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OF THE

THE PUBLIC Urii{AR>
THE CITY OF DENVER

ni~

GARFIELD PEAK.

THE

CREST OF THE CONTINENT

A RECORD OF

A SUMMER'S RAMBLE IN THE ROCKY
MOUNTAINS AND BEYOND.

BY ERNEST INGERSOLLj

"We climbed the rock-built breasts of earth!
We saw the snowy mountains rolled
Like mighty billows; saw the birth
Of sudden dawn ; beheld the gold
Of awful sunsets ; saw the face
Of God, and named it boundless space/'1

THIRTY-EIGHTH EDITION.

CHICAGO:
R. R. DONNELLEY & SONS COMPANY, PUBLISHERS,

1890.

299796

BY S. K. HOOPER

1885.

R. R. DONNELLEY & SONS, THE LAKESIDE PRESS, CHICAGC

Bancroft Library

THE PEOPLE OF COLORADO,

SAGACIOUS IN PERCEIVING, DILIGENT IN DEVELOPING,
AND WISE IN ENJOYING

THE

RESOURCES AND ATTRACTIONS OF THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS,
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED

WITH

THE HOMAGE OF

THE AUTHOR.

PREFACE.

PROBABLY nothing in this artificial world is more deceptive than absolute
candor. Hence, though the ensuing text may lack nothing in straightfor-
wardness of assertion, and seem impossible to misunderstand, it may be
worth while to say distinctly, here at the start, that it is all true. We
actually did make such an excursion, in such cars, and with such equip-
ments, as I have described ; and we would like to do it again.

It was wild and rough in many respects. Re-arranging the trip, lux-
iiries might be added, and certain inconveniences avoided ; but I doubt
whether, in so doing, we should greatly increase the pleasure or the profit.

"No man should desire a soft life," wrote King Alfred the Great.
Roughing it, within reasonable grounds, is the marrow of this sort of recre-
ation. What a pungent and wholesome savor to the healthy taste there is in
the very phrase ! The zest with which one goes about an expedition of any
kind in the Rocky Mountains is phenomenal in itself ; I despair of making it
credited or comprehended by inexperienced lowlanders. We are told that the
joys of Paradise will not only actually be greater than earthly pleasures, but
that they will be further magnified by our increased spiritual sensitiveness to
the "good times" of heaven. Well, in the same way, the senses are so
quickened by the clear, vivifying climate of the western uplands in summer,
that an experience is tenfold more pleasurable there than it could become in
the Mississippi valley. I elsewhere have had something to say about this
exhilaration of body and soul in the high Rockies, which you will perhaps
pardon me for repeating briefly, for it was written honestly, long ago, and
outside of the present connection.

"At sunrise breakfast is over, the mules and everybody else have been
good-natured and you feel the glory of mere existence as you vault into the
saddle and break into a gallop. Not that this or that particular day is so
different from other pleasant mornings, but all that we call the weather
is constituted in the most perfect proportions. The air is ' nimble and
sweet,' and you ride gayly across meadows, through sunny woods of pine
and aspen, and between granite knolls that are piled up in the most noble
and romantic proportions. .

" Sometimes it seems, when camp is reached, that one hardly has
strength to make another move ; but after dinner one finds himself able and
willing to do a great deal. . .

"One's sleep in the crisp air, after the fatigues of the day, is sound and

6 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

serene. . . You awake at daylight a little chilly, re-adjust your blankets,
and want again to sleep. The sun may pour forth from the ' golden win-
dow of the east ' and flood the world with limpid light ; the stars may pale
and the jet of the midnight sky be diluted to that pale and perfect morning-
blue into which you gaze to unmeasured depths ; the air may become a per-
vading Champagne, dry and delicate, every draught of which tingles the
lungs and spurs the blood along the veins with joyous speed ; the landscape
may woo the eyes with airy undulations of prairie or snow-pointed pinnacles
lifted sharply against the azure — yet sleep chains you. That very quality of
the atmosphere which contributes to all this beauty and makes it so delicious
to be awake, makes it equally blessed to slumber. Lying there in the open
air, breathing the pure elixir of the untainted mountains, you come to think
even the confinement- of a flapping tent oppressive, and the ventilation of a
sheltering spruce-bough bad."

That was written out of a sincere enthusiasm, which made as naught a
whole season's hardship and work, before there was hardly a wagon-road,
much less a railway, beyond the front range.

This exordium, my friendly reader, is all to show to you: That we
went to the Rockies and beyond them, as we say we did ; that we knew what
we were after, and found the apples of these Hesperides not dust and ashes
but veritable golden fruit ; and, finally, that you may be persuaded to test
for yourself this natural and lasting enjoyment.

The grand and alluring mountains are still there, — everlasting hills,
unchangeable refuges from weariness, anxiety and strife ! The railway
grows wider and permits a longer and even more varied journey than was
ours. Cars can be fitted up as we fitted ours, or in a way as much better as
you like. Year by year the facilities for wayside comforts and short branch-
excursions are multiplied, with the increase of population and culture.

If you are unable, or do not choose, to undertake all this preparation, I
still urge upon you the pleasure and utility of going to the Rocky Mountains,
travelling into their mighty heart in comfortable and luxurious public con-
veyances. Nowhere will a holiday count for more in rest, and in food for
subsequent thought and recollection.

CONTENTS.

I — AT THE BASE OF THE ROCKIES.

First Impressions of the Mountains. A Problem, and its Solution. Denver— Descriptive
and Historical. The Resources which Assure its Future. Some General Infor-
mation concerning the Mining, Stock Raising and Agricultural Interests of Colo-
rado. - - * - 13

II — ALONG THE FOOTHILLS.

The Expedition Moves. Its Personnel. The Romantic Attractions of the Divide. Light
on Monument Park. Colorado Springs, a City of Homes, of Morality and Culture.
Its Pleasant Environs: Glen Eyrie, Blair Athol, Austin's Glen, the Cheyenne
Canons. ... _ _ . - 26

III — A MOUNTAIN SPA.

Manitou, and the Mineral Springs. The Ascent of Pike's Peak ; bronchos and blue noses.
Ute Pass, and Rainbow Falls. The Garden of the Gods. Manitou Park. Williams'
Canon, and the Cave of the Winds. An Indian Legend. - 36

IV — PUEBLO AND ITS FURNACES.

The Largest Smelter in the World. The Colorado Coal and Iron Company. Pueblo's
Claims as a Trade Center, and its Tributary Railway System. A Chapter of Facts
and Figures in support of the New Pittsburgh. - 51

V — OVER THE SANGRE DE CRISTO.

Up and down Veta Mountain, with some Extracts from a letter. Veta Pass, and the
Muleshoe Curve. Spanish Peaks. Beautiful Scenery, and Famous Railroading. A
general outline of the Rocky Mountain Ranges. - - - 60

VI — SAN Luis PARK.

A Fertile and Well -watered Valley. The Method of Irrigation. Sierra Blanca. A
Digression to describe the Home on Wheels. Alamosa, Antonito and Conejos.
Cattle, Sheep and Agriculture in the largest Mountain Park. - 71

VII — THE INVASION OF NEW MEXICO.

Barranca, among the Sunflowers. An Excursion to Ojo Caliente, and Description of the
Hot Springs. Pre-historic Relics— a Rich Field for the Archaeologist. Senor vs.
Burro An Ancient Church, with its Sacred Images. - - 8l

8 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

VIII — EL MEXICANO Y PUEBLOANO.

Comanche Canon and Embudo The Penitentes. The Rio Grande Valley ; Alcalde,
Chamita and Espanola. New Mexican Life, Homes and Industries. The Indian
Pueblos, and their Strange History. Architecture Pottery, and Threshing. 92

IX — SANTA FE AND THE SACRED VALLEY.

Santa Fe, the Oldest City in the United States. Fact and Tradition. San Fernandez de
Taos — the Home of Kit Carson. Pueblo de Taos Birthplace of Montezuma, and
Typical and Well- Preserved. The Festival of St. Geronimo. Exit Amos. - 106

X — TOLTEC GORGE.

Heading for the San Juan Country. From Mesa to Mountain Top. The Curl of the
Whiplash. Above the silvery Los Pinos. Phantom Curve. A Startling Peep from
Toltec Tunnel. Eva Cliff. " In Memoriam." - - - - 115

XI — ALONG THE SOUTHERN BORDER.

The Pinos-Chama Summit. Trout and Game. The Groves of Chama. Mexican Rural
Life at Tierra Amarilla. The Iron Trail. Rio San Juan and its Tributaries.
Pagosa Springs. Apache Visitors. The Southern Utes. Durango. - 120

XII — THE QUEEN OF THE CANONS.

Geology of the Sierra San Juan. The Attractions of Trimble Springs. Beauty and
Fertility of the Animas Valley. The Canon of the River of Lost Souls. Engineering
under difficulties. The Needles, and Garfield Peak. - 129

XIII — SILVER SAN JUAN.

Geological Resume. Scraps of History. Snow-shoes and Avalanches. The Mining
Camps of Animas Forks, Mineral Point, Eureka and Howardville. Early Days
in Baker's Park. Poughkeepsie, Picayune and Cunningham Gulches. The
Hanging. - -- ---136

XIV — BEYOND THE RANGES.

Ophir, Rico, and the La Plata Mountains. Everything triangular. Mixed Mineralogy,
Real bits of Beauty. " When I sell my Mine." An Unbiased Opinion. Placer
vs. Fissure Vein Mining. - 149

XV — THE ANTIQUITIES OF THE Rio SAN JUAN.

Rugged Trails. Searching for Antiquities. The Discovery. Habitations of a Lost
Race. Prehistoric Architecture, " Temple or Refrigerator." u Ruins, Ancient
beyond all Knowing." Guesses and Traditions. Some Appropriate Verses. 156

XVI — ON THE UPPER Rio GRANDE.

Good-bye and Welcome. Del Norte and the Gold Summit. Among the River Ranches.
Wagon Wheel Springs. Healing Power of the Waters. The Gap and its History.
A Day's Trout Fishing. - 166

XVII — EL MORO AND CANON CITY.

A Great Natural Fortress. Down ia a Coal Mine. The Coke Ovens. Huerfano Park
and its Coal. Canon City Historically. Coal Measures. Resources of the Foot-
hills. - - 177

CONTENTS. 9

XVIII — IN THE WET MOUNTAIN VALLEY.

Grape Creek Canon. The Dome of the Temple. Wet Mountain Valley. The Legend
of Rosita. Hardscrabble District. Silver Cliff and its Strange Mine. The
Foothills of the Sierra Mojada. Geological Theories. - - 185

XIX — THE ROYAL GORGE.

The Grand Canon of the Arkansas. Its Culminating Chasm the Royal Gorge. Beetling
Cliffs and Narrow Waters. Running the Gauntlet. Wonders of Plutonic Force.
A Story of the Canon. - - 193

XX — THE ARKANSAS VALLEY.

Entering Brown's Canon. The Iron Mines of Calumet. Salida. Farming on the Arkansas.
Buena Vista. Granate and its Gold Placers, — Twin Lakes. Malta and its Charcoal
Burners. A Burned-out Gulch. - - 201

XXI — CAMP OF THE CARBONATES.

California Gulch. How Boughtown was Built. Some Lively Scenes. Discovery of
Carbonates. The Rush of 1878. The Founding of Leadville. A Happy Grave
Digger. Practice and Theory of Mining. Reducing the Ores. - - 209

XXII — ACROSS THE TENNESSEE AND FREMONT'S PASS.

Hay Meadows on the Upper Arkansas. Climbing Tennessee Pass. Mount of the Holy
Cross. Red Cliff. Ore in Battle Mountain. Through Eagle River Canon. The
Artist's Elysium. Two Miles in the Air. On the Blue. - - - 222

XXIII — FROM PONCHO SPRINGS TO VILLA GROVE.

In Hot Water. A Pretty Village and Fine Outlook. Pluto's Reservoirs. The Madame's
Letter. Poncho Pass. The Sangre de Cristo Again. Villa Grove. Silver and
Iron. ........ 225

XXIV — THROUGH MARSHALL PASS.

The Unknown Gunnison. A Wonder of Progress. Climbing the Mountains in a Parlor
Car. Four Hours of Scenic Delight. Culmination of Man's Skill. On the Crest of
the Continent. The Mysterious Descent. - 243

XXV — GUNNISON AND CRESTED BUTTE.

Tomichi Valley. Gunnison from Oregon to St. Louis. Captain Gunnison's Discoveries.
A Discussion with Chief Ouray. A Beautiful Landscape. Crested Butte.
Anthracite in the Rockies. ______ 250

XXVI — A TRIP TO LAKE CITY.

Lake City. A Picture from Nature. A Hard Pillow. The Mining Interests. Alpine
Grandeur of the Scenery. The Home of the Bear and the Elk. Game, Game,
Game. - - 262

XXVII — IMPRESSIONS OF THE BLACK CANON.

The Observation Car. Gunnison River. Trout Fishing Again. The Rock Cleft in
Twain. A Beautiful Cataract. A Mighty Needle. The Canon Black yet Sunny.
Impressions of the Canon. Majestic Forms and Splendid Colors. - - 266

10 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

XXVIII — THE UNCOMPAHGRE VALLEY.

Cline's Ranch. Montrose. The Madame and Chum Respectfully Decline. The Trip
to Ouray. The Military Post. Chief Ouray's Widow. The Road on the Bluff.
Hot Springs. Brilliant Stars. • • • 273

XXIX — OURAY AND RED MOUNTAIN.

A Pretty Mountain Town. Trials of the Prospectors. A Tradition. From Silverton to
Ouray by Wagon. Enchanting Gorges and Alluring Peaks. The Yankee Girl.
A Cave of Carbonates. Vermillion Cliffs. Dallas Station. • 278

XXX — MONTROSE AND DELTA.

Playing Billiards. Caught in the Act. A Well- Watered District. Coal and Cattle. A
Fruit Garden. A Big Irrigating Ditch. The Snowy Elk Mountains. A Substan-
tial Track. A Long Bridge. - . - 290

XXXI — THE GRAND RIVER VALLEY.

An Honest Circular; Grand Junction. Staking Out Ranches. The Recipe for Good
Soil. Watering the Valley. Value of Water. Some Big Corn in the Far West. A
Land of Plenty. Going West. - - 296

XXXII — THE COLORADO CANONS.

A Memorable Night-Journey. Skirting the Uncompahgre Plateau. Origin of the Sierra
La Sal. Crossing the Green River. Wonders of Erosive Work. An Indian Tra-
dition. The Marvelous Canons of the Colorado. .... 303

XXXIII — CROSSING THE WASATCH.

The Tall Cliffs of Price River and Castle Canon. Castle Gate. The Summit of the
Wasatch. "Indians!" San Pete and Sevier Valleys. " Like Iser Rolling Rapidly."
Through the Canon of the Spanish Fork. Mount Nebo. - - 312

XXXIV — BY UTAH LAKES.

Rural Scenes Beside Lake Utah. Spanish Fork, Springville, Provo and Nephi. Relics of
Indian Wars. Pretty Fruit Sellers. First Sight of Deseret and the Great Salt Lake.
Ogden and Its History. --..... y,-j

XXXV — SALT LAKE CITY.

Sunday in Salt Lake City. The Tabernacle and the Temple. Early Days in Utah.
Shady Trees and Sparkling Brooks. Social Peculiarities of the City. Mining and
Mercantile Prosperity. Religious Sects. Schools and Seminaries. - 324

XXXVI — SALT LAKE AND THE WASATCH.

The Ride to Salt Lake. A Salt Water Bath. Keep Your Mouth Shut. The Shore of the
Lake. An Exciting Chase. A Trip to Alta. Stone for the Temple. An Exhilar-
ating Ride. • « - - « • . • • 335

XXXVII — Au REVOIR.

At Last. On Jordan's Banks. Chum's Grandfather. Let Every Injun Carry his Own
Skillet. The Parting Toast. Good- Night. « - - .342

ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGB

GARFTELD PEAK - Frontispiece.

DENVER - 17

DEPOT AT PALMER LAKE ------ 20

PH(EBE's ARCH - - 21

MONUMENT PARK ..... 24

IN QUEEN'S CA$ON ----... 28

CHEYENNE FALLS ....... 31

IN NORTH CHEYENNE CANON ..... 34

A GLIMPSE OF MANITOU AND PIKE'S PEAK - 37

THE MINERAL SPRINGS - .... 40

PIKE'S PEAK TRAIL - .... 45

RAINBOW FALLS ....... 49

GARDEN OF THE GODS ---.... 53

ENTRANCE TO CAVE OF THE WINDS .... 57

ALABASTER HALL ...... 62

VETA PASS - .... 67

CREST OF VETA MOUNTAIN - .... 69

SPANISH PEAKS FROM VETA PASS .... 75

SANGRE DE CRISTO SUMMITS ---... 73

SIERRA BLANCA - ... 83

GJO CALIENTE ........ g6

EMBUDO, Rio GRANDE VALLEY - .... 89

NEW MEXICAN LIFE - .... 94

A PATRIARCH .... 93

MAID AND MATRON ....... 99

OLD CHURCH OF SAN JUAN ----- 102

PUEBLO DE TAGS 107

PHANTOM CURVE - - 112

PHANTOM ROCKS ....... us

IN MEMORIAM ..... 119

TOLTEC GORGE • . - - 125

EVA CLIFF ........ 130

GARFIELD MEMORIAL ....... 131

NEAR THE PINOS-CHAMA SUMMIT - - 136

CHIEFS OF THE SOUTHERN UTES - - - - - 141

CANON OF THE Rio DE LAS ANIMAS 146

ON THE RIVER OF LOST SOULS - - - - 152

ANTMAS CASON AND THE NEEDLES .... 157

12 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

PAGE

SlLVERTON AND SULTAN MOUNTAIN - - 162

CLIFF DWELLINGS ....... 168

WAGON WHEEL GAP . . - - - 173

UP THE Rio GRANDE ...... 173

GRAPE CREEK CANON - ...... isi

GRAND CANON OF THE ARKANSAS 186
THE ROYAL GORGE - ----- 191

BROWN'S CANON ....... 194

TWIN LAKES - - - - - 199

THE OLD ROUTE TO LEADVILLE ----- 202

THE SHAFT HOUSE - .... 204

BOTTOM OF THE SHAFT • 205
ATHWART AN INCLINE - ----- 206

THE JIG DRILL - 207

FREMONT PASS - - - - 211

CASCADES OF THE BLUE ...... 214

MOUNT OF THE HOLY CROSS - - - - - - 219

MARSHALL PASS— EASTERN SLOPE 223

MARSHALL PASS— WESTERN SLOPE - - - 227

CRESTED BUTTE MOUNTAIN AND LAKE - 230

RUBY FALLS - - - 232

APPROACH TO THE BLACK CANON 235

BLACK CANON OF THE GUNNISON - - - 241

CURRECANTI NEEDLE, BLACK CANON . 247

A UTE COUNCIL FIRE - - 251

OURAY - 255

GATE OF LODORE - 261

WINNIE'S GROTTO ..... - 264

ECHO ROCK - - 267

GUNNISON' s BUTTE - 271

BUTTES OF THE CROSS - - 274

MARBLE CANON - 279

GRAND CANON OF THE COLORADO - - 283

GRAND CA&ON, FROM TO-RO-WASP - 287

EXPLORING THE WALLS - 292

CASTLE GATE 297

IN SPANISH FORK CANON - - - 300

TRAMWAY IN LITTLE COTTONWOOD CANON - 305

SALT LAKE CITY ... - 311

MORMON TEMPLE, TABERNACLE AND ASSEMBLY HALL 325

GREAT SALT T.AKR ...... 831

AT THE BASE OF THE ROCKIES.

OLD WOODCOCK says that if Providence had not made him a justice of the peace,
he'd have been a vagabond himself. No such kind interference prevailed in my case. I
was a vagabond from my cradle. I never could be sent to school alone like other children
—they always had to see me there safe, and fetch me back again. The rambling bump
monopolized my whole head. I am sure my godfather must have been the Wandering Jew
or a king's messenger. Here I am again, en route, and sorely puzzled to know whither. —
THE LOITERIXGS OF ARTHUR O'LEARY.

HERE are the Rocky Mountains ! ' I strained my
eyes in the direction of his finger, but for a minute
could see nothing. Presently sight became adjusted
to a new focus, and out against a bright sky dawned
slowly the undefined shimmering trace of something
a little bluer. Still it seemed nothing tangible. It
might have passed for a vapor effect of the horizon, had not the driver
called it otherwise. Another minute and it took slightly more certain
shape. It cannot be described by any Eastern analogy; no other far
mountain view that I ever saw is at all like it. If you have seen
those sea-side albums which ladies fill with alga3 during their summer
holiday, and in those albums have been startled, on turning over a page
suddenly, to see an exquisite marine ghost appear, almost evanescent in
its faint azure, but still a literal existence, which had been called up
from the deeps, and laid to rest with infinite delicacy and difficulty, —
then you will form some conception of the first view of the Rocky
Mountains. It is impossible to imagine them built of earth, rock, any-
thing terrestrial ; to fancy them cloven by horrible chasms, or shaggy
with giant woods. They are made out of the air and the sunshine
which show them. Nature has dipped her pencil in the faintest solu-
tion of ultramarine, and drawn it once across the Western sky with a
hand tender as Love's. Then when sight becomes still better adjusted,
you find the most delicate division taking place in this pale blot of
beauty, near its upper edge. It is rimmed with a mere thread of
opaline and crystalline light. For a moment it sways before you and
is confused. But your eagerness grows steadier, you see plainer and
know that you are looking on the everlasting snow, the ice that never
melts. As the entire fact in all its meaning possesses you completely,
you feel a sensation which is as new to your life as it is impossible
of repetition. I confess (I should be ashamed not to) that my first

14 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

view of the Rocky Mountains had no way of expressing itself save in
tears. To see what they looked, and to know what they were, was like
a sudden revelation of the truth that the spiritual is the only real and
substantial; that the eternal things of the universe are they which, afar
off, seem dim and faint."

There are the Rocky Mountains ! Ludlow saw them after days of
rough riding in a dusty stage-coach. Our plains journey had been a
matter of a few hours only, and in the luxurious ease of a Pullman
sleeping car; but our hearts, too, were stirred, and we eagerly watched
them rise higher and higher, and perfect their ranks, as we threaded the
bluffs into Pueblo. Then there they were again, all the way up to
Denver; and when we arose in the morning and glanced out of the
hotel window, the first objects our glad eyes rested on were the snow-
tipped peaks filling the horizon.

Thither Madame mafemme and I proposed to ourselves to go for an
early autumn ramble, gathering such friends and accomplices as pre-
sented themselves. But how? That required some study. There were
no end of ways. We were given advice enough to make a substantial
appendix to the present volume, though I suspect that it would be as use-
less to print it for you as it was to talk it to us. We could walk. We
could tramp, with burros to carry our luggage, and with or without
other burros to carry ourselves. We could form an alliance, offensive and
defensive, with a number of pack mules. We could hire an ambulance
sort of wagon, with bedroom and kitchen and all the other attach-
ments. We could go by railway to certain points, and there diverge. Or,
as one sober youth suggested, we needn't go at all. But it remained
for us to solve the problem after all. As generally happens in this life
of ours, the fellow who gets on owes it to his own momentum, for
the most part. It came upon us quite by inspiration. We jumped to
the conclusion ; which, as the Madame truly observed, is not altogether
wrong if only you look before you leap. That is a good specimen of
feminine logic in general, and the Madame's in particular.

But what was the inspiration — the conclusion — the decision? You
are all impatience to know it, of course. It was this :

Charter a train !

Recovering our senses after this startling generalization, particulars
came in order. Spreading out the crisp and squarely-folded map of
Colorado, we began to study it with novel interest, and very quickly
discovered that if our brilliant inspiration was really to be executed,
we must confine ourselves to the narrow-gauge lines. Tracing these
with one prong of a hairpin, it was apparent that they ran almost
everywhere in the mountainous parts of the State, and where they
did not go now they were projected for speedy completion. Closer
inspection, as to the names of the lines, discovered that nearly all

SOLUTION OF A PROBLEM 19

of this wide-branching system bore the mystical letters D. & R. G.,
which evidently enough (after you had learned it) stood for —

" Why, Denver and Ryo Grand, of course," exclaims the Madame,
contemptuous of any one who didn't know that.

"Not by a long shot!" I reply triumphantly, "Denver and Reeo
Grandy is the name of the railway — Mexican words."

" Oh. indeed ! " is what I 7iear; a very lofty nose, naturally a trifle
uppish, is what I see.

Deciding that our best plan is to take counsel with the officers of
the Denver and Rio Grande railway, we go immediately to interview Mr.
Hooper, the General Passenger Agent, among whose many duties is that
of receiving, counseling, and arranging itineraries for all sorts of pil-
grims. An hour's discussion perfected our arrangements, and set the
workmen at the shops busy in preparing the cars for our migatory
residence.

The realization that our scheme, which up to this point had
seemed akin to a wild dream, was now rapidly growing into a promising
reality, did not diminish our enthusiasm. Indeed we experienced an
exhilaration which was quite phenomenal. Was it the very light wine
we partook at luncheon? Perish the suspicion! Possibly it was the
popularly asserted effect of the rarefied atmosphere. But kinder to our
self-esteem th«m either of these was the thought that our approaching
journey had something to do with our elevation, and we accepted it as
an explanation.

But we had yet a few days to spare, and we could employ them
profitably in looking over this Denver, the marvelous city of the plains.
We studied it first from Capitol Hill, as our artist has done, though
his picture, so excellently reproduced, can convey but the shadow of
the substance. Then we nearly encompassed the town, going south-
ward on Broadway until we had passed Cherry Creek, and detouring
across Platte River to the westward and northward, on the high plateau
which stretches away to the foothills. The city lies at an altitude of
5,197 feet, near the western border of the plains, and within twelve
miles of the mountains, — the Colorado or front range of which may be
seen for an extent of over two hundred miles. In the north, Long's
Peak rears its majestic proportions against the azure sky. Westward,
Mounts Rosalie and Evans rise grandly "bove the other summits of
the snowy range, and Gray's and James' Peaks r ~"er from among their
gigantic brethren; wi.:1^ historic Pike's Peak, the uJ Mv landmark
that guided the gold-hunters of '59, plainly shows its white ^ -.< "Vhty
miles to the south. The great plains stretch out for hundreds ot ^./et
to the north, east and south. Near the smelting works at Argo, we
retrace our way and re-enter the city.

It is the metropolis of the Rocky Mountains, and a stroll through
these scores of solid blocks of salesrooms and factories exhibits at once

16 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

the fact that it is as the commercial center of the mountainous interior
that Denver thrives, and congratulates herself upon the promise of a
continually prosperous future. She long ago safely passed that crisis
which has proved fatal to so many incipient Western cities. Every year
proves anew the wisdom and foresight of her founders; and I think her
assertion that she is to be the largest city between Chicago and San
Francisco is likely to be realized. Most of her leading business men
came here at the beginning, but their energies were hampered when every
article had to be hauled six hundred miles across the plains by teams.
It frequently used to happen that merchants would sell their goods com-
pletely out, put up their shutters and go a-fishing for weeks, before the
new semi-yearly supplies arrived. Everybody therefore looked forward,
with good reason, to railway communication as the beginning of a new
era of prosperity, and watched with keen interest the approach of the
Union Pacific lines from Omaha and Kansas City. These were com-
pleted, by the northern routes, in 1869 and 1870; and a few months later
the enterprising Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe sent its tracks and trains
through to the mountains, and then came the Burlington route, a most
welcome acquisition, adding another link to the transcontinental chain,
which now binds the East to the West, the Atlantic to the Pacific coast.
At Pueblo, the Denver and Rio Grande, meeting the Atchison, Topeka
and Santa Fe, was already prepared to make this new route available to
Denver and much of Colorado, and adopting a liberal policy, at once
exerted an immense influence upon the speedy development and pros-
perity of the State.

Thus, in a year or two, the young city found itself removed from
total isolation to a central position on various railways, east and west,
and to its mill came the varied grist of a circle hundreds of miles in
radius. Now blossomed the booming season of business which saga-
cious eyes had foreseen. The town had less than four thousand inhab-
itants in 1870. A year from that time her population was nearly fifteen
thousand, and her tax-valuation had increased from three to ten millions
of dollars. It was a time of happy investment, of incessant building
and improvement, and of grand speculation. Mines flourished, crops
were abundant, cattle and sheep grazed in a hundred valleys hitherto
tenanted by antelope alone, and everybody had plenty of money.
Then came a shadow of storm in the East, and the sound of the thun-
der-clap of 1873 was heard in Denver, if the bolt of the panic was not
felt. The banks suddenly became cautious in Ic^ns; speculators declined
to buy, and sold at a sacrifice. Merchants found that trade was dull,
and ranchmen got less for their products. It was a " set-back " to Den-
ver, and two years of stagnation followed. But she only dug the more
money out of the ground to fill her depleted pockets, and survived the
"hard times" with far less sacrifice of fortune and pride than did most
of the Eastern cities. None of her banks went under, nor even certified

18 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

a check, and most of her business houses weathered the storm. The
unhealthy reign of speculation was effectually checked, and business was
placed upon a compact and solid foundation. Then came 1875 and 1876,
which were "grasshopper years," when no crops of consequence were
raised throughout the State, and a large amount of money was sent East
to pay for flour and grain. This was a particularly hard blow, but the
bountiful harvest of 1877 compensated, and the export of beeves and
sheep, with their wool, hides and tallow, was the largest ever made
up to that time.

The issue of this successful year with miner, farmer and stock-
ranger, yielding them more than $15,000,000. a large proportion of which
was an addition to the intrinsic wealth of the world, had an almost
magical effect upon the city. Commerce revived, a buoyant feeling pre-
vailed among all classes, and merchants enjoyed a remunerative trade.
Money was " easy," rents advanced, and the real estate business assumed
a healthier tone. Generous patronage of the productive industries
throughout the whole State was made visible in the quickened trade
of the city, which rendered the year an important one in the history
of Denver's progress. So, out of the barrenness of the cactus-plain,
and through this turbulent history, has arisen a cultivated and beau-
tiful city of 75,000 people, which is truly a metropolis. Her streets
are broad, straight, and everywhere well shaded with lines of cotton-
woods and maples, abundant in foliage and of graceful shape. On each
side of every street flows a constant stream of water, often as clear
and cool as a mountain brook. The source is a dozen miles southward,
whence the water is conducted in an open channel. There are said to
be over 260 miles of these irrigating ditches or gutters, and 250,000
shade-trees.

For many blocks in the southern and western quarter of the town,
— from. Fourteenth to Thirtieth streets, and from Arapahoe to Broadway
and the new suburbs beyond — you will see only elegant and comfortable
houses. Homes succeed one another in endlessly varying styles of
architecture, and vie in attractiveness, each surrounded by lawns and
gardens abounding in flowers. All look new and ornate, while some
of the dwellings of wealthy citizens are palatial in size and furnishing,
and with porches well occupied during the long, cool twilight character-
istic of the summer evening in this climate, giving a very attractive air
of opulence and ease. Even the stranger may share in the general
enjoyment, for never was there a city with so many and such pleasant
hotels, the largest of which, the Windsor and the St. James, are worthy
of Broadway or Chestnut street.

The power which has wrought all this change in a short score of
years, truly making the desert to bloom, is water ; or, more correctly,
that is the great instrument used, for the power is the will and pride of
the intelligent men and women who form the leading portion of the citi-

A MOUNTAIN METROPOLIS 19

zens. Water is pumped from the Platte, by the Holly system, and forced
over the city with such power that in case of fire no steam-engine is
necessary to send a strong stream through the hose. The keeping of a
turf and garden, after it is once begun, is merely a matter of watering.
The garden is kept moist mainly by flooding from the irrigating ditch in
the street or alley, but the turf of the lawn and the shrubbery owe their
greenness to almost incessant sprinkling by the hand-hose. Fountains
are placed in nearly every yard. After dinner (for Denver dines at five
o'clock as a rule), the father of the house lights his cigar and turns hose-
man for an hour, while he chats with friends; or the small boys bribe
each other to let them lay the dust in the street, to the imminent peril
of passers-by ; and young ladies escape the too engrossing attention of
complimentary admirers by busily sprinkling heliotrope and mignonette,
hinting at a possible different use of the weapon if admiration becomes
too ardent. The swish and gurgle and sparkle of water are always pres-
ent, and always must be; for so Denver defies the desert and dissipates
the dreaded dust.

Their climate is one of the things Denverites boast of. That the
air is pure and invigorating is to be expected at a point right out on a
plateau a mile above sea- level, with a range of snow-burdened mountains
within sight. From the beginning to the end of warm weather it rarely
rains, except occasional thunder and hail storms in July and August.
September witnesses a few storms, succeeded by cool, charming
weather, when the haze and smoke is filtered from the bracing air, and
the landscape robes itself in its most enchanting hues. The coldest
weather occurs after New Year's Day, and lasts sometimes until April,
Then come the May storms and floods, followed by a charming summer.
The barometer holds itself pretty steady throughout the year. There is
a vast quantity of electricity in the air, and the displays of lightning
are magnificent and occasionally destructive. Sunshine is very abun-
dant. One can by no means judge from the brightest day in New York
of the wonderful glow sunlight has here. During 1884 there were 205
clear days, 126 fair, and 34 cloudy, the sun being totally obscured on
only 18 days: and yet this record is more unfavorable than the average
for a number of years. Summer heat often reaches a hundred in the
shade at midday; but with sunset comes coolness, and the nights allow
refreshing sleep. In winter the mercury sometimes sinks twenty degrees
below zero; but one does not feel this severity as much as he would a far
less degree of cold in the damp, raw climate of the coast. Snow is fre-
quent, but rarely plentiful enough for sleighing.

Denver is built not only with the capital of her own citizens, but
constructed of materials close at hand. Very substantial bricks, kilned
in the suburbs, are the favorite material. Then there is a pinkish tra-
chyte, almost as light as pumice, and ringing under a blow with a me-
tallic clink, that is largely employed in trimmings. Sandstone, marble

THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

and limestone are abundant enough for all needs. Coarse lumber is sup-
plied by the high pine forests, but all the hard wood and fine lumber
is brought from the East. The fuel of the city was formerly wholly
lignite coal, which comes from the foothills; but the extension of the
railway to Canon City, El Moro and the Gunnison, have made the
harder and less sulphurous coals accessible and cheap.

And while she has been looking well after the material attractions,
Denver has kept pace with the progress of the times in modern advan-
tages. She is very proud of her school-buildings, constructed and
managed upon the most improved plans; of her fine churches, of her
State and county offices, her seminaries of higher learning, and of her
natural history and historical association. Her Grand Opera House is
the most elegant on the continent, her business blocks are extensive and
costly, and the Union Depot ranks with the best of similar structures.
Gas was introduced several years ago, and the system, which now in-
cludes nearly all sections of the city, is being constantly improved and
extended. The Brush electric light has been in very general use for
nearly three years, and the Edison incandescent lamps are now being

DEPOT AT PALMER LAKE.

employed. The telephone is found in hundreds of business places
and residences, the exchange at the close of last year numbering 709
subscribers. The water supply is distributed through forty miles of
mains, the consumption averaging three million gallons per day, exclu-
sive of the contributions of the irrigating ditches and the numerous arte-
sian wells. The steam heating works evapprate one hundred thousand

MODERN ADVANTAGES.

gallons of water daily, deliv-
ering the product through
three miles of mains and
nearly two miles of service
pipes; this being the only
company out of twenty seven
of its nature in the country
which has proved a finan-
cial success. Street car lines
traverse the thoroughfares in
all directions, and transport
over two million passengers
annually. Two district mes-
senger companies are gener-
ously patronized. The regu-
lar police force consists of
some forty-five patrolmen and
detectives, aside from the
Chief and his assistants ; and
a distinct organization is the
Merchant's Police, numbering PHEBE'S ARCH

twenty men. A paid Fire Department is maintained, at an annual
expense of $56,000, and the alarm system embraces twenty-six miles of
wire and fifty signal boxes. There are published six daily newspapers,
one being in German, and a score of weeklies. All are well conducted
and prosperous.

A branch of the United States Mint is located here, but is used for
assays only, and not for coinage. An appropriation has been made by
Congress for a handsome building, the site has been selected, and work
is now being pushed forward. The post-office is a source of considerable
revenue to the Government. There are six National and two State
banks, with a paid in capital of $870,000, and showing a surplus of
$754 000 at the close of 1883. The deposits for the year amounted to
$8,396,200, and the loans and discounts approximated $4,500,000. The
shops of the Denver and Rio Grande railway are doubtless the most ex-
tensive in the West, employing over 800 men, and turning out during
the year 2 express, 8 mail, 4 combination, 522 box, 303 stock, 25 refriger-
ator, 197 flat, and 300 coal cars, together with 8 cabooses. In addition
they have produced 350 frogs, 200 switch stands, and all the iron work
for the bridges on 350 miles of new road. The year's shipments of the
Boston and Colorado Smelting Company aggregate, in silver, gold, and
copper, $3,907,000; and in the same time the Grant smelter has treated,
in silver, lead and gold, $6,348,868. Finally, from the statistics at hand
it appears that the volume of Denver's trade for the year referred to,
apart from the industries above mentioned, and real estate transactions,

22 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

has -exceeded the snug sum of $58,856,998. In the meantime the taxable
valuation of property in Arapahoe county has increased $6,600,000.

These facts establish, beyond the slightest doubt, the truth that Den-
ver stands upon a firm financial basis. This the casual stranger can
hardly fail to surmise when he glances at her magnificent buildings, and
statistics will confirm the surmise.

Denver society is cosmopolitan. Famous and brilliant persons are
constantly appearing from all quarters of the globe. Five hundred
people a day, it is said, enter Colorado, and nine-tenths of this multi-
tude pass through Denver. Nowadays, "the tour" of the United
States is incomplete if this mountain city is omitted. Thus the registers
of her hotels bear many foreign autographs of world-wide reputation.
Surprise is often expressed by the critical among these visitors (why, I
do not understand) at the totally unexpected degree of intelligence,
appreciation of the more refined methods of thought and handiwork,
and the knowledge of science, that greet them here. Matters of art and
music, particularly, find friends and cultivation among the educated and
generous families who have built up society; and there are schools and
associations devoted to sustaining the interest in them, just as there are
reading circles and literary clubs. And, withal, there is the most charm-
ing freedom of acquaintance and intercourse — the polish and good-
breeding of rank, delivered from all chill and exclusiveness or regard
for "who was your grandfather." Yet this winsome good-fellowship
by no means descends to vulgarity, or permits itself to be abused. After
all, it is only New York and New England and Ohio, transplanted and
considerably enlivened.

Returning to our consideration of Denver's resources, it will
readily be seen that she stands as the supply-depot and money-receiver
of three great branches of industry and wealth, namely, mining, stock-
raising and agriculture.

