope can be reached, with not much more 
 labor than you find on the Baltimore and Ohio road be 
 tween Piedmont and Grafton. The facilities of construc 
 tion beyond the range, however, must determine where the 
 range should be crossed. A thorough exploration of the 
 region watered by the Green and Blue Rivers must first 
 be made. 
 
 I am, therefore, quite unable to tell you where the road 
 will cross the Rocky Mountains ; it is enough that they 
 will be crossed. My conjectures given for what they 
 may be worth take this form : that the Central Pacific 
 Railroad, now rapidly advancing up the Platte, will cross 
 in the neighborhood of Bridger's Pass ; that the Eastern 
 Division will follow the Smoky Hill^and make directly for 
 Denver'; that a road running northward along the base of 
 the mountains will connect the two ; that this road will then 
 be extended to Montana on one side and New Mexico on 
 the other ; and that, finally, a second central road will be 
 
166 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 pushed westward from Denver into and across the Middle 
 Park, and so to Nevada. The business of Colorado alone, 
 with the stimulus which a completed road would give, will 
 keep that road fully employed. By the time the last rail 
 is spiked down on the road connecting New York and San 
 Francisco, we shall want, not one line across the continent, 
 but Jive. 
 
 I hazard nothing, at least, in predicting that Colorado 
 will soon be recognized as our Switzerland. The ener 
 vated luxury, the ignorant and imitative wealth, and the 
 overtasked business of our cities, will come hither, in all 
 future summers, for health, and rest, and recreation. 
 Where Kit Carson chased Arapahoes, and Fremont's men 
 ate mule-meat, and Jim Beckworth went through apoc 
 ryphal adventures, there will be drawling dandies, maidens 
 both fast and slow, ungrammatical mammas, and the heavi 
 est of fathers. The better sort of people will come first, 
 nor be scared away afterward by the rush of the unappre- 
 ciating. We shall, I hope, have Alpine clubs, intelligent 
 guides, good roads, bridges, and access to a thousand won 
 ders yet unknown. It will be a national blessing when this 
 region is opened to general travel. That time is not now 
 distant. Before the close of 1868 Denver will only be four 
 days from New York, and you can go through with one 
 change of cars. Therefore I am doubly glad that I have 
 come now, while there are still buffaloes and danger of In 
 dians on the Plains, camp-fires to build in the mountains, 
 rivers to swim, and landscapes to enjoy which have never 
 yet been described. 
 
 The weather continues intensely hot by day, with cool 
 and perfect nights. Sometimes the edge of the regular 
 afternoon thunder-storm overlaps Denver, and lays the hot 
 dust of the streets. These storms are superb aerial pict 
 ures. After they pass, their cloudy ruins become the 
 material out of which the setting sun constructs unimag 
 inable splendors. If I were to give the details of them it 
 
COLORADO AS A SUMMER RESORT. 167 
 
 would seem like color run mad. Such cool rose-gray, such 
 transparent gold, such purple velvet as are worn by the 
 mountains and clouds, are fresh wonders to me every 
 evening. The vault of heaven seems ampler than else 
 where ; the lines of cloud cover vaster distances, proba 
 bly because a hundred miles of mountains give you a more 
 palpable measure of their extent, and your eye recog 
 nizes infinite shades, gradations, and transitions either un 
 seen before or unnoticed. This amplification of the sky 
 and sky-effects struck me when I first entered upon the 
 Plains. It is grand, even there ; but here, with such acces 
 sories, it is truly sublime. 
 
 I do not now wonder at the attachment of the inhab 
 itants of the territory for their home. These mountains 
 and this atmosphere insensibly become a portion of their 
 lives. I foresee that they will henceforth be among the 
 clearest and most vivid episodes of mine. 
 
XXI. 
 
 HOMEWARD, ALONG THE PLATTE. 
 
 OMAHA, NEBRASKA, July 21, 1866. 
 
 ON Monday morning last, Mr. Beard and I took our 
 seats in the overland coach, at Denver. Our hopes of a 
 comfortable trip were blasted at the outset: there were 
 seven passengers for Fort Kearney, and four for the 
 " Junction," as it is called, on the Platte. The fare of one 
 hundred and twenty-five dollars which one pays the Hol- 
 laday Company, is simply for transportation: it includes 
 neither space nor convenience, much less comfort. The 
 coaches are built on the presumption that the American 
 people are lean and of diminutive stature a mistake at 
 which we should wonder the more, were it not that many 
 of our railroad companies suffer under the same delusion. 
 With a fiery sky overhead, clouds of fine dust rising from 
 beneath, and a prospect of buffalo-gnats and mosquitoes 
 awaiting us, we turned our faces toward " America " in no 
 very cheerful mood. 
 
 The adieus to kind friends were spoken, the mail-bags 
 and way-bill were delivered to the coachman, the whip 
 cracked as a sign that our journey of six hundred miles had 
 commenced, and our six horses soon whirled us past the 
 last house of Denver. The programme of the journey was 
 as follows : across the Plains in an east-by-northern course 
 to the Platte, eighty-five miles ; thence to Julesburg, on the 
 line between Colorado and Nebraska, one hundred and fif 
 teen miles more ; thence, still following the Platte, to Fort 
 Kearney, two hundred miles more; thence to -the western 
 
HOMEWARD, ALONG THE PLATTE. 169 
 
 end of the Central Pacific Railroad, wherever we might 
 find it. The agent of the Overland Mail Company in Den 
 ver was unable to give me any information upon this latter 
 point. There were rumors that the trains had reached Co 
 lumbus, one hundred miles west of Omaha, and we pre 
 ferred to believe them, as they made our anticipations of 
 stage travel less formidable. 
 
 It was eight o'clock when we started, and with every hour 
 the heat and dust increased. The long range of the Rocky 
 Mountains, to which we fondly looked back, no longer re 
 freshed us with their distant appearance of coolness ; they 
 might rather be compared to enamelled pictures of pale 
 violet, slowly fixing their colors in a furnace of quivering 
 heat. The green of the Plains was rapidly drying into a 
 tawny hue, and only the cactus, with its splendid flowers, 
 seemed to rejoice in the season. The long swells, extend 
 ing north and south, between the tributaries of the Platte, 
 gave some little variety to the road. In the hollows the 
 presence of dark-foliaged cottonrwoods told of subterranean 
 moisture, although the creek beds showed only dry, hot 
 gravel. The horses were changed at intervals of eight or 
 ten miles, and, when we had made four stations, I was 
 agreeably surprised on our halting for dinner at a neat 
 frame cottage, with stable and post-office adjoining. The 
 meal, at one dollar and fifty cents, was excellent, the water 
 alone having a suspicious flavor of alkali. We made use 
 of a corrective which I would recommend to all travellers 
 two or three lemons cut into pieces which can be stuffed 
 into a bottle, which fill with good whiskey. 
 
 In the afte'rnoon, when the breathless heat and fine, suf 
 focating dust were scarcely to be endured, there came a 
 merciful relief. The mountain thunder-storm either took 
 a wider sweep than usual, or varied from its course at the 
 head-waters of Cherry Creek, and came down the divides 
 toward us. The cool shadows crept over the landscape, 
 and after a time the rain followed. Then ensued a new 
 
170 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 annoyance : our outside passengers came in, and ten large 
 persons must occupy the space designed for nine dwarfs. 
 Toward evening the clouds lifted for an hour or two, and 
 we took our last look at the^ Mountains, lying dark and low 
 on the horizon. The passengers for the Junction were 
 pleasant fellows, and I mean no disrespect in saying that 
 their room was better than their company. After sunset 
 another setting in of rain drove them upon us, and by 
 eleven at night (when we reached their destination) we 
 were all so cramped and benumbed, that I found myself 
 wondering which of the legs under my eyes were going to 
 get out of the coach. I took it for granted that the near 
 est pair that remained belonged to myself. 
 
 The artist and I had now possession of the back seat ; 
 but our condition was not greatly improved. We tried 
 various devices with rolls of blankets, but all to no pur 
 pose. The coach is so ingeniously constructed that there 
 are no corners to receive one's head. There is, it is true, 
 an illusive semblance of a corner ; if you trust yourself to 
 it, you are likely to lean out with your arm on the hind 
 wheel. Nodding, shifting of tortured joints, and an occa 
 sional groan, made up the night. There was no moon, and 
 nothing was visible except the dark circle of the flains 
 against the sky. 
 