The first of these is the most important. Many of the richest pro-
prietors live and spend their profits here. Then, too. the machinery
which the mining and the reduction of the ores require, and the tools,
clothing and provisions of the men, mainly come from here. Long ago
ex-Governor Gilpin, worthily one of the most famous of Colorado's
representative men, and an enthusiast upon the subject of her virtues
and loveliness, prophesied the immense wealth which would continue
to be delved from the crevices of her rocky frame, and was called a
visionary for his pains; but his prophesies have aggregated more in the
fulfillment than they promised in the foretelling, and his "visions"
have netted him a most satisfactory fortune. About 75,000 lodes have
been discovered in Colorado, and numberless placers. Only a small
proportion of these, of course, were worked remuneratively, but the
cash yield of the twenty years since the discovery of the precious
metals, has averaged over $7,000,000 a year, and has increased from

SOURCES OF WEALTH. 23

$200,000 in 1869 to over $26,376,562 in 1883. Not half of this is gold,
yet it is only since 1870 that silver has been mined at all in Colorado.
These statistics show the total yield of the State in gold and silver thus
far to exceed $154,000,000, not to mention tellurium, copper, iron, lead
and coal. Surely this alone is sufficient employment of capital and
production of original wealth — genuine making of money — to ensure
the permanent support of the city.

The second great source of revenue to Denver, is the cattle and
sheep of the State. The wonderful worthless-looking buffalo grass,
growing in little tufts so scattered that the dust shows itself everywhere
between, and turning sere and shriveled before the spring rains are
fairly over, has proved one of Colorado's most prolific avenues of
wealth. The herds now reported in the State count up 1,461,945 head,
and the annual shipments amount to 100,000, at an average of $20 apiece,
giving $2,000,000 as the yearly yield. Add the receipts for the sales of
hides and tallow, and the home consumption, amounting to about
$60,000, and you have a figure not far from $3,500,000 to represent the
total annual income from this branch of productive industry. The
whole value of the cattle investments in the State is estimated by good
judges at $14,000,000, nearly one-fourth of which is the property of
citizens of Denver. Yet this sum, great as it is for a pioneer region,
represents only two-thirds of Colorado's live stock. Last year about
1,500,000 sheep were sheared, and more capital is being invested in
them. Perhaps the total value of sheep ranches is not less than
$5,000,000, the annual income from which approaches $1,300,000.

The third large item of prosperity is agriculture, although it
advances in the face of much opposition. In 1883 the production
of the chief crops was as follows: hay, 266,500 tons; wheat, 1,750,-
840 bushels; oats, 1,186,534 bushels; corn, 598,975 bushels; barley,
265,180 bushels; rye, 78,030 bushels, and potatoes, 851,000 bushels. Add
to this vegetables and small fruits, and the yield of the soil in Colorado
is brought to over $9,000,000 in value. Farmers are learning better and
better how to produce the very best results by means of scientific irriga-
tion, and the tillage is annually wider.

Nor is this the whole story. Denver is rapidly growing into a
manufacturing center. Here are rolling mills, iron foundries, smelters,
machine shops, woolen mills, shoe factories, glass works, carriage and
harness factories, breweries, and so on through a long list. The flouring
mills are very valuable, representing an investment of $350,000, and
handling half the wheat crop of Colorado. I have dwelt upon these
somewhat prosy statements in order to point out fully what rich re-
sources Denver has behind her, and how it happens that she finds herself,
at. twenty-three years of age, amazingly strong commercially. Not only a
large proportion of the money which gives existence to these enterprises
(nearly every householder in the city has a financial interest in one or

24 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

several mines, stock ranges or farms), but, as I have intimated, the
current supplies that sustain them, are procured in Denver, and a very
la-ge percentage of their profits finds its way directly to this focus.
Denver thus becomes to all Colorado what Paris is to France.

MONUMENT PARK.

Through all the enormous area, from Wyoming far into New Mexico,
and westward to Utah, she has had no formidable rival until South
Pueblo rose to contest the trade of all the southern half of this commer-
cial territory. That she advances with the rapidly thickening popula-

SOCIAL AMENITIES. 25

tion of the State and its increasing needs, is apparent to every one who
has noted the gigantic strides with which Denver has grown, and the
ease with which she wears her imperial honors. Every extension of the
railways, every good crop, every new mineral district developed, every
increase of stock ranges, directly and instantly affects the great central
mart. This sound business basis being present, the opportunity to pleas-
antly dispose of the money made is, of course, not long in presenting
itself. It thus happens that Denver shows, in a wonderful measure, the
amenities of intellectual culture that make life so attractive in the old-
established centers of civilization, where selected society, thoughtful
study, and the riches of art, have ripened to maturity through long
time and under gracious traditions. There is an abundance here, there-
fore, to please the eye and touch the heart as well as fill the pockets, and
year by year the city is becoming more and more a desirable place in
which to dwell as well as to do business.

ALONG THE FOOTHILLS.

We've left behind the busy town,

Its woof and warp of care;
Our course is down the foothills brown

To a Southern city fair.

— STANLEY II. RAY.

HILE we were codifying our impressions of Denver, the
workmen at the shops had been busy. We were busy,
too, in other than literary ways, and badgered our
new acquaintances at the railway offices at all sorts of
times and with every manner of want. The butcher
and baker were harassed, and jolly old Salomon, the
grocer, came in for his share of the nuisance. But it didn't last long,
for one afternoon, just three days from the birth of the happy thought,
we were in our special train and rushing away to the South.

Not till then did this haphazard crowd — for we had enlisted three
gentlemen into our company — inquire seriously whither we were
going. What did it matter? We were wild with joy because of going
at all. Had we not bed and provender with us? Why could we not
go on always? have it said of us when living, Going, going, and written
over us when dead — Gone !

I have mentioned three companions besides the Madame. At least
two of the gentlemen you would recognize at once, were I to give you
their names. The Artist is famed on both sides of the Atlantic for the
masterly productions of his brush". He is a wide traveler and an enthu-
siast over mountain scenery. The Photographer is likewise a genius,
and literally a compendium of scientific knowledge and exploration.
Connected for many years with the Geological Surveys of this region, his
practical experience renders him an especially valuable coadjutor. The
Musician is young in years, with the scroll of fame before him. But he
comes of good stock, and faith is strong. And there is still another,
our Amos, of sable hue, who has our fortunes, to a large extent, in his
keeping, for does he not preside over our commissary? We shall know
him better by and by.

Our train consisted of three cars; and when we had passed the great
works at Burnham, we resolved ourselves into an investigating commit-
tee and started on a tour of inspection. We found our quarters exceed-
ingly well-arranged and comfortable, although in some confusion from

THE PILGRIMS EN ROUTE. 27

the hasty manner in which our loose supplies had been tumbled in. So
the committee postponed its report.

" How smoothly we bowl along ! " remarked the Musician.

"And in what superb condition are the roadbed and track," added
the Photographer.

Yet so gentle and noiseless was the motion that it required the testi-
mony of the speed-indicator to convince us that we were making thirty-
five miles per hour. We had passed the huge Exposition building at our
left, flitted by the picturesque village of Littleton, with its neat stone
depot and white flouring-mills, and were approaching Acequia (which
you must pronounce A-say-ke-a) along a shelving embankment overlook-
ing the Platte. Away to the west and across the valley, we could dis-
cern a yellow band, which the Photographer explained was the new
canal under construction by an English company, and which was
intended to convey the water of the Platte, from a point far up its canon,
to Denver. The canal or ditch here emerges from the mountains and
bears away to the southward for some distance, until it uears Plum
Creek, crossing which, by means of an aqueduct, it turns sharply to the
northward, and apparently climbs the higher table-lands in the direction
of Denver. As observed from the car window the anomaly seems indis-
putable, the deception of course being attributable to the ascending
grade of the railway. This is one of several cases in the State which
will be pointed out, by old-timers to new-comers, as veritable instances
where water runs up hill.

The valleys of Plum Creek and its branches are of good width, and
hollowed out of the modern deposits so as to form beautiful and fertile
lands, while on each side a terrace extends down from the mountains,
like a lawn. Following up the main valley we reach Castle Rock, with
its immense hay ranches and fortress-butte, and beyond is Larkspur,
named after one of the most striking of the plains birds. Thence the
run is through a section of billowy plains or depressed foot-hills, up a
steady ninety-feet grade to the Divide, in whose vicinity we encounter
a succession of high buttes and mesas, the lower portions being composed
of sandstone, while the tops are of igneous rock or lava These con-
stantly suggest artificial forms of towers, castles and fortifications, in
some places rising nearly a thousand feet above the railway. Not infre-
quently the cliffs are so regularly disposed that it is hard to believe them
merely natural formations. The entire scenery of this great ridge, and
extending far out into the plains, is of an unique and interesting char-
acter. Near the summit there are remarkable evidences of its having
been the coast-line of an ancient sea. The streams which rise on the
northern slope of this watershed find their way into the Platte, while
those on the southern declivity flow into the Arkansas. The Divide has
a good covering of pines, often arranged by nature with park-like sym-
metry, and forming a charming contrast with the bare but beautifully

THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

colored cliffs. This region has been a chief source of Denver's lumber
supply, and the timber tract is estimated to contain about 70,000 acres.

On the Divide is a beautiful sheet of water, known as Palmer Lake
from which is derived a large quantity of the purest ice. Here a
novel and attractive depot has been erected by the railway company,
and extensive improvements, including a dancing pavilion and sum-
mer hotel, cottages and boat-houses, have been made. In the hottest
seasons the temperature is always cool and invigorating, and no
spot within accessible distance is so well adapted for an economical and
delightful resort for Denverites. On the southern face of the hill the
rock-formations break out into still more marked resemblances to ruined
castles, showing moats, arches and turrets. It follows that

our Artist was enraptured ^P||k with the romantic features
of the place, and the ^HKUfck. Photographer insisted on

taking out his camera

One of his results,

contributed to the

this volume.

from the

rapid, and

tention

sorbed

swiftly

ing p a n o -

Close by are

ains — their

ramids holding

your eyes from

plains. "In

mony of form," - -

them : "in effect

QUEEN'S CANON

and getting at work.
Phebe's Arch, is
pictorial fund of
The descent
Divide is
our a t -
is ab-
by the
chang-
r a m a .
the mount-
snowy py-
entranced
far, far out on the
variety and har-
said Bayard Taylor of
against the dark blue
and grandeur, I know

sky, in breadth

of no external 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 Oberland, you might obtain a tolerable idea of this
view of the Rocky Mountains." Pike's Peak is constantly in sight, and
every curve in the steel road presents it in a different aspect.

Presently we find ourselves on the bank of Monument Creek, pass
the station of the same name, and soon encounter a series of small
basins, and side valleys, green-carpeted and with gently sloping and
wooded sides.

" Observe those odd rocks! " suddenly exclaims the Madame. " No-
tice how, all along the bluff, stand rows of little images, like the carved
figure-friezes of the Parthenon; and how those great isolated rocks have
been left like the discarded and broken furniture of Gog and Magog."

AMONG THE MONUMENTS. 29

"Yes," I say, "but the tone of your imagery is low. Long, long
ago a higher sentiment called them 'monuments,' and this whole illy-
defined region of grotesquely-cut sandstones, Monument Park."

And then we all fall into a discussion of the process of formation
of these quaint obelisks, which is interrupted by the Artist.

"Here is some pertinent testimony in Ludlow's admirable book,
the ' Heart of the Continent, ' which by your leave I will read to you.
Ready?"

"Fire away!" we reply, and do the same with our cigars, making
a treaty of amity in the blaze of a mutual match.

'" I ascended one of the most practicable hills among the number
crowned by sculpturesque formations. The hill was a mere mass of sand
and debris from decayed rocks, about a hundred feet high, conical, and
bearing on its summit an irregular group of pillars. After a protracted
examination, I found the formation to consist of a peculiar friable con-
glomerate, which has no precise parallel in any of our Eastern strata.
Some of the pillars were nearly cylindrical, others were long cones; and a
number were spindle-shaped, or like a buoy set on end. With hardly
an exception, they were surmounted by capitals of remarkable projec-
tion beyond their base. These I found slightly different in composition
from the shafts. The conglomerate of the latter was an irregular mixt-
ure of fragments from all the hypogene rocks of the range, including
quartzose pebbles, pure crystals of silex, various crystalline sandstones,
gneiss, solitary horn-blende and feldspar, nodular iron stones, rude agates
and gun-flint; the whole loosely cemented in a matrix composed of clay,
lime (most likely from the decomposition of gypsum), and red oxide of
iron. The disk which formed the largely projecting capital seemed to
represent the original diameter of the pillar, and apparently retained its
proportions in virtue of a much closer texture and larger per cent, of
iron in its composition. These were often so apparent that the pillars
had a contour of the most rugged description, and a tinge of pale cream
yellow, while the capitals were of a brick-dust color, with excess of red
oxide, and nearly as uniform in their granulation as fine millstone-grit.
The shape of these formations seemed, therefore, to turn on the compar-
ative resistance to atmospheric influences possessed by their various
parts. Many other indications . . . . led me to narrow down all the
hypothetical agencies which might have produced them, to a single one,
— air, in its chemical or mechanical operations, and usually in both. . . .
One characteristic of the Rocky Mountains is its system of vast indenta-
tions, cutting through from the top to the bottom of the range. Some
of these take the form of funnels, others are deep, tortuous galleries
known as passes or canons; but all have their openings toward the
plains. The descending masses of air fall into these funnels or sinuous
canals, as they slide down, concentrating themselves and acquiring a
vertical motion. When they issue from the mouth of the gorge at the

30 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

base of the range, they are gigantic augers, with a revolution faster than
man's cunningest machinery, and a cutting-edge of silex, obtained from
the first sand heap caught up by their fury. Thus armed with their
own resistless motion and an incisive- thread of the hardest mineral
next to the diamond, they sweep on over the plains to excavate, pull
down, or carve in new forms, whatever friable formation lies in their
way.'"

By this time Colorado Springs was at hand, and as we had decided,
like all other sensible people who come to Colorado, to sojourn awhile
there and at Manitou, our cars were side tracked. And while Amos be-
took himself to the preparation of our evening meal, we admired the
gorgeous sunset, and disposed our effects for the first night out.

Henry Ward Beecher once said that while the new birth was neces-
sary to a true Christian life, it was very important that one be born well
the first time. Colorado Springs was born well. It was organized on
the colony plan, and the first stake was driven in July, 1871. Intelligent
and far-seeing men were leaders of the enterprise, and in no way 'was
their sagacity more apparent than in the insertion, in every deed of
transfer, of a clause prohibiting, upon pain of forfeiture, the sale or
manufacture of alcoholic beverages on the premises conveyed. This tem-
perance clause was introduced by General W. J. Palmer, the president
of the colony, who during his services as engineer of railway extensions,
had observed the destruction which the unrestrained traffic in intoxi-
cants worked .to life and property. It was not sentiment, but a sound
business precaution, as the result has proved. Of course this provision
has been contested, but it has been legally sustained, and has given the
town the best moral tone of any in Colorado. The location was also
wisely chosen, broad and regular streets were carefully laid out, a sys-
tem of irrigation established, thousands of trees planted, and reserva-
tions for parks set aside. Some of the avenues running north and south
might with propriety be designated boulevards, being 140 feet in width,
with double roadways separated by parallel rows of trees. Other trees
shade the walks at either side, and at their roots flow rapid streamlets of
clearest water. The drives are smooth and hard, and the soil never be-
comes muddy, the moisture penetrating rapidly through the light grav-
elly loam. The gentle inclination southward renders drainage a very
simple matter.

Seen from the railway, the town appears to be located upon a con
siderable elevation. In fact it stands upon a plateau in the midst of a
valley. The thirty-five miles of streets and avenues are closely lined
with substantial business blocks, pretentious residences, or tasty cottages.
The pink and white stone of the Manitou quarries is largely used; and
pent-roofs, ornamental gables, red chimneys, and the whole category of
renaissance peculiarities, have representation in the architecture. The

A MODEL COLONY.

dwellers in these abodes are principally of the cultured and refined
classes. Invalids from the intellectual centers of the East find health
and congenial society here, while numbers of opulent mine owners and
stockmen make the Springs their winter home.

The public buildings are all creditable; the Deaf- Mute Institute,
Colorado College, the churches and schools being specially noteworthy.

The Opera House
is a veritable bijou,
handsome and con-
venient in all its
appointments, and
with a single excep-
tion not surpassed
west of the Mis-
souri. The new
hotel, The Antlers,
erected at a cost
of over $125,000
is of stone, and is
without doubt the
most artistic and
elegant structure of
its kind in the State.
It occupies a sight-
ly position at the
edge of the plateau,
and from its balco-
nies and verandas a
marvelous and most
inspiring view is
presented. The
foothills lie along
the west, about five
miles distant, the
massive outlines of
Cheyenne Mount-
ain a little to the
left, and the huge
red towers that
mark the gateway
to the Garden of
the Gods lifting
their crests over the
Mesa at the right,
CHEYENNE FALLS. while above them

32 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

all is reared the snow-crowned summit of Pike's Peak. To the north,
is seen in the foreground the gray shoulders of the buttes, and in the
distance the dark pine-covered elevation of the Divide. Easterly the
land rises gently in a gray, grass-clad plain, until it cuts the blue horizon
with a level line; while southward the mountains trend away, purple in
the distance.

Colorado Springs lies under the shadow of Pike's Peak; and in the
short autumn days the sun drops out of sight behind the mountain with
startling suddenness at four o'clock. Then come the cool shadows,
when fires have to be replenished, and doors and windows closed.
From ten o'clock until the sun hides behind the hills, the blue skies, the
soft breezes the grateful warmth, suggest that month in which, if ever,
come perfect days. The June roses are absent but the days are as rare
as a day in June. The average temperature here is sixty degrees, and
there are about three hundred days of sunshine in the year.

Within a radius of ten miles about the Springs are to be found
more "interesting, varied and famous scenic attractions than in any
similar compass the countiy over," we are told by the guide, and we are
quite ready to believe when they are recounted. A drive of three miles
across the Mesa, with its magnificent mountain view, brings you to
Glen Eyrie, the secluded home of General Palmer, originator of the
Denver and Rio Grande railway. "At the entrance you pass a little
lodge — a sonnet in architecture, if one may so express it — the small
but perfect rendering of a harmonious thought ; you cross and recross a
rushing, tumbling mountain brook over a dozen different bridges, some
rustic, some of masonry, but each a gem in design and fitness; then at
last, after the mind is properly tuned, as it were, to perfect accord, the
full symphony bursts upon you. In the shadow of the eternal rock,
with the wonderful background of mountains, surrounded by all that
art can lend nature, is this delicious anachronism of a Queen Anne
house, in sage-green and deep dull red, with arched balconies under
pointed gables, and carved projections over mullioned windows, and
trellised porches, with stained glass loopholes and an avalanche of
roofs." A little distance from the house strange forms of red sanGstone
lift their heads far above the foliage, like a file of genii marching down
on solemn mission from their abodes in mountain caves, while on the
ledges of the gray bluffs opposite the eagles have built their nests.
Farther up the Glen, and yet a part of it, is Queen's Canon, a mosi
rugged gorge, in which the wilduess of nature has been for the' most
part unopposed. The same turbulent brook comes dashing down, in a
series of cascades and rapids, from the Devil's Punch-Bowl, near the
head of the Canon. Rustic bridges cross it near the foot, one of which
is made the subject of an engraving ; but soon the pathway breaks into
a mere trail, which leads over boulders and fallen tree-trunks, or clings
to precipitous cliffs which tower hiffh overhead.

LEAPING WATERS. 33

One mile north of Glen Eyrie is Blair Athol, with its exquisitely
tinted pink sandstone pillars; while about the same distance to the
south is the Garden of the Gods, which it seems, however, more
proper to classify with Manitou's environs. Five miles northeasterly
from the Springs are Austin's Bluffs, and a few miles west of these,
Monument Park. Nearer by, and due west, are the Red and Bear Creek
Caftons. An excellent way of reaching Pike's Peak is by the Cheyenne
Mountain toll road, which terminates in a good trail passing the Seven
Lakes. The Cheyenne Canons, at the northern base of the mountain
of the same name, are greatly frequented, and justly rank high in the
category. They are two in number.

South Cheyenne Canon is full of surprises. " The vulgar linear
measure of its length is out of harmony with the winding path over
rocks, between straight pines, and across the rushing waters of the
brook that boils down the whole rocky cut. The stream, tossing over
its rough bed and dropping into sandy pools, drives one from side to
side of the narrow passage-way for foothold. Eleven times one crosses
it, by stepping from one rolling and uncertain stone to another, by
balancing across the lurching trunk of a felled tree, or by dams of
driftwood; and, finally, skirting a huge boulder that juts out into
the water, and jumping from rock to rock, the head of the Canon is
reached. The narrow gorge ends in a round well of granite, down one
side of which leaps, slides, foams and rushes a series of waterfalls.
Seven falls in line drop the water from the melted snow above into this
cup. Looking from below, one sees (as in our illustration) only three,
that, starting down the last almost perpendicular wall and striking
ledges in the rock, and oblique crevices, send their jet shooting in a
curved spray to the pool. In this deep hollow only the noonday sun
ever shines, and a narrow bank of snow lies against one side in the
shadow of the cliff. Going up the Canon, with the roar of the waters
ahead and the wild path before one, the loftiness and savage wildness of
the walls catch only a dizzying glance, but coming out, their sides seem
to touch the heavens and to be measureless. The eye can hardly take
in the vast height, and with the afternoon sun touching only the
extreme tops, one realizes in what a crevice and fissure of the rocks the
Canon winds. Across the widest place between the walls a girl could
throw a stone, and from that it narrows even more. The cool, dim
light down at the base contrasts strangely with the red blaze that
reflects from the top of the high walls; and emerging from one
group of pine trees, a turn in the Canon confronts one with a whole
wall of sandstone burning in the intense sunlight. A comparison
between this and the Via Mala and the other wild gorges of the Alps is
impossible, but had legend and history and poetry followed it for cen-
turies, South Cheyenne Canon would have 'its great features acknowl-
edged. Let a ruined tower stand at its entrance, whence robber knights

34 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

IN NORTH CHEYENNE CANON.

had swooped down upon travelers and picked out the teeth of wealthy
Hebrews; let a nation fight for its liberty through its chasm; and then
let my Lord Byron turn loose the flood of his imagery upon it. After
all, its wildness and untouched solitude are most impressive; and with-
out history, save of the seasons, or sound, save of the wind, the water
and the eagles, centuries have kept it for the small world that knows
it now." So discourses a very charming lady writer.

North Cheyenne Canon is scarcely less interesting, though less
widely known. Its beauty is of a milder type, the walls advancing and
retreating, and anon breaking into gaily-colored pinnacles on which the

THE COLORADO NIGHTINGALE. 35

sunlight plays in strange freaks of light and shade. The little brook
winds like a silver band beside the path, encircling the boulders which
it cannot leap, and all the while singing softly to the rhythm of swaying
vines. The birds chirp in unison as they skip from rock to rock, and in
the harmony and essence of the scene all are subdued— save the Artist,
whose deft pencil cannot weary in so much loveliness. When words
fail, it is fortunate he is at hand to rescue writer and reader alike.

It was during our stay at Colorado Springs we made acquaintance
with the burro. It is the nightingale of Colorado; its range of voice is
limited, consisting indeed of only two notes; but the amount of elo-
quence, the superb quality, the deep resonance and flexible sinuosity
which can be thrown by this natural musician into such a small compass
are tremendous. As they lope down the street, the larboard ear in air,
while the starboard droops limply, the long tapir-like nose quivering
with the mighty volume of sound which is pouring through it, the slop-
ing Chinese eyes looking at you sideways with the lack-lustre expression
of their race, and an artistic kick thrown in occasionally to produce the
tremolo that adds the last touch of grace to the ringing voice, you are
overwhelmed.

We betook ourselves to the train one evening, after our by no
means thorough exploration of the neighborhood, and began our prepa-
rations for a few days' absence at Manitou. It was only five miles away,
and we had decided not to take our cars up. Retiring early, we fell
asleep to dream of new pleasures, for which our appetites were already
whetted.

Ill

A MOUNTAIN SPA.

. . . And the ray

Of a bright sun can make sufficient holiday.
Developing the mountains, leaves, and flowers.

And shining in the brawling brook, whereby,
Clear as its current, glide the sauntering hours

With a calm languor, which, though to the eye
Idlesse it seem, hath its morality.

— PETRARrrt.

S well omit the Lions of St. Mark from a visit to Ven-
ice, as to pass by Manitou in a tour of Colorado.
Manitou, the sacred health-fountains of Indian tradi-
tion, the shrine of disabled mountaineers, the "Sara-
toga " of the Rockies.

Leaving Colorado Springs, a branch of the railway
swings gracefully around the low hills in which the Mesa terminates,
and points for the gap in the mountains directly to the west. Nearly
three miles from the junction we pass the driving park, and immedi-
ately after run up to Colorado City, the first capital of the Territory,
and now a quiet little hamlet, whose chief industry is the production
of much beer. Recalling the temperance proclivities of the Springs,
it is unfortunately not strange that a drive to Colorado City in the long
summer evenings should prove so attractive to the ardent youth of
untamed blood. Then the road passes into the clusters of cottonwoods
and willows which fringe the brook, crossing, recrossing, and dash-
ing through patches of sunlight, whence the huge colored pinnacles in
the Garden of the Gods are descried over the broken hills at the right.
It is a striking ride, and curiously the location of the railway has not
been allowed to mar its native beauty. Describing the contour of a pro-
jecting foothill, we obtain our first glimpse of Manitou, with its great
hotels, its cut-stone cottages, and its picturesque station. Just across
the way, and in the lowest depression of the narrow vale, is a charm-
ing villa, embowered in shrubbery, with quaint gables and porches, and
phenomenal lawns and flower-beds. It is the home of Dr. W. A. Bell,
for years vice-president of the Denver and Rio Grande railway.

The village itself is grouped in careless ease along the steep and
bushy slopes of the valley, straggling about and abounding in miniature
chalets, precisely as a mountain village ought to do. The Fontaine-qui-

HEALTH AND PLEASURE. 37

•

Bouille, full of the sprightliness of its youth in Ute Pass, and its escapade
at Rainbow Falls, comes dashing and splashing, and singing its happy
song:

" I chatter over stony ways,

In little sharps and trebles;
I bubble into eddying bays,
I babble on the pebbles."

Down close to this frolicsome, icy-cold stream, are built the larger
hotels, the Beebee and Manitou, surrounded by groves of cottonwood,
aspen, wild cherry and box elder. They are cheery, clean, homelike,

A GLIMPSE OF MANITOU AND PIKE'S PEAK.

38 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

and handsomely furnished. The broad piazzas afford the finest views
of Pike's Peak, Cameron's Cone, and their confreres. Here gather the
" beauty and chivalry " of many climes, and in the long, soft evenings,
devoid of dew or moisture, the cozy nooks offer the seclusion for — we
had nearly said, flirtation — or cool refuge from the heated dancing-
hall. Rustic bridges cross the brook, leading into a labyrinth of shade
and on up to the crags behind. At the rear of the hotels, Lover's Lane,
a most romantic ramble, starts out in a half-mile maze through arbors,
and flowering shrubs, and over little precipices, for the springs. Beside
the path, and in out-of-the-way spots among the bushes, are alluring
seats, only large enough for two, where you may sit, while at your feet
the selfsame brooklet murmurs:

" I steal by lawns and grassy plots;

I slide by hazel covers ;
I move the sweet forget-me-nots
That grow for happy lovers."

Further up stream, a little way, are the homes of the citizens, and
more hotels and boarding places — the Cliff House, Barker's, and a
dozen others. Here, too, on the banks of the creek, boiling up in basins
of their own secretion, and hidden under rustic kiosks of a later date,
are the springs themselves. They are six in number, varying in temper-
ature from 43° to 56° F., and are strongly charged with carbonic acid.
" Coming up the valley," writes an authority, " the first is the Shoshone,
bubbling up under a wooden canopy, close beside the main road of
the village, and often called the Sulphur Spring, from the yellow deposit
left around it. A few yards further on, and in a ledge of rock over-
hanging the right bank of the Fontaine, is the Navajo (shown in the
foreground of our picture), containing carbonates of soda, lime and
magnesia, and still more strongly charged with carbonic acid, having a
refreshing taste similar to seltzer water. From this rocky basin, pipes
conduct the water to the bath-house, which is situated on the stream a
little below. Crossing by a pretty rustic bridge, we come to the
Manitou, close to an ornamental summer-house; its taste and properties
nearly resemble the Navajo. Recrossing the stream and walking a
quarter of a mile up the Ute Pass road, following the right bank of the
Fontaine, we find, close to its brink, the Ute Soda. This resembles the
Manitou and Navajo, but is chemically less powerful, though much
enjoyed for a refreshing draught. Retracing one's steps to within two
hundred yards of the Manitou Spring, we cross a bridge leading over a
stream which joins the Fontaine at almost a right angle from the south-
west; following up the right bank of this mountain brook, which is
called Ruxton's Creek, we enter the most beautiful of the tributary val-
leys of Manitou. Traversing the winding road among rocks and trees
for nearly half a mile, we reach a pavilion close to the right bank

THERAPEUTIC QUALITIES OF THE WATERS. 39

of the creek, in which we find the Iron Ute, the water being highly
effervescent, of the temperature of 44° 3 F., and very agreeable in spite
of its marked chalybeate taste. Continuing up the left bank of the
stream for a few hundred yards, we reach the last of the springs that
have been analyzed — the Little Chief; this is less agreeable in taste,
being less effervescent and more strongly impregnated with sulphate of
soda than any of the other springs, and containing nearly as much iron
as the Iron Ute.

" These springs have from time immemorial enjoyed a reputation as
healing waters among the Indians, who, when driven from the glen by
the inroads of civilization, left behind them wigwams to which they
used to bring their sick ; believing, as they did, that the Good Spirit
breathed into the waters the breath of life, they bathed and drank of
them, thinking thereby to find a cure for every ill ; yet it has been found
that they thought most highly of their virtues when their bones and
joints were racked with pain, their skins covered with unsightly blotches,
or their warriors weakened by wounds or mountain sickness. During
\he seasons that the use of these waters has been under observation, it
nas been noticed that rheumatism, certain skin diseases, and cases of
debility have been much benefited, so far confirming the experience of
the past. The Manitou and Navajo have also been highly praised for
their relief of old kidney and liver troubles, and the Iron Ute for
chronic alcoholism and uterine derangements. Many of the phthisical
patients who come to this dry, bracing air in increasing numbers are
also said to have drunk of the waters with evident advantage.

" Professor Loew (chemist to the Wheeler expedition), speaking of
the Manitou Springs as a group, says, very justly, they resemble those
of Ems, and excel those of Spa — two of the most celebrated in Europe.

" On looking at the analyses of the Manitou group it will be seen
that they all contain carbonic acid and carbonate of soda, yet they vary
in some of their other constituents. We will, therefore, divide them
into three groups of carbonated soda waters: 1. The carbonated soda
waters proper, comprising the Navajo, Manitou and Ute Soda, in which
the soda and carbonic acid have the chief action. 2. The purging car-
bonated soda waters, comprising the Little Chief and Shoshone, where
the action of the soda and carbonic acid is markedly modified by the
sulphates of soda and potash. 3. The ferruginous carbonated soda
waters where the action of the carbonic acid and soda is modified by
the carbonate of iron, comprising the Iron Ute and the Little Chief,
which latter belongs to this group as well as to the preceding one."

Such are the medicinal fountains that not only have proved them-
selves blessings to thousands of invalids, sick of pharmacy, but cause
the summer days here to be haunted by pleasure-seekers, who make the
health of some afflicted friend, or weariness from overwork in them-
selves, excuse for coming ; or boldly assert themselves here purely for

THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

pleasure. Time was when this entrance to a score of glens was a rendez-
vous for game and primitively wild. Even a dozen years ago it, would
answer to this description, and now one need not go far in winter to find
successful shooting. "In summer time," to quote the Earl of Dun-
raven, "beautiful but dangerous creatures roam the park. The tracks
of tiny little shoes are more frequent than the less interesting, but harm-

THE MINERAL SPRINGS.

less, footprints of mountain sheep. You are more likely to catch a
glimpse of the hem of a white petticoat in the distance than of the
glancing form of a deer. The marks of carriage wheels are more plen-
tiful than elk signs, and you are not now so liable to be scared by the
human-like track of a gigantic bear as by the appalling impress of a
number eleven boot."

Do not imagine, however, that all the boot-tracks mark "the appal-
ling impress of a number eleven." The Madame tells me they dress as
well at Manitou as at Saratoga; to me this seems a doubtful kind of
compliment, but she intended it to cover the perfection of summer
toilets. At Manitou, indeed, you do all you think it proper to do in the
Green Mountains, or at White Sulphur, or any other upland resort, but
in far more delightfully unconventional ways, and the enjoyment is pro-
portionately increased.

No Eastern watering-place affords opportunity for so many desira-
ble excursions, each distinct from the other in interest, each superb and
of itself a sufficient inducement to come to Colorado. Just overhead
towers the glorious old crest of Pike's Peak, the beacon of '59, and ever
since the type of American mountains. He who does not ascend the
Peak (if he is in fair health) can never get a good character from

ASCENDING PIKE'S PEAK. 41

Manitou. Of course all of the present party went. Moreover we went
fancy-free and note-book forgotten — a happiness as great as Patti's when
she saw there was no piano on the ocean steamer in which she was to
take passage. "How was this?" do you ask? Lillian Scidmore had
been there before us, and reaped with her keen sickle %every spear of
wheat in the whole field. To show our gleanings would amount to
nothing; so here is her whole sheaf:

" The tenth of June having left the world upon its axis, a little
band of heroic spirits made ready to mount the bony bronchos, and toi)
upward from the green and lovely vale of Manitou to the rocky height
above. The noonday sun was sending down its most scorching rays;
and the idlers on the hotel piazza w"ere mopping their brows and repeat
mg the wearisome formula of ' the hottest day ever known in Colorado/
The sun was ardent, to say the least, but the crisp breeze that came
nistling down from the higher canons tempered its effects.

"The sympathetic chambermaid of the Beebee House had beeu
hovering in my doorway for a half hour before the start, urging me to
take more and more wraps, and relating horrible anecdotes of the
Chicago lady ' who had her nose burned to a white blister and her face
so raw, ma'am, that we could hardly touch it with a feather for three
days.' With such gentle admonition there was no struggle when the
kind-hearted one proceeded to apply her preventive, and under a triple
layer of cold cream, powder and barege veils we made the trip, and
returned rather fairer in skin for the bleaching process. The perspira-
tion ran off the guide's forehead before he had strapped on the first
bundle of overcoats, ulsters, shawls, rugs and furs, but the grateful
sensation they imparted to us a few hours later will cheer me through
many midsummer days. The party included, among others, a gentle
man and his wife from St. Louis, and the same wicked Colorado editoi
who is the author of all the fine spun yarns about the Pike's Peak
volcano and the mountain lions.

" Such horses as we rode can be raised and trained only on a moun-
tain trail, and if they could but speak, what tales of timidity, stupidity
and absurdity they might relate. My own Arabian was a tai-colored
beast, shading off to drab and old gold, known in the vernaci^ar of the
country as a buckskin horse and rejoiced in the sweet name of ' Bird.'
It was a veritable misnomer, for birds do not generally sit down and
roll at every piece of green grass or cool water that they c* >me to, nor
try to shake their riders off over their necks. My sudden, flights to
earth were heralded in all the turgid and flamboyant rhetoric of the
circus ring, and equestrian feats, each outrivaling the other ir* novelty
and unexpectedness, diversified the route. It was proposed to call the
creature Jordan, because she rolled ; and again it was suggest^! that as
it was ' sinched ' out of all shape it had mistaken itself for an hour-
glass, and concluded that it was time to turn. Another horst. fcr ^ lady

42 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

rider answered to 'Annie,' and this gentle beast was only kept from
lying down in every stream by energetic pullings and vigorous thrash-
ings. The good son of St. Louis, bidden, like Louis XVI at the guillo-
tine, to ' mount to heaven,' when he leaped upon his dappled gray,
in a linen coat, broad-brimmed hat and full-spread umbrella, had a truly
ministerial air as he preceded the line up the road. The editor rode a
pensive nag that hung its head and coughed timidly now and then, but
chirruped to as ' Camille ' would push forward and crowd the other
horses off the trail, until a kicking and lashing from the heels of 'Bird'
brought things in order.

' ' The Pike's Peak trail is one series of picturesque surprises. All
that green canons, tremendous boulders and turbulent little streams can
do for beauty are there, and from the rustic spot where a small bandit
on the rock demanded toll, there was a succession of grand and lovely
scenes. The trail, worn deep into the grassy places by the procession of
horses that goes up and down it from May to October, winds on between
great rocks, along the steep and dizzy sides of canons, past cascades
and waterfalls (one of which is the subject of a sketch), and continually
upward, opening boundless views out upon the broad plains that stretch
like a yellow sea from the foothills of the Peak eastward. With every
rise there came a greater one beyond, and above it all, seeming to move
and rise further and higher from us, was the rose-red summit, with
streaks and patches of snow bringing out its beautiful colors. Over
giant boulders, creeping a cramped path beside and under them, or
along a narrow ledge of sliding sand with colossal rocks miraculously
suspended above our pathway, the panting horses toiled along.
Ascending into higher and rarer air it was necessary every few minutes
to stop and give the poor creatures a chance to breathe.

"As we rose higher on the mountain side more extended views
were opened backward over the plains. The lowering sun fell
fiercely on the red sandstone gateways of the Garden of the Gods, until
they burned in flame-colored light against the yellow-gray grass. The
hotels and cottages of Manitou were tiny dots in a green hollow far
below, and the courses of the winding streams could be traced for miles
over the plains by their green borders of cotton wood and willow trees.
Wild flowers grew luxuriantly all the way, and in a little park half way
to the summit, where the guides rest by a spring and wait for ascending
and descending parties to pass, the ground was thick with big colum-
bines, wild roses, harebells, white daisies, pale lavender geraniums with
their petals streaked with maroon, and the beautiful blue-eyed pen-
sternon of early June. At timber-line the wild box covered the sandy
slopes with a thick and tangled mat of green,' and higher than the hardi-
est pines stretched a rolling mountain meadow, a mile of emerald turf
jeweled with the brilliant blossoms of bluebells, buttercups, dwarf
sunflowers and dainty little Quaker-lady forget-me-nots.

SCENES AT THE SUMMIT. 43

' ' Sixteen people passed us in the half-way park on their way down.
The terrified countenance of one lady on a mule would have made the
hard-hearted to laugh. She pitched back and forth in her saddle, and
shot a pitiful gaze at us as she went by that plainly indicated her esti-
mate of us and mountain climbers in general. The twelve miles of
steep, hard riding to the summit is trying to the most practiced rider;
and for women, who have never sat a horse before, to attempt to make
the trip up and down in one day is a folly that fully deserves the punish
ment it gets. Twenty-four miles of horseback riding on a level road even
is apt to be remembered by the inexperienced. Added to the fatigue is
the sea-sickness consequent upon the great altitude, and few who make
the ascent escape that ill. It is a certificate of a rock-bound constitution
to spend a night on the summit and not be grievously ill. After the
mountain meadow come three miles of broken and ragged rock, the
most wearisome and discouraging part of the road. The horses' sides
throbbed frightfully, the keen winds made a halt for overcoats neces-
sary, and the scramble over these steep rocks is a fearful thing in a nip-
ping sunset breeze. The rocks of the summit, that seem only reddish
brown from below, are of the softest pink and rose-red shades, dotted
with black and golden moss-patches until they strongly remind one of
the exquisite colors of speckled trout. Above this sea of loose and
broken granite a low, square house of stone at last arose, and over the
ultimate rock we finally stood on the highest inhabited point on the
continent.