 At four o'clock in the morning, as the daylight was 
 creeping up under the clouds, we halted at a singular sta 
 tion. A wall of adobes three feet thick and six in height, 
 pierced with loop-holes for musketry, confronted us. The 
 top was rudely machicolated, and over the main entrance 
 was the inscription, " Fort Wicked." Entering the fortress, 
 we found a long adobe cabin, one part of which was occu 
 pied as a store, well stocked with groceries, canned pro 
 visions, and liquors. A bearded man, with a good-natured 
 but determined air, asked us if we would stop for break 
 fast. It was Mr. Godfrey himself, the builder and defender 
 of the fort, which is known all along the Platte as " God- 
 
HOMEWARD, ALONG THE PLATTE. 171 
 
 frey's Ranche." Here, last fall, he, his wife, and " another 
 man," withstood a siege of two days by three hundred In 
 dians, who finally retreated, after losing seventeen of their 
 number. Mr. Godfrey boldly announces that he will never 
 surrender. He is now well prepared, and the rumors of a 
 new Indian war do not give him the least anxiety. He is 
 "bad medicine" to the tribes of the Plains, who are as 
 cowardly as they are cruel. The stable and corral are 
 defended by similar intrenchments. 
 
 We had breakfast after an hour's delay, and then set 
 forward for Julesburg, which was still some eighty miles 
 distant. Daylight revealed the Platte on our left a nar 
 row, winding, muddy stream, with no timber on its banks. 
 On either side the same bare, brown plain rolled away to 
 the horizon ; streaks of sandy soil made the road toilsome 
 to our teams, but as the stations did not average more than 
 ten miles apart we made fair progress. The broad, well- 
 beaten road swarmed with freight teams as the day ad 
 vanced, and the 'condition of their cattle showed the 
 excellence of the pasturage on this route. The brown- 
 ness and apparent barrenness even of this portion of the 
 Plains does not indicate a sterile soil, though it is undoubt 
 edly more arid and sandy than any part of the Smoky Hill 
 route. 
 
 The weather favored us beyond expectation. The day 
 was overcast and delightfully cool ; mosquitoes and buffalo- 
 gnats did not molest us, and every station we left behind 
 added to our peace of mind. There was little to see be 
 yond the fact that no part of this region is naturally a 
 desert. The game has been driven away even prairie- 
 dogs are scarce ; where there was timber it has been de 
 stroyed (fire-wood was furnished to the military post at 
 Julesburg last winter at one hundred and twenty-seven dol 
 lars per cord !), and the first summer splendor of the flora 
 had passed away. There were some wild sunflowers and 
 lupines, and occasionally great purple beds of the cleome. 
 
172 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 Sometimes the Platte, forcing its way through the long, 
 monotonous waves of the soil, made for itself the sem 
 blance of a valley, with narrow lengths of fresh bottom 
 land and low knobs of hills ; but, on looking back on the 
 day's journey, I can recall no single feature of prominence. 
 It was one landscape all the way. 
 
 Until evening, at least. Then the sun came out and 
 illuminated the barracks of Julesburg, the flag-staff, and 
 flag. The buildings surrounding the parade-ground are of 
 adobes homely, but clean. The commanding officer's 
 residence, of the same material a French cottage, with 
 mansard roof is actually beautiful. We halted long 
 enough to exchange a few remarks with the officers, and 
 to be assured by them that there was no immediate danger 
 of an Indian attack ; then we pushed on to the village of 
 Julesburg, where we found supper, a two-story hotel nearly 
 completed, a store and billiard-room ! I perceive that 
 speculation (which is another name for civilization) is 
 anticipating the Pacific Railroad. 
 
 We now passed out of Colorado into Nebraska, having 
 made just half the distance from Denver to Fort Kearney. 
 This was a matter for congratulation ; but the second night 
 was coming on, and we had little hope that fatigue would 
 bring sleep. One of our passengers only was fortunate. 
 He had the happy faculty of distributing himself, as it 
 seemed, all over the coach, and remaining unconscious, 
 while his head was in the way of one, his hips of another, 
 and his feet of a third. During the day, by mutual ar 
 rangement and concession, we relieved our cramped mus 
 cles as much as possible ; when we settled for the night 
 (a mere make-believe) this was no longer possible, and the 
 season of suffering began. Except while the horses were 
 being changed at the stations, I do not believe that I slept 
 at all. The_ desperate attempt to do so produced a dim, 
 dazed condition, wherein I heard the constant roll of the 
 wheels, and felt every jolt of the coach. 
 
HOMEWARD, ALONG THE PLATTE. 173 
 
 On Wednesday morning at daybreak we halted for break 
 fast at Alkali Station, a dreary adobe building in the midst 
 of a dreary landscape, which had not yet shaken off the 
 gray night mist. From this point the country began to 
 improve. The attempts of the Platte to establish a valley 
 of its own gradually succeeded. There were marked lines 
 of bluffy hills on either side, green bottom-lands, now and 
 then imposingly broad, willow-brush along the river-banks 
 and on the scattered islands, and at last clumps of cotton- 
 wood trees. We still traversed streaks of sand, still drank 
 alkali water ; but the road was alive with teams, and there 
 were grazing and supply ranches at intervals of four or 
 five miles. Here and there new adobe buildings were 
 going up. We saw red cedar logs, which the people in 
 formed us came from valleys in the rear of the bluffs ; and 
 there was evidently no agriculture, simply because it had 
 not been tried. 
 