"The officer of the signal service, who lives in that lofty house,
stood in his doorway shooting at a tin can on a pole, and in that thin
open air the pop of the pistol was a short, faint little noise without
crash or echo. The red ball of the sun sinking down behind the snowy
edges of the mountains beyond Leadville sent strange lights and mists
across the tossed and uneven stretch of mountains and parks that lay
between it and the gaunt old Peak. The seventy acres of wildly scat-
tered rock-fragments that crown the top afford a vantage ground for
views to every point of the compass. Eastward across the vast prairie
land there seems no limit to the vision, and beyond the green lines of
the Platte and Arkansas rivers we amused ourselves by imagining the
steeples of St. Louis in the rose and purple vapors of the horizon. The
clouds, mists, shadows and faint opalescent lights on the plains, shifting,
changing and fading each moment, are more fascinatingly beautiful
than the dark, upheaved and splintered ridges of the mountains.
Stretching out over the plains, at first in a blue cone upon the grass, and
then sweeping outward and upward to the sky-line, the vast shadow of
the mountain was thrown sharply against the sky.

" Wrapped in furs and bundled in all the woolen warmth of heavi-
est winter clothes, the chill oil- of evening penetrated like a knife-edge,
and we sat shivetiBg oa tbe rocks Witfc pitteKe, pinched and purple

44 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

faces and chattering teeth. The afterglow in the east, when the sky and
the plains melted in bne purple line and a band of rose-color went up
higher and higher, was more lovely even than the pure crimson and
gold and blue of the sunset clouds.

" Around the crackling fire in the station we thawed our benumbed
fingers and watched the observations taken from the various instruments
and sent clicking off on the telegraph wires to Washington headquarters.
The sergeant wound the alarm-clock to rouse us at four o'clock the next
morning, and, giving up the one sleeping-room to the ladies, retired with
the gentlemen of the party to a bed of buffalo-robes in the kitchen.
The awful stillness, the stealthy puffs of wind, and the sense of isola-
tion and remoteness, were distressing at first; but the tobacco-laden air
dulled us to sleep. As the fire died out, dreams of Greenland — glaciers
and giddy snow-banks on impossible summits — seized and held us, until
a shivering voice gave the alarm : ' It is all red in the east.'

" We had climbed all those miles purposely to see the spectacle of
dawn, but there was unhappiness among the pinched and pallid enthu-
siasts who crept out on the rocks and watched the half-light on the
plains deepen. A pale and withered moon hung overhead, and miles
away on the plain lay a vast white cloud like a lake, until the rising
sun touched it and sent it rolling and tossing like angry waves. A crim-
son ball sprang suddenly from the outermost rim of the earth, glared
with a red and sleepy eye upon the world, and pulled the cover of a
cloud above it for a second nap before it came forth in full splendor.
The shadow of the Peak projected westward fell this time on the uneven
mountains, whose sides and clefts were filled and floating with faint
pearl, lilac and roseate mists. The black patch where Denver lay on the
plains, the snowy top of Gray's Peak, the green basin of South Park,
and seemingly everything from end to end of the State, could be seen.
Shivering, freezing, on that mountain top, with a fur cloak about me,
besides all the other wraps, it seemed that there never was a winter day
half as cold.

" In all the crevices of the rocks, wherever there was enough pow-
dered granite to form a soil for their roots, were tiny little white blos-
soms, fairy stars or flowers, with just their heads above the ground, and
an exquisite perfume breathing from them. Bidding the guide to sinch
up quickly for the down trip, we partook of the signal sergeant's coffee,
and listened to his anecdotes of his lonesome life of two weeks on the
mountain and two weeks in town.

" ' You are the best crowd that's been up,' said the brave man of
barometers. ' They all get sick when they stay over night. It took ME
a month to get used to it. You ought to stay until noon and see the
tender-feet come up and get sick. Oh, Lord ! there was an old lady up
here the other day, and she says to me: "Sergeant, don't people ever
die of this sickness up here? " " Oh, yes, ma'am," says I, " a lady died

PIKE'S PEAK TRAIL.

the other day, and as there wasn't any one to identify her we just put
her over in that snow-bank there.'"

" With a lot more of such mountain horrors he kept his rafters
ringing, and then bade us climb the ladder to the top of his house,
which would make up the difference of fifteen feet between his abode
and Gray's Peak. We looked at the grave of the imaginary child de-
stroyed by mountain rats, gave a last glance at the enchanted view, and
left the chilling region."

Another entertaining jaunt is a couple of miles or less up the Ute
Pass wagon-road to Rainbow Falls, one of the finest cascades in the

46 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

West — where such things are more of a curiosity than in wetter regions
of the world. The water comes down here with a more than ordinarily
desperate plunge, and it is great sport to climb about the angular rocks
that hem it in.

Ute Pass leads over into South Park, and before the days of railways
it was greatly traveled by passengers and by freight wagons to Leadville
and Fairplay. There is less transit there now, but in summer pleasure-
parties constantly traverse the Pass, partly for its own sake and partly
to enjoy a sight of Manitou Park on the opposite side, whence a mag-
nificent array of the snowy interior ranges is to be seen, northward and
westward, while Pike's Peak presents itself to superior advantage from
that point of view. In the park is a good little hotel and dairy, and a
trout stream and pond where the Eastern brook-trout has been assid-
uously cultivated. In the fall Manitou Park is the resort of deer hunters
and grouse shooters.

Then there is the already mentioned Garden of the Gods, hidden
behind those garish walls of red and yellow sandstone, so stark and
out of place in the soberly-toned landscape that they travesty nature,
converting the whole picture into a theatrical scene, and a highly spec-
tacular one at that. Passing behind these sensational walls, one is not
surprised to find a sort of gigantic peep-show in pantomime. The solid
rocks have gone masquerading in every sort of absurd costume and char-
acter. The colors of the make-up, too, are varied from black through
all the browns and drabs to pure white, and then again through yellows
and buffs and pinks up to staring red. Who can portray adequately
these odd forms of chiseled stone? I have read a dozen descriptions,
and so have you, no doubt. But one I have just seen, in a letter by a
Boston lady, is so pertinent you should have the pleasure of reading it :

" The impression is of something mighty, unreal and supernatural.
Of the gods surely — but the gods of the Norse Walhalla in some of their
strange outbursts of wild rage or uncouth playfulness. The beauty-
loving divinities of Greece and Rome could have nothing in common
with such sublime awkwardness. Jove's ambrosial curls must shake in
another Olympia than this. Weird and grotesque, but solemn and aw-
ful at the same time, as if one stood on the confines of another world,
and soon the veil would be rent which divided them. Words are worse
than useless to attempt such a picture. Perhaps if one could live in the
shadow of its savage grandeur for months until his soul were permeated,
language would begin to find itself flowing in proper channels, but in
the first stupor of astonishment one must only hold his breath. The
Garden itself, the holy of holies, as most fancy, is not so overpowering
to me as the vast outlying wildness.

" To pass in between massive portals of rock of brilliant terra-cotta
red, and enter on a plain miles in extent, covered in all directions with
magnificent isolated masses of the same striking color, each lifting itself

/JV THE GARDEN OH THE GODS. 47

against the wonderful blue of a Colorado sky with a sharpness of out-
line that would shame the fine cutting of an etching; to find the ground
under your feet, over the whole immense surface, carpeted with the same
rich tint, underlying arabesques of green and gray, where grass and
mosses have crept; to come upon masses of pale velvety gypsum, set
now and again as if to make more effective by contrast the deep red
which strikes the dominant chord of the picture ; and always, as you
look through or above, to catch the stormy billows of the giant mountain
range tossed against the sky, with the regal snow-crowned massiveness
of Pike's Peak rising over all, is something, once seen, never to be for-
gotten. Strange, grotesque shapes, mammoth caricatures of animals,
clamber, crouch, or spring from vantage points hundreds of feet in air.
Here a battlemented wall is pierced by a round window; there a cluster
of slender spires lift themselves ; beyond, a leaning tower slants through
the blue air, or a cube as large as a dwelling-house is balanced on a
pivot-like point at the base, as if a child's strength could upset it. Im-
agine all this, scintillant with color, set under a dazzling sapphire dome,
with the silver stems and delicate frondage of young cottonwoods in
one space, or a strong young hemlock lifting green symmetrical arms
from some high rocky cleft in another. This can be told, but the mass-
iveness of sky-piled masonry, the almost infernal mixture of grandeur
and grotesqueness, are beyond expression. After the first few moments
of wild exclamation one sinks into an awed silence."

The reader must see for himself these grotesque monuments,
these relics of ruined strata, these sportive, wind-cut ghosts of the old
regime here, these fanciful images of things seen and unseen, which
stand thickly over hundreds of acres like the molclering ruins of some
half -buried city of the'clesert, if he would fully understand.

Out of the many other sources of enjoyment near Manitou, the vis-
itor will by no means neglect the Cave of the Winds. Though you may
ride, if you wish, it is just a pleasant walk up Williams' Canon, one of
the prettiest of the gorges that seam the rugged base of the great Peak.
The walls are limestone, stained bright red and Indian yellow, lofty,
vertical, and broken into a multitude of bastions, turrets, pinnacles and
sweeping, hugely carved facades, whose rugged battlements tower
hundreds of feet overhead against a sky of violet. At their bases these
upright walls are so close together that much of the way there is not
room for one carriage to pass another, and the track lies nearly always
in the very bed of the sparkling brook. You seem always in a cul de sac
among the zigzags of this irregular chasm, and sometimes the abundant
foliage, rooted in the crevices above, meets in an arch across the
brightly-painted but narrow space you are tortuously threading.

Half a mile up the canon, at the end of the roadway, a trail goes
by frequent turnings up the precipitous sides of the ravine to where
a sheer cliff begins, about three hundred feet higher. Floundering up

48 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

this steep and slippery goat-path, we arrived breathless at a stairway
leading through an arch of native rock into a great chimney, opening
out to the sunlight above, and found opposite us a niche which served
as ante-room and entrance to the cave

The history of this cave is entertaining, for it was the discovery, in
June, 1880, of two boys of Colorado Springs, who were members of an
"exploring society," organized by the pastor of the Congregational
Church 'there to provide the boys of his Sunday-school with some safe
and healthful outlet for their adventurous spirits.

The cave, as we saw it, is a labyrinth of narrow passages, occasion-
ally opening out into chambers of irregular size (and never with very
high ceilings), into which protrude great ledges and points of rock from
the stratified walls, still further limiting the space. These passages are
often very narrow, and in many cases you must stoop in crowding
through, or, if you insist upon going to the end, squirm along, Brahmin-
like, on your stomach. The avenues and apartments are not all upon
the same level, but run over and under each other, and constantly show
slender fox holes branching off, which the guide tells you lead to some
stygian retreat you have visited or are about to see. In remote portions
of the cave there are very large rooms, like Alabaster Hall, some of
which are encumbered with fallen masses and with pillars of drip stone.
The cave is not remarkable for large stalactites and stalagmites, but
excels in its profusion of small ornaments, produced by the solution of
the rock and its re-deposition in odd and pretty forms. From many of
the ledges hang rows of small stalactites like icicles from wintry eaves,
and often these have fine musical tones, so that by selecting a suitable
number, varied in their pitch, simple tunes can easily and very melo-
diously be played by tapping. In some parts of "the cave, the stalactites
are soldered together into a ribbed mass, like a cascade falling over the
ledges. Elsewhere the " ribbon " or " drapery " form of flattened stalac-
tites recalls to you the Luray Caves, though here it is carried out on a
smaller scale ; while in this particular, as in many others, reminding
one of the magnificent Virginia caverns only by small suggestions, in
one respect this cave far surpasses in beauty its Eastern prototype. The
floors of many rooms are laid, several inches deep, with incrustations of
lime-work, which is embroidered in raised ridges of exquisite carving.
Again, where water has been caught in depressions, these basins have
been lined with a continuous, crowding plush of minute lime crystals,
— like small tufted cushions of yellow and white moss. Such depressed
patches occur frequently; moreover, the rapid evaporation of these
pools, in confined spaces, has so surcharged the air with carbonated
moisture, that particles of lime have been deposited on the walls of the
pocket in a thousand dainty and delicate forms, — tiny stalactites and
bunches of stone twigs, — until you fancy the most airy of milleporic
corals transferred to these recesses. Here often the air seems foggy as

THE LEGEND OF THE CAVERN.

your lamp-rays strike it, and the growing filigree-work gleams alabaster-
white under the spray that is producing its weird and exquisite
growth. In this form of minute and frost-like ornamentation, the cave
excels anything I know of anywhere, and is strangely beautiful.

This cavern, however, is sadly deficient in a proper amount of leg-
endary interest. No human bones have been found, and no lover's leap
has been designated. This misfortune must be remedied; and I have
selected a dangerous kind of a place at which, hereafter, the following
touching tradition will cause the tourist to drop a tear: Many, many
years ago an Indian maiden discovered this cave while eagerly pursuing
a woodchuck to its long home; the home proving longer than she
thought, she crept quite through into the unsuspected enlargement of a
cave-chamber, and a startled congregation of pensive bats. She told no
one of her discovery, because she had not, after all, caught the wood-
chuck, and went without meat for supper. A noble warrior, who had
done marvelous deeds of valor, loved the maiden. He wooed and she
would, but the swarthy papa would n't. Sadness, anger, surreptitious
trysting where the fleecy cottonwood waves melodiously above the crys-
tal streamlet, etc., etc. The irate
old warrior brings an aged brave,
who has spent his whole life in
doing nothing of more account
than cronifying with the heart-
sick girl's father. This man she
must marry, and the young suitor
must go. Refusals by the maiden,
loud talk by the youth, sneers
from the old cronies, flight of the
lovers to the woodchuck's hole,
vermicular but affectionate con-
cealment, like another ^Eneas and
Dido. The woodchuck, stealing
forth, sees a wolf outside, trying to
make him pay his poll-tax; so he
sits quietly just inside his safe
doorway, obscuring the light.
Endeavoring to find their way
about in the consequent darkness,
the imprisoned lovers pitch head-
long over the precipice I have
referred to. Guide-books please
copy.

RAINBOW FALLS.

Our train bore a pensive party
down the valley of the Fontaine, as

THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

it headed for Pueblo. The Musician drew a plaintive air from his violin,
and as the friendly mountain range receded and dipped away in the
West, we fell to wondering when, if ever, we should tread those vales
again.

PUEBLO AND ITS FURNACES

In Steyermark — old Steyermark,

The mountain summits are white and stark;

The rough winds furrow their trackless snow,

But the mirrors of crystal are smooth below;

The stormy Danube clasps the wave

That downward sweeps with the Drave and Save,

And the Euxine is whitened with many a bark,

Freighted with ores of Steyermark.

In Steyermark — rough Steyermark,
The anvils ring from dawn till dark;
The molten streams of the furnace glare,
Blurring with crimson the midnight air;
The lusty voices of forgemen chord,
Chanting the ballad of Siegfried's Sword,
While the hammers swung by their arms so stark
Strike to the music of Steyermark !

—BAYARD TAYLOR.

T Is a fortunate introduction the traveler, fresh from
the Eastern States and weary with his long plains jour-
ney, gets at Pueblo to the lively, progressive, booming
spirit of Colorado. Here are the oldest and the newest
in the Centennial State — the fragments of tradition
that go back to the thrilling, adventurous days of fur-
trapping and Indian wars ; the concentrated essence of later improve-
ments; and the most practical present, mingled in a single tableau, for a
telephone line crosses the ruins of the old adobe fort or Spanish
"pueblo," which gave to the locality its name when it was an outpost
for the traders from New Mexico.

In its modern shape the town is one of the longest settled in the
State, and a great flurry began and ended there years ago. Then, neg-
lected by men of money, Pueblo languished and was spoken chidingly
of by its sister cities in embryo. Now all this has changed, and, per-
haps aroused by the prosperity of Leadville, Pueblo began about three
years ago to assert herself, and to-day stands next to Denver in rank
both as a populous and as a money-making center. No business man
or statistician could find a more deeply entertaining study than the
investigation of how this rejuvenation has arisen and been made to pro-
duce so striking results. Such an inquirer would find several large

52 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

industries claiming to have furnished the turning point ; but it is evident
that the few who faithfully stood by the comatose town, and steadily
struggled toward its commercial revival, were prompt to seize upon the
altered flood and take advantage of the tide which led to fortune. The
impression once advertised that Pueblo was shaking off her lethargy
and about to become a second Pittsburgh, a thousand men of business
were quick to catch the idea and make the " boom " a fact. Thus from
5,000 inhabitants in 1875 she has come to over 15,000 in 1883.

It is undoubtedly true -that the Denver and Rio Grande railway has
done more to aid this advancement than any other one agency ; but an im-
portant impetus was given to Pueblo in 1878, when a company of gen-
tlemen decided to build a smelter here. The work was put under the
charge of its present superintendent, and ninety days from breaking
ground the furnace was in operation. There was only a single small
one at first; but fourteen are running now. Then there was a diminu-
tive shed to cover the whole affair; now there are acres of fine buildings.
Then a dozen men did all the work ; now from 380 to 400 are employed,
and the pay-roll reaches $375,000 per annum. That's the way they do
things in Pueblo.

This smelter is on the northern bank of the river, just under the
bluff. From a distance, all that you can discern over the trees is a col-
lection of lofty brick and iron chimney-stacks, and wide black roofs.
Coming nearer, the enormous slag-dump discloses the nature of the
industry, and testifies to the quantity of ore that has passed through
the furnaces. Though on the banks of a swift river, the works are run
by steam, which can be depended upon for steady service, and on which
winter makes no impression. A thousand tons of coal and seven hun-
dred tons of coke a month are used, the cheapness and proximity of this
fuel forming one of the inducements to place the smelter here. Canon
City and El Moro coals are mixed, but the coke all comes from the latter
point. At the start an engine of 60-horse power supplied all needs,
but a new one of 175-horse power has been found necessary, and Den-
ver was able to manufacture it. As for the machinery, it is not essen-
tially different from that in other smelters, except in small details, where
the most approved modern methods are made use of. There are great
rooms full of roasting-oveus, immense bins where the pulverized and
roasted ore cools off, elevators that hoist it to the smelting furnaces, and
all the usual appliances, in great perfection, for charging the furnaces,
drawing off and throwing aside the slag, and for casting the precious
pigs of bullion. All walls and floors are stone and brick ; everywhere
order and neatness prevail. This plant has already cost the firm
$200,000, and they have enough more money constantly put into ore and
bullion to make $750,000 invested at the works. The ore is bought
outright, according to a scale of prices which is about as follows: Gold,
$18.00 per ounce; silver, $1.00 per ounce; and copper, $1.50 per unit.

SAMPLING PRECIOUS ORES.

This is reckoned by "dry " assay, being two per cent, off from " wet. "
For the lead in the ore, 30 cents per unit up to 30 per cent., 40 cents up
to 40 per cent., and .45 when over 40 per cent. ; but both lead and cop-
per will not be paid for in the same ore. From the total is deducted
$20.00 as fee for treating it. For the assaying a capital laboratory of
several rooms is provided, where two assayers and two chemists are con-
tinually busy. Every lot, as purchased, is kept separate and subject-

GARDEN OF THE GODS.

ed to a homeopathic process of dilution, until a sample is obtained
that represents most exactly the whole. The arrangements for crush-
ing and sampling the ore are very complete, and a large number of lots
can be handled at once. When the final sample has been reached it is
subjected to a very careful assay, not only to determine what shall be
paid for it, but to find out what are its qualities in relation to the pro-
cess of smelting. This process requires a certain percentage of lead, a
certain amount of silica, and a certain proportion of iron and lime in

54 TUB CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

each charge. It is the duty of the assayers and chemists to ascertain
precisely the proportions of these ingredients in the ore under considera-
tion, in order to know how much lead, iron, lime or silica, to add in
order to make a compound suitable to fuse thoroughly, even to the
dissolution of the desperately refractory zinc and antimony; and which,
also, shall yield up every particle of silver and gold. The iron and lime
have usually to be added outright in this smelter; but the proper propor-
tions of lead and silica are obtained by combining an ore deficient in
one of these elements, but containing an excess of the other, with ores
oppositely constituted. It is one of the advantages of the smelter at
Pueblo, that, being centrally placed and down hill from every mining
district, it can draw to its bins ores of every variety; thus it is able to
mix to the greatest advantage, and in this economy and the attendant
thoroughness of treatment, lie the possibilities (and actuality) of profit.
The lime for flux is procured three miles from town, and costs only
$1.00 a ton, while every other smelter in the State must pay from $2.50
to $5.00. Its building-stone is a splendid quality of cream-tinted sand-
stone procured in the mesa only a short distance away. So widely satis-
factory have been its results that the Pueblo smelter does the largest
business of any in Colorado. I saw ore there from away beyond Silver-
ton; from Ouray and the Lake City region; from the Gunnison country
and the Collegiate range this side; from Leadville (competitive with
Leadville's own smelters); from Silver Cliff and Rosita; and, finally,
from numerous camps in the northern part of the State. The last was
surprising ; for it meant that all that weight of ore had been brought
hither past the furnaces at Golden and Denver, because the owners
realized more for it, in spite of excess of freight, than they could get at
home. The superintendent told me that they handled more ore from
Clear Creek county than all the other smelters of the State; and he
explained it by showing how his nearness to fuel, and consequent
saving in this important item, with his cheap labor, permitted him to
bid and pay more than any other smelter could for choice ores, for
which a premium is given. These facts were held in mind when,
encouraged by the railway, the smelter was placed here, and the expecta-
tions of its projectors have been more than gratified. The present
capacity of the establishment is 125 tons of ore a day in the fourteen
blast furnaces, and 100 tons a day in nine large calcining furnaces.
Expensive improvements, and of the most solid character, are being
made constantly in all parts of the works. The most important of these
has been the erection of machinery for refining the bullion, which has a
capacity of twenty-five hundred tons a month, and is constructed on the
best known principles. It has been customary in the West to send to
New York the lead which results from silver refining ; it is made into
sheet-lead and leaden pipe, in which form it is bought by wholesale houses
in Chicago and St. Louis, to be again sent to Colorado, at the rate of

THE STEEL WORKS. 55

perhaps a thousand tons a year. Now it is proposed to keep at home
the profits and freightage of this costly and heavy material in house con-
struction. Machinery has therefore been added to make up all the lead
into sheets, bars, and piping. This is done so cheaply, that Pueblo can
now send it across the plains and undersell Chicago and St. Louis in the
Mississippi valley. The supply largely exceeds the home demand, and
a new export for this State has thus been created. Utah will henceforth
yield a large portion of the bullion to be refined. Another experiment
will be the refining of copper. There are various mines in New Mexico
and Arizona — many of them worked in ancient days by the Spaniards —
which supply a base form of metallic copper. This crude copper is now
nearly all sent to Baltimore, and there refined and rolled. The New
Mexico division of the Denver and Rio Grande will soon penetrate the
region of some of these mines, while the Atchisou, Topeka and Santa
Fe makes others accessible. Side-tracks from both these roads run into
the smelter's enclosure. To bring the copper here will therefore be an
easy matter; and it can be produced in shape for commercial use much
more cheaply than any Eastern factory is able to turn it out.

Another large factor in Pueblo's revival was the establishment there
of the steel works. These are the property of the Colorado Coal and
Iron company, composed of the leading men in the Denver and Rio
Grande railway, so that, though the two corporations are distinct, their
interests are closely allied. This powerful association was formed in
1879 by the consolidation of two or three other companies having
similar aims, and it became the owner not only of the steel and iron
works here, and of a great deal of real estate, but also of nearly all the
mines of coal and iron now being developed in this State. Its capital is
ten millions, and its principal offices are located at South Pueblo. It
employs over two thousand men in its various enterprises, and is con-
stantly enlarging its operations and perfecting its methods. Many of
its coal banks will be referred to in other paragraphs of this volume.
The ore derived from all its iron mines is exceptionally free from
phosphorus, and therefore well adapted to the manufacture of steel.
The subjoined analyses exhibit the character of these ores:

Mag- Manga-

nesia. nese. Sulphur.

3.12 .34 Trace.

.81 .22 .014

1.87 .006

A conservative estimate places the amount of iron ore the company
has developed at over two millions of tons. Besides these high-grade
ores, there are others of an inferior grade, which, being mixed with mill-
cinders, will produce the commoner sorts of pig-iron, suitable for
foundry-work. Limestone, valuable as flux, is quarried from a ledge
within seven miles of the furnace, with which it is connected by rail,

Metallic
Iron.

Silica.

Phos-
phorus.

Lime. Alumina.

Placer

52.2

12.64

.051

5.70 3.6

Salfda

65 8

5.78

015

.34 1.5

Villa Grove.

57.3

5.03

.019

56 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

and the supply is practically inexhaustible. Gannister and fire-clay,
also, are found in abundance in the vicinity. With coal, coke, iron and
all the furnace ingredients radiated about this point, which, at the same
time is nearest to the Eastern forges whence must be brought the
massive machinery to equip the works, it requires no second thought to
perceive that South Pueblo offers altogether the most profitable site for
vast factories like these.

Immediately following this decision, in the spring of 1879, a large
tract of mesa-land was secured, beside the track of the Denver and
Rio Grande railway, about a mile south of the Union Depot, where
not only the foundations of the mills, but a village-site was laid out and
numerous side-tracks were put down. Very soon the tall chimneys of
the blast furnaces began to rise into the ken of the people of Pueblo.
Simultaneously a large number of fine cottages were built as homes
for workmen, and other structures were set on foot, among them
a commodious hospital, for joint use of the mills and the railway
company. It is a very pleasant, well-ordered and growing little town,
known as Bessemer, and even now the space between it and the city
is rapidly filling up. The present daily output of the blast furnaces
is one hundred tons of pig-iron, but soon a twin furnace will double
the productive capacity of the works. Besides the furnaces, the plant
includes Bessemer steel converting works, a rolling and rail mill, 450 by
60 feet, a nail mill, a puddling mill and foundry, All of these establish
ments are in every way equal to the best of their kind in the East. The
blast furnace is fifteen feet base and sixty-five feet high, with fire-brick,
hot-blast stoves, and a Morris blowing engine. In the steel - converting
works the arrangement of the plant is similar to that of the new Pitts-
burgh Bessemer Steel Company, which has given exceptionally good
results. The rail mill plant consists of Siemen's heating furnaces and
heavy blooming and rail trains, and the puddling and nail mills are
equipped with the best modern machinery. At Denver the same com-
pany owns a rolling mill, where bar and railroad iron and mine rails are
manufactured: these in the future will mainly be supplied from South
Pueblo. The effect upon Colorado of this forging of native iron for
home consumption must be very important. All iron and iron ware is
nearly doubled in value by the necessarily high rates of freight across
the plains. Manufacturing, now that the crude material can be
obtained on the spot, is cheaper than importing, and in the wake of the
blast furnace must follow a long train of iron industries. Already
negotiations are on foot for the establishment of extensive stove
works (a million of dollars was sent East last year from Colorado in
payment for stoves alone), and the erection of car-wheel shops is also
contemplated. Indeed, in this mining country, which also is a region
that is rapidly filling up with large towns, the demand for manufactured

STAT18T1V&

iron of all sorts is very
large. It is another
step in the gradual
movement of trade-
centers westward.

A still clearer idea
of the great value of
its interests to the
State, and of its local
works to Pueblo, may
l)e obtained from the
report of the produc-
tions of the Colorado
Coal and Iron com-
pany for the year 1882
which, briefly summa-
rized, aggregates as
follows: Coal, 511,239
tons ; coke, 92,770
tons ; iron ores, 53,425
tons; merchant iron,
mine rails, etc., 3,883
tons ; castings, 2,752
tons; pig-iron, 24,303
tons ; muck bar, in
four months, 1,253
tons; steel ingots, eight months, 20,919 tons; steel blooms, eight months,
18,068 tons; steel rails, eight months, 16,139 tons; nails, four months,
16,158 kegs; and spikes, six months, 5,022 kegs.

The economy of location, and the successful results attending the
establishment here of the great enterprises referred to, are attracting
many others. During the past season one of Leadville's largest smelters,
having been destroyed by fire, has been rebuilt at Pueblo, and more will
naturally follow.

The mercantile part of the community, however, while admitting
all the claims of the steel works and the smelter to their great and benefi-
cent influence upon the destiny of the new town, puts forward its own
claim to the credit of commencing the progressive movement. When,
by the extensions of the railway into the back country of Colorado,
merchants began to perceive that at Pueblo they could buy goods of
precisely such grades as they desired a trifle more cheaply, and get them
home a trifle more expeditiously, than by going to Denver or Kansas
City, Pueblo began to feel the impulse of new commercial vigor.
When it came to reckoning upon a whole year's purchases, the slight
advantage gained in freight over- Denver, to all southern and middle inte-

ENTRANCE TO CAVE OF THE WINDS.

58 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

rior points, amounted to a very considerable sum. Here, far more than
in the Eastern States, the freight charges must be taken into account by
the country merchant ; particularly in the provision business, where
the staples are the heaviest articles, as a rule, and, at the same time,
those on which the least profit accrues. This consideration, impressing
itself more and more upon the good judgment of the mountain dealers,
is bringing a larger and larger trade to Pueblo, until now she is begin-
ning to boast herself mistress of all southern and middle Colorado and
of northern New Mexico. She can not hope to compete with Denver
for the northern half of the State, but she does not intend to lose her
grip upon the great, rapidly-developing, money-producing San Juan,
Gunnison and Rio Grande regions. And as the visitor sees the
railway yards crowded with loaded freight trains destined for every
point of the compass ; notes the throng of laden carts in the furrowed
streets; observes how every warehouse is plethoric with constantly
changing merchandise, often stacked on the curbstone under the cover
of a canvas sheet because room within doors can not be found ; witnesses
the temporary nature of so many scores of buildings for business and
for domiciles, and learns how most of their owners are putting up per-
manent houses, multitudes of which are rising substantially on every
side; — when he has caught the meaning of all this, he finds that Pueblo
has an idea that her opportunities are great, and that she does not pro-
pose to neglect them in the least particular. There is much wealth
there now, and more is being introduced by Eastern investors, or
accumulated on the spot, not only in trade, but, in the very extensive
herds of cattle and sheep that center there. Yet this seems to be but the
incipience of her prosperity, — a prosperity which rests on solid founda-
tions, existing not alone in the industries I have catalogued and the
trade which has centered there, but in the fact that values are not
inflated and that the real property of the city is mortgaged to a remark-
ably small degree.

Pueblo, though I have treated it as a unit, really consists of two
cities, having the rushing flood of the Arkansas between them. Each has
water-works, and civic institutions separately, but I have no doubt this
cumbersome duality will be done away with in time. It is on the
South Pueblo side that the railways center at the Union Depot. The
Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe sends hither daily its trains from
Kansas City, and hence the Denver and Rio Grande forwards its
passengers northward to Denver, westward to Silver Cliff, Leadville,
Salt Lake City and Ogden, and southward to El Moro, Alamosa, Del
Norte, Durango, Silverton and Santa Fe. It is on this side, also, that
the factories are, and that others will stand. Here, too, are being
placed the great wholesale depots.

There is too much rush and dust and building and general chaos in
the lowlands, where the business part of the town is, to make a residence

THE PLEASANT HOMES OF PUEBLO. 59

there as pleasant as it will be a few years later; but upon the high mesa,
whose rounded bluffs of gravel form the first break upon the shore of
the great plains that extend thence in uninterrupted level to the Mis-
souri River, a young city has grown up, which is admirable as a place
for a home. Here are long, straight, well-shaded streets of elegant
houses; here are churches and school buildings and all the pleasant
appurtenances of a fine town, overlooking the city, the wooded valley
of the Arkansas, the busy railway junctions, and the measureless pla-
teaus beyond. One gets a new idea of the possibilities of a delightful
home in Pueblo after he has walked upon these surprising highlands.

Nowhere, either, will you get a more inspiring mountain landscape —
the far scintillations of the Sangre de Cristo; the twin breasts of Waha-
toya; the glittering, notched line and clustering foothills of the Sierra
Mojada; the great gates that admit to the upper Arkansas; and Pike's
"shining mountain," surrounded by its ermined courtiers, only a little
less hi majesty than their prince.

V
OVER THE SANGRE DE CRISTO.

KALEIGH: Fain would I climb,

But that I fear to fall,
ELIZABETH: If thy heart fail thee,

Why, then, climb at all?

OWARD the middle of one bright afternoon we were
pulled out of Pueblo, our three cars having been at-
tached to the regular south-bound express. We had
fully discussed the matter, and determined to go on
to the end of the track, or, more literally, to one end —
for there are many termini to this wide-branching sys-
tem— on to the warm old plazitas and dreamily pleasant pueblos of
New Mexico. Why not?

But so inconsequential and careless an ' ' outfit " was this, that no
sooner had our minds been fairly settled to the plan (while the shadow of
the Greenhorn came creeping out toward Cuchara and we were heading
straight into its gloom) than somebody proposed our spending the night
quietly in Veta Pass.

This mountain pass and its "Muleshoe," dwarfing in interest the
celebrated "Horseshoe curve " in Pennsylvania, because occupying far
jess space, just as the foot of a mule may be set within a horse's
track — these have been famous ever since railroading in southern
Colorado began, and naturally we did not like to go past them in the
darkness. We wanted to see how the track was laid away around the
head of the long ravine, whether it doubled upon itself in as close a
loop as they said it did; and whether the train really climbed through
the clouds about the brow of Dump Mountain, as the pictures represented.
So we told the conductor to drop us.

It was dark by the time we had been left in good shape on the ter-
race-like siding in Veta Pass, and, weary with our swift run, we were
quite ready to shut out the gathering shades and be merry over our din-
ner; but first, all eyes must watch the departing express begin its climb
up Dump Mountain. Think of swinging a train round a curve of only
thirty degrees, on a very stiff grade, and with a bridge directly in the
center of the turn! That is what this audacious railway does every few
hours in the "toe "of the Muleshoe. From our lonely night-gripped

PER ASPERA AD ASTRA. 61

dot of a house on the wild hill side, we could see squarely facing us
both the Cyclopean blaze of the fierce headlight, and the two watch-
ful red eyes glaring scornfully from the rear platform; by that we
knew that the train had doubled on its own length of only six cars.
Then, with hoarse panting and grinding of tortured wheels and rails,
the two powerful locomotives began to force their way up the hill side
right opposite us, the slanting line of bright windows showing how
amazingly steep a grade of two hundred and seventeen feet to the mile
really is. The beam of the headlight thrust itself forward, not level, as
is its wont, but aimed at a planet that glimmered just above a distant
ghostly peak.

" Do you remember," murmurs the Madame in a low voice, as she
stands with bated breath beside me; "do you remember how Thoreau
advises one of his friends to ' hitch his chariot to a star ' ? Does n't this
scene come near his splendid ambition? Will that train stop short of
the sky, do you think? "

Surely it seemed that it would not, for only when the stokers opened
the doors of the laboring furnaces, and volumes of red light suddenly
illumined the overhanging masses of smoke, touching into strange
prominence for an instant the rocks and trees beside the engines, could
we see that the train stood upon anything solid, or was moving otherwise
than as a slow meteor passes athwart the midnight sky. It was easy
to imagine that long line of uncanny lights a fiery motto emblazoned
upon the side of the dark mountain, and to read in it, Per aspera ad
astra.

Yet the scene was far from fanciful. It was very real, and a fine
sight for a man interested in mechanical progress, to watch those great
machines walk up that hill, spouting two geysers of smoke and sparks,
and dragging the ponderous train slowly but steadily along its upward
course. Now and again they would be lost behind the fringe of woods
through which the track passed, and then we would see the cone-like,
rugged spruces sharply outlined against the luminous volumes of smoke.
A moment later and the train disappeared around Dump Mountain, with
a sardonic wink of the red guard-lights at the last; but presently we
had knowledge of it again, for a fountain of sparks and black smoke
from the engines blotted out the scintillating sky just above the highest
crest of the ridge.

" Suppose it had broken in two on that hill-side," remarks the Artist,
as I am carving the roast, five minutes later.

"It would n't have mattered," is the reply. " I once saw a heavier
train than that break on this very mountain, the three rear coaches part-
ing company with the forward portion of the train."

" But wasn't that criminal carelessness? " cries the Madame, who is
death on inattention to railway duties. I should hate to be a neglectful
brakeman before her gray eyes as judge!

THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

"Not at all," she is informed. "The cars were properly coupled
with what, for all any one could see, was a sufficiently strong link, but
the strain proved too great for the tenacity of the iron."

" Well, I suppose they went down the track a-flying, or else over
the precipice."

" Not a bit of it. The two parts of the train stopped not more than
twenty feet apart. When the accident occurred the engineer knew it
instantly by the jerking of the bell -rope, and stopped short. As for the
rear cars, they were brought to a standstill at once by means of the
automatic brakes. I tell you they are a great institution, and indispens-
able to success on any road which has heavy grades to overcome."

' How do they operate? "

" Well, it is the Westinghouse patent and rather complicated. Bet-
ter go out to-morrow and see the apparatus on the engine. It works
somewhat in this manner: When the valve on the retort under each car
is set in a particular way, the letting off of the ' straight' or ordinary
air-brakes causes the compression of an exceedingly powerful spring on
each set of brakes. If, however, you destroy the equilibrium by forci-
bly parting the air connection between that car and the locomotive, as
of course occurs when a train breaks in two, the great springs are
released and jam the brake-shoes hard against the wheels, gripping them
with tremendous force. That's what happened instantly in this case,
and those heavy cars, which otherwise would have carried their cargoes
to almost certain destruction, halted in a single second."

"But — what if — " began our lady member in an alarmed tone;

ALABASTER HALL.

RESOLVING TO CLIMB LA VET A. 63

whereupon she was speedily interrupted by the learned gentleman who
was dividing his time between dinner and lecture :

' ' My dear Madame, our cars, like all the rest on this admirably-
guarded railway, are provided with the automatic apparatus I have
described. Since it is useless to pretend to one's-self, or anybody else,
that an accident will never happen, it is well to understand that every
precaution known to intelligent management has been provided against
any serious harm resulting when things do go wrong. In consideration
oC all which profound explanations I think we deserve a second glass
of claret. My toast is : The Automatic Brake ! "

And we all responded, " May it never be broken! "

Sleep that night was deep and refreshing. The next morning broke
cool and clear, and the Photographer proposed, with nearly his first
words, that we all go to the top of Veta Mountain. Only the crest of
one of the spurs could be seen, and this did not appear very far away,
so that those who had never climbed mountains afoot were enthusiastic
on the subject. Now in the humble, but dearly experienced opinion of
the present author, the old saw, —

" Where ignorance is bliss
'T were the height of folly to be otherwise,"

fits no situation better than mountain climbing. I have said in the bit-
terness of my soul, on some cloud - splitting peak, as I tried to gulp
enough air to fill a small corner of my lungs, that the man who belonged
to an Alpine Club was prima facie a fool. Scaling mountains for some
definitely profitable purpose, like finding or working a silver mine, or
getting a wide view so as properly to map out the region, or for a knowl-
edge of its fauna and flora, is disagreeable but endurable, because you
are sustained by the advantages to accrue ; but to toil up there for fun —
bah ! Yet people will go on doing it, and those who know better will
follow after, and the heart of the grumbler will grow sick as he sees
of how little avail are his words and the testimony of his sufferings.