 The loneliness of the Plains was now so invaded that I 
 could only realize with difficulty where we were. We 
 passed mile after mile of great freight wagons some of 
 them carrying four tons weight and drawn by six yoke of 
 oxen of emigrant wagons, where .the sunburned women 
 and wild-looking children were stowed among the piled 
 household goods, there was no end to them. At noon 
 the wagons, under the direction of a train-master, were 
 " corralled " in a half-circle, the oxen turned loose on the 
 bottoms, and the teamsters except those detailed as 
 cooks took their ease in the shade between the wheels. 
 They appeared to be scattered portions of a single hun 
 dred-mile-long caravan. The ranches were well supplied 
 with those articles which the strong and rather coarse taste 
 of these wagon-men demand : whatever their quality may 
 be, the prices are superb. Mr. Beard bought a small tum 
 bler for seventy-five cents ! 
 
 Before we reached Cottonwood, which is half way be 
 tween Julesburg and Fort Kearney, the scenery became 
 
174 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 pleasant, in spite of its sameness. The valley expanded 
 to a breadth of ten miles, and every winding of the Platte, 
 which here divides into several arms, could be traced by 
 its picturesque lines of timber. On the coach from Omaha 
 we found Colonel Chivington (of Sand Creek memory), 
 who gave us the welcome intelligence that the railroad 
 trains were within sixty-five miles of Fort Kearney. All 
 the passengers had their heads tied up, to keep off the 
 buffalo-gnats ; yet we were not molested in the least. At 
 Cottonwood, the bottoms of thick green grass, the clumps 
 and lines of timber, with the first appearance of the ash 
 and elm, were a delight to the eye. Here we got a capital 
 dinner, and the water began to lose its alkaline taste. 
 
 All the afternoon the landscapes of the Platte were 
 broad and beautiful. The accession of the north branch 
 gave the river a majestic breadth and sweep ; the valley 
 became fifteen or twenty miles wide, between bluffs which 
 now rose high enough to make low, blue headlands in the 
 distance. In some glens on the right we saw red cedar. 
 Here, at least, there is a fine field for agriculture : I doubt, 
 even, whether irrigation will be required. I had not ex 
 pected to strike the fertile eastern belt of the Plains so 
 soon. It was a warmer counterpart of the rich French 
 lowlands, lacking only the grace given by centuries of 
 human habitation. 
 
 We rolled off the fourth hundred miles from Denver 
 during a third painful night, and at six o'clock on Thurs 
 day morning drove into the village of Kearney, a mile or 
 two west of the fort. The stage was just ready to start 
 for the end of the railroad, and the local passengers in 
 waiting grudged us time for breakfast. The crossing of 
 the Platte, they said, would take from two to three hours, 
 and we should have trouble in reaching Lone Tree Station 
 by six o'clock in the evening. The station agent, however, 
 was on our side, and we snatched a hasty refreshment be 
 fore departing for the ferry in an open, jolting wagon. 
 
HOMEWARD, ALONG THE PLATTE. 175 
 
 There were twelve hundred Pawnees encamped near the 
 fort, and I should have visited their camp had it been pos 
 sible. I only saw that Kearney is already a smart little 
 village, which will soon be a town, and the centre of a 
 splendid agricultural region. 
 
 The Platte is here a mile wide, its broad yellow surface 
 marked by a thousand shifting currents and the ripple- 
 marks of sand-bars. Two crazy little skiffs were moored 
 to the bank, and in these it appeared we and our baggage 
 were to be transported ; another wagon far away on the 
 opposite bank awaited our arrival. There was a pair of 
 short oars in the boat, but the ferryman, instead of taking 
 them, deliberately stripped to the skin and jumped into the 
 water. We were advised to follow his example before 
 taking our seats, but we only partially complied, retaining 
 shirts and coats to ward off the scorching sun. The other 
 boat being similarly prepared, we commenced the transit, 
 which is unique of its kind. 
 