It was so this time. Admonitions that upright distances were the
most deceiving of all aspects of nature ; that the higher you went the
steeper the slope and the more insecure and toilsome the foothold;
these, with other remonstrances, were totally unheeded, and three
misguided mortals decided to go. Then the growler yielded— what else
could he do? He had survived many a previous ascent, and could not
afford to assume a cowardice that really did n't belong to him. So
he chose that horn of the dilemma, and left the reader to the conclusion
that in telling this tale, after the previous paragraph, he "writ himself
down an ass."

All went but the Musician. Among the gentlemen were divided
the photographic camera and materials, and the whisky, while the Mad-

64 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

ame set off sturdily with field-glasses over her shoulder, and a revol-
ver strapped around her shapely waist. Dinner was ordered for two
o'clock, and up we started. The Madame wrote to her friend about it
as follows (the letter, I declare, smelled of camphor) :

" I assure you, my dear Mrs. McAngle, that not more than a hun-
dred feet had been gone over before the inexperienced of our party began
to feel the effects of rarefied air, although thus far it was easy enough
walking. There was no path, of course, and we simply tramped over a
grassy slope sprinkled with flowers and covered by trees that shaded us
from the sun. Gorges which were hardly perceptible as such from the
valley, now proved to be uncomfortably deep gashes in the broad mount-
ain-side, and tiny streams came down each one of them, to water dense
thickets along their banks. In one place, about a thousand feet above
our starting point, we came across the remains of a camp made by some
man who thought he had found precious metal. Dreary enough it looked
now, with its dismantled roof and wet and moldy bed of leaves.

" By this time breathing has become a conscious difficulty. I speak
in the present tense, my dear, because the recollection is very vivid, and
it seems almost as though I am ^again trudging over those sharp-
edged rocks. Every ten minutes further progress becomes an utter im-
possibility for me, and rest absolutely necessary; but one recuperates in
even less time than it takes to become exhausted, and starts on again.
Nevertheless I can not go as fast as the gentlemen, who have no skirts
to drag along.

" Now the comparatively easy climbing is over. Flowers and grass
have grown- scarce, and- almost all the trees have disappeared. Nausea
is beginning to annoy me, and I was never more glad in my life than
now, when I discover some raspberry bushes and eagerly gather the ripe
fruit, whose pleasant acid brings moisture to my parched mouth and
comforts my sad stomach, for there is no water or snow here, and I
know it would not be best to drink if there were.

' ' Even the berries are gone now. Far above and on all sides I see
nothing but fragments of rocks. For centuries, wind, frost, rain and
snow have been hard at work leveling the mountains. They have broken
up the hard masses of yellowish white trachyte, and the dikes of black
basalt into small pieces — some as minute as walnuts, but most of them
much larger, with sharp-pointed edges that cut my feet. Across these
vast fields the wild sheep, thinking nothing of jumping and gamboling
over such steep slopes of broken stones, have made trails that cross and
criss-cross everywhere. Availing ourselves of these is some help, as we
all settle down to persistent, never-ending climbing.

" Up, up, up. You have forgotten how to breathe; your back and
head are aching; you have found a stick, and lean more and more upon
it ; you look down on the back of a hawk far below you with sullen

FROM A MOUNTAIN TOP. 65

envy; you devoutly wish you had never come, but will not give up. At
length a stupor creeps over you. You never expect to reach the top, but
you do not care; old long-forgotten songs go through your brain and seem
to try to lull you to sleep. You see in the distance one of the strong ones
reach the summit and wave his hat; you are beyond sensation, and it is
all a dream. Finally you stagger over the last ledge and throw yourself
down on the top and feebly call for — whisky. Mrs. McAngle, I am a
teetotaller; I hate whisky! But just then I would have given half my
fortune had it been necessary for the one swallow which did me so much
good."

Well, her companions having more strength, didn't feel quite so
bad, though near enough so, to make their sympathies strong. The
crest having been gained, the Madame lay down on a rubber coat under
the cap rock to rest, while the remainder of us dispersed in search of
water. But let me quote that long letter again:

"The rocks, when I had recovered strength to look about me, I
saw were crumbling lavas of two colors, light drab and dark brown.
Covered, as they were, with lichens of brown, green and red, they were
very pretty. At last one of the gentlemen came back, carefully carrying
his hat in both hands, which he had made into a sort of bowl by press-
ing in the soft crown. This I soon saw contained water, but such water
— foul and bad tasting, for it had been squeezed from moss. But we
drank it through a 'straw,' made by rolling up a business card, and were
thankful.

"Refreshed, and becoming interested in life again, the old hymn
occurred to me,—

•Lo, on a narrow neck of land
'Twixt two unbounded seas I stand.'

v)nly the seas, in this case, were broad green valleys, and were bounded
•n the distance by lofty mountains, best of ali Sierra Blanca, across
vhose peaks the clouds were winding their long garments as if to hide
somewhat the sterility and ruggedness of their friends. Above them how
intensely blue was the sky, and how the soft green foothills leaning against
them satisfied your eyes with their graceful curves. Trailing among
them, as though a long white string had been carelessly tossed down,
ran the serpentine track of the railway, and the famous Dump Mountain
sank into the merest foot-ridge at our feet. On the other side of the
ledge we gazed out on the misty and limitless plains, past the rough
jumble of the Sierra Mojada, and could trace where we had come across
the valley of the Cuchara. Nearer by lay dozens of snug and verdant
vales, in one of which glistened a little lake tantalizing to our still
thirsty throats.

" We all had our photographs taken, with this magnificent scenery

66 T1IE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

for a background — better even than the cockney-loved Niagara, we
thought — and strolled about. Not far away we hit upon a prospect-
hole. The miner was absent, but had left pick and shovel behind as
tokens of possession. How intense must be the love of money that
would induce a man to undertake such a terrible climb, and live in this
utter loneliness and exposure ! Yet they say that many of the best sil-
ver mines in Colorado are on the very tops of such bald peaks as this.

"At last, on asking my husband if he did not think he appeared
like an Alpine tourist, I found him recovered sufficiently to say that we
should all pine if we did n't have dinner soon, so we turned our faces
homeward. Now I hope I have n't wasted all my adjectives, for I need
the strongest of them to tell of that descent. It was frightful. Feet
and knees became so sore that every movement was torture. The sun
blinded and scorched me, and the fields of barren, sharp and cruel stones
stretched down ahead in endless succession. Mrs. McAngle, however
foolish I may be in the future in climbing up another mountain, I never,
never will come down, but will cheerfully die on the summit, and leave
my bones a warning to the next absurdly ambitious sight-seer. When I
was on the crest, I thought what an idiot the youth in 'Excelsior'
was, but now I hold him in high respect, for he had the great good
sense, having reached the top, to stay there! "

Returning to Veta Pass, the promontory where the track winds cau-
tiously around the brow of Dump Mountain — the name is given because
of a resemblance in shape to the dump at the entrance of a mine tunnel —
has been called Inspiration Point. I don't know who christened it;
perhaps some would-be hero of a novel by G. P. R. James. If, to be
in character, he "paused at this point in involuntary admiration," there
was plenty of excuse, for one of the loveliest panoramas in Colorado
unrolls itself at the observer's feet.

Coming up is fine enough, if you see it on such a day as the gods
gave us. The Spanish Peaks, as we approached from Cuchara, were as
blue as blue could be, with half-transparent, vaporous masses hovering
tenderly about them; but these mists stopped short of Veta, which stood
out distinct against its cloud-flecked background, majestic in full
round outlines beyond the majority of mountains, — in hue purple and
sunny white, with the mingling of forests and vast sterile slopes. North
of it the landscape was almost hidden under rain-veils, into which the
sun shot a great sheaf -full of slanting arrows of light, and beyond, range
behind range were marked with phantom-like faintness of outline. A
broad canopy of leaden clouds hung overhead, down from the further
eaves of which was shed a wide halo radiating from the invisible sun
above; and this snowy shower had stood long unchanged before our
entranced eyes, making us believe that the brown cliffs, toward which
we were running so swiftly, were the gates of an enchanted land

68 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

Now, from within and far surmounting those portals, we stand
gazing abroad, as in olden days they looked out of some castle tower
through and beyond the great fortress arch. The typically mountain-
like mass of Veta, satisfying all our ideals of how that style of elevation
should look which does not abound in rugged cliff and sky -piercing pin-
nacles, but is smoothly and roundly huge, cuts off all northward out-
look. Southward the crowded foothills of the divide between the Rio
Grande and the Arkansas hide from view the central points in which
they culminate, — even lofty Trinchera, whose sharp summit was so
plain a landmark at the southern end of the Sangre de Cristo yesterday.
Beyond these swelling domes and gables, and ridges of green and gray,
were lifted the noble pyramids of the Spanish Peaks, their angles well
defined in v ~ ying tints of purplish blue, and their grand old heads
sustained it .nerous rivalry. (Illustration.) Behind us was only a
piney slope, close at hand: but ahead — the world! I think no one has
ever said enough of the beauty of this picture in Veta Pass. From the
precipitous, wooded mountain-side where you stand, the eye follows
the little creek as it glides with less* and less disquietude down through
the protruding bases of the diminishing foothills, into the slowly broad-
ening valley where the willows are more dense, and the heather and
small bushes have taken on brilliant colors to vie with the splendor of
aspen-patches higher up; on to the hay-meadows fenced with the many-
elbowed and scraggy faggots of red cedar ; on past the little park where
the low brown adobe houses of the Mexican rancheros look like mere
pieces of flat rock fallen from the mountains; on into the midst of
minute cornfields; on out, beyond the surf like ridges breaking against
the base of the range, to the blue and boundless sea of the plains.

The western side of the Pass is a tortuous descent through contin-
uous woods and lessening hills, until you emerge upon a plain where the
ragged heights of the Saguache Mountains fill the northern horizon; and
as you turn southward the glorious serrated summits of the Sangre de
Cristo range come into view behind and beside you, on the east. This
plain is the San Luis Park, the largest of those four great interior pla-
teaus—North Park, Middle Park, South Park and San Luis— which
lie between the "Front" and the "Main" ranges of the Rockies.

It has been truly said of the Rocky Mountains that the word
" range " does not express it at all. "It is a whole country, populous
with mountains. It is as if an ocean of molten granite had been caught
by instant petrifaction when its billows were rolling heaven-high."

Nevertheless, popular language divides the system into certain great
lines. The "Front Range" extends irregularly from Long's Peak
to Pike's Peak, then fades out. The "Main" or "Snowy Range,"
which is the continental watershed or " divide," begins at the northern
boundary, in the Medicine Bow Mountains; but in the center of the State
breaks out of all regularity into several branches, so that it is only

TRACING THE CONTINENTAL DIVIDE.

CREST OF VETA MOUNTAIN.

by ascertaining where the headwaters of the Atlantic and Pacific stream*
are separated, that one can tell how to trace the backbone of the conti-
nent, for many of the spurs contain peaks quite as lofty as the central
chain. Thus the splendid line of the Sangre de Cristo, running south-
eastward, only divides the drainage of the Rio Grande from that of the
Mississippi ; yet the highest peak in Colorado belongs to it. The main
chain, on the contrary, trends southwestward from the parallel groups
in the heart of the State, only to become mixed up into half a dozen
branches, all of enormous height and bulk, down in tha southwestern
corner. Even this is not all, for westward to Utah the whole area is

70 THE GRE8T OF THE CONTINENT.

filled with vast uplifts, standing in isolated groups, serving as cross-
links, or lying parallel with the general north-and-south lines of great
elevation. " I suppose," says Ludlow, "that to most Eastern men the
discovery of what is meant by crossing the Rocky Mountains would be
as great a surprise as it was to myself. Day after day, as we were trav-
eling between Denver and Salt Lake, I kept wondering when we should
get over the mountains. Four, five, six days, still we were perpetually
climbing, descending or flanking them; and at nightfall of the last day,
we rolled down into the Mormon city through a gorge in one of the
grandest ranges in the system. Then, for the first time, after a journey
of six hundred miles, could we be said to have crossed the Rocky
Mountains."

Because we had ascended and descended Veta Pass, therefore, and
saw on our left the seemingly insurmountable barrier which yesterday
stood at our right, we had by no means got beyond the Rockies ; for
out there " mountain billows roll westward, their crests climbing as they
go: and far on, where you might suppose the Plains began again, break
on a spotless strand of everlasting snow."

SAN LUIS PARK.

The plain was grassy, wild and bare,
Wide, wild, and open to the air.

— TENNYSON.

AN Luis Park, exceeding in size the State of Connecticut,
is identified with the earliest and most romantic history
of Colorado. It was here that brave old pioneer,
Colonel Zebulon Pike, established his winter quarters
almost a century ago, and was captured by the
Mexican forces, for at that time all this region was
Spanish territory. It was here the northernmost habitations of the
Mexican people, the ranches at Conejos, Del Norte, and all along be-
tween, were placed, and so became the first farms in what now is Colo-
rado. Here were pastured the first herds and flocks of the early settlers,
and the great Maxwell grant, whose ownership has been the subject of
so much litigation, included a large portion of this park. To this region,
long ago Governor Gilpin directed the attention of immigrants, and
lauded it as the "garden of the world." Gardening is practicable here,
without doubt ; but colonists have found other parts of the State so
much more favorable, that, in spite of its superior advertising, the
park has kept nearly its pristine innocence of agriculture outside of
the old Mexican estates along the principal streams.

That Colorado can ever produce cereals enough for the sustenance
of a large population is doubtful. The great rarity and dryness of the
atmosphere ; the light rainfall, and almost instant disappearance of moist-
ure ; the large proportion of alkaline constituents in the earth, and the
climate caused by great altitude, seem to handicap this region when
compared with the Mississippi valley or the Pacific coast. By irriga-
tion only, can agriculture thrive in this State; and the amount of arable
land that can be cultivated without enormous expenditure for irrigating
canals can hardly be considered wide enough to long supply the local
population, which increases faster than the acreage under the plow is
extended. The nature of the soil, and the effect of the short, hot seas-
ons, under careful regularity of watering, combine, however, to make
the product of Colorado farms extremely heavy to the acre, and of the
finest quality in every article grown.

72 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

"The San Luis valley," says a recent report to the Government,
"bears witness to the wealth of the produce returned by the soil under
proper cultivation. In following up the Rio Grande, the Mexicans
ascended divers tributary waters, and upon these and along the main
river can their apologies for farms be seen. Generally content with sim-
ple existence, but little variety in the products of their land is observed.
The turning- of the earth with oxen and a sharpened stick, the threshing
by flail and trampling under foot, and the crushing of the grain between
stones, can be so frequently seen, that the charm of novelty is lacking
and one's curiosity is soon satiated. Progress is not their hope or desire,
and, content to eke out a bare subsistence, their ambition does not extend
beyond a baile, or the tripping of the 'light fantastic,' with surroundings
that are here, as a rule, far from enchanting.

" Their cultivation of the ground tells of eastern origin and tradi
tions, and is by irrigation from acequias or canals. Smaller ditches at
intervals lead out from the main, and furrows of earth of varying
height, connected thereto, are raised at stated points parallel to one
another, cutting up the entire area into many patches nearly square and
of small extent. With the planting of the seed and the main ditch
filled, all the smaller outlets and various sections being simultaneously
overflowed, the entire area is carefully submerged, the little furrows
confining the water in each section. To the inexperienced farmer, the
first successful irrigation of his land is a matter of considerable labor
and pains. Besides the thorough moistening of the earth, obtained by
the gradual settling of the waters, a fertilizing process is at the same
time ensured. These streams carry in solution much rich and valuable
material from the denudation of sections drained in their passage, which
is left in deposit like a substratum of manure. The latter is never used,
the farmer depending on irrigation for the supply of those constituents
extracted from the soil in the growth of produce.

"The Rio Grande descends from seven thousand seven hundred
and fifty feet at Del ISTorte, to seven thousand four hundred on leaving
the State for New Mexico. Upon its western side numbers of locations
are along the Piedra Pintada, which sinks a few miles from the Rio
Grande, the Alamosa and La Jara, but chiefly along the Conejos, the
most thickly settled of all its tributaries ; upon the eastern side are the
Trinchera, Culebra, Costilla, the Culebra above San Luis being on this
side the seat ot largest habitation. In the upper part of San Luis valley
is situated the finest land of Ihe section, with the mountain range encir-
cling it upon the east, north and west. Exposed only upon the south,
whence do not come the heavy snow storms and coldest winds, it con-
tains the best lands for cereal and other productions. Drained by the
San Luis creek, and the Saguache, its tributary, the ranchmen who
have located along the streams have been rewarded for their labor by
very abundant crops of all kinds. Throughout the valley large herds of

FARMING ALONG THE RIO GRANDE. 73

cattle find ample sustenance, the property mainly of Americans, while
numerous flocks of sheep of Mexican ownership, are driven to and fro.
The valley of the Conejos, with its affluents, San Antonio and Los
Pinos creeks, is a most fertile region. Several miles east of Conejos,
during the highest stages of the rivers, in June, water from the San
Antonio finds its way into the former river above the latter's mouth,
forming an island. This section is especially rich, and there exists
almost a natural irrigation, the Mexican ranchmen raising large crops of
all kinds at the cost of but little labor therefor.

" The Alamosa and La Jara, during the lower parts of their courses
upon the plains, run side by side. At the foothills they diverge, the
head of the Alamosa being in the northwest, its course throughout in a
generally narrow and very deep canon, while the upper waters of the
La Jara are due west. All the portions of the former that are available
for agriculture, are its banks on the plain and a short part of its canon-
valley within the foothills, upon which the Mexican ranches are found.
Upon the La Jara are a few more Americans than upon the former, the
ranch-owners being mainly, however, of Mexican descent. A tributary
is called by the geographer North Fork, but is locally known as Aguas
Calientes, or Hot Springs Creek, and where its land is represented as
suitable for grazing only, it is found in reality to be adapted to the agri-
culture of the Mexicans, ranches at intervals being passed along its
banks.

" The entire course of the La Jara may be likened in its direction to
a huge frying-pan in outline, the long handle upon the plain extending
to the Rio Grande, the basin within the foothills to its source. Before
reaching the plains the stream flows to the south, east, and north, the
latter part in a steep, precipitous canon, strewed with basaltic, which
the road avoids. This road, built by the county over a natural route,
is in good order, and affords the residents of the lower river easy access
to its upper part, which, as we ascend and pass over the intervening
rolling foothills, we find within a lovely valley, called by the Mexicans
El Voile, to which they resort for hay. The volcanic rocks strewn
along the foothills, well timbered with pinon, we leave behind us as
we descend into the valley, a basin eroded from the general plateau by
the waters of the stream, which has cut for itself, in its lower and more
rapid descent, a small but impassable canon. This valley, several miles
long and of a varying width of from three-fourths to one and a half
miles, is a beautiful spot, and has been located upon by several persons
for cattle ranches. The grazing is very fine, and so nearly level is the
land, that the stream, here small and at its headwaters, pursues a most
tortuous course. Trout are found more abundantly than at any other
point."

While we can scarcely compliment the syntax of the report above
quoted, the facts are trustworthy.

74 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

Fairly out into the valley, where Ute creek, Sangre de Cristo, and one
or two other streamlets unite to form the Trinchera, stands an old mil-
itary post, Fort Garland. In one of the canons near by was a still older
one, Fort Massachusetts, now abandoned or used only as a cavalry can-
tonment when a larger body of troops is assembled here than there are
barracks for. In 1852 and 1856, the dates when the two forts re-
spectively were founded, the Indians— Utes, Apaches, Comanches, and
Navajoes — were all troublesome, and the men were kept very busy in
scouting, if not in resisting attacks. Now the crumbling buildings of
adobe shelter only a score or so of men, and serve merely as a depot of
supplies, a large amount of government stores being guarded here.
Fort Garland is a pretty place, and from it will be likely to make his
start anybody who wishes to ascend old Sierra Blanca, the loftiest peak
in Colorado, whose triple head stands grandly opposite and near the
railway ; the United States Geological Survey is his sole predecessor.

Long ere this we had become domesticated in our cars, and now I
may digress sufficiently to jot down a little description of them. As I
have said, there were three, and we spoke of them as our " train." The
first was a parlor-car. It usually ran in the rear, and gave us the
advantage of a lookout behind, something worth having among the
mountains. This car was not homelike enough to suit us, however,
so we rarely occupied it, when we were stationary, except as a bed-
room for our masculine guests. But when running, this car was our
resort. Into it we would hustle the Madame's sewing-basket and
fancy work, a lot of books and papers, spy-glasses, wraps, and lunch-
eon, and have the gayest of times as we sped along, unconfined by
limited space, unsolicitous about baggage or appearances, unannoyed by
other passengers, and above all, thank heaven! safe from the peanut-
boy. If we were to run at night we converted it into a sleeper. Cur-
tains were hung up at intervals, making staterooms ; easy chairs were
faced, a stool placed between them, then a mattress spread across, form-
ing a capital bed ; or else we simply cleared a place on the floor, spread
our mattresses down, and camped. Usually both methods were followed
by different occupants. It was snug, there was good ventilation, and
we slept such slumbers as seemed to prove us in the poet's category of
the "just." Where a long stay was made, cots were set up, and the car
became a bed-room exclusively. I doubt whether our porter enjoyed it,
though, as much as we. He rarely rode upon its easy springs, and he
had a constant fight with circumstances to keep it neat.

The other two sections of our train were box-cars, fresh from the
shops, and of the most improved pattern. All through the trip, I may
say in advance, they rode splendidly, though often attached to express
trains which rattled them along at twice the speed the maker ever
intended. Each of these cars had a door cut in one end, and these

76 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

door- way ends were placed in juxtaposition and remained so always.
At first two elaborate platforms were hinged to one of the cars, bridg-
ing the space between them; but they were smashed on almost the
first curve, after which we laid a series of boards down from one buffer-
head to the other and took them up whenever we moved — that is, if the
porter did n't forget it, or get left. Here comes in the chronicle of our
steps, the portable stairway by which we ascended and descended to and
from our elevated house ; sed revocare gradus, — " but to recall those
steps " in their entirety would, I fear, be a hopeless task. The first set
we had fell under the wheels and immediately became of no further
interest to us. Then our invaluable forager found this second set, and
thereby saddled himself with a responsibility he never could shake off.
The whole Denver and Rio Grande railway corporation seemed to be
bent on their destruction. Time fails me to tell of the numberless
occasions when they were apparently crushed by some jar of the cars, as
they stood in position at a station, and of the wrenchings that required
a new hammering and more spikes to correct. But watched jealously
by the porter, and lashed securely on the end of the car when we
moved, they survived it all, and gave us facilis decensus from first to
last.

One of these box-cars became kitchen and commissary office. A
partition was thrown across one-third of the distance from the end,
forming a room for our porter and also a place of storage for our sup-
plies. There was everything in there, from a pepper-box to a mattress,
and from a lamp-chimney to a Winchester rifle. It had a table which
might have been let down, two windows, and sundry racks and clothes-
hooks. The remaining two-thirds of the car was devoted to the kitchen.
One corner contained a monstrous ice-chest, and opposite it stood a
huge wood-and-coal box, which it was the constant ambition of our boy
to keep piled with kindling stuff almost to the ceiling; the result being,
that frequently his improvised racks would come to pieces with the
jarring of some rapid run, and the fuel be heaped up " mighty promis-
cuous " on the floor. The other corners of the kitchen held a fair-sized
cooking-stove, securely bolted, and, lastly, an iron water-tank, as large
as a barrel and mounted on a stand. With this water-tank we had a
long contest. The face of our first colored cook, never much more
cheerful than the big end of a coffin, took on a doubly rueful aspect at
the conclusion of our first day out. The tank had been well filled
before starting, but the cover fitted so loosely that half a barrel or so of
the liquid splashed out, and the floor of the car was like a little sea. The
Photographer generously sacrificed a blanket to spread across underneath
the cover, and we were careful afterward not to fill the tank quite to
the top ; but it always shot jets and sprays down the back of your neck
when you least expected, if you went near it when in motion. Then
one day the faucet burst, and deluged the place with a stream like that

HOUSEKEEPING ON WHEELS. 77

from a hose-pipe. Next it fell to leaking, and so to the end of the trip
we had that persistently mischievous tank to contend with. Beside the
stove stood a narrow cupboard, the top of which was intended to be the
kitchen table ; but we found water leaking through into the flour, etc.,
underneath, and so built another table, hinging it to the opposite side of
the car, between the tank and the fuel box. There were plenty of
shelves and racks; and, the two side-doors having been fastened shut, the
walls of the car were soon garnished with all sorts of wares that could
be hung up. After a week it was learned how to stow everything so
well that almost no breakage occurred.

The dining-car was exactly similar in size, twenty-four feet long by
seven feet wide. It had four windows, and we used to slide back the
great doors on one or both sides when the weather was warm and pleas-
ant. If cool or stormy we locked them, wedged them tight and caulked
the cracks, yet could never quite keep out the gales. The wind, I found,
bloweth not only where "it listeth," but also where / listed. We thought
it a very cheerful place, as we entered this snug home — for it was the
"living-room" of the train — after a hard tramp, or gathered about the
dinner table in the strong rays of mail lamps, and the softer light from
railway candles. The gayly striped portiere shutting off the Madame's
little nook of a bed-room at the rear end of the car; the bright oilcloth
that covered the floor; the rich oak-brown of the paint on the door-
frames, wainscoting,and stanchions that at frequent intervals supported
the roof ; the ruddy glow of the Turkey-red cloth filling all the panels,
and the pictures, books, Indian pottery, burnished firearms and bits of
decoration here and there, made a picture that never lost its cheer and
air of comfort. Here were my friendly books and writing-desk, with all
the little literary appliances, and pigeon-holes full of manuscript, memo-
randa and correspondence. 7 ^re was the easy chair behind the spindle-
shaped, upright stove. Here was the Madame's rocking-chair and her
work-stand, while the parted curtains let us peep into a diminutive but
carefully convenient boudoir just behind her. Here stood her ward-
robe— a trunk which lost its identity under the warm zigzags of a
Navajo blanket; and here our hospitable dining-table, around which,
perched on camp-stools, we ate good food with royal appetites, drank
red wine with keen delight, and summoned all the imps of fun to laugh
with us over quips and quirks to which, no doubt, the mad spirit of the
day lent more wit than the brains of their makers. Shakespeare says, —

"A jest's prosperity lies In the ear
Of him that hears It, never In the tongue
Of him that makes It."

Here work was done, too. Have I not seen the Madame busily
sewing, and quiet ? Did not the Artist often paint, I know not how long,
without speaking? — I know not how long because I was so intent upon

THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

shaping this chronicle you read. If our trip had been all picnic and
void of serious purpose, we should not have enjoyed it half so well.
Charles Lamb asked pettishly, —

" Who first invented work, and bound the free
And holiday-rejoicing spirit down ?"

But surely our holiday was fraught with a deeper zest, because our not

too onerous duties now and then encroached upon our pleasures, and so

made us value merry times the higher.

Well, now you may understand how and where we lived, and

moved, and had our work and play. It was a warm, snug, handsome

home and office,
bed-chamber and
kitchen on wheels.
There were little
hardships and an-
noyances, no
doubt, but why
remember them?
Le diable est mort !

The railway
down San Luis
Park is straight
as a surveyor's
line, and trains

SANGRE DE CRISTO SUMMITS.

THE CONEJOS SHEEP-HERDERS. 79

often run at a high rate of speed with perfect safety. At Alamosa
it halted in construction for a long time. The town then became the
forwarding point for all southern Colorado and New Mexico. Very
large commission houses were placed there, enormous trains of wagons
and pack mules were coming and going, stages left daily for Lake City
and Gunnison, Saguache and Pitkin, Tierra Amarilla and the lower San
Juan, Taos and Santa Fe, and the vim and excitement of an outfitting
station prevailed. But presently the railway moved southward and
westward, and Alamosa settled down into a quiet yet prosperous place,
with a local agricultural population to back it, and the headquarters of
the second division of the railway which extends to — to — well towards
Mexico.

Twenty-nine miles south of Alamosa is Antonito, where the line
branches off to the San Juan country. The town is supported by the
money the railway and the passengers spend, and is quite uninteresting;
but over to the westward is the larger and older village of Conejos, which
is better, though " distance lends enchantment." Conejos means hares :
probably the Mexican pioneers found a superfluity of jack-rabbits there.
The place has been a farming and grazing center of supplies for many
years. Along Conejos creek are numerous small Mexican ranches, good
enough types of their sort (we shall find far better ahead), but the town
itself has been Americanized until its claim to being a Mexican plaza is
about lost; nor have the innovations added to its interest in any degree.
In a real Mexican town, for example, the church is always an entertain-
ing place to visit, because it is ruinously ancient and strange ; but here
the large, well-conditioned structure has been roofed, painted and mod-
ernized until it is not worth a glance except from the point of comfort
and security from decay. Annexed to it is an academy for boys, and
another for girls, both under the charge of priests and nuns of the
Roman Catholic Church. These schools have no counterparts among
the Mexicans nearer than Santa Fe, and have a wide reputation.

Lacking interest for the tourist, the practical man will learn that
Conejos is a very fair business place in certain lines. It is the head-
quarters of the sheep and cattle men of the San Luis Park. In sheep,
I learn that although about two hundred and fifty thousand are sold out
of the park annually, fully five hundred thousand are left. The large
majority of these are of the inferior sort called Mexican sheep, which are
worth from one dollar to one dollar and twenty-five cents a head. The
better minority sell at one dollar and fifty cents and two dollars a head,
and this minority is increasing through a constant effort to improve the
breed by introducing highly-bred Merino and Cotswold rams. The
average yield is two and a half pounds of wool annually, and the pro-
duct is shipped almost entirely to Philadelphia, for use in making carpets.
Cattle is less an industry here, because the sheep are so numerous as
to consume most of the pasturage. Something like ten thousand head,

80 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

however, are able to exist in the park and adjacent foothills, and are
sold to great advantage.

Nearly midway between Alamosa and Antonito, and easterly, but
within sight of the railway, the Mormon settlements of Manassa and
Ephraim have been founded, and have now a population of about six
hundred. These people do not practice polygamy, and are frugal,
industrious and prosperous. They are under the jurisdiction of the
church in Utah, which also maintains similar colonies in the corners of
Arizona and New Mexico adjacent to the Utah and Colorado line.

VII

THE INVASION OF NEW MEXICO.

There are mists like vapor of incense burning,
That are rolling away under skies that are fair;

There are brown-faced sunflowers dreamily turning,
Shaking their yellow hair.

—MBS. C. L. WHITON-.

UR stay was comparatively not as long as our talk in sandy
San Luis, for we soon left its pastures behind and were
steaming southward, but with slower and slower speed.
Again we were twisting our toilsome way up the val-
ley's "purple rim," since it was easier to go over the
high bank than down through the rugged canon, where
the wagon-road runs. The summit of this ridge, beyond which lies the
valley of the Rio Grande in New Mexico, is not attained until you reach
Barranca (" a high river-bank "), sixty-five miles from Antonito, and one
of the most attractive spots in the region. The altitude is over eight
thousand feet, and the air of that perfect purity extolled in all that is
written of mountain districts. The station, with its half dozen accom-
panying houses, all owned and occupied by those in the service of the
railway, stands in the midst of acres of sunflowers, which all summer
long spread their yellow disks to the full gaze of the sun, and dare him
to outshine them. I have seen sunflowers before, but never in such
masses and splendor of tone as here. Near by one catches sight of
the green of the leaves and stems between, like the mottled plumage of
some canaries, while the mass of chrome-yellow atop is picked off with
maroon dots of seed-centers. Distance loses these details to one's eye,
and gives only a billowy stretch — a glorious sulphur sea, intense as burn-
ished gold, rolling between you and a dark green shore of pifion foliage.
This August landscape, indeed, divides into three great portions, relieved
by few variations, yet never for a moment monotonous. In the fore-
ground are the brilliant, owl-eyed flowers ; above them the stratum of
well-rounded tree-tops, blackish in shadow; after that the far-away
mountains, delicately green, or deep blue, or washed with an amethystine
tint, Arching over all bends the cloudless azure of the canopy.

Our cars safely side-tracked, the Madame and I wander aimlessly
about during the warm afternoon, while the Musician takes his rifle and
saunters away down the tapering track, and Photographer and Artist

82 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

set resolutely off for a tramp to the top of some buttes. Returning in
good time for our twilight dinner, the rifleman brings no game, but reports
having seen a cotton-tailed hare and some ravens. The climbers come
in very weary. Their buttes were far away and lofty. From their
summits they could distinguish Fernandez de Taos, and are not surprised
to learn that more freight is gradually being transferred thence from
here than from Embudo, the designated station for Taos. They could
see more grand peaks than they could count on their fingers and toes;
and told us about the road to Ojo Caliente, the Warm Springs of New
Mexico, famous for almost three centuries.

This was an objective point twelve miles away; but the stages which
now run, had not then begun their daily mail-trips, so we had to dis-
patch a messenger for a vehicle. Three Mexicans lay stretched out on
the station-platform asleep. They had lain there all day wailing in lazy
patience the coming of the pay-car which owed them a few dollars.
For uno peso — one dollar — one of them consented to take a message to
Antonio Joseph, who owns the springs; and, mounting his burro,
scampered off with an appearance of tremendous haste, which doubt-
less diminished as soon as he had placed the first thicket behind him.

The Madame and I took our chairs into the shadow of the dining-
car, and read and sewed while the sun sank reluctantly down. It was
very quiet, the humming of wild bees and wasps furnishing almost the
only sound. Soon I noticed that between our glances a mound of
earth had been thrown up about a dozen feet from where we sat. A
moment later there was a stirring in the nearest clump of sunflowers,
some soil was tossed up, immediately followed by a brown nose and
shaggy little head, which instantly disappeared, only to come up again,
pushing before it a handful of dirt from its tunnel. This was repeated
a dozen times or more, at the end of which the little workman came on
top and surveyed his surroundings. He saw us, but as we kept still he
took no alarm, and presently let himself down backwards into his burrow.
He was not gone "for good," however. In a moment the blunt, stiff-
whiskered snout and black eyes peered out, and made a grasp at a stem
of the sunflower. It was large and tough, and the first bite only made
it tremble; but a second nipped it off. Then seizing it by the butt,—
he was wise enough not to drag it leaves foremost, — he pulled it down
into his hole, and apparently carried it to the innermost chamber, for
some minutes elapsed before he returned for a second flower stem, to add
to his winter stock.

We knew him well enough. He was the gopher, a large kind of
ground squirrel, not easily to be distinguished from a prairie-dog in
race, color, or previous condition of servitude. If any one desires to
know more about him, let him "look up the authorities," as Professor
Polycarp P. Pillicamp would say.

That evening we sat in the parlor-car, or rather lay easily on the

84 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

couch-like chairs reclined to their utmost limit, and. listened to the Mu-
sician's violin, while the glorious banners of the retreating day paled
slowly from view. Opera, sonata, opera-boulfe, ballad, came tenderly to
our ears and floated away out over the sun-flowers and into the pifions,
where the few birds awoke to listen ; and perhaps were wafted out to
the rolling plain, whence at intervals came faintly in reply the long,
yelping howl of a coyote.

In the morning we were awakened with the announcement that our
conveyance was ready. It had come at midnight, and proved to be only
an ordinary farm-wagon, with springs under the seats. The road
wound through the clustered trees and crossed open glades, as though
in a nobleman's park; passed the rocky buttes, whose jutting cliffs were
strangely picturesque in their Grecian morning-robe of angular shadows,
and descended a long, stony hill to the mesa, which thereafter it trav-
ersed for ten miles. This mesa was a great table-land of sand. Whence
it had drifted was widely discussed ; but the more I think about it, the
less I believe it had drifted at all, and the more I incline to the opinion
that it remained, while a great amount of formerly overlying earth and
partial rock, unprotected by the thick capping of lava shielding the
larger part of the surface, had been swept away by water. There were
plenty of gauges to help to a judgment upon the extent of this denuda-
tion. To the right, a long mesa, with steep sides, extended out like a
promontory, whose level basaltic surface was a thousand feet above us ;
yet that was a valley long ago, for the lava took it as a channel. Behind,
across the Chama, the Jemez mountains lifted themselves in rugged out-
line against the southern sky. They are volcanic ; but, almost as high
as they, towered the flat-topped, butte-like mountain of Abiquiu, which
is not volcanic, but of sandstone, and stands as a mark of the former
level of the country there, on the day when the hot basalt came hissing
down from its fiery spout now lost to our tracing. On this dry, sandy,
cactus-loving upland grew the rich grama-grass, another name for it
being panic- grass. It has a seed-head which is neither panicle nor
spike, but a perfect little one-sided brown feather, about an inch long,
Hanging stiffly at right angles to the stalk, and at its very summit. It is
not only odd, but very beautiful, for the grass grows thinly, and every
plumelet is visible.

Our progress was slow and monotonous ; we had exhausted our
conversation and were getting tired of everything, when the driver
pointed out a red hill to the right as our destination, and presently,
descending a steep bench, we turned up the valley of Ojo Caliente,
whose former banks, like those of all these southern streams, were from
one to five miles apart, and very precipitous. Between these the river
wound its way, crossing from side to side of the valley, or pursuing the
safe "middle course." In the bends of the stream were Mexican farms
and the most dilapidated of adobe houses, some part of nearly every one

A PRIMITIVE WATERING PLAGE. 85

of which had so fallen to pieces as to be uninhabitable. Our guide said
the land was poor, and we believed him. Everything showed that the
people were poverty-stricken and almost in barbarism, yet they had an
abundance of land, pretty well watered, and great flocks of sheep and
goats ; we met a single flock which probably contained fifteen hundred
sheep. Some of the dwellings had wooden gratings in place of windows;
and the doors, made with auger and axe, had been rudely carved in
an attempt at decoration, which time, smoothing and tinting, had ren-
dered very attractive to our unaccustomed and curious eyes. Behind
the best houses often would lie an unfenced bit of old orchard, grown
almost wild. Such a half-ruined plazita, with its carved doors and
grated windows ; with its corner of goat-corral, and conical ovens at the
side ; its grassy roof, and high, gnarled trees overhead ; its background
of river-bend and cornfield and red rocks and distant misty mountains •
most of all, with its foreign humanity peering out to see who was pass-
ing, made a picture which threw our art-devotees into ecstacy ; and as
each was passed they declared they would sketch it — when they came
back! That the declaration was kept you have evidence, though
modified into a general view of Ojo Caliente.