 If the Missouri pilot learns a new channel with every 
 voyage, our Platte ferryman had even less dependence on 
 his route. He chose his course entirely by appearances on 
 the surface, avoiding both the sand-bars and the deeper 
 portions, for we stuck fast on the former, and drifted in the 
 latter. His policy was to walk on the very edge of the 
 bar, towing the boat by the bow. Sometimes he walked 
 a hundred yards up stream, then as far down again, tack 
 ing and veering like a ship in a shifting gale. At one mo 
 ment he stood in a foot of water and the boat sat fast ; the 
 next, he plunged overhead and clung, floating, to the gun 
 wale, while a passenger rowed. In half an hour we were 
 half-way across ; then one of our company stripped and 
 went to the ferryman's assistance. Between the two, we 
 reached the opposite bank in about an hour ; the second 
 boat, which had meanwhile stranded, detained us half an 
 hour more. Such is the Platte the meanest of rivers ! 
 
 It was a jolting old mule-wagon which was waiting for 
 
176 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 us; but a stage we were told would be found some five 
 miles further on ! Away we went in the clear, hot sun 
 shine, over meadows of splendid grass, along the edges of 
 beautiful groves and thickets, past the corn-fields of pioneer 
 settlers, when, behold ! an islanded arm of the river at 
 least two hundred yards wide appeared before us. We had 
 not yet crossed all the Platte. This arm, however, was 
 fordable ; all went well until we reached the middle, when 
 the team stuck. The bottom being quicksand, the mo 
 ment the wagon stood still the wheels began to sink. Out 
 sprang our ferryman, seized the tires, and urged until we 
 moved again. Then a whiffletree broke, and again we 
 commenced sinking ; the process was repeated several 
 times, and we were all on the point of taking to the river, 
 when a final desperate tug brought us over the last 
 channel. 
 
 Once in the stage, we rolled rapidly down the valley. I 
 was surprised to find settlement pushed so far westward. 
 From the time we crossed the Platte we were never out of 
 sight of corn and wheat-fields and what dark, heavy, lux 
 uriant grain ! No irrigation is needed, and there are no 
 finer crops east of the Rocky Mountains. The native 
 grasses are rank and thick as a jungle, and furnish an 
 unlimited quantity of the finest hay. Some of the farmers 
 have planted little groves of cotton-wood about their houses ; 
 and the rapidity with which they grow (six to ten feet in 
 a year) shows how easy it will be to reclothe these treeless 
 regions. 
 
 We were detained an hour waiting for dinner, and the 
 chances of our catching the evening train so diminished 
 that we presented the driver with a slight testimonial of 
 respect, in order to insure greater speed. The horses were 
 poor and the afternoon very hot, but we reached Lone Tree 
 before six o'clock, and were finally set down in the grass, 
 beside the waiting train, some minutes before its departure. 
 Here there was a saloon and two boarding shanties, which 
 
HOMEWARD, ALONG THE PLATTE. 177 
 
 are moved as the road moves. The track is already laid 
 fourteen miles west of the Lone Tree, and is being extended 
 at the rate of a mile and a half per day. Recently two 
 miles and seventeen hundred feet were laid in a single day 
 the greatest feat of the kind in the history of railroad 
 building ! The grading has already passed Fort Kearney, 
 and will reach Cottonwood half way from Omaha to 
 Denver by next winter. Who disbelieves in a railroad 
 across the continent now ? 
 
 When the train started, and the fair sunset sat upon the 
 grassy swells and far dim groves of the Platte, I gave my 
 self up to the exquisite sensation of rest. Aching in every 
 limb, and feverish from loss of sleep, the knowledge that 
 our hardships were over, was almost as soothing as slum 
 ber. There were but few passengers on the train, and 
 each of us enjoyed the luxury of a double seat, arranged 
 as a couch, for the night. Daybreak found us within ten 
 miles of Omaha, and at six o'clock we were set down 
 at the hotel, in precisely three days and twenty-two hours 
 from Denver. 
 
 12 
 
xxn. 
 
 GLIMPSES 'OF NEBRASKA. 
 
 ST. JOSEPH, Mo., July 27, 1866. 
 
 EXCEPT that vegetables are earlier and more abundant, 
 and that one is a little nearer to fruit and New York news 
 papers, I do not find a great deal of difference between the 
 civilization of Nebraska and that of Colorado. Omaha 
 and foenver are places of about the same size, the latter 
 probably the better built of the two. From this time on, 
 the former will increase more rapidly ; but when the rail 
 road reaches Denver, I imagine the balance will be re 
 stored. The people of Omaha are convinced that their 
 place will be another Chicago ; and, as they see six hun 
 dred buildings going up this season, we cannot so much 
 wonder at their " great expectations." They certainly have 
 a beautiful location if the Missouri River were to be de 
 pended upon. The crescent hills, open toward the east, 
 inclose a high, favorable shelf of land, upon which the city 
 can spread for some time to come. It is three miles across 
 to the Iowa hills, and the picturesque town of Council 
 Bluffs at their feet, so that they who reside in the higher 
 part -of Omaha enjoy a much broader and more beautiful 
 view than can be had from any other place on the Missouri. 
 
 I devoted the first twenty-four hours to absolute rest, 
 after my journey across the Plains. Moreover, the weather 
 was truly African in its dry, intense heat, making sight 
 seeing so much of a task that I deserve some credit for 
 seeing anything beyond what the hotel windows allowed. 
 In the pleasant company of Governor Saunders and Mr. 
 
GLIMPSES OF NEBRASKA. 179 
 
 Frost, of the Pacific Kailroad, I visited the height on which 
 the Capitol stands, the sulphur springs, and the extensive 
 shops and works which the railroad company has erected 
 within the past six months. What the latter has accom 
 plished is really amazing. There is now rail enough on 
 hand to reach Cottonwood, one hundred miles beyond Fort 
 Kearney ; several splendid locomotives are waiting to be 
 called into service, the manufacture of cars has com 
 menced, and the grandest basis is already laid for carrying 
 on the business of the road. The ties, mostly brought 
 down from the Upper Missouri, whether of pine, elm, 
 or cotton-wood, are bumetized to render them durable. 
 Some idea of the enormous expense of building the road 
 may be obtained from the statement that each tie, when put 
 down in its place, has cost the company from one and a 
 half to two dollars ! The cost of bringing railroad iron, 
 locomotives, and machinery to Omaha is also very great, as 
 there is no rail connection with the East. None of the 
 lines through Iowa will be completed before next summer. 
 
 The same process which I had noticed in Kansas the 
 gradual restoration of forests may be observed here. 
 The hills and valleys around Omaha, wherever they have 
 been protected from fire, are rapidly being clothed with tim 
 ber. Clumps of cotton-wood and evergreens sometimes 
 small groves of the former have been planted around the 
 farm-houses, which are built in dips and hollows of the 
 boundless grassy waves of the landscape. 
 
 The country is one of the most beautiful I ever looked 
 upon. A little more sandy, perhaps, than Kansas, but 
 equally fertile, it presents the same general features. I am 
 more than ever struck with the great difference between 
 this region and that to the east of the Mississippi. Here, 
 without very bold or prominent forms, there is none of the 
 wearisome monotony of the prairie, as in Illinois ; no un 
 sightly clearings, ragged timber, or swampy tracts, as in 
 Indiana and Ohio ; but Nature has given the smoothness 
 
180 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 and finish which elsewhere comes from long cultivation ; 
 and in twenty years from now both Kansas and Nebraska 
 will appear to be older than any other States west of the 
 Alleghanies. They have little of the new, half-developed, 
 American air about them ; but suggest some region of 
 Europe, from which war has swept away the inhabitants. 
 
 I crossed to Council Bluffs, which has an ancient, sub 
 stantial appearance contrasted with Omaha. The people 
 insisted that their rolling prairies, behind the bluffs, were 
 even finer than those of Nebraska, which is scarcely 
 possible. They (the people) have just awakened to the 
 necessity of annexing themselves to the business world, 
 and are now laboring to hurry the railroad through from 
 Boonsborough. Some day, perhaps, the Missouri may 
 leave the Omaha side of the valley and come back to 
 them : at present, their distance from the steamboat land 
 ings is a great drawback. The settling of Montana, never 
 theless, has given a new impulse to all the towns on the 
 river. No less than sixty boats have gone up to Fort 
 Benton this season. 
 
 On Monday morning I took the steamer for Plattsmouth, 
 some twenty-five or thirty miles below, by the river. I 
 should have preferred the land journey, but for a heat of 
 102 in the shade, a wind like a furnace blast, and stifling 
 dust. While the boat was in motion, a barely endurable 
 temperature was produced, and I enjoyed, here and there, 
 some lively glimpses of valleys on the Nebraska side, that 
 of the Platte especially being superb. Plattsmouth is 
 nearly a mile below the junction of the rivers, a pleasant 
 little place of a thousand inhabitants. Nothing but the 
 heat prevented me from spending the rest of the day and 
 evening very agreeably there. 
 