Four miles up from the bend the springs were reached, and we
gladly sat down to a dinner beginning with Baltimore oysters. These
springs are hot, but endurably so, after one has tempered up to it.
They flow from under the cliff on the eastern bank, and are thence
led into the bath-houses close by. Excepting the hotel, which will
accommodate from fifty to seventy-five guests, the only other build-
ing is a large supply-store; but you will usually find a great many
people living in tents near by. These warm springs are noted for their
curative and healing qualities, and have been visited for many years by
invalids, with miraculous results. They do tell some wonderful stories
of relief given to rheumatic and paralytic patients ; while diseases of
the skin vamos at once, as a Mexican attendant phrased it. Such an
effect is to be expected, when you find heated water analyzing into the
following constituency :

Sodium Carbonate 196.95

Lithium " 21

Calcium " 4.17

Magnesium41 2.18

Iron " 10.12

Potassium Sulphate 5.17

Sodium Chloride 38.03

Silicic Acid... . 2.10

Total 272.52

The fact that the latitude (36° 20') and inland situation give a mild,
equable climate \n winter, and the altitude (6,000 feet) makes the sum-
mer air sweet and invigorating, should be taken into account, however,

THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

that promote
recorded,
been resorted to

OJO CALIENTE.

in estimating the conditions
the speedy gains of health
That these springs have
from remote antiquity, is shown ^*by the ledges above,

which are covered with very ancient, almost obliterated, ruins of those
cliff - dwelling aborigines whose houses and pueblos are scattered in
such profusion over the canons tributary to the Rio Colorado and the
lower Rio San Juan. We heard that many skeletons and relics had
been found there by casual excavating, and so went up to try our luck.
We could trace not only the bounds of several closely grouped pueblos,
but in many cases even the estufas and the straight walls of the sepa-
rate rooms. A little shoveling at once showed us that these were made
outwardly of uncut stone, and inwardly of adobe, which resisted the
pick, while the loose earth within was easily removed. We could only
"coyote round," as a western man calls desultory digging, but sa\v how
rich a treasure to the archaeologist would be exposed by systematic exca-
vations. In searching for the stone metates and las manas, which then
as now constituted the corn-crushing apparatus of the common people,
the Mexican peasants have disclosed many ancestral bones, and we
kicked about parts of human skeletons lying bleached, on the surface, at
half a dozen places. At last, by chance, we struck a skeleton ourselves.
It was that of a young person, for the wisdom teeth had not yet risen
above their bone sockets, and the sutures of the skull were open. The
bones were disordered, so that we obtained only a few, and the head
had been crushed in. The same rude dismemberment and lack of burial
is said to characterize all the skeletons discovered, and they are alv/ays
found within the walls of the houses. The local theo^ is, that an earth-

SEtfOR VERSUS BURRO. ?'i

quake overtook the town; but I believe that the pueblo was attacked
and captured by enemies during the wars which we know finally resulted
in the village-people being driven out of all this region, and that it was
burned over the heads of the citizens, many of whom were killed
within their very homes. The presence of charcoal all through the
mounds of ruins, with various other circumstances, confirms this reas-
onable explanation.

We noticed fragments of pottery scattered everywhere. Some whole
jars have been exhumed, I was told Such ancient ware, uninjured,
would be of priceless value, but probably it all fell into unappreciative
hands, who despised its rudeness in comparison with the smoother mod-
em ware. The samples we secured showed a close similarity to all
the broken pottery strewn about the ancient and impressive ruins in the
Mancos and other canons of the San Juan valley, and, like them, had
preserved their colors in the most wonderfully brilliant way. Flakes
of obsidian (volcanic glass, which the settlers usually call topaz, or
Mexican topaz) were very common, and I picked up one large core,
whence scales had been chipped. They used this excellent material for
their arrow-points and spear-he&,ds, and we bought and were given a
score or more of very fine specimens of such obsidian points, but found
none except some broken ones, during our hurried look. We were told
that a javelin-head of this material, over a foot in length and exquisitely
worked, had been dug up here by a fortunate prospector for relics, and
that he had refused fifty dollars for it.

Opposite the hotel and springs was a poor little Mexican hamlet
called also Ojo Caliente, where an odd old church invited inspection.
But between us and it

" There's one wide river to cross,"

—and the bridge gone. What then? The Artist, the Photographer, the
Musician, "all with one accord began to make excuse." It was left for
the only remaining male member of the party to make the effort, nor
did he propose to wade; but how? The whole circle shrugged their con-
tented shoulders and answered, " Quien sabe!"

Down in front of the hotel stood a cross-eyed Mexican with a
vicious-looking black burro. Yes, he would let the Senor Americano
take him, but he could not go with the Senor, because of the rheumatism
in his knees, for which he had come over to the waters. So the " Senor"
marched down to the post to which the burro was connected by a small
rope looped about his neck. The untying of that rope was the scene
for an action, Senor vs. donkey. The sarcastic remark of the Musician,
"Now you have met your match!" was scarcely heard. It was not the
Senor's vocation to chase that black burro around the yard, but he made
it so without hesitation for a few minutes, devoting himself with the
utmost diligence to the duty. The extreme levity of the idle spectators

88 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

showed how utterly unable they were to appreciate a really good piece
of burro-chasing when they saw it. Finally the course of the work
brought the operators in close proximity to an old locust tree that had
not cumbered the ground in vain with its useless trunk, as it had seemed
to do for years past. The Sefior skillfully put the donkey on the other
side, and dexterously wound his end of the line around the sturdy
trunk, whereupon the burro, like grandfather's clock, "stopped short."
So would the adventure have done, had not the Mexican brought his
squint to bear upon the scene, and, after a calculating survey, hobbled
rheumatically to the Sefior's assistance. Clasping both arms enthusiastic-
ally about the donkey's thick neck, he made signs for the cable to be
cast oif and the Sefior to mount.

The saddle consisted of a pair of wishbone-shaped wooden crotches,
fastened together on each side by a cross-bar at their lower extremities.
The whole was then covered with raw-hide, which by its shrinking
made the affair solid, while a cinch of the same material secured it to the
little beast's back. A sheepskin was spread underneath, in lieu of a
blanket, and wooden stirrups dangled by rude straps at the sides. It
was a matter of agility to get into this primitive saddle, and the stay was
likely to prove extremely brief, for the moment the Mexican let go his
loving embrace, the burro ducked his head and made off in a swift, short
circle, which came near disposing of the- Sefior at a tangent, through
centrifugal force. Resisting this philosophical demonstration by lock-
ing his legs together around the burro's body, he finally overcame the
circular intention by pounding the brute's head on one side, for there
was no bridle and bit with which to guide him. The lookers on
averred afterwards that it was as good as watching a yacht turn the
lightship, to see the rolling skill with which the Senor veered away
toward the gate, stumbled across the stony bottom, and dashed into the
swift river. He himself remembers the devout thankfulness with which
he found himself unwet on the other side, and the terror with which he
discovered that his animal had broken into a gallop that threatened
to dislocate every rib and rattle down his vertebrae, as a child tumbles
over a pile of letter-blocks. What could he do? If it seemed almost
impossible to stay on, it was altogether so to get off. There was no
halter on which to pull, no mane to grasp, and frenzied whoas only
urged that wicked donkey faster. But a happy thought came. He had
heard a fruit-seller at Conejos say c7iee ! cJiee ! to his burros. Whether
they stopped or went faster, after it, he couldn't remember, but it was
worth trying. Chee ! chee ! chee ! burst from his frantic lips. Instantly
the beast came to a standstill, almost impaling his rider on the sharp
pommel. It was a success, and his anatomy was safe again. After that,
control was easier. A dig of the heel in his ribs made the burro go ; a
bang on the side of his head steered him away from the wrong direction,
and a blow on the other side taught him he had diverged too far from

A LINGUISTIC INTERVIEW. 80

the middle course, while chee! cheef stopped him altogether. So with
trepidation and shying in a corn-field, and perilous climbing of steep
rocks, at last the hamlet was reached, and the labor of dismounting
painfully accomplished.

In the door of one of the low mud houses sat a woman, nearly hid-
den under the usual black shawl, which she had now drawn down over

EMBUDO, RIO GRANDE VALLEY.

her swarthy face. The Senor advanced and doffed his hat. You are a
Spanish scholar, yet perhaps would not have understood as well as that
peasant woman, had you seen or heard the conversation.

" Waynass deeass, Seenyora," began the tourist.

"Buenas dias," came faintly out of a fold in the mantilla.

" Yocayrolaverolaeglahssay, " was the Senor's next parrot-like re-
mark, evidently understood by his veiled listener, for, pointing to a little
man slouching past, she answered :

" No tengo Have — alii ! " and disappeared in the cave-like darkness

•4

90 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

of her windowless dwelling. Meanwhile the man had gone on, sub-
limely indifferent to the Senor's cries and beckoning, and when followed,
was found in the midst of his half-naked family, greedily devouring a
melon, which he had opened by dashing it to pieces on the stone door-
sill, and was now gouging out with his knuckle. After he had quite
finished this pleasing operation, lie got the keys of the church, and,
accompanied by a little girl, led the way to the sacred edifice, whose
outer court, surrounded by a mud wall a dozen feet high, was secured
with a padlock.

The church itself of course was built of adobe, the facade being
supported on the right of the door by a great sloping buttress, which
was not only a brace, but had served in place of a ladder to those who
built the roof and parapets. At each corner, in front, a little protuber-
ance hinted that the architect had side-towers in his mind, while the
center was carried up into a low gable, surmounted by a square bit of
clay work and timber, bearing a wooden cross and sustaining a home-
made bell, whose greenish and rough-cast exterior gave it an appearance
of the most corroded antiquity. Recent rains had evidently damaged
the walls very much, for great hollows had been washed in them.

Unlocking the axe-hewn and wooden-pinned doors, always innocent
of paint, the Sefior and the Mexican uncovered their heads, and the little
girl at once knelt down, crossing her hands on her breast. Unlike the
old sister who exhibits the ancient chapel of Our Lady of Guadalupe at
Santa Fe, and never leaves her knees during the whole visit, however,
this pious young maiden sprang up in a minute and trotted round, as
full of curiosity for the white stranger as he was for la yglesia.

This poor church was more forlorn than most of its fellows. The
clay floor had lately been a pool of water, and its drainage had ploughed
deep furrows and left soft holes. The little round box of a pulpit,
painted in streaks of red and blue, had replaced its lost stairway with
a ladder, and its sounding-board was a spoon-shaped piece of plank about
the size of a chair-seat, inside which was traced a white dove on a blue
ground, its wings outspread in full conventionality. Nothing so good
as a draw shave had ever worked out the supports of the altar-rail, be-
hind which the floor was planked. The altar itself bore in the center an
image of the Virgin Mary, about half life size, dressed much like a great
doll. On each side of her were tall tallow candles, set in rough holders
whittled out of billets of wood into a rounded pillar form; and all about
the altar were small sconces stamped out of tin (generally devoid of
mirror), and cheap prints, colored and uncolored, of the Savior wearing
the crown of thorns, Madonnas, and other sacred subjects.

The altar-cloth was calico, trimmed with frills and flounces of
cotton lace and red muslin, more or less ragged and dirty. On either
side of the altar, facing each other, hung crosses bearing wooden figures
of Christ crucified. These also were about half life size, and were naked,

AN ANCIENT CHURCH. 91

except that one had a piece of cotton twisted about the loins, and the other
had a short skirt of dirty tarletan, suggesting the ballet. These effigies
were painted a dull white, and hung in the most agonizing attitudes, —
suffering intensified by the long-drawn lines of the haggard faces, the
slant of the eyes, and the dropping of the lower jaw. To produce a more
horrible representation still, the carver had given the forms extreme
emaciation, the ribs standing apart, the abdomen sunken, the bones and
cords of all the limbs dreadfully prominent. Add to this cadaverous
appearance a network of red streaks tracing the principal veins, and
great splashes and runlets of blood, and you have an image awful be-
yond conception. Besides these large models, there was a little one of
the same style, which I should have been tempted to have sacrilegious-
ly stolen, had not the keeper been watching me closely; and in several
niches, small, tinsel-clothed puppets, wjiich the man told me were San
Francisco, Patron of the Church, and our Lady of Guadalupe, who
heads the list of sanctified virgins in all the Mexican churches. Stand-
ing in these little holes in the half-whitewashed wall of mud, under their
ragged little curtains, the corporal's guard of saints looked very forlorn;
and I do not wonder the peasants refuse to go into the building after
dark, no matter how fast they may mumble their prayers.

More interesting than the images were some silken and fringed ban-
ners, decayed almost to shreds, and the spear-points of their staves well-
rusted, which once belonged to the Spanish soldiery; for this church is
one of the oldest in the new world. Centuries have rolled over its
adobe walls, and its roof of closely-set logs and adze-carved brackets,
has echoed to the clank of men in armor, as well as to the chant of
half-Indian farmers and shepherds. It is rude and ugly and barbaric,
representing a phase of Christianity in some respects far worse than
the simple religion those Indians over at the Pueblos thought good, a
thousand years ago. But the little church is not to be despised, and
the awe-struck faith of its miracle-loving parishioners may be more
acceptable than the gilded worship of many a rich and learned congre-
gation nearer the sea.

VIII
EL MEXICANO Y EL PUEBLOAXO.

THEN they descended and passed through the luxuriant yellow plains, the sunset
blazing on the rows of willows and on the square farm-houses with their gaudy picture
over the arched gateway, while always in the background rose the dark masses of the
mountains, solemn and distant, beyond the golden glow of the fields.— WILLIAM BLACK.

OME just in time from Ojo Caliente, we hooked our cars
the same evening to the never-tiring express, and trusted
ourselves to its guidance without a thought of danger.
When daylight had fully come, and from the "purple-
blazoned gateway of the morn " the sun was begging
entrance at our curtained windows, somebody — I think
it was the Photographer, a man utterly without nervousness or regard
for it in others — startled all our tranquil slumbers by the shout,
" Comanche!''

It was not Indians though — only a respectable sort of canon, with
great black walls, and rugged hills wedged apart by the stream, and the
train hanging invisibly half-way betwixt top and bottom, always going
in and out of nooks and gulches, always gliding cTown nearer the water,
until finally, between strange farm-fields, the noble Rio Grande came in
view, and once more we ran upon a level track. Emerging from
Comanche Canon, a bend to the southward is made along the western
bank of the lower part of the canon of the Rio Grande. In many por-
tions of this narrow valley, only about twenty miles in length, fea-
tures of great interest to the eye occur, equaling the walls of Comanche,
which was itself ignored until the railway brought it to light. The
river here is about sixty yards wide, and pours with a swift current
troubled by innumerable fallen rocks. To day it is swollen and yellow
with the drift of late rains, but in clear weather its waters are bright and
blue, for it has not yet soiled its color with the fine silt which will
thicken it between Texas and Mexico.

On the opposite bank, near the level of the river, runs the wagon
road that General Edward Hatch, formerly commander of the depart-
ment of New Mexico, cut some years ago to give ready communication
between his headquarters at Santa Fe and the posts in the northern part
of the Territory and in southern Colorado. This is the track now followed
by all teamsters, but the old road from the south to Taos ran over the
hills far to the eastward, passing through Picuris.

A VENDOR OF PRODUCE. 93

An odd conical hill (shown in our engraving) stands near the mouth
of the canon, dividing the current of the river. Noticing its resemblance
to a funnel, the Mexicans called it Embudo, and the adjacent station
takes the same name. Embudo is chiefly important as the point of de-
parture for Taos, thirty miles distant.

While breakfast was preparing we were interrupted by the sudden
apparition at the side-door of our car of two long ears, then a forehead,
bulging by reason of the bushy hair that covered it, and immediately
afterward the neck and shoulders of a donkey. But if you say donkey
down here few comprehend you. The proper word is burro (boo-ro). This
animal bore upon his round back a small saw-buck saddle, from each side
of which hung a square panier of wicker-work. These paniers were not
nailed, but the willow sticks of which they were made were bound into
place by thongs of rawhide. On top, between them, was lashed a third
square basket, which would hold a half-bushel. Though this seemed very
bulky, it really was a light load for the little beast, and he stepped along
briskly ahead of the wrinkled old Mexican who owned him. Shining
through the wicker receptacles we saw green rinds, and sang out, —

"Melones?"

"Si, Senor," came the husky answer, whereupon the burro was
seized by the tail and brought very willingly to anchor. Slipping several
of the sticks out of their leather-loops, half a dozen long yellow speci-
mens, something between a melon and a cantaloupe, were held up for
our inspection. We hammered them with our knuckles, testing their
soundness, and finding some to suit, enquired the cost, —

" Cuanto pide vm. por estos melones? "

" Dos realles! " (two shillings) was the reply; so we bought three at
an outlay of seventy-five cents.

They proved muskmelonish and somewhat tough, but by no means
bad. There seems to be no reason why much better melons should not
be raised, since the conditions are favorable and every farmer does more
or less at it. This question why served to spice our chat at luncheon. It
was ultimately concluded that the continued degeneracy was due to the
fact that all the good ones were stolen and eaten, only the very poorest
being left to mature their seeds; thus the worst, instead of the best, were
used to propagate from. I recite this, to show the thoughtful reader that
we are not always frivolous, but often introduce grave themes into our
discourse, and discuss them in a philosophic way.

Attaching ourselves to the locomotive of a working train, after the
noon repast, we were hauled down the valley three miles, and given an
opportunity to watch the men repair track that had been lately torn to
pieces by water, two or three culverts having been swept out and the
road-bed completely uprooted. The hills at that point slanted down to
the river in a long treeless sweep, sown so thickly with boulders of
basalt, from the size of a bushel to that of a barrel, that even the sage-

94 TJ.U CHEST OF THE CONTINENT.

brush could find scanty footing between. Down this long slope, from
the mountains behind, had come one of those raging precipitations of
unmeasured rain to which ,the West has given the expressive name
"cloudburst." Truly, when one of these incidents of Rocky Mountain
meteorology occurs, " the windows of heaven are opened." To such a
torrent the natural rip-rap opposed a very slight obstacle. The heavy
and closely packed rocks were lifted and rolled and hurled headlong
as though they had been a child's marbles. Wherever any earth or mere
gravel was met, it was plowed up and dashed away in a moment, while
as for the railway bed, its embankments were demolished, its cuttings
filled, and such heaps of stones piled upon its distorted track in some
places that no attempt was made to dig it out, but new rails w^re laid
in a different spot. They were rough and irregular enough, but we went
safely over. Against these cloudbursts no railway in this region can
provide; and there is nothing to be done but rebuild as quickly as pos-
sible The skill, energy and marvelous speed with which the section
men do this, and the character of the temporary track over which they
run their trains until a better one can be constructed, excite the surprise
of every one. Railroading in the West is as unlike the similar pursuit
in the Atlantic States as a Colorado silver shaft is a contrast to a com-
monplace granite quarry.

We had observed on the further side of the river, where the flat
lands were continually widening between the stream and the hills, signs
of Mexican habitancy, and at the washout discovered a chapel of the
Society of the Penitentes, into which the flood had broken a great gap
near the foundation. It was a rude little house of mud, but well plas-
tered within, and perhaps had been intended as a dwelling in former

NEW MEXICAN LIFE.

THE PENITENTES. 95

days. Creeping in through the breach, we found no furniture, but a
pile of a dozen or more wooden crosses, which had been carried there
by the doers of penance at Easter. The smallest of these crosses was
more than ten feet in height, and its beams at least six inches in diame-
ter. As to the heaviest, I doubt if I could have lifted it fairly from the
ground. Yet the poor sinners had managed to get them across their
shoulders, and so had dragged them hither, with many pains of outward
penance and fearful flagellations of conscience, but with rich reward of
pride before earthly eyes, and promises of glory in the world to come.
From where they had been brought, or by whom, there was no record;
but their ends were worn diagonally to a sharp wedge by long scraping
over the stony soil. In addition to these were several small crosses of
lath, which had been borne by the priests, typically; some tin and
wooden candle holders, curious little lanterns, and one of those rude
religious portraits on woods, which are so common throughout this
section, and which are preserved reverently among the Mexicans for
generations.

The Penitentes are a sect within the Church, which the priests are
said to have been discouraging. Perhaps this has had some effect, for
the custom is in decay, a result due more to the railway than to the
cathedral, I fancy. During the greater part of the year the Penitentes
sin and are sinned against like other people, but in the spring they atone
for it by wearing coarse clothes under a sort of sacrificial robe, and by
torturing and starving themselves nearly to death. Walking in pro-
cessions, masked beyond recognition, enduring constant castigations
from each other, bearing over the roughest roads and across country the
heavy crosses we have seen, and with the "pride that apes humility"
enduring the utmost suffering, they consider themselves to have laid in
a stock of grace sufficient to over-balance all possible crime during the
coming twelvemonth. The practice has a long history, but amounts to
an American survival of the Flagellants of Europe.

A few miles below, the Mexican farms and orchards became more
frequent, the little settlement of Joya was noticed, Plaza Alcalde passed
by, and the wide, fertile plain of San Juan opened to our view. Skirt-
ing the western edge of this (for the river keeps close under the high
bluffs on that side), we ran five or six miles, until a triangular parting
in the bank opened to the westward, where we halted on a side-track
near the old adobe village, but new railway station, of Chamita. The
Rio Chama flows into the Rio Grande here, and a broad valley area is
the result. The whole of this, which is easily irrigated, is under tillage,
and just now looking its best. It is therefore a green and prosperous
landscape we gaze upon, bounded by reddish benches which the setting
sun brightens into splendor, and shut in by blue, lofty, cloud-capped
hills, beyond which stand the guardian summits of snowy ranges.

Up the Rio Chama cultivation extends almost uninterruptedly for

96 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT

many miles, and there are several villages or plazas. Chamita itself is on
this side — a cluster of scattered houses along the bluff through which
the railway has made a deep cut. The top of this ridge commands a
fine view up and down the Rio Grande, and there idle figures of Mexi-
can or Indian are always to be seen watching for the train or studying
the movements of almost invisible people on the other side of the valley.
Draped in black, for the most part, motionless and immovable, they
remind one irresistibly of Poe's picture : —

" And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting,
On the pallid bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door."

This point, as I have intimated, is in the midst of the civilization
of northern New Mexico. Twenty-five miles up the Chama stands the
large town of Abiquiu, an important place in old times ; nearer by an-
other plaza, Cuchillo, is a farming center. Not far away, in the Rio
Grande valley, are San Juan, Santa Cruz and Espanola, the latter on
the western bank of the river and the present terminus of the railwa}7"
line southward, whence stages depart regularly for Santa Fe.

A Mexican farmhouse or " ranch" looks like a small fort, and makes
a very pleasing picture, as you may observe in our sketch. It is
square, rarely more than one story high, is built of mud, and roofed with
immense round rafters, the ends of which protrude irregularly beyond
the wall, because the builders have been too indolent to saw them off.
Over these rafters, — above the line of which the wall extends a few
inches, — are laid some boards or a stratum of poles, and upon these dry
earth is spread a foot or more deep, with rude gutters arranged to carry
away the water. In the course of two or three seasons, such a roof will
have caught a supply of wind-sown seeds, and support a plentiful crop
of grass and weeds, which is no disadvantage. This novel result is in-
terfered with somewhat, however, b}r the habit of using the roofs of
the houses (reached by a short ladder) as a place for drying fruit and
sunning grain, and for a general lounging spot, whence a better view of
what is occurring in the world, — the going and coming of the neigh-
bors, the planting or gathering of the crop*}, the approach of a stranger-
horseman, or the movements of the cattle on the benches, — can be
obtained, than a seat on the ground affords. As the train dashes by, the
passenger notices two or three women and children standing on each
housetop, shading their eyes with their brown hands, and making an un-
conscious pose irresistibly alluring to an artist.

On a line with the front of the house a wall will probably extend a
little distance in each direction, and then backward, enclosing a garden
and diminutive orchard. Everything is square. The idea of a curve
seems rarely to enter the Spanish-Indian mind. For graphic effect, this
is highly gratifying, since the bends in the river, the rounded outlines of
the mountains, the undulations of foliage, are all in curves, to which the

AMONG STRANGE PEOPLE. 97

angular lines of the buildings present a most pleasing contrast. Now
and then you will see a better house — one whitewashed outside, and
having a balcony running around the second story. The outbuildings,
in any case, are only a few mud huts, used for storage, and some rough
pens where the animals are kept. Anything like the barns of an East-
ern farmer is unknown.

The isolated dwelling, however, is largely a modern innovation.
The general plan is to live in compact, block-like villages, surrounded
by a wall, or what amounts to that. This results partly from the need
in early days of united protection against the Indians, but chiefly from
following the traditional custom of their red ancestors; for the New
Mexican of to-day is a half-breed, or a mongrel of some degree between
the Spaniard who "came over with the conqueror" and the Indian of
whatever tribe happened to be accessible. Remote from civilized influ-
ences, the common people have tended always toward barbarous ways,
and are more Indian than Spanish, albeit the dialect they speak is not
so far removed from the Castilian as one would expect. There are local
differences and idioms, of course, which are at once noticeable; but the
usual tongue is not very bad Spanish.

Though Mexican hamlets and farms are scattered everywhere about
here, in the fertile valleys, there is a class of towns along this part of the
valley of the Rio Grande which are primarily Indian, and situated upon
reservations each ten miles square, secured to them by the government.
Each of these present villages, now commonly known by a Spanish
name, was the site of an ancient native pueblo, and the fields which
were deeded to them by the United States are those their fathers culti-
vated before the white men appeared at all. Some, however, yet re-
tain their Indian names, as Taos, Picuris, Pecos, Pojuaque, Acoma and
Tesiique. San Juan, Santa Cruz, Santa Clara, San lldefonso, and others
have been given new names by the conquerors and priests. South and
west of Santa Fe lie many other pueblos, some of them very populous,
as Jemez, Zia, Santo Domingo, and San Felipe. In all of them sub-
stantially the same sort of life is found, and as it is impossible for me to
cover the wide territory they embrace, the reader must be content with
the type of the whole to be seen here at Pueblo San Juan. It is a
phase of humanity and conduct rapidly passing away — melting under
the steady sun of modern progress; and the traveler who does not take
an early opportunity to study it will miss not only that which is ex-
tremely interesting and suggestive, but what in a few years will become
a matter of history and romantic tradition.

Here at Chamita the river is divided by a large, flat island into two
branches, each perhaps a hundred yards in width. Over the first one,
at the time of our visit, stood a good bridge, built by the railway com-
pany; a second bridge had spanned the other branch until the high
water carried it away. Formerly there had been a ferry, but the boat
s

THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

was out of order, and nobody
cared to repair it, for could
not the stream be forded ?

In the cool of the evening
the whole party went down
to the river bank, trusting to
good fortune for transporta-
tion. Thus challenged, good
fortune stood by us in the
person of a citizen and his
broncho. Chartering the lat-
ter, the Artist, his sketch-
ing haversack slung over his
shoulder, mounted, and then
the Madame was invited to
ascend, the pillion being a
shawl thrown over the horse's
haunches. When there she
declared she could not stay —
would certainly slip off the
Gothic back of the beast the
instant he moved.

" Then take it Anna Dick-
inson fashion," remarked her
unfeeling spouse; whereupon there was a frantic lurch, a twinkle of
crimson suspected to be hosiery, and a cheery "All right!" to let us
know she was ready to brave the passage. The landing was safe, and
then the patient horse returned and repeated the fording until we all
were across.

But our peace of mind, or our amour propre — which is much the
same thing — was disturbed by a suspicion that we were being laughed
at, for a party of Mexican women from Chamita came down to the
brink while we were there, and, chattering merrily over our slow and
undoubtedly ludicrous progress, unconcernedly pulled off their shoes
and stockings, gathered their skirts in a bunch about their waists, and
gaily waded through as though in contempt of our fear of water and
the conventionalities.

The large island was gravelly and liable to be inundated, so that it
was given over to the pasturage of sheep, goats, cattle, horses and don-
keys. On the eastern bank we found ourselves at once in the midst of
grain fields and garden plats. Tall Indian corn alternated with short
wheat, hay and alfalfa, or patches of potatoes, melons and vegetables.
Fences were few, but the road was defined by a line of upright brush,
bound into cohesion by withes of bark, so that it resembled a thoroughly
dead hedge. Here and there stood a. rasa chiqm'ta, but the main town

A PATRIARCH.

PASSING INTO TRADITION.

was on the bluff marking the old bank of the river, half a mile from its
present current.

Pueblo in Spanish simply means "a village." When the first ex-
plorers, Cabe^a de Vaca, Coronado and the early lieutenants and friars
whom Cortez sent northward, in search more of gold than geography,
penetrated what is now New Mexico and Arizona, they everywhere
found Indians more or less nomadic, but the larger part of the natives
belonging to a different class, and living in settled communities of per-
manent houses. To these the Spaniards naturally gave the name of
" village," or " pueblo" Indians, which, by a common process of lingual
change, has become shortened into Pueblos, though Puebloans is a far
better word. Their own tribal names have disappeared except in a few
cases, such as the Zufiis and the Moquis, and the Spanish word covers
all Village Indians distinguished from the roving Apaches, Mojaves and
Utes, that surround them and centuries ago wrested from them much
of their former territory. At present there are in all New Mexico but
nineteen towns of the Village Indians, whose aggregate population in
1880 was only 10,469, as follows :

Taos 391

San Juan 408

Santa Clara 212

San Ildefonso 139

Picuris 1,H5

Nambe' 66

Pojuaque 26

Tesuque 99

Sochiti 271

San Domingo 1,123

San Felipe 613

Jemez 401

Silla (or Zia) 58

Santa Ana 489

Laguna 968

Isoleta 1,081

Sandia 345

Zufii 2,082

Acoma 582

Ascending the high bank
along a road greatly gullied
by the rains, we found our-
selves in a large group of
houses, each of which was
joined to its neighbor as con-
tinuously as in a city block, MAID AND MATRON>
but only one story high ; or

if there was a second story, it did not come out flush with the front
wall, but was ten or fifteen feet back, the roof of the lower story serving
as a portico to the upper floor, which was reached by an outside ladder.

100 THE GRE8T OF THE CONTINENT.

These dwellings were built of mud bricks, called adobes, and in
many cases the floors were lower than the level of the street— a matter of
small concern, since the door-sill was so high as to shut out any water
which might be running outside. Mixing in a little broken straw, rough
blocks about twice the size of ordinary bricks are moulded, dried some-
what in the sun, and laid up in the form of a wall. Space is left for a door
and some small holes for windows, quite high up. That is about all there
seems to be of it, yet the inexpert find it not so easy to build a " doby "
as they supposed. The consistency of the clay must be right, and I am
told the wall must be laid so that the blocks somewhat brace each other
by beveled sides, or else the great weight which rests on the top, oth-
erwise wholly unsupported, will cause the middle of the wall to bulge.
That these ancient houses stand so plumb and uncracked shows how
proficient the Indians are at this peculiar architecture; and ought they
not to be, for did not they invent it?

All the buildings are smoothly plastered outside and in. This is
done some weeks after they are built, and after they have thoroughly
dried. To obtain the necessary material for the outer "stucco" coat,
the floor of the interior of the unfinished house is dug up and mixed
with water until it becomes a soft paste. Then it is taken by the hand-
ful, dashed against the unchinked adobes, and spread smoothly with
the palms, just as a town mason would use a trowel. The women do all
this, and I remember surprising three damsels, as pretty as the New
Mexican peasantry have to show, down on their knees and up to their
elbows in seal-brown mud, plastering the new house, while father and
mother were busy in the fields.

Most of the Indian dwellings, — and they are as good as the major-
ity of the abodes of the Mexican ranchmen, — have two rooms, and
sometimes three, but these are generally so dark that the eye must
accustom itself to the gloom before their contents can well be dis-
cerned. This arises from the scarcity and diminutive size of the win-
dows Here in San Juan, indeed, I saw roughly sashed windows in
many houses, or else a single pane of glass set in; but often only a
grating is used to guard the aperture, or else holes in the walls are left
so small that no enemy could crawl through. You can imagine th3
darkness inside, therefore, even on a bright day. Originally the pueblo
was common property, and both men and women assisted in building
it, but new ideas of individual possessions are invading the old no-
tions. It was the former custom, too, to mix ashes with earth and
charcoal into a substitute for mortar; yet, as we shall see later, the very
ancient, ruined buildings of the ancestors of these Puebloans show an
architecture in stone, with a cement now as hard,. or even more tenacious,
than the blocks it binds together. " They take great pride," says an old
book "in their, to them, magnificent structures, averring that as fort-
resses they have ever proved impregnable. To wall out black barbarism

299790

IN PUEBLO SAW JUAN. 101

was what the Pueblos wanted ; under these conditions time was giving
them civilization "

Entering one of the houses here in San Juan, we shall find the
floor is only of earth, but that many skins are spread about. In one
corner, or else beside the entrance door, will be one of the queer little
round-topped fireplaces prevalent all over Spanish America; but if in
the latter place, a low wall or wing of masonry runs out into the room,
protecting the fire from contrary drafts. The cooking in summer is
done out of doors almost wholly; but in cold weather, when utilizing
these fireplaces, they use the iron pots and skillets which civilization has
brought them, eking out with variously shaped earthen utensils of their
own make, and baskets obtained from Apache and Navajo visitors.

You must expect to see very little furniture in an Indian's house,
though occasionally some familiar objects are found. The beds are
made on the floor, and consist entirely of skins and blankets. The walls
are often whitewashed, and though they never heard of Eastlake, they
always make a dado of clay water. The soft brown tint contrasts well
with the white frieze, and would be attractive in itself; but the clay here
is full of specks of mica, which dust the walls with gleaming points not
to be spurned in mural decoration.

The Indians admire pictures, but are not scrupulous as to artistic
superiority. In nearly every house you will find a board a few inches
square, upon which is painted a religious subject, usually in red and
yellow, of some saint, or a group of them. Such pictures, and others
whenever they can get them, are highly valued and will be adorned with
peacock feathers and bright berries.

They love gay colors and choose them in their dress, which is a sin-
gular mixture of Indian, Mexican and American. There go a man and
woman ahead of us who are fair types. Neither are of large size, and
though an oddity of gait comes from their habit of walking with their
toes straight before them, both are of erect carriage. The man is
dressed in brown flannel shirt, hanging blouse-like about him, tightly
fitted leggings of buckskin, with a broad seam-flap in place of fringe on
the outside of each leg, and moccasins. Over his right shoulder and un-
der his left arm is loosely draped a striped blanket made by the Navajo
or Apache Indians of the interior, and diligently repaired in its worn
places. His head is bare, under the blaze of the hot sun, save for a
wreath of cottonwood leaves. Under this "bay crown" his smoothly-
brushed and jet black hair, accurately parted in the middle along a line
of red or yellow ochre, is plaited on either side into two long braids, in-
tertwined and lengthened out with strips of red flannel and tufts of ot-
ter-skin.

The woman wears a long, loose tunic of coarse cloth, almost de-
void of sleeves, and belted at the waist ; but sometimes this is of buck-
skin. Her extremities are not clad in leggings, but encased in short,

102

THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

shapeless boots having a moccasin foot, and stiff legs, which reach
nearly to her knees, and often afford the only recognizable distinction
between a male or a female, who, to a stranger's eye, are confusingly
alike. She wears thrown over her head a shawl-like expanse of common
pink-printed calico ; but if you could see her hair you would discover

OLD CHURCH OF SAN JUAN.

that none of the attention had been bestowed upon it which her hus-
band's has received ; it has been cut short, particularly across the fore-
head, and is likely to be tangled and dirt}r. In this respect these Rio
Grande Indians have fallen from grace into the slovenliness of their
nomadic neighbors. The maidens of the purer Moqui pueblos, for
example, take great care of their raven locks. Parting the hair at the
back of the head, they roll it around hoops, when it is fastened in two
high bunches, one on each side, a single feather being sometimes placed
in the center. The Moqui wives gather it into two tight knots at the
side, or one at the back of the head; and the men cut their hair in front
of the ears and in a line with the eyebrows, while at the back it is plaited
or gathered into a single bunch and tied with a band.

This woman is going to one of the public wells to draw water, and
presently is joined by a young Hebe, with bare, shapely ankles and
rotund bust, whose laughing talk is like the gurgling chatter of the
blackbirds in the rushes. They each carry classically shaped and gaily
ornamented jars of earthenware, made by themselves, and which they
will tell you are tindjas. Some of the wells are so shallow that an in-
clined passage-way has been cut down to the water from the surface;
from others the liquid must be drawn in buckets. Having filled their
vessels, each woman lays a little pad on her head, skillfully poises the

SEMBLANCES AND CERAMICS. 103

heavy tinaja upon it, and marches off, as erect, elastic of tread and
graceful in mien as any Ganymede who ever handed about the nectar on
Olympus. You can see the trimmed and painted gourd-dipper floating
about in the neck of the jar, and thus know that the water is level with
the top ; yet up hill and down, along the dusty roadway, through the
half-concealing corn, and under the low doorway go the dusky carriers,
and not a drop is lost.

A short distance back we had met a superannuated governor, or
chief, called in Spanish Attencio. His long, straight hair, of ashy hue,
and deeply furrowed features, gave a most venerable appearance to his
attenuated but still upright form. His garments evinced more design,
were better fitting, and somewhat fantastically decorated ; while from
his neck was suspended a drum, a tribute apparently to growing in-
firmities which had not quite obscured the dream of place and circum-
stance. We halted in curiosity while the Photographer, by specious
argument and a gentle subsidizing process, overcame the half-scruples
of the patriarch, and transferred his semblance to a "dry plate," an
operation he repeated a little later with the maid and matron whom we
had seen at the well, though in their case with more difficulty and over-
coming of native shyness. The results of this enterprise are commended
to the reader.

The pueblo pottery is of all sizes and shapes, — jars, pitchers, can-
teens, bowls, platters, and images of men and animals, made as play-
things for their children, or merely for amusement, and the latter often
called their " gods " by ignorant tourists.

It is evident everywhere that originally much finer and more sym-
metrical pottery was made by all these Village Indians than now. They
seem to have understood the art of mixing a finer paste, and they
worked with more careful hands. The resemblance of this antique
ware to that of Egypt and Cyprus, has been noted in its structure, and
in the "scrolls, straight lines and walls of Troy," with which it is
embellished. Birds, too, were painted upon some of the oldest ware
extant, recalling certain Chinese symbols, while ' ' in the animal handles
and in a design known as the old Japanese seal," the early ware of Japan
is simulated. The ancient and (in ruins) most widely distributed form
of pottery known is the "corrugated," fragments of which are also
found in the mounds of the Ohio and Mississippi valleys and on the
Pacific slope. This variety was made by winding around and above
one another slender strings or ropes of red clay, expanding and con-
tracting the coil to suit the varying diameters of the vessel. Pressure
of the fingers alone, or aided only by a smooth stone, then compressed
the coils into compactness and on the inside into some smoothness.
There was also a kind of ware in use in prehistoric times which bore a
red or black glaze beyond anything seen in later manufacture ; but this
fine finish is thought to have been accidental.

104 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

At San Juan, as in all other pueblos, the old adobe church, with its
absurdly barbaric furniture and uncouth appearance, is a center of inter-
est. Climbing the rickety ladder to its little gallery, and thence ascend-
ing to the roof, one gets the best idea of how valuable a garden spot
this district is. As far as the eye can reach, up and down the river,
stretch farms and orchards and plazitas. I suppose that from the
mouth of the canon down to the village of San Ildefonso, a distance of
about thirty miles, the river-bottom is almost continuously cultivated,
the chief crops being wheat and Indian corn, the latter notable for its
variegated and bright colors, and for which the people here keep the
original name, maiz; but every sort of grain and vegetable is also pro-
duced in abundance.