 On Tuesday to Nebraska City, forty miles further, by the 
 river. There is little to note on the way except the end 
 less changes of the current, adding hundreds of acres to 
 the meadows on one side, and undermining cotton-wood for- 
 
GLIMPSES OF NEBRASKA. 181 
 
 ests on the other. Nebraska City is not seen to advantage 
 from the river, to which it presents its narrowest side, the 
 chief portion of the place which has seven or eight thou 
 sand inhabitants lying in the rear of the bluffs. It is 
 an active, lively town, in spite of a predominance of the 
 Missouri-Secesh element, as I am informed. I found a 
 very comfortable hotel, and was indebted to an intelligent 
 German physician for a drive around the heights toward 
 evening. The heat was still my great torment. 
 
 There was no boat down the river on Wednesday, and 
 as I had an engagement at Brownville, twenty-five miles 
 distant, I was obliged to have dealings with a livery-stable. 
 The extreme of extortion in this line had been reached, I 
 imagined, in Kansas. I was mistaken. For the team 
 I hired (driven by an ex-Rebel soldier) I was obliged to 
 pay at the rate of eighty-Jive cents per mile ! This is double 
 Colorado and treble California prices. I was unable to. 
 resist the outrage ; for the liverymen of Nebraska City have 
 a mutual agreement to swindle strangers, and do not inter 
 fere with each other's operations. This is one of the dis 
 advantages of travel in the West. We are told that com 
 petition regulates prices : it does not. On the contrary, 
 combination keeps them up. No people are so fleeced and 
 flayed as ours. The law offers no protection, because our 
 politicians fear to offend any portion of the voting classes. 
 " They manage things differently in France." 
 
 Neither the consciousness of having been imposed upon 
 (a mean, disagreeable sensation), nor the stifling heat of 
 the day could prevent me from enjoying to the full the 
 magnificent country I traversed. During the five hours I 
 was upon the road I never lost the keen sense of surprise 
 and admiration which I felt on climbing the first rise of 
 land after leaving Nebraska City. The wide, billowy green, 
 dotted all over with golden islands of harvest ; the hollows 
 of dark, glittering maize ; the park-like clumps of timber 
 along the courses of streams ; the soft, airy blue of the dis- 
 
182 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 4 
 
 tant undulations ; these were the materials which went to the 
 making up of every landscape, and of which, in their sweet, 
 harmonious, pastoral beauty, the eye never grew weary 
 Not even when the sun burned with the stupefying fierce 
 ness of noon, and the vegetation seemed to crisp and 
 shrivel in the fiery south wind, did I wish to shorten the 
 *journey. 
 
 Brownville is a small, but pretty town, with a decided 
 New England atmosphere. By the time I reached it, I 
 had decided that this should be my last day of mere sight 
 seeing, and my last evening of lecture, in such a tempera 
 ture. I turned away from the enticements of Pawnee, and 
 other interior districts, and resolutely set my face toward 
 home. There was no boat the next day, but a stage for St. 
 Joseph (between eighty and ninety miles distant) the same 
 evening ; consequently a splendid moon, with neither heat 
 nor dust, for a considerable portion of the way. At eleven 
 o'clock I said good-by to the friends who had made my 
 short stay so pleasant, and, making a virtue of an inevitable 
 fact, decided that the night was too beautiful to be spent in 
 slumber. 
 
 The records of the United States Land Office at Brown 
 ville show that seventy-one thousand acres were entered in 
 the district during the quarter ending June 30. As two 
 thirds of this amount were taken by actual settlers as home 
 steads ; as the other districts of the Territory show -very 
 nearly an equal growth, and as the business of the present 
 quarter, so far, keeps pace with the last, it is easy to esti 
 mate the increase of population for the year. It cannot be 
 reckoned at less than fifteen thousand, making the present 
 population of the Territory about seventy-five thousand. 
 When the splendid agricultural capacities of the country 
 are better understood, the ratio of immigration will in 
 crease. Nebraska cannot much longer be kept out of the 
 Union by A. J.'s one-man power. 
 
 The night-journey was delicious. There was no other 
 
GLIMPSES OF NEBRASKA. "183 
 
 passenger, and I rode with the driver, a Union soldier from 
 Massachusetts, (how different from my Rebel of the day 
 before !) for the sake of society. The meadows, thickets, 
 groves, and grain-fields near at hand were clearly revealed 
 in the moonlight, but beyond them the scenery melted into 
 a silvery indistinctness. The signs of dawn came only too 
 soon, for with the first light of day I knew that the dewy 
 freshness of the air would be lost. I still had an entire 
 day of heat before me. 
 