The population sustained consists largely of Indians, in some locali-
ties, as here at San Juan, almost entirely so; and they are quite as indus-
trious and skillful in their farming as the Mexicans. In most of the
villages the tillage of the reservation is wholly in common, but here the
Indians many years ago divided up their farming lands into individual
properties, not all equally either, for it was apportioned to each man in
proportion to his needs, abilities and desire. It is said that there has
been little change in the ownership of this property, the same fields de-
scending from father to son, generation after generation. This being
the case, it is not strange to learn the second fact, that there is small
variation in the fortunes of the different families, and that there is
slight disposition on the part of any to become rich while others grow
poor. All are self-supporting, and proud of the fact that no aid is
asked or received from the government.

Nothing reminds the traveler more of the Holy Land than to wit-
ness these people threshing their grain, which happens, of course, in
August, since they do not stack the grain in the straw at all. The
threshing-floors are circular spaces of high level ground in the outskirts
of the pueblo, around which poles ten or twenty feet high are set,
though there is no need of more than mere posts. When the threshing
is to be done, a rawhide rope or two is stretched about these posts to
form a fence, and often upon this are hung many blankets, the gay
colors and striped ornamentation of which make an exceedingly pic-
turesque scene. Sometimes in place of the ropes a cordon of bare-legged
small boys and girls, to whom the duty is great sport, does service as a
girdle. The diameter of such a prepared space, hardened by service
for half a century to the consistency of brick, is sixty or a hundred feet.
In the middle of it are heaped the sheaves of the three or four families
who are accustomed to join in this work until a suitable quantity has
been obtained, and then the fun begins.

Through an opening in the extemporized fence is driven a flock of
sheep and goats, or else a small herd of horses. They at once fall to
eating the fresh grain, but are quickly beaten off and started into a run

THE REALM OF CONTENT. 105

around the enclosure, trampling down the edges of the stack, and all
the time getting more and more of it under their beating hoofs. Behind
them race two or three athletic, bare headed and scantily-dressed youths,
cracking long whips, hustling the laggards, and nimbly keeping out of
the way of the kicking, crowding and bewildered animals. This is
quite as hard work as any of the horses or goats do, and is accompa-
nied by continual halloos and trilling cries, which almost make a song
when heard at a little distance. Now and then a young horse will make
a leap at the rope, and snap the rawhide lariat, or dodge under it; or a
venturesome goat will elude his guard and escape ; but there are excited
youngsters enough to speedily give chase and bring him back; and from
time to time the panting drivers are changed, the animals given a rest,
and the grain heaped into a new pile in the center. It is a wonderfully
lively and gay picture, which will never be forgotten, and entirely
unlike anything else to be seen in the United States. Toward evening,
when the incessant tramping has threshed all the grains out of their
husks, comes the wiunowing. This is quite as primitive and idyllic as
its forerunner. Having lifted away the bulk of the straw, several men
and women take long-handled, flat-bladed wooden shovels, and toss up
the grain which lies thick on the hard clay floor, thus allowing the wind
to blow away the chaff. There is generally a breeze at sunset every day,
and the largest part of the chaff is gotten rid of by the shoveling ; but to
perfect the process, the women take half a bushel at once of the grain,
and re-winnow it, by tossing it a second time in and out of one of the
large Navajo wicker-baskets, of which every family owns a number. The
rough, wasteful threshing, and the cleansing, only partial at best, having
thus been accomplished, the grain is divided out to its owners, and by
them packed away in huge jars of coarse earthenware, called ollas, some
of which will hold several bushels. These vessels keep it dry and safe
from rats, so long as the covers are tight. All these processes are fol-
lowed not only by the Indians, but by all Mexican farmers throughout
the Spanish southwest.

We were never weary of wandering about these Indian towns, and
watching the people at their work and sunny-tempered play. They
are the happiest men and women on the continent. Well sheltered,
well fed, well companioned, peaceful, guileless, — what else do they
wish? Not theirs to know carking care, and the fluctuating markets
which imperil hard-earned gains; nor to suffer the hurt unsatisfied
ambition feels, or know the terrors of a crime-haunted or doubt-stricken
conscience. The broad, bright sunshine of their latitude suffuses their
whole lives and dispositions, turning their rock-bounded lowlands into
a Vale of Tempe.

SANTA FE AND THE SACRED VALLEY.

Ages are made up

Of such small parts as these, and men look back,
Worn and bewilder' d, wond'ring how it is.

—JOANNA BAILLIE.

HAVE referred to Espanola as the southern terminus
of the railway. From this point, however, another
company is actively engaged in constructing a line to
Santa Fe, a distance of thirty-four miles by the survey,
and its prospective early completion will afford a direct
and desirable connection with the ancient capital, At
present the communication is by means of stages, which run in con-
junction with the trains, and, not being restricted in the matter of
grades, accomplish the trip in about twenty-five miles. The journey is
interesting, and is made comfortably.

Santa Fe claims the distinction of being the oldest town in the
United States, a claim that is readily admitted when we consider that it
was a populous Indian pueblo when the first Spaniards crossed the terri-
tory now known as New Mexico, less than forty years after the dis-
covery of the western continent by Columbus. The earliest European
who penetrated this region was Alvar Nunez Cabeca de Vaca, a Spanish
navigator, whose vessel was wrecked on the coast of Texas in 1528, and
who, with three of his crew, wandered for six years through the plains
and mountains, until finally he joined his countrymen under Cortez in
Mexico. His report of the section through which he passed led to an
expedition, in 1539, by Marco de Nica, a Franciscan friar, who was
frightened away by the Indians, and returned to Mexico with a mar-
velous account of the extent, population and wealth of the country,
the magnificence of its cities, and the ferocity of its people. In 1540
the famous expedition of Vasquez de Coronado passed through the
pueblo where Santa Fe now stands, crossed the range, and traversed
the plains until he came to the Missouri river, at a point probably
near the present site of Atchison or Leaven worth. In 1581, Friar
Augustin Ruyz, with one companion, reached a village called Poala,
a few miles north of Albuquerque, where they were killed by the
Indians. Antonio de Espejo came with an expedition, in 1582, to seek
Ruyz, and discovered Zuni, Acoma and other pueblos. In 1595 Juan
de Onate founded a colony near the junction of the Rio Chama with

106

108 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

the Rio Grande, in the immediate vicinity of Espanola. It was about
this date that a Spanish settlement was formed in Santa Fe, and the
church of San Miguel erected. In 1680 there was a great uprising of
the natives, who entirely drove out the Spaniards, and obliterated as
far as possible alt evidences of their occupation, dismantling, among
other buildings, the old church. Twelve 3rears later they were recon-
quered by Diego de Bargas. From that time to the present Santa Fe
has had an eventful career. The Mexicans, in 1821, declared their
independence of Spanish rule, and after that there were numerous
insurrections, until the occupation of the territory by the United
States, in 1846. Then came the War of the Rebellion, in 1861-65, in
the course of which Santa Fe was captured by the confederates, and
recaptured by the Union forces.

During all these years Santa Fe has changed its character but little,
and is to-day, in general appearance, very much the same old Mexican
town that it has been for nearly three hundred years. There is the
same broad plaza, with the same adobe buildings nearly all the way
around it; the same one-story houses, surrounding the same plazitas;
the same suburban fields and gardens; and the same swarthy, dark-eyed
population, still speaking the musical Spanish tongue. Wood is still
brought into town on the backs of burros, and by this conveyance can
be left inside the dwellings. Among the other objects of attraction to
the stranger, are the governor's palace; the ruins of old Fort Marcy, on
a bluif , from which is had a fine view of the city ; and the extensive
and beautiful garden of Bishop Lamy. The famous chapel of San
Miguel, the oldest in America, still rears the same mud walls that
have stood for three centuries, and internally is well preserved and in
presentable shape. It has no exterior beauty and no interior magnifi-
cence, its only interest being in its age and the sacred uses for which
it has been kept up during almost the entire period of American civil-
ization. On a great beam, as plain as if made but yesterday, is the
Spanish inscription, traced there one hundred and seventy-four years
ago, to the effect that "The Marquis de la Penuela erected this building,
the Royal Ensign Don Augustin Flores Vergara, his servant, A.D. 1710."
Original documents show that this refers to its restoration after the
wood-work was burned by the rebel Indians. A dark picture of the
Annunciation, on one side of the altar, bears on its back a notation,
seemingly dated A.D. 1287, leading to the belief that it is one of the
oldest oil paintings in the world. By the side of the church is a two-
story adobe house, which tradition says was in existence when Coronado
marched through the town. The neighborhood of Santa Fe is rich in
precious stones, including turquoise, bloodstone, onyx, agate, garnet
and opal. The manufacture of Mexican filigree jewelry, largely carried
on here, will be found interesting. The work is done by natives, to
whom the trade has been handed down by their ancestors, who derived

A JOURNEY TO TAGS. 109

it from the Italians. The primitive Spanish records of the aborigines of
all tropical America say that there were "no better goldsmiths in the
world ; " so that the Indian blood mixed in the veins of most of the
modern artisans may have increased their skill.

But even quaint old Santa Fe is catching the spirit of the age, and
now boasts a colony of northern residents, cultivated society, and many
handsome structures, among which are a new hotel, a large public hos-
pital built of stone and brick, a Methodist church, Santa Fe Academy,
and San Miguel College. The tendency of this innovation will be to
rapidly dissipate the aroma of antiquity and sentiment which has
hitherto attached to the town's romantic history.

On the return northward, our cars were again set out at Embudo,
the gentlemen of the party having determined not to omit from this
itinerary the Taos pueblos, possibly the most antiquated, and certainly
the best preserved of all, and whose people are still awaiting with
pathetic patience the returning Montezuma, who shall restore their pris-
tine glory, and the kingdom that stretched from river to sea. When
questioned as to her desires, the Madame did not advance the staple
feminine excuse, a council with the dressmaker, but boldly proclaimed
her aversion to the thirty-mile equestrian trip. So we left her behind
reluctantly, with many injunctions to our chef de cuisine and still more
trustworthy railway friends.

After no little wrangling, a sufficient number of spiritless quadru-
peds were procured from the natives, and we turned our faces to the
north. And right here let me advise the reader who may hereafter con-
template this pilgrimage, to address, in ample season, Mr. Henry Dibble,
Fernandez de Taos, New Mexico, who will undertake to have a team in
waiting at Embudo, thus saving the traveler much time and even more
bad Spanish. The ride was thoroughly enjoyable, and formed a fitting
prelude to the novel experiences that followed. I have said "ride,"
though the statement is not altogether exact, since we took pity, — and
largely from necessity, — on our miserable under-sized and under- fed
ponies and ourselves, and walked a full third of the distance. Occasion-
ally we passed small Mexican villages, which seemed as peacefully
asleep in the afternoon sunshine as we could ever have pictured them.
Flocks of ugly yellow-spotted goats, attended by dusky urchins in
scanty attire, browsed on the near hill-slopes. Over the eaves of almost
every one of the low adobe houses hung great ropes of red peppers, — the
chili Colorado of the Mexican, — that gave the one brilliant dash of color
to a perspective whose tones were otherwise the most subdued. Not
unfrequently, however, an entire family would be seen ranged along in
a row on the shady side of the house, the women generally dressed in
gay colors, solid red, blue, or green, and all as silent as the scene on
which they looked. But for the dogs, these hamlets might have passed

110 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

for the ruins they appeared. The caretta, or great, clumsy, two-wheeled
cart, and the plow made of a pointed stick, were here and there reposing
before the abodes, not seeming like implements of daily use, but as
appropriate details in the worn-out landscape.

To pick one's way through Taos valley, even by daylight, might be
a task; in the darkness, which at length overtook us, success was a
lucky chance. The very populousness of the locality was against us.
How many times we took the divergent road and brought up against the
fence of some ranchero's threshing-floor; or crossed the stream not at the
ford ; or engaged in a broil with some awakened native who persisted
in misunderstanding our gesticulated inquiries, may never be related.
The houses, too, were a mystery. To find the front door of the rect-
angular heap of mud ; to determine in what part of its cavernous recesses
the inmates might now be residing; or to decide whether, after all, it was
not the stable, taxed our ingenuity and tempers through several hours
of that memorable evening. Finally, in the plaza of a great communistic
ranch-house, that covered an area half as large as a city block, we man-
aged to secure the services of a muchacho, who preceded us on horse-
back, and led us into one of the narrow and crooked streets of Fernandez
de Taos, where we soon found the hostelry of " Pap " Dibble.

Taos valley is widest near its head, where the several streams that
form the river issue from the Culebra range. About the center of the
fertile expanse lies the old Mexican town of Fernandez de Taos, with a
present population of 1,500. Two miles northeast of it, and under the
shadow of Taos mountain, stand the two great buildings known as the
Pueblo de Taos, and inhabited by about 400 Indians. Three miles south
of Fernandez lies still another Mexican village, named Ranchos de
Taos, in contrast with whose adobes the traveler finds a newly-erected
flouring mill. The middle settlement has the greatest commercial
importance, and is likewise possessed of considerable historic interest.
Here was the seat of the first civil government of the territory by the
United States, after it had been acquired as a result of the Mexican war
of 1846. Here Bent, the first governor, was killed in the revolt of the
following year, and the ruins yet remain of the old church on whose
solid mud walls the howitzers of the troops could make no impression,
and from which the band of insurgent Indians and Mexicans were only
finally dislodged by means of hand-grenades. The widow of the mur-
dered governor still lives in her modest adobe, and shows to visitors the
hole in the wall made by the fatal bullet. Fernandez de Taos was like-
wise for years the residence of Colonel Kit Carson, and in the walled
graveyard at the edge of town his body is buried.

All this and much more is communicated the following morning by
the genial Dibble, who fills our idea of what a host should be. For
twenty years has he lived in this quiet valley, among an alien people,
leaving it only once for a trip to Santa Fe, content to preside over his

FESTIVAL OF SAN GERONIMO. Ill

curious aggregation of rambling adobes, and make each chance guest
feel himself under paternal care.

But to us the great interest centers in the Indian carnival at the
pueblo, which is to occur on the morrow. On the last day of Septem-
ber of each year the Taos Indians celebrate the festival of their patron
saint, San Gerouimo (the Spanish St. Jerome), by ceremonies alto-
gether unique, and which few Americans have as yet witnessed. Some
hours are still at our command, in which to study the country in its
every-day aspect, and we early start out in the direction of the pueblo.
Already the roads converging toward the old stronghold show signs of
the assembling throng. Little bands of Indians, gaily blanketed and
with uncovered heads, who have walked from pueblos perhaps fifty
miles away, driving before them shaggy burros, with many-shaped
packs; and Mexican fruit- vendors, their trains of donkeys laden with
well-filled wicker baskets, form the vanguard of the unique procession.
The valley across which we pass is all under cultivation, and the
ground is now covered with the yellow stubble, while along the roadside
we come upon the regulation threshing-places.

The Pueblo de Taos consists of two great mud buildings (of the
larger of which an engraving is given) facing each other from opposite
banks of a stream, and perhaps two hundred yards apart. They rise to
a height of about fifty feet, and seem to have attained their present
size by accretions during the ages since they were founded. They are
of an irregular pyramidal form, and made up of about five stories or
terraces. Each new story is built a distance from the edge of the one
immediately beneath, so that both the length and breadth of the building
diminish as the height is increased. To enter the rooms we must ascend
one of the many ladders that lean against the wall, and then descend
another ladder through a hole in the roof. Everything was quiet and
silent about this great human wasps' nest. Nude children tumbled
on the ground in the warm rays of the sun ; men strolled lazily hither
and thither, their bodies wrapped in gaudy blankets and legs encased in
close-fitting sheepskin leggings, while to their hair, black as jet and
brought down in a lock on each side, hung great bunches of zephyr or
other gay material ; women, dressed in much the same manner, carried
on their heads the earthen water- jars, or large baskets of bread, which
had been baked in the oval mud ovens ranged in front of the pueblo.
Everybody treated us with quiet respect, and seemed pleased to respond
to our salutations. We climbed over one of the ancient piles, mounting
to its topmost story on shaky ladders, peering into its rooms, which we
were courteously invited to enter, and where we found sometimes as
many as a dozen Indians sitting on the floor, engaged in adding some
last touches to the holiday garments. We saw few young men, but
afterwards learned that they were in the estufas, or underground coun-
cil-chambers, preparing for the next day's spectacle.

112

THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

To give anything like an adequate account of the festival would re-
quire a small volume. Early on that resplendent September morning
the human tide began to pour in, till, from our position on the summit
of the north pueblo, we looked down to the plaza below on a surging
mass of fully three thousand Indians and Mexicans, in every gay
and fantastic garb. The fruit-vendors had established themselves in
scores of little stalls scattered over the plaza, and with their burros
standing patiently by, added a picturesque feature to the scene. Three
hundred mad young Mexicans, mounted on excited ponies, charged
among the crowd in a body, dared each other in feats of horsemanship,
or "ran the galio" on the opposite bank. The padre from Santa Fe
first held service in the little church, after which came the event of the
day. One hundred naked and painted Indians issued in solemn march
from an estufa, and began the race, two by two, over the straight track
a thousand feet long. For an hour and a half they sped up and down
in front of the pueblo, amid the wildest excitement of the spectators.
Then the march of the victors, to the music of a wild chant, while
bread is showered upon them from one of the roofs of the pueblo
under which they pass, closes the morning's ceremonies.

The afternoon is consumed by the antics of seven unclothed and

curiously painted clowns.
For three hours do they PHANTOM CURVE.

amuse that motley crowd

with their mimic cock and bull fights, and their semblance of plow-
ing, threshing, and other familiar labors. As the sun nears the west,
the rabble gather about a pole, fifty feet high, over the cross-piece at
whose top has been hung a living sheep, together with garlands of fruit
and a basket of bread. After many pretended failures, the pole is
climbed, and the bread and fruit are thrown to the ground. Last of all,
the sheep, in which a spark of life still lingers, is detached, and strikes

DEPARTURE OF AMOS. 113

the earth with a sickening thud. With yells and strange cries the
Indians rush in, the sheep is torn limb from limb, and with this, the
only revolting part of the entire celebration, thefite ends.

The lava-caps away down the valley were glowing golden as we
rode back to Fernandez. Thought was busy with the strange events of
the day. During how many centuries had these onlooking hills wit-
nessed the gathering throngs of such festivals, since were laid the
foundations of those dusky piles, now bathed in sunset glory, where
tradition says the cultured hero Montezuma was born, and whence he
set out on his prophetic career? And can this ancient people long with-
stand the civilization that is fast bearing down on them; or will it not
soon engulf them and fill with modern life the sacred valley?

On our arrival at Embudo we found the Madame in much tribula-
tion. Not that any harm had befallen her; but the cook, from being an
assistant after a fashion, had immediately on our departure developed
into an absolute dependent. This personage had for some time been a
subject of much solicitude and serious discussion in our family circle.
We could sympathize with his infirmities, but when they became the
ever-present shield to the most aggravated laziness, our philosophy
weakened. And so, when the Madame had explained his apparently
total collapse, our decision was speedily reached. In spite of his pro-
testations and his phenomenal physical improvement, we lifted him by
main force on to the first train, and shipped him northward without our
blessing.

Concerning this Amos, the Madame wrote as follows to her friend,
Mrs. McAngle: "He was the 'Knight of the Sorrowful Countenance,'
in our vocabulary of nicknames. His face was a suggestion of martyr-
dom done in coffee color, for he was a darkey of uncertain and speckled
hue ; and his religious possessions, a couple of books of devotion of the
most melancholy kind, kept him up to his model. Everything had been
put into our kitchen-car before leaving Denver, pell-mell ; and when, at
our first evening's halt, I went out to investigate, I found Amos sitting
on a soap-box, in the midst of a chaos of utensils and packages of pro-
visions, almost weeping at the water-splashed confusion, without making
the least movement toward straightening matters. He brought with him
two encumbrances, — a fifteen years' experience on the Sound steamer
Bristol (so he said), and his Rheumatism, with a very big R

"He was a good enough cook when he tried to be, but wholly
averse to neatness. Becoming tired of seeing things that bore no relation
to one another on an intimate acquaintance, as the bacon and flour, for
instance, I undertook, with fear and trembling, some mild expostulation.
But I had not gone far before he raised himself to all his dignity, and
exclaimed, ' I have served fifteen years as first cook on board the
Bristol,' and then turned his back upon me. Somewhat stunned, but

114 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

persevering, I continued meekly to tell him the things I wished him to
attend to. Instantly his tone changed from indignation to supplication,
and he described in feeling terms his rheumatism. ' He enjoyed a neat
kitchen as well as anybody, but what could he do, having his joints all
knotted up with this terrible disease?' and his face grew sadder than
ever. I retired from the field vanquished, and reported progress.

"The gentlemen were not so easily silenced, however, and that
very day began a little investigation. 'Amos, can you make a tapioca
pudding? ' cried one, at lunch. * I have been fifteen years chief cook
on the Bristol,' came the answer, with an upward roll of the prayerful
eyes. A little later: 'Amos, bring up a pail of fresh water from the
creek/ Very glad to oblige you, sir (a groan), but I've the rheumatics.'
When one excuse wouldn't answer the other would. So we sent him
off, and got Burt in his place, — a youth without rheumatism or record, —
who proved to be a very bright, willing, and useful boy."

TOLTEC GORGE.

I'll look no more;

Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight
Topple down headlong.

—KING LEAR.

AVING at last turned our heels reluctantly on the
simple-hearted, prettily-chequered life of the Pueblos,
we raced back in a single night to the plains of San
Luis. A long line of telegraph poles stretches out from
Antonito into a true vanishing point across the park,
and the train follows it San Juanward. The noble
Sangre de Cristo looms up higher and higher behind us as we proceed,
a mirage lifting the line of cottonwoods along the Rio Grande into
impossibly tall and spindling caricatures of trees; while the Jemez
mountains away to the south are not yet lost to view, and the striking
landmark of Mount San Antonio, smooth and round, is close at hand.
A few miles beyond it the arid level of the lake- spread plain breaks into
white, stony eminences, reared in a bold front. To surmount these the
track is arranged in long, ingenious loops, in one place, known as the
" Whiplash, ".extending into three parallel lines, scarcely a stone's throw
apart, but disposed terrace-like on the hillside. On top of the mesa the
sage-brush disappears, grass, pinons and yellow pines taking its place,
and we begin to wind among the long, straight lava ridges at the foot of
the divide between the Los Pinos and the Chama, whence the backward
view is remarkably fine. The road here is like a goat's path in its vaga-
ries, and wagers are made as to the point of the compass to be aimed at
five minutes in advance, or whether the track on the opposite side of
the crevasse is the one we have just come over, or are now about to
pursue.

Describing a number of large curves around constantly deepening
depressions, we reached the breast of a mountain, whence we obtained
our first glimpse into Los Pinos valley; and it came like a sudden reve-
lation of beauty and grandeur. The approach had been picturesque and
gentle in character. Now we found our train clinging to a narrow
pathway carved out far up the mountain's side, while great masses of a
volcanic conglomerate towered overhead, and the face of the opposing
heights broke off into bristling crags. The river sank deeper and deeper
into the narrowing vale, and the space beneath us to its banks was

115

116 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

excitingly precipitous. We crowded upon the platform, the outer step
of which sometimes hung over an abyss that made us shudder, till some
friendly bank placed itself between us and the almost unbroken descent.
But we learned to enjoy the imminent edge, along which the train crept
so cautiously, and begrudged every instant that the landscape was shut
out by intervening objects.

To say that the vision here is grand, awe-inspiring, painfully im-
pressive or memorable, falls short of the truth in each case. It is too
much to take in at once, and we were glad to pause again for a little
brain-rest at a telegraph station, hung almost like a bird's nest among
the rocks, — to grow used by degrees to the stupendous picture spread
before us. We were so high that not only the bottom of the valley,
where the silver ribbon of the Los Pinos trailed in and out among the
trees, and underneath the headlands, but even the woode 1 tops of the
further rounded hills were below us, and we could count the dim, dis-
tant peaks in New Mexico.

Six miles ahead lay the canon of which we had heard so much, —
the Toltec Gorge, whose praises could not be overdrawn. Evidently
his majesty had entrenched himself in glories beside which any ordinary
monarch would lose his magnificence. Was this king of canons really
so great he could afford to risk all rivalry? Here, on the left, what
noble martello-tower of native lava is that which stands undizzied on
the very brink of the precipice? I should like to roll it off and watch
it cut a swath through that puny forest down there, and dam up the
whole stream with its huge breadth. How these passages of spongy
rock resound as our engine drags the long train we have again mounted
through their lofty portals! How narrow apparently are these curved
and smooth embankments that carry us across the ravines, and how
spidery look the firmly-braced bridges that span -the torrents ! All the
way the road-bed is heaped up or dug out artificially. It is merely a
shelf near the summit. It hugs the wall like a chamois-stalker, creeping
stealthily out to the end of and around each projecting spur; it explores
every in-bending gulch, boldly strides across the water channels, and
walks undismayed upon the utmost verge, where rough cliffs overhang
it, and the gulf sinks away hundreds of feet beneath.

In the most secluded nook of the mountains we come upon Phan-
tom Curve, with its company of isolated rocks, made of stuff so hard
as to have stood upright, tall, grotesque, and sunburned, beside the
pigmy firs and cowering boulders with 'which they are surrounded.
Miles away you can trace these black pinnacles, like sentinels, mid-way
up the slopes; but here at hand they fill the eye, and in their fantastic
resemblance to human shapes and things we know in miniature, seem
to us crumbled images of the days when there were giants, and men of
Titanic mold set up mementoes of their brawny heroes, —
" Aclialan statues in a world so ricb! "

AERIAL RAILROADING. 117

Phantoms, they are called, and the statuesque shadows they cast,
moving mysteriously along the white bluffs, as the sun declines, are
uncanny and ghost-like, perhaps; but the brown, rough, grandly group-
ing monoliths of lava themselves, are no more phantoms than are the
pyramids of Sahara, and beside them the Theban monuments of the
mighty Rameses would sink into insignificance.

Winding along the slender track, among these solemn forms, we
approach the gorge, the vastly seamed and wrinkled face of whose oppo-
site wall confronts us under the frown of an intense shade, — unused
to the light from all eternity ; but on this, the sunny side, a rosy pile,
lifts its massive head proudly far above us, its square, fearless fore-
head,—

"Fronting heaven'a splendor,
Strong and full and clear."

How should we pass it ? On the right stood the solid palisade of
the sierra, rising unbroken to the ultimate heights; on the left the gulf,
its sides more and more nearly vertical, more and more terrible in their
armature of splintered ledges and pike-pointed tree-tops, — more often
breaking away into perpendicular cliffs, whence we could hurl a pebble,
or ourselves, into the mad torrent easily seen but too far below to be
heard; and as we draw nearer, the rosy crags rise higher and more dis-
tinct across our path. We turn a curve in the track, the cars leaning
toward the inside, as if they, too, retreated from the look down into that
"vasty deep," and lo ! a gateway tunneled through, — the barrier is
conquered !

The blank of the tunnel gives one time to think. Pictures of the
beetling, ebony-pillared cliffs linger in the retina suddenly deprived of
the reality, and reproduce the seamed and jagged rocks in fiery simili-
tude upon the darkness. In a twinkling the impression fades, and at
the same instant you catch a gleam of advancing light, and dash out
into the sunshine, — into the sunshine only ? Oh, no, out into the air, —
an awful leap abroad into invisibly bounded space; and you catch your
breath, startled beyond self-control !

Then it is all over, and you are still on your feet, listening to the
familiar ring of the brown walls as they fly past.

What was it you saw that made your breathing cease, and the blood
chill in your heart with swift terror ? It is hard to remember; but there
remains a feeling of an instant's suspension over an irregular chasm that
seemed cut to the very center of the earth, and, to your dilated eye,
gleamed brightly at ihe bottom, as though it penetrated even the realms
of Pluto. You knew it opened outwardly into the gorge, for there in
front stood the mighty wall, bracing the mountain far overhead, and
below flashed the foaming river. This is the sum of your recollection,
photographed upon your brain by a mental process more instantaneous
than any application of art, and never to be erased. Gradually you con-

118

THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

elude that the train
ran directly out upon
a short trestle, one
end of which rests
in the mouth of the
tunnel, and the other
in the jaws of a rock
cutting. This is the
fact; but the traveler
reasons it out, for he
cannot see the sup-
port beneath his car,
which, to all intents,
takes a flying bound
across a cleft in the
granite eleven hun-
dred measured feet
in depth.

Our train having

^4.-^" halted, the Artist sought a favorable position
for obtaining the sketch of Toltec Gorge which
adorns these pages, the Photographer became

similarly absorbed, and the remaining members of the expedition zeal-
ously examined a spot whose counterpart in rugged and inspiring
sublimity probably does not exist elsewhere in America. A few rods
up the canon a thin and ragged pinnacle rises abruptly from the very
bottom to a level with the railway track. This point has been christened
Eva Chif, and when we had gained its crest by dint of much laborious
and hazardous climbing over a narrow gangway of rocks, by which it
is barely connected with the neighboring bank, our exertions were well
repaid by the splendid view of the gorge it afforded.

Just west of the tunnel, and close beside the track, the rocks have
been broken and leveled into a small smooth space, and here, on the 26th
of September, 1881, that gloomiest day in the decade for our people,
were celebrated as impressive memorial services for GARFIELD, the noble
man and beloved president, then lying dead on his stately catafalque in
Cleveland, as were anywhere seen. The weather itself, in these remote
and lonely mountains, seemed in unison with the sadness of the nation,
for heavy black clouds swept overhead, and the wind made solemn
moanings in the shaken trees. It was under circumstances so fittingly
mournful that an excursion party, gathered from nearly eveiy state in
the Union, paused to express the universal sorrow, and to conceive the
foundation of the massive monument which catches the traveler's eye
on the brink of the gorge, and upon whose polished tablet are engraved
these words :

THE VERGE OF IMMORTALITY

119

IN ME MORI AM.

JAMES ABRAM GARFIELD,

PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES,

DIED SEPTEMBER 19, 1881,
MOURNED BY ALL THE PEOPLE.

Erected by Members of the National

Association of General Passenger and

Ticket Agents, who held Memorial

Burial Services on this spot,

September 26, 1881.

ALONG THE SOUTHERN BORDER.

There In the gorges that widen, descending
From cloud and from cold Into summer eternal,
Gather the threads of the Ice-gendered fountains, —
Gather to riotous torrents of crystal,
And giving each shelvy recess where they dally
The blooms of the north and its evergreen turfage.

— BAYARD TAYLOR.

HOUGH the climax of the pass to the sight-seer is Toltec
Gorge, the actual crest of the Finos - Chama divide is
at Cumbres, some fifteen miles westward, and several
hundred feet higher. After leaving Toltec, the brink
of the cliff is skirted for some time, and many grand
and exciting views are presented; but the stream is
broken into cascades, and rapidly rises to the plane of the track. Passing
a number of snow-sheds, the train is soon twisting around shallow side
ravines, and at last, after making a great circle of nearly a mile, there
comes a stoppage of that dragging sensation which the wheels impart
on an upward grade, and the cars halt on the little level space at the
summit. From Antonito to Cumbres the maximum ascent to the mile
is only seventy-five feet, while on the western slope the descent per
mile reaches two hundred and eleven feet. This intrepid railway crosses
the main ranges of the Rocky Mountains over seven or eight distinct
passes; and in every instance the locating engineers have followed one
water-course upward to its head, and another downward to the valley,
finding invariably the sources of these oppositely flowing brooks to be
in springs only a few feet or rods apart at the top. In the present
case so slight is the separation that we seem to stop beside the Los Pinos,
and to start beside Wolf Creek. Although at an altitude of about 9,500
feet, the neat station buildings at Cumbres are located in a depressed
indentation, whence the surrounding hills shut off all outlook.

Our train is scarcely in motion again, however, ere a deep gully
opens at our feet, and we commence to crawl cautiously around the
protruding face of Cumbres Mountain, with its curiously-piled top of
red and gray sandstone, and its precipitous front, in which is hewn
midway a shelf for the track. Beyond this we pass a great curve, and
then overlook a beautiful valley, which leads down into the broad basin
through which the Rio Chama pursues its way southeasterly to its junc-

120

LA TIERRA AMARILLA. 121

tion with the Kio Grande at Chamita. The view here is picturesque,
and well worthy the reproduction our artist has seen fit to give it. There
are glimpses of far-off, white-edged mesa-lands, with spaces of shadowy
cobalt between. The brook sinks deeper, and its grassy banks are full
of yellow and purple asters, in brightest bloom, glorifying the whole hill-
side up to where, a short distance from its bed, begins the solid spruce
and aspen forest. Near Lobato, the track crosses from one tawny ridge
to another, on a lofty iron bridge, and we note that Wolf Creek is here a
jovely stream, with many cozy nooks in which the sportsman may pitch
his tent, and are informed that the water is full of trout, while the
wooded mountain slopes abound in large and small game. Once down
in the valley, the way is through smooth lawns and pleasant groves until
Chama is reached, and here we pause to ask questions about sheep.

Our cars were set aside in the very woods, far from the noisy
station ; a Y runs southward there, the germ perhaps of a railway
down the river to Chamita, where it may join the southern line. All
about us are the never-silent pines, and the breezes that whisper
among their rugged branches blow laden with balsamic odors. Close by
is the Rio Chama, hidden between dense and continuous thickets,
through which the cattle can tell you of winding and mysterious paths.
Everything in the landscape is soft and peaceful. The grass lies green
and tender; the rounded clusters of willows, blending with the glowing
masses of poplar behind them, bright in their new autumn colors, make
no sharp line against the pine copse, nor this against the swelling, gaily-
clothed background of the hills above.

Through this utterly wild, yet richly modulated scene, the Madame
and I rode off one morning down to Tierra Amarilla, leaving our com-
panions to angle for finny beauties. For miles the two mules trotted
gaily with us through alternate groups of gigantic yellow pines and
open stretches of grassy upland, where now and then we struck panic
into the hearts of a flock of sheep. Then signs of ranch -life began, and
some cattle were met ; and ten miles from Chama we came upon the
thrifty plazita of Los Brazos (the Arms), surrounded by a wide district
of farming land. This continued three miles, and centered in a second
hamlet, Los Ojos (the Springs), where there were several shops; thence
two miles more, across a sage-brush terrace, took us to our destination.

Though the post-office has restricted the use of the name to this
village, the whole region, on account of its peculiar beds of ochre earth,
was formerly known as La Tierra Amarilla. This has been abbreviated,
not only in spelling, but in speaking, until its ordinary pronunciation is
Terr-amareea. . In 1837 a tract forty miles square, in this part of the valley
of the Chama, was granted by the Mexican government to Serior Manuel
Martin and his eight sons. There was a failure to ratify the matter
somehow, and in 1860, old Manuel having died, his eldest son, Francisco
Martin, applied to the Surveyor-General of the United States to have the

122 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

grant confirmed to him, his brothers "and their companions" resident
thereon. The Surveyor-General, however, struck the "companions"
out, and ratified the grant only to the heirs of Manuel Martin. When
this was discovered, Francisco, with the consent of his brothers, at once
gave to each incumbent the land he occupied, and a deed for the same.
Soon after this the Martins sold out all the domain, getting scarcely ten
thousand dollars for the whole million of acres, which passed chiefly
into the hands of a gentleman of Santa Fe. The next proprietor is to be
an English company, which proposes to colonize the tract with British
farmers and stock-raisers. The price paid, it is said, amounts to more
than two millions of dollars. Pending these successive arrangements,
the unfortunate settlers found their deeds valueless, because of inform-
ality,— a neglect not at all strange in a Mexican hidalgo. On the point of
being ousted of their supposed proprietary rights, if not actually dispos-
sessed, they bethought themselves of a lucky law of the territory, which
gives ownership to anyone who can show a color of title, and undisputed
possession for ten years. This statute saved them, and they will be
bought out by the Englishmen.

Farming here hardly yields enough of grain to meet the local
demand, except in the oat crop. The soil is good, the irrigating facili-
ties very large and convenient, timber is plenty, and the climate superb.
Yet only a portion of the wide, fertile bottom-land is under cultivation,
and the valley invites intelligent immigration with an array of induce-
ments unusual in New Mexico.

But there is no laxity in the matter of wool-producing, a full million
of sheep belonging at Tierra Amarilla, distributed among about two
hundred owners. These are never sold, except under ,- tress of need for
money, when they bring from one to two dollars each. The value of the
total flock, then, will be somewhat over a million of dollars; while the
annual production of wool will amount to more than two millions of
pounds, worth more or less than half a million dollars, according to the
price of wool. Its natural outlet to market is through Chama and
Amargo. Early in September the flocks are started on their march to
the southern part of the territory, where they can feed unharmed by
winter storms.

I do not know a better place to study the primitive life of New
Mexico, with all its quaint features; and the traveler who follows our
example, and digresses long enough to ride down to the settlements I
have mentioned, will not regret his short divergence from the beaten
track.

Resuming the iron trail westward from Chama, all the way to
Willow Creek the same beautiful parks of yellow pine continued, and
the track crossed and recrossed a sparkling brook. Passing the mines of
excellent bituminous coal at Monero, and surmounting a low water-shed,
which is in reality the continental divide, the deeply-notched tops of the

THE HOT SPRINGS AT PAGOSA. 123

Sierra Madre came into view in the north, and we spanned the first of
the many streams that flow down from it into the Rio San Juan. A
birds eye view of this well-wooded and almost flat region, just on the
line between Colorado and New Mexico, would have shown it to consist
of a series of low, slightly-tilted ridges, parallel with which ran the
serpentine and deeply-sunken rivers.

The first or easternmost of these streams is the Rio Navajo, encoun-
tered near Amargo, and up to which, all the way from Chama, nothing
is to be found save grazing land, devoted mainly to sheep. Though its
bottoms available for agriculture are probably broader than the water it
contains is able to irrigate, far more farming remains to be done here
than has yet been undertaken. The Rio San Juan, into which the Rio
Navajo empties just west of Juanita, is the great drainage channel of
this portion of Colorado and New Mexico, and a river of power even
here. Its crystal-clear waters to-day prattle innocently, but they some-
times come down from the heights like an Indian raid, a besom of
destruction for anything not as firmly anchored as the granite buttresses
of the hills themselves.

From Amargo, — there is no end of bloody history attached to El
Amargo and its fine canon, dating from the early days of settlement,
Indian fighting and border ruffianism, — runs the old stage-road north-
ward to Pagosa Springs, Animas City, and the interior mines. The
tales of that thoroughfare would furnish a whole library of flash litera-
ture without going much astray from the truth.

Pagosa is the far-famed "big medicine" of the Utes, — the greatest
thermal fountains on the continent. "The largest of these springs is at
least forty feet in diameter, and hot enough to cook an egg in a few
minutes. Carbonic acid gas and steam bubble up in great quantities
from the bottom, and keep the surface always in a state of agitation.
The water has the faculty of dividing the light into its component colors,
producing effects very similar to those of the opalescent glass of com-
merce. Around the large spring, and extending for a mile down the
creek, are innumerable smaller ones, many of which discharge vast
amounts of almost boiling water. These, being highly charged with
saline matter, have produced by deposition all, or nearly all, of the
ground in their vicinity, and their streams meander through its cavern-
ous structure, often disappearing and reappearing many times before
they finally emerge into the river. This spot must become a great
popular resort. Its plentifully timbered and mountainous surroundings
enhance the interest it otherwise possesses for the traveler and health-
seeker, and the medicinal value of the springs claims the attention of all
who can afford time to visit them.