 We stopped for breakfast at a place called Rulo (the 
 true spelling would be Rouleau, after the first French set 
 tler), and then pushed onward toward the Kansas line. 
 Across a bottom of almost incredible fertility, then a ferry 
 over the beautiful Nemaha River, and we left Nebraska 
 behind us. An Indian Reservation came next, and the 
 sight of two gayly dressed squaws on horseback, and two 
 naked boys trying to catch a pony, seemed to give a totally 
 different character to the scenery. It became again the 
 rich, free wilderness. 
 
 During the day I had several fellow-passengers, a gen 
 tleman from the Cherokee Country, an intelligent and glo 
 riously loyal Missouri lady, and several specimens of the 
 local population. The road ran some distance inland from 
 the river, climbing long swells whence there were out-looks 
 over ten or fifteen miles of magnificent country. All this 
 region is being rapidly settled. Villages the sure sign 
 of permanent occupation are springing up here and 
 there ; neat, substantial farm-houses are taking the place 
 of the original cabins; and hedges of Osage orange are 
 gradually creeping around the broad fields. When I first 
 saw the bottoms of the Kaw and Smoky Hill Fork, in 
 Kansas, nearly two months ago, it seemed to me that such 
 extraordinary beauty and fertility must be exceptional ; 
 but, last week, I found the same thing repeated on the 
 Platte, all the way from Cottonwood to Omaha. Now I 
 find it in the region intermediate between the two rivers, 
 
184 COLORADO: A SUMMER TRIP. 
 
 and from what I hear of the valleys of the Neosho, the Re 
 publican, the Big and Little Blues, the Nemaha and Loup 
 Fork, I am satisfied that what I have seen is the ordinary, 
 average type of all this country. I consider Kansas and 
 Nebraska, with the western portions of Iowa and Missouri, 
 as the largest unbroken tract of splendid farming land in 
 the world. 
 
 No one of us will live to see the beauty and prosperity 
 which these States, even in their rude, embryonic condi 
 tion, already suggest. The American of to-day must find 
 his enjoyment in anticipating the future. He must look 
 beyond the unsightly beginnings of civilization, and pre 
 figure the state of things a century hence, when the Re 
 public will count a population of two hundred millions, and 
 there shall be leisure for Taste and Art. We have now 
 so much ground to occupy, and we make such haste to 
 cover it, that our growth is and must be accompanied 
 by very few durable landmarks. All is slight, shabby, and 
 imperfect. Not until the greater part of our vacant terri 
 tory is taken up, and there is a broad belt of settlement 
 reaching from ocean to ocean, will our Western people 
 begin to take root, consolidate their enterprise, and truly 
 develop their unparalleled inheritance. 
 
 Travelling all day in a heat of more than 100 in the 
 shade the seventh day of such an extreme temperature 
 I hailed our approach to Elwood, opposite St. Joseph, 
 with inexpressible relief. During the afternoon we met a 
 great many emigrant wagons, carrying " poor whites " from 
 Missouri, Kentucky, and perhaps Tennessee, to lands of 
 better promise. The lank, brown men stared at us from 
 under their wild, bushy hair, with an expression of ignorant 
 wonder ; the mothers, with their four to six small, tow- 
 headed children (usually "one at the breast"), sat uncom 
 fortably upon piles of antediluvian furniture, and patiently 
 endured heat, flies, and dust. All of these people were 
 but one degree removed from pure barbarism, and their 
 
GLIMPSES OF NEBRASKA. 185 
 
 loyalty must have had its root in instinct rather than 
 intelligence. 
 
 If we could diversify the course of emigration, it would 
 be a great blessing to the country. A current from the 
 North to the South, with a counter-current from the South 
 to the North, would " reconstruct " the former Slave States 
 more solidly than any political measure. At present, the 
 movement is too much one way; and nothing shows the 
 narrowness and blindness of the Southerners so much as 
 their continued enmity toward the very class of men they 
 most need. 
 
 At six o'clock this evening I reached the Missouri, and 
 crossed to this place. Here I am at one of the termini of 
 railroad connection with the Atlantic coast, and may con 
 sider my travels at an end. Here the picturesque ceases, 
 and the tedious commonplace begins. So here I close my 
 communication with my readers, very much more fatigued 
 by my experiences than I trust they have been in the read 
 ing of them, and yet more refreshed and invigorated than 
 the kindest of those who have followed me can possibly be. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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