" The village of Pagosa Springs is situated about four miles south
of the base of the San Juan range, upon the immediate southeastern
bank of the Rio San Juan. It consists of a group of dwellings, stores,

124 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

and bath-houses, among which the steam of the hot springs issues in
such clouds as at times to render the entire place invisible. Immediately
above the town, on the opposite side of the river, rises a flat-topped,
isolated hill, whose summit contains a plateau large enough to liberally
accommodate the government post which has been erected there. Uti-
lizing the pines so abundant in the neighborhood, the buildings are all
made of logs ; and model log-houses they are. A more inviting military
camp, both as regards location and construction, could not well be con-
ceived."

Pagosa lies in the heart of that splendid pine forest, which covers a
tract one hundred and thirty miles east and west by from twenty to
forty miles north and south. Here the trees grow tall and straight, and
of enormous size. No underbrush hides their bright, clean shafts, and,
curiously enough, it is only in special locations that any low ones are to
be found. These monarchs of the forest seem to be the last of their
race, and, like the Indians, are doomed very soon to disappear. Thev
are of immense value, for they form a huge storehouse of the finest lum-
ber in a country poorly supplied in general with such material.

The vicinity of the springs is destined to yield large crops under
irrigation, though at present there is little settlement there. Mexicans
pasture their sheep as thickly as the fields will hold them; and try to
give their flocks a few days in the basin at least once each season, be-
lieving that the drinking of the waters is of great benefit to the animals.
Though the upper valley of the San Juan is unlikely to prove very
profitable as agricultural land, the lower parts, in New Mexico, are the
scene of extensive and highly successful Indian farming operations.
The next stream westward, however, the Rio de las Nutrias (River of
Rabbits), has good ranches, and so has the Rio de las Piedras (Stony
river), the Rio Florida (River of Flowers), the Rio de los Pinos (Pine
river), and the Rio de las Animas Perdidas (River of Lost Souls), up
whose valley we turned sharply when a few miles from Durango. But
thus far only a fraction of the tillable soil has been located on.

At Amargo, — for in this sketch of the rivers I have run ahead of our
actual progress, — we find several hundred Apaches waiting to receive
their rations, it being the weekly issuing day. Three of the redskins
importune us for a ride, and we take them upon our platform, having
entomological objections against offering them the hospitalities of the
interior of the car. Our fund of Spanish is mutually limited, but one
of us has a fair knowledge of the sign language, learned in former wan-
derings among the Dakotas and Kalispelm; and while these Apaches
never heard of either of those great northern nations of red men, they
readily understand most of the signs, though frequently showing us
with great good nature that their way of expressing an idea is by a some-
what different gesture.

Our visitors were men of medium size, beardless, and very dark.

TOLTEC GORGE.

126 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

Their hair was coal black, straight, parted in the middle, carefully
combed, and gathered into two braids, the end of each being ornamented
with a feather or a tuft of yarn. They wore woolen shirts, the original
colors of which were lost in dirt ; buckskin leggings, with fringes on the
outer seam; moccasins of poorly tanned sheepskin, pointed at the toe
and decorated with fringes. Bright scarlet blankets, marked U. S. I. D.,
were wrapped around their waists or drawn over their hatless polls.
Each man carried a sheath-knife at his belt, and a bow with about a
dozen arrows wrapped in a sheepskin case. Their features expressed
much intelligence and good humor, easily breaking into chuckles of
laughter, for they enjoyed studying us quite as much as we did them.

These Indians were Jicarilla Apaches, another branch of what was
originally the same great tribe being the Mescalero Apaches, of southern
New Mexico. The Jicarillas number about eight hundred souls, all
told, and are apportioned into five bands, under as many chiefs, the
most influential of whom is Huarito (Little Blonde), though he has no
nominal headship. Their reservation extends thirty-three miles south-
ward from the Colorado line, and is sixteen miles in breadth. On
account of the severity of the winters about Amargo, the Government
moved these Indians, during the autumn of 1883, to Fort Stanton,
reuniting them there with the Mescaleros, on the reservation of the
latter. Whether this experiment will "work" remains to be seen, as
more than half the tribe were dissatisfied, and avowed their intention
of returning in the following spring.

Amargo canon, which is always pretty, and sometimes approaches
grandeur, extends westward to Juanita. There it widens out and dis-
appears in a series of little parks, where the mountains diminish into
pine-clad hills. For the next score of miles we skirt the turbulent Rio
San Juan; but just west of Arboles, where it receives the Rio de las
Piedras, we leave it, the road making a long detour, and climbing up
and away from the stream, to a wide, rolling mesa. Descending again,
La Boca is reached, where we cross the Rio de los Pinos, clear, rapid,
and of good size, which we follow up to Ignacio.

At this point is another Indian Agency, — that for the Southern Utes,
under an aged head-chief after whom the station is named. There are
somewhat over eight hundred Indians here, divided into three or four
bands under sub chiefs. Their reservation, which the railway traverses
from where it re-enters Colorado, near Carracas, nearly to the Rio Flori-
da, measures about sixteen miles north and south, and over one hundred
miles east and west. These Utes are considered far more intelligent
than the Apaches, and their conduct is more taciturn and dignified.
Though not congregating in any considerable numbers along the track,
they are not unfriendly to the whites, and daily wander about the streets
of Durango. They are now the only Indians occupying a reservation
within the limits of Colorado.

AMONG THE SOUTHERN UTES. 127

The members of both tribes are allowed to ride free at will on
passenger trains, and the railway company has never experienced the
slightest trouble from them. Liquor is kept from their reach as much
as possible. Gambling is their passion.

Approaching Ignacio the train runs through shady lowlands, and
passes, here and there, groups of teepees, the swarthy occupants of each
lodge stepping out and standing motionless as statues in the shrubbery,
watching us sweep by. The Rio Florida, which is soon crossed, is alive
with trout, and along its upper course is excellent shooting. The whole
region is undulating, green-carpeted, and covered with large yellow-bolecl
pines, through which we catch magnificent mountain-views northward.
Near Carboneria, the track describes two tremendous loops, in getting
down from the table lands to the valley, and presently, rounding the
mountain spur, reaches the Hio de las Animas, which it parallels into
Durango, along a cutting through gravel and rock some distance above
the bed of the stream.

Toward the last we had seen evidences of the great La Plata coal-
field, to which I must devote a paragraph. It extends from the Rio de
los Pinos almost to the southwestern corner of Colorado, and has been
tapped in many places. This field is in sandstones and shales of the
cretaceous age, divided into the upper and lower measures, about 1,000
feet apart. The lower coal measure is in a zone of shaly sandstones which
are about 300 feet thick, and when separated from the shale is of excel-
lent quality for domestic use. This lower measure is underlaid by a bed
of dark gray shale, containing calcareous seams and nodules, called sep-
taria. The La Plata coal-bed reaches from the east end of the county for
over sixty miles, and is crossed by the river. The thickness of the entire
bed between the floor and the roof is over fifty feet, and it contains about
forty feet of good coal, free from shale. The floor, of grayish white
sandstone, is covered with a thin layer of clay and clay shale. Upon
this is a layer of compact, firm coal, six to eight feet thick; then a layer
of tough black shale, one and a half to two feet thick. The remainder
is a bed of excellent coal with only small seams of shale at intervals
of four to ten feet. The "roof" is a tough shaly sandstone, alternating
with true shales for a distance of several hundred feet above the coal-bed,
and containing two or three small veins of coal.

Duraugo is beautifully located on the eastern bank of the river,
the commercial portion being on the first or lower bench, and the resi-
dences on the second or higher plateau. Thus the homes of the people
occupy a sightly position, apart from the turmoil of traffic, while lofty
mountains and wall-like cliffs shelter the valley on all sides. Though
founded only in the autumn of 1880, the city now contains a population
of over five thousand, and is the most important point in southern Colo-
rado. Here centers the business whose operations extend throughout
the entire mountain system, and into the tillage and stock-raising dis-

128 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

tricts of northwestern New Mexico. The great supply stores, with their
heavy assortments of general merchandise, indicate a jobbing trade of
no mean dimensions, and one which is steadily growing; while the
extensive and elegant retail shops, unsurpassed in the state outside of
Denver, bear evidence to the refined demands and prosperity of the citi-
zens. Here also are concentrated the social, religious and school advan-
tages which make up an intellectual nucleus. Its low altitude and easy
accessibility render the town desirable as a temporary home for those
engaged in mining, but who care not to endure the rigors of the long
winter among boreal fastnesses. The banks of Durango are substan-
tial institutions, and the hotels are commodious. Municipal improve-
ments are being judiciously added, the most prominent tor 1883 having
been the erection of water-works, while street cars and gas-works are
contemplated at an early day. The smelting of ores is carried on here
actively and successfully, the convenience of coal, coke and fluxes,
and the hauling of the ores down hill, giving the place marked advan-
tages for this industry. Superior opportunities are likewise presented
for a great variety of manufactures, foremost among them being iron
and steel productions, — iron ore, limestone and all other necessary ingre-
dients abounding in the locality, and being of easy access. The fall of
the stream, — two hundred feet per mile, — supplies a water-power of
never failing volume. Of late the city has been extending its limits, and
now one may find an attractive ward, with cosy cottages and more pre-
tentious houses across the river, and in the twilight shadow of the
maiestic bluffs which here rise precipitously a thousand feet. Taken all
in all. DO frontier town within our ken shows a more vigorous and
healthy growth, or brighter promise for the future, than Durango on
tiui Animus.

XII

THE QUEEN OF THE CANONS.

Receding now, the dying numbers ring
Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell,

And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring
A wandering witch note of the distant spell, —
And now, 't is silent all— Enchantress, fare-thee-well.

— WALTBR SCOTT.

HEN, some ten years ago, the writer had let his mule
down into Baker's Park, by hitching its wiry tail
around successive snubbing-posts, the prediction was
ventured that at some distant day a railway would
penetrate these solitudes; and that it would approach
from the southward, through a canon which not even
an Indian had ever been known to traverse, — the trails in that direction
then leading over a terrible range, at a height far above the limit of vege-
tation. The prophecy has been verified, for the Denver and Rio Grande
has already pushed its southwestern extension through the Canon of the
Aniinas, reaching Silverton in July, 1832.

Here the cores of the Rocky Mountains have been buried beneath
an overflow of eruptive rock spreading over four thousand five hundred
square miles of territory; or else, along with the sandstones and slates
which were deposited against their sides, they have been metamorphosed
into schists and quartzites. "The character of the volcanic rocks
throughout the district," says Dr. Hayden's report, "is one of extreme
interest, demonstrating an enormous amount of activity during a prob-
ably short period of time (geologically speaking), which activity was,
nevertheless, accompanied by a comparatively large number of changes
in the chemical and physical qualities of the ejected material."

This geological composition gives to these mountains, — and particu-
larly to the quartzite peaks along the southern border of the eruptive
area, — a different appearance from any of the northern Rockies, — a more
precipitous, Alpine and grander countenance, with sharp pinnacles,
tremendous vertically walled chasms, and extensive forests of spruce
clothing their lower declivities. In no other locality are so many very
lofty summits to be seen crowded together. Sierra Blanca and two or
three other single peaks in Colorado and Wyoming slightly outrank any
here ; but nowhere else can be found whole groups of mountains holding

129

130

THE GREST OF THE CONTINENT.

their heads up to fourteen thousand feet, and having great valleys
almost at timber-line.

The old maps bear the name Sierra Madre, to designate these
heights, whose snowy crests filled the northern horizon and forbade the
advance of Spanish exploration. The word admits of various applica-
tions, but one which might well have been in the mind of him who first
used it, is that this vast highland is the mighty Mother of our rivers.
From its western slopes flow the rivulets that unite to make the Gun-
nison and Grand,— one of the forks of the Rio Colorado. Easterly, but
on its northern face, bubbles the great spring which forms the very
source of the Rio Grande del Norte. Every gulch upon its southern
breast feeds the rushing streams that furnish to the Rio San Juan all
the water it gets for its long journey through the wilderness.

Silverton is forty five miles due north from Durango; and after
leaving the latter point the road leads straight up the Animas valley,
here broad and fertile, with green rounded hills sweeping up on each
side Now and then these exchange their softly curving outlines for
a bluff-like form, exposing long van-colored strata of cretaceous sand-
stones, unbroken, but inclined upward toward the north, where their
beds have been gently lifted by a slow upheaval of the mountains.
There is much color in this part of the landscape, especially now,
when the rains of August have put a spring like freshness of tint upon
everything verdant. The low, treeless benches between the track and

the foot of the hills, the open
places beside the river, and the
pasture-lands are all glorious
in a dense mass of sun-flowers,
which stand knee-high, with
blossoms scarcely larger than
a dollar. Thus the outlines of
the ridges running in endless
succession down to the water's
edge, are defined in gilded
ranks, that rise behind one
another for miles as you pro-
ceed. The whole foreground
is enchromed ; and this valley
is the veritable home of Clytie.
A belt of cedars and dense
shrubs stands along the base
of the mountains; then per-
haps a bare steep space of uni-
form dull green displays the
tone of mingled bunch grass
EVA CLIFF. and sage-brush; next will

LANDSCAPE GARDENING.

131

GARFIELD MEMORIAL

appear a wall of red sand-
stone set at an angle, and
contrasting richly in shades
varying from dull vermillion
to deep maroon, with the
ochre-yellow, white or blu-
ish gray of the rocks sur-
mounting it. Occasionally
these capping - stones show
themselves in long, well-ex-
posed strata, slanting to the
horizon ; sometimes here and
there they simply crop out in
water-worn crags; again they
will be lost altogether under
the fringing shrubbery that
overhangs the low forehead
of the bluff. It is fifteen
miles before the valley nar-
rows in, and throughout this
whole extent of bottom-land
the ground is tilled from the
river-brink to the stony up-
lands on either side, the fall of the water being so great that irrigation
is easy. Ranches succeed each other without any waste land between,
and I do not know any portion of the Far West (this side of Salt Lake
basin) where the farms seem as thrifty or the houses so comfortable
and pleasant. Every sort of grain is raised, and the yield to an acre is
large, as must always be the case where the soil is rich, the weather
uniform, and the ranchman able to control his water-supply and apply
it as he sees need. Garden-produce is much attended to, also, for there
is more profit in it than even in grain. Hay and its substitutes, alfalfa
and lucerne, take high rank in the list, and of the two last named it is
customary to cut three crops annually. In the winter of 1880-81 baled
hay was worth $120 and $140 a ton in Durango, while one man told me
that it cost him almost $500 a ton to get a supply to his mine in an
emergency. In those days the farmer had as good a mine as any on the
sources of his river. Such prices will probably never prevail again, now
that the railway brings hay and feed from Kansas; but the resident pro-
ducer can still compete with import figures at a handsome profit.

Two or three miles above Durango we pass Animas City, a small
village of unpainted houses, which had an existence and an exciting his*-
tory long years before its prosperous neighbor was dreamed of ; and six
miles farther come upon Trimble Springs, directly at the foot of the
high bank which here confronts the western side of the valley. It is a

132 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

singular coincidence, perhaps, that within easy distance and access of all
the larger towns or population centers in Colorado, mineral springs are
found, whose virtues are sufficiently marked to warrant development,
thus supplying each neighborhood its own sanitary as well as pleasure
resort. Trimble Springs occupies this relation to both Durango and Sil-
verton, and is greatly frequented by the dwellers in these towns, besides
numerous visitors from more remote points. A capacious hotel, of
attractive exterior, and admirably arranged and furnished within, affords
the comforts of a home. Near by is the bath-house, one hundred feet in
length, and equipped in the most approved modern style, with all varie-
ties of baths. The temperature of the water as it comes from the ground
is 126° F., and iron, soda and magnesia are the predominating qualities,
in the order named, while there is also much free carbolic acid gas. The
record of cures effected here contains many cases of rheumatism, liver
and kidney complaints, and chronic blood and skin diseases; while it is
averred that the use of the waters will entirely eradicate the tobacco habit.
The temperature is equable, and the surroundings romantic. The river
supplies excellent trout-fishing, and the hunter will find an abundance of
game in the adjacent foothills. The place must grow in popularity, as
it becomes more widely known; for, as the Madame declared, " it excels
the White Mountains in scenic features, not to mention the superiority
of its thermal founts, and the charm of its climate, over any eastern sani-
tarium." We marveled at the stateliness of her phrases, but couldn't
dispute the facts.

Just at the head of the farming lands, stands the little settlement of
Hermosa. I had been there once before this more auspicious advent,
after two days of dreadf ully weary travel over a mountain trail, and had
come down into the valley only to find our much-doubted warnings
verified, and these cabins all deserted. We knew what it meant, but
made haste to feast upon the green corn, and tomatoes, melons and roots
of every sort, which the panic stricken ranchmen had left behind.
Stuffing every available bag and pocket full, we went on to a camping-
spot, and deliberated while we cooked our princely dinner.

It was certain that Indians had driven these settlers away, yet there
were no signs of hostility apparent. There were five of us, and we had
proposed going two hundred miles directly into the Indian country.
Should we proceed, or turn back and abandon our exploration? Per-
haps if we had possessed only our customary bacon and beans we might
have halted ; but the luscious corn and melons turned the scale, and we
resolved to go forward. Had we not done so we should have missed the
rare satisfaction of being the first to tell the story of the Cliff-Dwellers of
the Mancos and McElmo. In the nine years which since have worn
their footprints into the trail of events, little change had come to this
particular spot; and I was glad of it, for it left in my memory a
landmark which was lost elsewhere under the obliterating hand of an

AMONG GLORIOUS SCENES. 133

eager civilization, that has tamed the primitive wildness we rode over
irTl874.

Above Hermosa, the valley contracts rapidly, and the wide fields
give place to groves of pine, free of underbrush, through which are
caught glimpses of the bright stream sinking away from us on the right.
The railway commences to ascend the western hills, carving its way
along their face, and tracing their shallow undulations by sweeping
curves. In places the sharp stones blasted from the roadbed cover the
steep and forbidding descent for hundreds of feet below us. Now the
river has disappeared, though a rocky ledge marks its canon confines,
the intervening space is wild and broken, and the pines are denser, with
great blackened trunks. Presently we emerge into a tiny park, and
Rockwood is reached. The location is secluded yet picturesque. Lofty
cliffs and precipitous mountains hem it in on all sides, and the meadows
in the small depression beside the town are fringed with trees, which are
tall and imposing, and yet look more like dwarfed bushes against the
massive background of towering bluffs. A lively village has grown up
here, whose principal stimulus exists in the fact that it is the forwarding
point for the extensive mining district lying between the La Plata and
San Miguel ranges. Rico, the most important camp in that section, is
connected with Rockwood by a good road, thirty-two miles in length,
over which stages and supply-trains make daily trips.

Before leaving Rockwood the train-men are observed to examine
critically the wheels, trucks and couplings of our cars, and we know that
something unusual ahead suggests the precaution.

Moving slowly through a deeply shaded cutting, a sharp outward
curve is rounded, and what a vision greets our astonished eyes ! The
most magnificent of all the canons of the Rockies ! The mountain pre-
sents a red granite front, perpendicular for nearly a thousand feet, and
midway between top and bottom has been chiseled from the solid rock a
long balcony or shelf, just wide enough for the track. From far below
comes to our ears the roar of driven waters, and with bated breath we
gaze fearfully over the edge, so perilously near, down, down to where a
bright green torrent urges its impatient way between walls whose jetty
hue no sun-ray relieves. Overhead the beetling precipice towers omin-
ously, as if about to crush the pigmies who had dared to invade its
storm-swept breast. In its shadow all is silent, weird and awful.

The opposite side of the canon, scarcely the toss of a pebble away,
rises almost vertically, a smooth, unscalable wall, that gleams like brightly
polished bronze, but is striped with upright lines of shadow, so that it
recalls Scott's picture of Melrose Abbey under the harvest-moon : —
" And buttress and buttress alternately
Seemed carved In ebon and Ivory."

Higher up, the wall breaks away into receding hills, on whose grassy
and wooded slopes the sunshine plays hide and seek. A little above the

134 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

gorge we can discern where the track turns to the right and crosses on a
long, low trestle, the alcove in the canon, while in the loftier heights be-
yond, the verdure-clad mountains are seen rising into shapely cones and
coquetting with the fleecy clouds. Such were the elements of the sub-
lime view in the Canon of the Rio de las Animas Perdidas caught and
perpetuated by our Artist.

Beyond the opening the defile again closes into so narrow a compass
that the pines and spruces clinging precariously to the cliffs mingle in a
dim arch that spans the chasm. Again the train is creeping cautiously
along a dizzy brink, while an hundred feet below the pent-up flood is
forcing its passage through the unworn and pitilessly hard rocks. The
water is still green as emerald, and has the same luminous quiver and
transparence of verdancy which the gem possesses. What gives it that
vivid color here in this dark recess? — anything but the fact that it is
surcharged with the air caught in its turbulence? We can see great neb-
ula3 of submerged bubbles racing by, meteor-like, too swiftly to rise at
once to the glassy surface. Niagara, below the Falls, has that same
wonderful, deep green tint. Imprison Niagara, or only so much of it as
you could span with a stone's throw; contract its upright, volcanic walls
into a crevice sixty feet wide — turn the river up on edge, as it were —
and send it down that black, resounding flume, with all the impetus of
a twenty-mile race, — then you have an image of this "River of Lost
Souls," in the wildest portion of its marvelous channel.

The building of the railway, for the first mile north of Rockwood,
exceeded in its daring any work even in the famous Grand Canon of the
Arkansas. The engineer who had charge of the construction showed
the Madame a picture one of his surveyors drew of the manner in which
the location was made. Evidently the draughtsman took his observa-
tions from the water's edge, where his vista was between two walls of
natural masonry, and was limited by the side of the gorge which bent
sharply there. This wall was vertical and smooth, for almost a thou-
sand feet from its base. From that height were seen hanging spider-
web-like ropes, down which men, seeming not much larger than ants,
were slowly descending, while others (perched upon narrow shelves in
the face of the cliffs, or in trifling niches from which their only egress
was by the dangling ropes), sighted through their theodolites from one
ledge to the other, and directed where to place the dabs of paint indicat-
ing the intended roadbed. Similarly suspended, the workmen followed
the engineers, drilling holes for blasting, and tumbling down loose frag-
ments, until they had won a foothold for working in a less extraordinary
manner. Ten months of steady labor were spent on this canon-cutting, —
months of work on the brink of yawning abysses and in the midst of
falling rocks, yet not one serious accident occurred. "Often it seemed
as though another hair's distance or straw's weight would have sent me
headlong over the edge," said the chief engineer, and no doubt all his

THREADING THE NEEDLES. 135

subordinates could say the same. The expense attending such construc-
tion was of necessity great, the outlay for this single mile aggregating
about $140,000.

Crossing the handsome bridge shown in our sketch, the course of the
road thereafter is generally on the eastern bank of the stream, although
it is recrossed a few times where, by this expedient, expensive excavation
could be avoided. The water gradually rises to the level of the track,
which is henceforth rarely a rod above it. Often in making a curve,
one obtains a charming view up the river, with its gracefully drooping
borders of willows and aspens. Everywhere the mountains are close at
hand on either side, and a goat could scarcely climb their inaccessible
steeps.

Presently a halt is made, and as we alight, such a picture is pre-
sented as it may never be our fortune to again behold. The canon is
compressed into a narrow fissure among mountains of supreme height,
whose fronts are in unbroken shadow. At the right a waterfall comes
leaping down, to join the foam-flecked river. In the foreground great
banks of moss sustain gay flowers, while over them nod the stately pines,
with swaying vines, keeping time to the fretful murmur of the water.
Between and far beyond the clear-cut sky lines of nearer peaks, The
Needles lift their splintered pinnacles into the regions of perpetual snow,
wrapped in the gauze of a wondrous atmosphere, and their crests glow-
ing as with a golden crown.

Continuing northward, we speedily enter Elk Park, a little valley in
the midst of the range, with sunlit meadows and groups of giant pines.
As we turn from the park, a backward glance discloses the subject of
our frontispiece, — Garfield Peak, — lifting its symmetrical summit a
mile above the track, a peerless landmark among its fellows.

Onward, the everlasting hills are marshalled, and among them for
miles the canon maintains its grandeur. Frequent cascades, glistening
like burnished silver in the sunlight, leap from crag to crag for a thou-
sand feet down the mountain sides, to lose themselves in the Animas.
Thus grandly ends this glorious ride, and we sweep out into a green
park, and are at Silverton, in the heart of Silver San Juan.

XIII

SILVER SAN JUAN.

The height, the space, the gloom, the glory .
A mount of marble, a hundred spires !

— TENNYSON.

N introducing some account of the southern side of the
San Juan mountains, as a district producing precious
metals, it may be said, in the first place, that it is a
section in which productive mining has only very lately
been prosecuted in earnest. Its prospects are well-
founded ; but almost up to the present time, its inac-
cessibility and other disadvantages have been obstacles to a develop-
ment that, under more favorable conditions, would doubtless have
occurred. The scrutiny to which it has been subjected by sharp and
knowing eyes, and such digging as has been done, — by no means a small
amount in the aggregate, — exhibit the fact that the region is remarka-
ble for its general richness. That is, profitable ores are to be had nearly
everywhere within its limits ; hardly a hill can be mentioned where veins
carrying mineral do not abound. Every square mile of its fifty miles
square may safely be assumed to hold one or more good mines. It is

NEAR THE PINOS- CHAMA SUMMIT.

A GEOLOGICAL DISCUSSION. 137

doubtful whether anywhere else in the world there is so large a territory
over which the most valuable metals are so generally diffused.

"Geologically," we are told on high authority, "the veins of the
district are very young, probably having been formed at the close of the
cretaceous or the beginning of the tertiary period. The enormous
eruptions of the trachytic lava cover a continuous area of more than five
thousand square miles. Stress has been laid upon the impregnation
with mineral matter of certain volcanic strata, — a phenomenon that
occurs throughout a large tract of country. This shows that at the time
of the eruptions such conditions existed as were favorable to the forma-
tion of that class of minerals generally termed ores. It is furthermore to
be observed that these impregnations occur mainly in the younger strata.
Although the inference can not be drawn that the fissures were formed
at the same time, or shortly after the deposition of the trachytic lava, it
is allowable to assume that at such a period the material for filling these
fissures was existing near the locality where but lately so thorough an
impregnation had taken place. The fact that the fissures extend at a
number of points, downward, through the older metamorphic rocks,
makes it improbable that they should have been formed by contraction
of the cooling masses. Singular as it may seem, these lodes are devoid
of that which is usually classed as surface-ore. Immediately from the
surface the perfectly fresh minerals are taken out. The gangue is hard
and solid. An exception is made, of course, although only to a slight
extent, by pyrite, which decomposes very readily when exposed to the
action of atmospheric influences. This characteristic may be explained
in various ways, — by the rapid decomposition and breaking off of the
wall-rocks, carrying with them portions of the gangue and ore ; by the
less intense effect of atmospheric agencies ; by the character of the min-
erals composing the ore, and by the comparatively short time that these
fissures have been filled. The latter view is the one that would appear
as the most acceptable.

"A difficult question arises, when a decision is to be made, as to the
causes that have produced the formation of the fissures that were after-
ward filled. Accepting the theory that volcanic or plutonic earthquakes
have probably produced the larger number of all lode systems, — and
such we have in this case, it will be necessary to find whence came the
requisite force. Along the highest portion of the quartzite mountains
we have an anticlinal axis which can be traced westward for nearly forty
miles, an upheaval that must have a very perceptible effect on regions
adjoining. The idea at first presented itself that this might have given
rise to the formation of the fissures, but evidence subsequently discov-
ered demonstrates that long before the eruption of the trachyte, this dis-
turbance had occurred.

" About twenty miles west from the center of the mining region is a
series of isolated groups of volcanic peaks. The highest one of these,

138 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

Mount Wilson, reaches an elevation of 14,285 feet above sea level, or
about 5,000 feet above the valley. Lithologically these groups must be
considered younger than the lode-bearing rock of the Animas, and must
therefore have become eruptive later. It seems quite possible that the
disturbance produced by these eruptions may have resulted in the forma-
tion of the present fissures, which subsequently were filled from that
source which supplied so much mineral matter to other neighboring
rocks in the form of impregnation."

This ore, then, may be set down as principally galena, — a lead
ore of silver, frequently enriched by gray copper (tetrahedrite). The
high percentage of lead makes smelting the most rational . process of
treatment, and they are generally to be classified as smelting ores.

In several localities, however, of which Parrott City and Mount
Sneffels are chief examples, rich ores of silver are found, nearly or quite
devoid of lead. These come mainly into the group of antimonial ores,
with chlorides and sulphides also. Popularly these ores, — barring the
chloride, — are termed "brittle silver," and on account of the absence of
lead, they are unfit for smelting, but must eventually be treated by a
milling process in which the pulp is subjected to the action of mercury
in amalgamating pans, where the silver is separated from the quartz
and collected by the quicksilver. Antimonial ores, prior to amalgama-
tion, will require chlorination, that is, roasting with salt, as is done at
the Ontario mine, Utah ; while the chlorides and sulphides of silver can
be treated directly, without roasting, as at the mines of the Comstock
lode, Nevada.

The foregoing remarks apply generally to all of the mining districts
mentioned in the present chapter ; and their uniform nature is readily
explained by the fact that the whole neighborhood is of the same
geological age, character and origin.

The mines in the immediate vicinity of Silverton, my starting point,
are situated upon, or rather in, the lofty mountains which hem in the
little park. Southward of the town, easily recognized by its cloven
peak, stands the Sultan, thirteen thousand five hundred feet in altitude.
Its most noteworthy mines are the "North Star," "Empire," "Jennie
Parker," and "Belcher." Tower and Round mountains, next north-
ward, contain several ledges of low-grade galena ores of silver.

Crossing the Animas to the eastern side, King Solomon wears as the
central jewel in his crown another "North Star." It stands upon his
very brow, — one of the loftiest silver deposits in the world, almost four-
teen thousand feet above the restless surf of the Pacific. Here, too, the
ore is galena and gray copper of extraordinarily high grade. A marvel-
ous trail has been cut through the woods and then nicked into the almost
solid rock of the bald mountain-crest, far above timber-line, or built out
upon balconies of logs, along which burros carry to the mine all its sup-
plies, and bring down its product. On King Solomon are several other

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE YEAR. 139

noteworthy claims, such as the " Shenandoah," " Eclipse," and "Royal
Tiger."

Nothing but a bird or a mountain sheep would be likely to attempt
the almost vertical wall rising from the southern side of Arastra gulch
to culminate in the spires of Hazelton mountain. Coming out into the
valley, however, a road is to be found zigzagging its way up the slope
leading to the principal mines, pierced only a trifle below the border of
stunted spruce-woods. Very likely Dr. Holland was correct in his
poetico-mineralogical statement that

" Gold-flakes gleam in dim defiles
And lonely gorges ; "

but it is certain that in the San Juan, silver resides upon the loftiest
ledges, where the shadowy peaks form "bridal of the earth and sky."

The group of mines to which I have referred are known as the
" Aspen," consolidating several names of properties under the owner-
ship of the San Juan and New York Mining and Smelting company,
which is also proprietor of the smelter at Durango.

Sitting in a cozy office one evening, with two or three pleasant
visitors, the conversation fell upon the other side of the year, for the
last man came in rubbing his knuckles as though it were cold.

' ' Ha. ha ! " laughed the merry Madame, glancing out at the ashy-
gray peaks, which were wan in the new moonlight with autumn's first
white dusting ; and, as she laughed, she quoted

" Once he sang of summer,
Nothing but the summer;
Now he sings of winter,
Of winter dark and drear;
Just because a snow-flake
Has fallen on his forehead,
He must go and fancy
'T is winter all the year."

" Well, it is, pretty nearly," comes the quick rejoinder. "I have
seen it snow every day during the last week of August, and the seasons
which do not give us frosts in July are rare. When I first came to
Baker's park I asked a miner what sort of a climate reigned here. ' It's
nine months winter and three months mighty late in the fall ! ' was his
laconic report, and I have found it a true one.

" You see," he continued, "winter really begins about the firsi of
November. The superintendent who hasn't got his supplies at his mine-
house by that time had better hurry, for some morning a storm will
begin which will drop three or four feet of snow on a level, and fill all
the small gulches full. Then his chance of packing anything up the
mountain is gone. In 1880, several foremen were surprised in that way,
but the first storm came remarkably early, — the 8th of October, — and

140 THE GRE8T OF THE CONTINENT.

on the llth the snow was five feet deep. Later there was an open spell,
though, when deficiencies could be made up, but that was only luck."

" But," said the Madame, solicitously, "how can men live in those
little cabins, away up there, all through the terrible winter ? I should
think they would freeze, or that avalanches would sweep them away."

"Oh, both those misfortunes can be guarded against. The houses
are very tight and snug, and fuel is carefully stored away. Then, too,
the work is carried on underground, where the temperature is practically
changeless the year 'round, and the men have little occasion to go out of
doors unless they wish to, for the entrance to the mine is under the shel-
ter of the house-roof. Then, too, the fact is, that bleak and thoroughly
arctic as it looks the mercury will not fall so low, or at least will not
average as low, up at timber line on Sultan, as it will down here in town.
I /suppose the excess of dampness in the valley makes the difference,
which is more apparent to our feelings than even to the thermometer."

"But the snow-slides are sometimes terrific, are they not?" is
asked.

" Terrific ? I assure you that word is not half strong enough to
express it. When you go up to Cunningham gulch, and over into the
other valleys, you will see the sides of the mountains, in certain places,
utterly bare of trees two or three thousand feet below the limit of their
growth. That is where they have been swept away and kept down by
constantly recurring avalanches of snow, which in many parts of these
ranges are liable to slip down in masses perhaps a mile square and any-
where from ten to a hundred feet deep, bringing rocks and everything
else with them. Of course, no sapling could stand such a scraping, —
nothing can. I was in a slide once, and I can appreciate it, I assure
you."

" You were ! " exclaims the Madame, round-eyed at this. " I thought
you said nothing could stand a snow-slide."

" I didn't attempt to. I went with it, and was carried down the
mountain-side head first, — most of the time under flying clouds of snow-
dust, until I plunged — fortunately feet down — into the compact mass
at the bottom. Then a friend followed and dug me out, happening, by
good luck, to begin his prospecting in just the right place."

"But weren't you smothered ; and how did you feel going
down ? "

' ' Very nearly smothered ; as to the feeling, it was merely a confused
sense of noise, darkness, nothingness, nowhereness, and the sudden end
of all things. Can you understand such a combination of sensa-
tions ?

" Here in the park," our friend continued, "we don't mind the win-
ter much. We have enough people to keep one another company, and
we have no end of fun snowshoeing."

" What sort of snow-shoes ? " I break the silence to ask.

SOMETHING ABOUT 8XOW- SHOES.

141

"The Norwegian skidors, — thin boards, ten or twelve feet long, and
slightly turned up in front. There is an arrangement of straps about a
third of the way back from the front end, and that's all there is of it,
though it's a good deal if you don't know how to manipulate — "

" Populate, would hit it closer, wouldn't it ? "

" Suit yourself ; you won't choose your language so carefully when
you suddenly find yourself filled full of snow, after an involuntary
header, and one or both of your snowshoes going on down the moun-

CHIEFS OF THE SOUTHERN UTES.

tain like a race-horse. If you stay here a winter, though, you must
learn, unless you are willing to remain cooped up in your cabin from
November till May. There is no other possible way of getting about.
Before the railway came, all our mail was snowshoed in, and it was
very likely to be delayed two or three weeks at a time. Then we have
debating societies. ' Resolved, That a burro has no rights a miner is
bound to respect,' was our first question one winter — and parties and
balls. Formerly, in the older communities, merchants could easily cal-
culate the extent of their sales during the cold months, but those in
the new camps, the first winter, sometimes saw hard, times.

142 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

11 We came very near a famine in Rico, the first winter," our visitor
continues. "Nobody could tell just how many people would stay, the
winter closed in unexpectedly early, and, all together, before New Year's
day, it began to be whispered that the supply of ' grub ' was short. As
fast as the stores diminished, prices went up, until they were nearly fabu-
lous. Everybody was on short rations alike. The hotel would give
beds, but no board. One day a miner came in from over the range on
snowshoes, and reached the hotel nearly dead with hunger and exhaus-
tion. Pfeiffer took pity on him, as an exceptional case. ' I gifs you
your supper,' he said, ' und a ped, und I gifs you one meal to-morrow ;
after that you must rustle for yourself.' Flour, bacon, ham, sugar,
coffee, everything, even tobacco, gave out in the shops ; and had it not
been that one of the mines which had laid in a large stock of food, shut
down and so sold out, it is probable that the whole camp would have
been obliged to have dragged themselves through the depth of a hun-
dred miles of February snows, out into the lower -country. Comical
stones are told of how the first burro-train load of provisions was dis-
tributed."

But in spite of all this isolation, this necessity for elaborate prepara-
tion, the arctic altitude and polar length of the "season of snows and
sins," as Swinburne phrases it, the winter is really the best time in
which to work these silver mines, and the impression that the San Juan
district must be abandoned for half the year, is entirely wrong, when
any thorough system of operations has been projected. Well sheltered
and abundantly fed, removed from the temptations of the bar-room,
which can only be got at by a frightfully fatiguing and perilous trip on
snow-shoes, and settled to the fact that a whole winter's work lies ahead,
there is no season when such steady progress is possible, either in " dead-
work" development or in taking out ore preparatory to shipment in the
spring.

Two little streams come down to the Animas at Silverton — Mineral
creek and Cement creek — the former passing between Sultan and The
Anvil, and the latter between The Anvil and Tower mountains. Up
Mineral creek a dozen miles we find Red mountain, the scene of the
latest and richest discoveries in the San Juan, but which will be consid-
ered elsewhere. Cement creek has several good mines, while beyond,
almost on the divide between the Animas and the Uncompahgre, lies the
Poughkeepsie Gulch camp, which was, not long ago, the locality of a
"boom; " and I have the opinion of a very competent judge, that there
probably is no equally limited district in the whole region, Red moun-
tain being perhaps excepted, where so much good ore exists.

Still farther, at the very head of Cement creek, is located the
important Ross Basin group of mines, worked by English capital, as
are many other claims in the San Juan mountains. A neighboring
mine is remarkable for producing an ore of bismuth in such quantity

UP CUNNINGHAM GULCH. 143

as to give it great mineralogical interest. Bismuth is exceedingly rare.
In the United States it is obtained only to a small amount in Connecticut.
Saxony furnishes commerce its main supply, procuring it at the metal-
lurgical works of Freiburg, where it is associated with the lead ores,
and is extracted from the cupel furnace after large quantities of lead
have been refined, being accumulated in the rich litharge, or liquid
dross, near the conclusion of the process. This litharge is treated with
acid, and the bismuth precipitated as a chloride by dilution with water.
The making of lily white and other complexion compounds is the chief
use to which bismuth is applied. The Madame assures me that the
effect upon the skin is very noxious, — but how could she know that?

Crossing the divide, passing the "Mountain Queen" district, and
proceeding eastward clown the west branch of the Animas to the town of
Animas Forks, another prosperous and populous mining area is reached.
Mineral Point, where twenty or thirty rich veins crop out, is covered
with claim stakes until it looks like a young vineyard. Its ores, in gen-
eral, are dry, — that is, contain little lead; and some streaks show the
beautiful ruby silver. Yet further down, on the eastern side of the
river, lie the partly developed silver veins and ledges of gold quartz in
Picayune gulch, where hydraulic machinery is used; and opposite is
Brown's gulch, where galena and gray copper occur.

The river in this part of the valley struggles through a close and
pretty canon, at the lower end of which stands Eureka,— a neat village
nestling among trees. Here, too, are concentration works, and the
headquarters of several companies operating in Eureka, Minnie, and
Maggie gulches.

The wall like sides of the mountains shutting close in together from
Eureka down to Howardsville, show "mineral stains" everywhere, and
the eye can trace dozens of veins slanting up and down the dark cliffs,
and study how they thicken here and pinch there, or just beyond per-
haps disappear altogether, upsetting all the old theories. At Howards-
ville, which was the center of everything years ago, the reviewer
diverges up Cunningham gulch, completing the circle of his inquiries,
for from Howardsville to Silverton it is only four miles.

Cunningham is a good type of those huge ravines the western man
calls gulches. Its real walls are several hundred yards apart, — Galena
and Green mountains on the north, King Solomon on the south —
but from each have tumbled long sloping banks of debris, that join
at their bases into a series of ridges. Among these a turbulent stream
seeks its irregular way, and over them the traveler must climb wearil3T,
making frequent detours to avoid huge pieces of rock that have fallen
bodily from the cliffs, and have been rolled by their great weight to the
very bottom of the gorge. Here and there the walls are sundered, and
down a side ravine is tossed a foaming line of cataracts; or some hollow
among the peaks (themselves out of sight) will turn its gathered drain-

144 THE GUEST OF THE CONTINENT.

age over the cliff, to fall two or three thousand feet in a resounding
series of cascades, white and filmy and brilliant against its dark and
glistening background. Wherever any soil has been able to gather
upon these loose rocks, if some curvature of the cliffs protects from the
sweeping destruction of snow avalanches, heavy spruce timber grows,
and this, with lighter tinted patches of poplars, or willow-thickets in
wet places, or a tangle of briers hiding the sharp rocks and beloved of
the woodchucks and conies, give all there is of vegetation.

But these are all minor features, under-foot. Overhead tower the
rosy and gleaming monuments of that old time "when the gods were
young and the world was new ; " — cliffs rising so steeply that only here
and there can they be climbed, and studded with domes and pinnacles so
slender and lofty that, under our unsteady glance, they seem to totter
and swim vaguely through the azure concave.

Amid this magnificence of rock-work, spanned by a violet edged
vault which is not sky but only color,— the purest mass of color in the
universe, — passes the trail and stage- road cut over the lofty crest to the
sources of the Rio Grande, and thence down through Antelope park to
beautiful Wagon- Wheel Gap, and the railway again. Here, too, are
rich silver mines, lowest down the "Pride of the West," next the
"Green Mountain," and, last of all, "Highland Mary," standing almost
on the summit of the pass.

The central point and outlet of all this district is Silverton, and its
founders preempted almost the only site for a town of any consequence
in the whole region. Yet she has less than one thousand acres to
spread herself over. Engulfed amid lofty peaks, a little park lies as
level as a billiard-table, and as green, breaking into bluffs and benches
northward where the river finds its way down.

When, three and twenty years ago, miners were amazed at the
wealth disclosed in the mines of central Colorado, eager prospectors
began to penetrate yet deeper into the recesses of the jumbled ranges
that lay behind the front rank. Among the boldest of these was a certain
Colonel Baker, reputed to have got his title as a confederate officer, who
organized a large party of men — some say two hundred in number — to
go on an exploration of what was then called the Pike's Peak belt,
including nearly all the region between that historic mountain and the
head of the Gila river in Arizona. Marching eastward to Pueblo, and
thence by the old Mexican wagon-road through Conejos and Tierra
Amarilla, Baker and his men worked northward along the San Juan
and Animas, prospecting for and finding more or less bars of gold-gravel
(you may get " colors" anywhere in this part of Colorado), till finally,
in the summer of 1860, he crossed the range, and discovered the deep-
sunken nook which bears his name.

Erecting a central camp here, these prospectors climbed all the

SILVERTON AND BAKERS PARK. 145

mountains, and pushed up every ravine, in search of gold, but found
small encouragement. The silver they knew of, but had no means of
working. Winter came, and they gathered together and built cabins
in the thick timber at the mouth of the canon. The snow packed deep
about them, a provision train intended for their succor was captured by
the Indians, who became aggressive, sickness set in, and the horrors of
starvation stood at their very doors. This terror, added to their lack of
success, overcame even pioneer patience and philosophy. Reviling
Baker as a cheat, who had brought them, under false pretenses, into
this terrible state, they were about to hang him to one of the groaning
pines that mocked their misery with a loud pretense of grief in every
storm, when some slight help came and the colonel's neck was saved.
The following summer, all who had not died crawled out of their
prison-park and returned to civilization.

It was not until ten years later that any persons went to Baker's
park to stay, and then they were extremely few in number. Almost the
first result of this second advent of prospectors was the unearthing of
the "Little Giant" gold mine in Arastra gulch — a narrow ravine where
were at once erected a log village and an arastra with which to crush the
quartz, worked by the little stream which trickles down from the snow-
banks Simultaneously came the discovery of silver leads, a fact that
speedily got abroad, induced a little boom, and set Howardsville on its
feet as a camp of some importance and magnificent expectations.

Five miles below, Silverton was laid out straight and square, became
the county-seat, and attracted most of the new-comers as a place of
residence. At first, of course, all the buildings were of logs, and bore
roofs of dirt. To-day the village has perhaps fifteen hundred permanent
residents; churches, schools, newspapers, the telegraph, and all the
appurtenances of frontier civilization. It is characteristic of these moun-
tain towns that they spring full size into both existence and dignity.
There is no Topsy-growth at all ; rather a Minerva-like maturity from
the start.

For several years no wagon-road entered Baker's park, and the only
communication between it and the outside world was by saddle animals.
As the local paper gently expressed it, it "was somewhat deprived of
easy transportation." Goods and machinery of every sort had to be
brought in on the backs of the tough and patient little Mexican donkeys,
toiling across the terrible heights under burdens almost as bulky as
themselves. The whole town would be alive with a general jubilation
when the tinkling bells of the first train of jacks was heard in the spring,
for that meant the end of a six months' siege in the midst of impassable
snow.

Though these mountains are yet full of men who go about all day
with a big six-shooter in their belt; and though the main streets of Sil-
verton (like other frontier places) contain too many drinking and

140

THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

CANON OF THE RIO DE LAS ANIMAS.

gambling saloons, yet the town has never passed through such a rough
history as most mining camps see, and it is to-day the most orderly
village in the whole region. This is chiefly due to the quietly deter-
mined attitude its best citizens have taken, and their fixed purpose not
to let the lawless rule.

In the summer of 1881, however, the remnants of the gang of des-
peradoes who had infested Durango during the winter, tried to make
Silverton a rendezvous, and one night killed an inoffensive and highly
esteemed officer, who was aiding a sheriff to arrest one of their number.
It was the culmination of many atrocities, and the citizens at once resus-
citated their Vigilance Committee. One of the ruffians was apprehended
the same night, and quietly hung the following evening. Large rewards

STERN FRONTIER JUSTICE. 147

were offered, detectives and sheriffs set at work, and finally the leading
spirit of evil was captured by the treachery of his most trusted ally in
previous villainies. After some delay this prisoner was brought to Sil-
verton in charge of his Judas-like comrade, who took his reward and
rode swiftly away, distrusting the pledge of the citizens that he should
go safely out of town. This was on Friday. The prisoner was locked
up, and strong relays of heavily armed guards, chosen from men of
respectability and standing in the community relieved each other at the
jail night and day, until Sunday morning came, and with it a cold, dis-
mal storm.

All day the rain fell steadily down, and the air was clammy with
chill mist. Dense banks of clouds were packed into the dripping
gulches, capped the hidden summits and clung in ragged masses among
the trees that darkly clothed the sides of the mountains. Occasional
gusts of wind drove the storm hard against the window panes, but for
the most part rain fell quietly, the streets became avenues of inky paste,
and the darkness of evening gathered early about the town, settling like
a pall upon all the waiting, people in it.

Everyone knew, though the majority could hardly say why, that
the hour of fate had come. As the night thickened, men gathered on
the corners nearest the jail, and, unmindful of the persistent rain, stood
talking in low tones to two or three listeners whose faces were close
together and strangely serious. Moving here and there were other little
groups, their footsteps hardly heard in the soft mire, and their voices
hushed, — moving chiefly up and down the alley where the jail stood.

The saloons and gambling-rooms were open, but the dance-hall,
which last night echoed so late to the clatter of heavy boots and the
shouts of half drunken revelry, was closed, and the few women who
haunted the other liquor dens seemed to have forgotten their coarse
jibes and laid aside their accustomed wiles. The soft rattle of the thin
faro-checks, the clink of silver lost and won, and the louder crack of
billiard-balls, were heard as usual, only more distinctly, while the
monotonous "ante-up, gents!" "Are you all ready?" "The deuce
wins," and so on, of the imperturbable dealers, mingled in a sort of
minor music to which all sharper sounds were accordantly attuned.
But the players were moderate in their stakes, and the ordinary excite-
ment of the smoke-dimmed rooms was hushed.

Still fell the rain drearily. The stern guards about the jail hugged
their rifles under their arms, to keep them dry at the breech, and now
and then tipped streams of water out of the broad hollow brims of their
sombreros. In the log gaol the murderer lay upon his couch, apparently
sound asleep, and the inside sentinels rested their guns on their knees
and counted the moments until their watch should be over. Nine o'clock
came and passed without note. Nine o'clock and thirty minutes was
marked on the cold face of the clock, when the key grated in the iron

148 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

lock, the door opened a little way and three masked men glided in, shut-
ting the door behind them. One brought with him a rope, which he
fastened into a staple set in one of the rafters, standing upon a chair
which gave him only height enough just to reach the beam. Another
touched the prisoner, and told him his time had come. That afternoon
he had assured his keepers that they would see " as brave a death a£ ever
went out of that prison." It was no surprise, then, to see this boy (for
lie was scarcely twenty) rise coolly from his bed and walk to where the
chair had been placed underneath the dangling noose. Perhaps he
would have liked to have shaken hands, had not his arms been manacled
behind his back ; but instead, pausing a moment ere he took his place,
and without a tremor, he simply said, ''Well, adios, boys! " Then, step-
ping up, he inclined his head and himself set it well within the noose.
There was a touch of the rope to tighten the knot, a snatching aside of
the chair, and the outlaw had "gone over the range," beyond all further
harm or doing of it.

Then the jail was locked, and few knew, even at midnight, whether
or not the retribution had come. There was no boisterousness, no gloat-
ing over vengeance satisfied, less of mirth and curiosity, than I ever saw
in a community where an execution under the sanction of law was taking
place. It was more an awe-struck feeling of a terrible necessity, as if
an impending calamity was at hand, or some great affliction present.

Next morning the coroner's jury met, and a ray of light was shot
across the sombre picture ; the verdict said :

"Came to Ms death from hanging 'round! "

XIV
BEYOND THE RANGES.

All the means of action —
The shapeless masses, the materials-
Lie everywhere about us.

— LONGFELLOW.

HREE districts require mention before this corner of
the state is bidden farewell, — Ophir, Rico and the La-
Plata mountains.

Ophir lies fifteen miles east of Silverton and on
the Pacific slope, for it is at one source of the Rio
Dolores. It is reached by a wagon-road up Mineral
Creek, which is one of the most " scenic routes" I know of in Colorado.
At first there is not much to call forth admiration; nearing the top,
however, a remarkable picture presents itself. In a closely guarding
circle of purplish peaks, stand two isolated mountains of entirely differ-
ent character and most striking appearance. Instead of the vertical
cliffs, serrated and splintered summits and ragged gray of the majority
of the mountains, these are as rounded and smooth on top as if they had
been shaved by a lawn mower, and rise in unbroken slopes far above
the blackish masses of timber which closely envelope their bases. It is
their color, however, that makes them so grandly conspicuous. Long
strokes of orange and rust color extend up and down from the spruces
to the apex, streaked with bright red and set off with upright lines of
glowing yellow, all softly blended together and crossed by a crowd of
hair-lines, wavy and level with the horizon, like the plumage of a
canvas back duck. Stand where you will on the eastern side of this
divide between the Animas and the San Miguel, and these great,
smooth, cushiony hills of red, tower up level with your eye, burning
under the sunlight.

At last the road rises above timber line, but even to the last verge,
the soil under the trees is crowded with flowers and all sorts of pretty
herbage, among which the strawberry takes precedence in point of
abundance. Then the track lies underneath beetling cliffs which have
crumbled into long tall, and the pass itself is only the triangular depres-
sion between two opposite slides. On one side here the rock is brown
and broken almost as fine as railway ballast; on the other the fragments
rule much larger in size, are of bluish trachyte and completely cov-
ered everywhere with a stone-lichen hardly thicker than paint, which

149

150 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

gives them a decidedly green color, while the brown rocks opposite are
entirely devoid of lichens.

Down this jumble of fallen rocks— the scene of one incessant slow
avalanche from the weather-crumbled crests still remaining above —
the road passes by a steep and tortuous grade, made somewhat smooth
by filling the crevices with small stuff ; but the result would make the
ghost of McAdam turn a shade paler.

These vast " slides" are a prominent feature in every landscape in
southern Colorado. The volcanic rock with which all the mountains
are capped, has a natural cleavage in two directions and rapidly disin-
tegrates, even under the air. On the quiet, still days of midsummer,
you continually hear the rattle of pieces of rock which have fallen
untouched from some scarp or pinnacle, and are racing down the steep
talus below. The winter, however, is the time of greatest destruction.
Into the thousand cracks and crannies the rains and snows of autumn
pour floods of water, which penetrate the inmost recesses of the well-
seamed crags. Then comes a frost. The little veins and pockets of
water expand with a sudden force, combined and irresistible. Perhaps
some huge projection of cliff flies to pieces as though filled full of
exploding dynamite ; perhaps a stronger body of frost behind it pries
off the whole mass at once, and it dashes head-long down the side of the
mountain, to scatter widely its cracked shell and leave the core a huge
bowlder, which crashes its way far into the struggling woods at the foot
of the rough slope. This process goes on, season after season, until
finally the thousands of feet of summit, which once towered proudly
above the mountain's base, have been crumbled down to a level with the
top of the debris-slope. If the rock is very soft, then the process goes
on with each fallen block, until it is reduced to soil and forms a smooth,
grassy slope, or a clean shaven but barren slide, like the rich red hills
we saw on the other side of Lookout ; but if the fragments are hard,
then gradually the bushes and grass will creep up, and the forest will
follow as high as climate and snow-fall will let it grow, and above will
be a rounded crest of broken lava like Veta mountain— the worst thing
to climb in the wide world.

From the long, slanting niche which lets the road down across this
broken and sliding rock, where men are always at work to throw aside
the ceaselessly falling crumbs of the cliff, one gets his first view of Ophir
gulch, — a valley half a dozen miles in length, without an acre of level
ground in the whole of it. This end is closed by Lookout mountain,
the opposite by the lofty crags of Mt. Wilson. On the north, Silver
mountain cuts the sky in ragged outline, and, braced against its base,
Yellow mountain rises straight from the creek-side to an almost equal
altitude. In the crevice between stand the score or so of log cabins,
which constitute what many persons consider the liveliest camp in the
whole San Juan.

MOUNTAIN PICTURES. 151

It is only eight years since the value of this locality was made
known, but now the mountains on both sides of the gulch are pitted
like a pepper-box with prospecting tunnels, and there are perhaps twenty
mines shipping ore in profitable quantities, even under the great dis-
advantages of their isolation. The leads in general run northeast and
southwest, but good openings have been found all the way from the
brink of the creek to the shattered combing that casts its ragged shadow
down the long, white slopes. Systematic development has been carried
on in very few mines as yet, but the indications promise great things for
the future. Half a dozen gold workings in particular are very rich,
and several sales have been made exceeding $50,000 for a single
location.

Remounting, the ride homeward through the mellow afternoon, was
very delightful. The mountains rose on either side high above where
the hardiest trees could manage to exist, gorgeously stained in great
chevrons of red, orange and rust yellow. Lookout and its brother peaks
seemed vast stacks of triangles, all upright and baseless, backed with
long slides of varied umber tints. On some of these slides the grass has
grown, long tongues of it penetrating far toward the bright walls over-
head, while elsewhere mile-wide slopes of grayish white lie untouched
by any blemish or projection. Everything is triangular, — the outlines
of the peaks and the reverse in the gorges between ; the shape of the
fallen fragments ; of the long spear-points of verdure that climb them,
and of the trees and even the separate leaves that blend into those acute
green patches; of the broad strokes of vivid color that have been painted
so lavishly on these splendid slopes ; even of the splitting and cleavage
of every cliff-face and toppling spire that glistens in the slanting light
and throws a slender-pointed shadow across the velvet brim of the
valley.

Backward, where the forests lie unbroken on the southern wall of
the gulch, long ranks and patches of aspens were interspersed with the
reigning evergreens, and these the frosts had touched with various hues
from its full palette — bright green still where the leaves were protected,
yellow on the warm side of the ridges, vivid orange and scarlet along the
crests,— so that these patches glowed like red and yellow flame against
the dark spruces and firs.

Near timber-line there is a remarkable picture. Down from the
northern mountain there trickle reddish streamlets over a space several
rods in width. A few yards below the road all this water collects itself
into a basin, which, begun by some trivial obstruction, has been able to
build up its walls by slow deposition, until a great iron tank, with walls
twenty-five or thirty feet high, and several feet thick, contains all but a
trickling overflow of the mineral water. This tank is surrounded with
pretty trees, and its wavy red outline holds a fountain as richly green as
^n emerald ; or blue if you look at it from some one of the surrounding

152

THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

heights, so that the Spanish way of calling a spring ojo — an eye — seems
very natural.

Beyond this highly tinted natural reservoir, built out like a balcony
on the steep hillside, you look across to undulating verdant knolls, where
shapely trees are scattered thinly, up beyond a deep maroon slope, fall-
ing from a noble, iron brown bluff, and so on away to the gray and lofty
peaks, in whose rifts and vertical gorges the shadow lies blue as the
farther edge of the sea, and whose clustering, cumulative spires, culmi-
nate in gleaming apices of snow.

Rico is the next point. It is accessible from the north by wagon
roads, but the entrance from this side is by stage from Rockwood Sta-
tion on the railway, midway between Durango and Silverton. The road
bears northward, and the views to the eastward are far-reaching and
noble. The traveler alive to the resources of the region, will note the

ON THE RIVER OF LOST SOULS.

rich, thick grass, and the
great pine timber, with
poplars between to serve
for log house and fencing
purposes ; he will also re-
gret the limited possibilities
for agriculture. Toward
the head of this valley the

woods thicken, and the road gets rougher and starts up the long slope
that ultimately carries it over the hill. The ragged outlines of the San
Miguel range come into view ahead, while the valley below, a solid
"heather" of scrubby oak bushes, briers, ferns, and so on, seems car-
peted in a queer design of tints of green and yellow, interspersed with
all the mixtures of orange, scarlet and crimson that the deft ringers
of the early frost could devise.

RIDING A BUCKBOARD. 153

Over the long hill and past the spruces, an hour's trotting takes the
buckboard through the long hay meadows of Hermosa park, whence it
ascends a four- mile hill to the summit of the last range dividing the waters
of the Rio Las Animas from those of the Rio Dolores. And how we rattle
down that Dolores slope ! An Englishman riding on the Pennsylvania's
sixty miles-an hour train from New York to Philadelphia, the other day,
exclaimed, "It's wonderful ! I think if something should drop one of
you Yankees astride a thunderbolt, the first thing you would do would
be to say, ' chk ! chk / '" I thought of that as we started, almost at a
gallop, down that steep and winding mountain road. Corners — we
snapped around them. Hollows and ridges — we bounced into and out
of them. Down long, rough slopes, cut in the side of a hill so steep that
just under the hub it fell away hundreds of feet almost like a precipice ;
down through the full blaze of the afternoon rays in the frost turned
aspens, where

" Tremulous, floating in air, o'er depths of azure abysses,
Down through the golden leaves the sun was pouring his splendors,"

we rushed at a pace that Phaeton, in his first hours of freedom, might
have enjoyed in his chariot, but which to us, in an old buckboard, was
simply torture. Why we did n't pitch oil the imminent verge, why we
did n't fall to pieces against some one of the thousand rocks we assaulted,
why our bones were not broken and our diaphragms bursted, is incom-
prehensible.

Rico is situated in the center of a volcanic upburst which has parted
the sandstones and limestones once spread thousands of feet thick over
the area, and whose edges now stand as bold bluffs all around this
break, which is nearly four miles in breadth and about eight in length.
The town itself is made up of a scattered, gardenless collection of log
cabins and some frame buildings, with a log suburb called Tenderfoot
Town, and numbers about six hundred people. It is very dull, compared
with most Colorado camps, but this is owing to the fact that everybody
is waiting until the railway gets a little nearer.

The Rico mines are characterized by their great dissimilarity with
each other. Nearly every sort of ore, of both silver and gold, is found
mingled in a most heterogeneous way among the lavas, recalling that
marvelously mixed mineralogical madrigal in the Colorado comic opera,
Brittle Silver.

" I have found out a gift for my fair,

I have found where the calcites abound,
Where skldpsite and zfrcon appear
With sarcolite scattered around.

" Then come love, and never say nay,

With plcrosmine thy heart I'll delight,
With diaspore and mangandblend gay,
And pharmak6siderite."

154 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

Some true fissure-veins exist, but more irregular deposits, and both
"lead " and "dry" ores occur, often in contiguous claims. The richest
ores thus far are those without lead ; where galena occurs it is mixed
with so much zinc and antimony as to make it troublesome in treatment.
A galena ore here, which will show a mill-run of thirty ounces (my
authority is Mr. Amos Lane, superintendent of the smelter), is considered
very good.

Rico has not yet worked far enough into her very numerous "loca-
tions " to make sure of the riches her mountains are supposed to con-
tain. There is no doubt that the cliffs about her are full of silver and
gold, stored up in what, under more favorable circumstances, would be
profitable quantities ; also that there is in the near neighborhood a mag-
nificent supply of bituminous and "free-burning anthracite " coal, good
material for charcoal, limestone for flux, bog and magnetic iron, fire-
clay and good building stone. The time will come, then, when Rico will
be able cheaply to treat its own product, but this will be after wagon-
roads and railways have come nearer, and outside capital has lent its
strength to bring to the surface the hidden, or only partially exposed,
treasures of the veins.

South of the San Juan range, and somewhat isolated, is the noble
La Plata group of mountains. They are volcanic, like the rest, and, of
course, of Alpine appearance, while their slopes, lying far south, pro-
duce so many varieties of foliage, that they often present real bits of
beauty — a word having rare application in Colorado's scenery. These
mountains were prospected eight or ten years ago, and a placer bar of
supposed extraordinary value was found near the head of the Rio La
Plata by a company of California miners. I remember very well the
picturesque little camp they had there, and the day they got their first
butter for nine months. Having interested in the locality Mr. Parrott, a
California capitalist, a town grew there rapidly, called Parrott City, now
only sixteen miles from Durango, and arrangements were made for
working the placers by hydraulic machinery. Meanwhile searching
about the peaks disclosed gold quartz in some quantity, and many veins
bearing dry ores of silver, absence of galena being characteristic. I
see no reason why these peaks should not be equally productive with
any district in the region.

But this is true, as I constantly insist, of all the San Juan. Every-
body looks forward. Each proposes to do this and that, and to be
happy — " when I sell my mine." Perhaps this delicious uncertainty is
a part of the fun. Yet many a miner would reprove me for exaggerating
the uncertainty ; I only hope he is right and I am wrong. That there is
a vast amount of the precious metals hidden in the veins of these moun-
tains is undeniable. It is equally true that we know where very much
of it lies. But the question stands : Is it sufficiently concentrated to
make the getting it out and refining it into a useful condition, yield a

SUCCESS OF THE SAN JUAN. 15ft

margin of profit on expenses ? No doubt it is in many cases, but is it
in the majority of so-called " mines," or in enough to support any gen-
eral population and business? Many discreet persons say " No." Many
more, naturally, will answer, " Yes." I, myself, making no claim to
utter a skilled, or a weighty, or any kind of an opinion except a care-
fully unbiased one, think the balance of chances is in favor of ultimate
success ; and I am not afraid to predict that through slow but perma-
nent advancement this corner of Colorado will come to be one of the
most important silver-producing regions on the globe.

Upon this event depends the fate of a great many enterprising
investments. Faith in the success of these mines has caused the Denver
and Rio Grande to build two hundred and fifty miles of railroad over
mountains and wide plains which of themselves would never support the
line. Faith in these mineral treasures has caused hundreds of men to
follow the railway, and has set on foot little towns all along its track ;
and a part of the same faith is all that keeps alive the thriving town,
Duraugo, where scores of well packed warehouses vie with one another
in plethoras of merchandise, and thousands of men are exciting each
other in pushing, plucky struggles after the supremacy of wealth. The
miner picks away at his rock, and hopefully pays for his supplies until
the last dollar is gone, and then goes at work earning more in the service
of his more fortunate companion. The patronage of these men, always
just on the brink of a " rich strike," is what keeps this southern Denver —
scarcely four years old yet— alive and sturdy. The precious minerals
can only be procured in this region by hard and skillful labor ; they are
not in carbonate-beds or placer-bars, to be picked to pieces and reduced
at trifling cost. On the other hand, they are richer, and while the profits
are no less than in the former case, the expense of getting out is several
times greater. This means the disbursement of far more money in the
locality for the same amount of value received from the mines by the
owners, than in an easier district to work — Leadville, for example.
Thus an ore which would yield only sixty dollars to the ton will pay to
work, very likely, in a carbonate camp, since it would cost only ten
dollars to get it out and through the smelter ; while to get the same
profit on a ton of San Juan ore, it must carry one hundred dollars to the
ton, say, since it requires fifty dollars to mine it. Thus for every ten
dollars spent in an easy locality, five times as much must be expended
here; or, in other words, five times the population maintained under the
former circumstances, will be supported here, and be permanent, for
fissure-veins do not produce spasmodic and uneven results, but continu-
ous, progressive and practically inexhaustible supplies of ore for the
proprietor, wages for his workman and business for the merchant,
artisan and shipper. All this is the best kind of an outlook, and means
that the San Juan will always be a good country for the man of mod-
erate means, although the mining speculator may consider it too solid
and tangible to suit his purposes, and therefore be loath to praise it.

THE ANTIQUITIES OF THE RIO SAN JUAN.

Dismantled towers and turrets broken,

Like grim and war-worn braves who keep
A silent guard, with grief unspoken,

Watch o'er the graves by the Hoven weep,
The nameless graves of a race forgotten;

Whose deeds, whose words, whose fate are one,
With the mist, long ages past begotten

Of the sun. —STANLEY WOOD.

IME forbade a side excursion from Durango to the
Mancos Canon, though we were extremely anxious to
make it, — / because I had been there before, and the
rest because they were eager to see what I had told
them of.

The Rio Mancos is the next tributary of the Rio
San Juan west of the Rio de la Plata. When, in 1874, I was a member
of the photographic division of the United States Geological and
Geographical Survey, one of the main objects of our trip was the
exploration of this remote corner of the State, where we had vaguely
heard of marvelous relics of a bygone civilization uneqtialed by any-
thing short of the splendid ruins of Central America and the land of the
Incas. After traversing the frightfully rugged trails of the San Juan
and La Plata mountains, therefore, a portion of our party came out on
the southern margin of the mountains, and, despite the smoldering
hostility of the Indians, with which the region was filled, headed
southward into the long deserted canons. There were five of us, alto-
gether,— Mr. W. H. Jackson (from whose skillful camera came many
of the illustrations that grace my present text), the famous Captain John
Moss, who went with us as "guide, philosopher and friend," myself
and two mule packers.

The trail led from Parrott City, then a nameless prospect camp,
washing gold without a thought of the silver ledges to be developed later
there, over to Merritt's pleasant ranch on the upper Rio Mancos, then
across rolling grass land and through groves of magnificent lumber
pines, a distance of about fifteen miles. Spending one night at the
ranch, sunrise the next morning found us eager to enter the portals of
the canon and the precincts of the area within which glorious dis-
coveries in anthropology allured our imagination and made light the
toil and privation of the undertaking.

156

ANIMAS CANON AND THE NEEDLES.

158 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

Not five hundred yards below the ranch we came upon our first
find, — mounds of earth which had accumulated over fallen houses, and
about which were strewn an abundance of fragments of pottery, vari-
ously painted in colors, often glazed within, and impressed in various
designs. Later the perpendicular, buttress-like walls that hemmed in
the valley began to contract, and that night we camped under some
forlorn cedars, just beneath a bluff a thousand feet of so in height,
which, for its upper half, was absolutely vertical. This was the edge of
the green table-land, or mem verde, which stretches over hundreds of
square miles, and is cleft by these cracks or canons, through which
the drainage of the northern uplands finds its way into the Rio 8an
Juan.

In wandering about after supper, something like a house was dis-
cerned away up on the face of this bluff, and two of us clambered over
the talus of loose debris, across a great stratum of pure coal, and, by
dint of much pushing and pulling, up to the ledge upon which it stood.
We came down satisfied, and next morning Mr. Jackson carried up our
photographic kit and got some superb negatives. There, seven hundred
measured feet above the valley, perched on a little ledge only just large
enough to hold it, was a two story house made of finely cut sandstone,
each block about fourteen by six inches, accurately fitted and set in
mortar now harder than the stone itself. The floor was the ledge upon
which it rested, and the roof the overhanging rock. There were three
rooms upon the ground floor, each one six by nine feet, with partition
walls of faced stone. Between the stories was originally a wooden floor,
traces of which still remained, as did also the cedar sticks set in the
wall over the windows and door; but this was over the front room only,
the height of the rocky roof behind not being sufficient to allow an
attic there. Each of the stories was six feet in height, and all the
rooms, upstairs and down, were nicely plastered and painted what now
looks a dull brick red color, with a white band along the floor like a
base-board. There was a low doorway from the ledge into the lower
story, and another above, showing that the upper chamber was entered
from without. The windows were square aA ertures, with no indication
of any glazing or shutters. They commanded a view of the whole
valley for many miles. Near the house several convenient little niches
in the rock were built into better shape, as though they had been used
as cupboards or caches; and behind it a semi-circular wall inclosing the
angle of the house and cliff formed a water reservoir holding two and a
half hogsheads. The water was taken out of this from a window of the
upper room. In front of the house, which was the left side to one
facing the bluff, an esplanade had been built to widen the narrow ledge
and probably furnish a commodious place for a kitchen. The abutments
which supported it were founded upon a smooth, steeply-inclined face
of rock ; yet so consummate was their skill in masonry that these abut-

HOMES OF THE CLIFF DWELLERS. 159

ments still stand, although it would seein that a pound's weight might
slide them off.

Searching further in this vicinity, we found remains of many
houses on the same ledge, and some perfect ones above it quite inac-
cessible. The rocks also bore some inscriptions. Many edifices in the
cliffs escaped our notice. The glare over everything, and the fact that
the buildings, being formed of the rock on which they rested, were
identical in color with it, increasing the difficulty made sufficiently great
by their altitude.

Leaving here, we soon came upon traces of houses in the bottom of
the valley, in the greatest profusion, nearly all of which were entirely
destroyed, and broken pottery everywhere abounded. The majority of
the buildings were square, but many round, and one sort of ruin always
showed two square buildings with very deep cellars under them and a
round tower between them, seemingly for watch and defense. In
several cases a large part of this tower was still standing. The best
example of this consisted of two perfectly circular walls of cut stone,
one within the other. The diameter of the inner circle was twenty-two
feet and of the outer thirty-three feet. The walls Were thick and were
perforated apparently by three equi-distant doorways. At that time we
concluded this double- walled tower (later triple walled structures of the
same sort were met with) must have had a religious use; but since then
I have wondered whether all of these round buildings above ground
(save some which manifestly were watch towers) were not used as store-
houses for snow. It was a country of long droughts and hot summers.
The double or triple walls, with spaces of dead air between would make
excellent refrigerators.

These groups of destroyed edifices, occupying the bottom-land,
were met with all day; but no other perfect cliff-houses were found
until next morning, when a little cave high up from the ground was
found, which had been utilized as a homestead by being built full of low
houses communicating with one another, some of which were intact,
and had been appropriated by wild animals. About these dwellings
were more hieroglyphics scratched on the wall, and plenty of pottery,
but no implements. Further on were similar, but rather ruder, struc-
tures on a rocky bluff, but so strongly were they put together that the
tooth of time had found them hard gnawing; and, in one instance,
while that portion of the cliff upon which a certain house rested had
cracked off and fallen away some distance without rolling, the house
itself had remained solid and upright. Traces of the trails to many of
these dwellings, and the steps cut in the rock, were still visible, and
were useful indications of the proximity of buildings otherwise unno-
ticed. Yet, despite our watchfulness, Mr. Holmes' party, which went
next year to study the details of the broad prehistoric picture our rapid
trip sketched out, brought to light several fine buildings, high above the

160 THE CHEST OF THE CONTINENT.

valley, in some of which valuable implements and utensils were dis-
covered. None of them were so high, though, or in better condition
than one of our prizes this second day.

Keeping close under the mesa, on the western side (you never find
houses on the eastern cliff of a canon, where the morning sun could not
strike them full with its first beams) one of us espied what he thought
to be a house on the face of a particularly high and smooth portion of
the precipice, which there jutted out into a promontory, up one side of
which it seemed we could climb to the top of the mesa above the
house, whence it might be possible to crawl down to it. Fired with the
hope of getting some valuable relics of household furniture in such a
place, one of the gentlemen volunteered to make the attempt, and suc-
ceeded. He found it well preserved, almost semi-circular in shape, of
the finest workmanship yet seen, all the stones being cut true, a foot
wide, sixteen inches long and three inches thick, ground perfectly
smooth on the inside so as to require no plastering. It was about six by
twenty feet in interior dimensions and six feet high. The door and
window were bounded by lintels, sills and caps of single flat stones.
Yet all this was done, so far as we can learn, with no other tools than
those made of stone, and in such a place that you might drop a pebble
out of the window 500 feet plumb.

Photographs and sketches completed, we pushed on, rode twenty
miles or more, and camped two miles beyond Unagua springs. There
were about these springs, which are at the base of the Ute mountain,
the tallest summit of the Sierra u Late, formerly many large buildings,
the relics of which are very impressive. One of them is two hundred
feet square, with a wall twenty feet thick, and inclosed in the center a
circular building one hundred feet in circumference. Another, near by,
was one hundred feet square, with equally thick walls, and was divided
north and south by a very heavy partition. This building communi-
cated with the great stone reservoir about the springs. These heavy
walls were constructed of outer strong walls of cut sandstone, regularly
laid in mortar, filled in with firmly packed fragments of stone. Some
portions of the wall still stand twenty or thirty feet in height, but, judg-
ing from the amount of material thrown down, the building must origin-
ally have been a very lofty one. About these large edifices were traces
of smaller ones, covering half a square mile, and out in the plain another
small village indicated by a collection of knol \s. Scarcely anything now
but white sage grows thereabouts, but there is reason to believe that in
those old times it was under careful cultivation. Evidently these thick
walls were the foundations of old terraced pueblos, an unusually large
community having grown up about these plentiful springs, just as at
Taos, San Juan, Zuni, and the present Moqui villages in Arizona.

Our next day's march was westerly, leaving the mesa bluffs on our
right and gradually behind. The road was an interesting one, intel-

ANCIENT WATCH TOWERS. 161

lectually, but not at all so physically — dry, hot, dusty, long and weari-
some. We passed a number of quite perfect houses, perched high up on
rocky bluffs, and many other remains. One occupied the whole apex
of a great conical bowlder, that ages ago had become detached from its
mother mountain and rolled out into the valley. Another, worth men-
tion, was a round tower, beautifully laid up, which surmounted an
immense bowlder that had somehow rolled to the very verge of a lofty
cliff overlooking the whole valley. This was a watch-tower, and we
learned afterward that almost all the high points were occupied by such
sentinel boxes. From it a deeply worn, devious trail led up over the
edge of the mesa, by following which we should, no doubt, have found
a whole town. But this was only a reconnoissance, and we could not
now stop to follow out all indications.

Not far away the odd appearance of a cliff attracted my attention,
and leaving the party I rode over the bare, white, rocky floors which
capped all the low, broad ridges, to find a long series of shallow grottos
in the escarpment rilled with houses, some of which were roofed over,
but most consisting simply of walls carried to the ceiling of the light,
dry cavern in the sandstone, often only one or two houses occupying
each of the small caves, whose openings were in the same water worn
stratum, and only a few feet or yards apart. Still more curious exam-
ples of these cave-dwellings have been seen since in the same neigh-
borhood, and lower down. For example, on the San Juan, in 1875,
Holmes and Jackson discovered, half way between top and bottom of
a bluff where a stratum of shaly sandstone had been weathered and
dug out to a depth of six feet, leaving a firm floor and a projecting
ledge overhead, a continuous row of buildings, though none have their
front walls now remaining. Doorways through each of the dividing
walls afforded access along the whole line. A few rods up stream a little,
niched cave-house, 14x5x6, divided into two equal compartments; a
small, square window, just large enough for one to crawl through, was
placed midway in the wall of each half. " We well might ask whether
these little ' cubby-holes ' had ever been used as residences, or, whether,
as seems at first most likely, they might not have been ' caches,' or merely
temporary places of refuge. While, no doubt, many of them were such,
yet in the majority the evidences of use and the presence of long-con-
tinued fires, indicated by their smoke-blackened interiors, prove them
to have been quite constantly occupied. Among all dwellers in mud-
plastered houses, it is the practice to freshen up their habitations by
repeated applications of clay, moistened to the proper consistency, and
spread with the hands, the thickness of the coating depending upon its
consistency. Every such application makes a building perfectly new,
and many of the best sheltered cave houses have just this appearance,
as though they were but just vacated."

The grandest of all these cave shelters, perhaps, was that in the
7*

162

THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

Montezuma canon, the main building of which was forty-eight feet
long, and built of well smoothed stones. "In the rubbish of the large
house," says the report, "some small stone implements, rough, indented
pottery in fragments, and a few arrow-points were found. . . .
The whole appearance of the place and its surroundings indicates that
the family or the little community who inhabited it were in good cir-
cumstances and the lords of the surrounding countiy. Looking out
from one of their houses, with a great dome of solid rock overhead, that

SILVERTON AND SULTAN MOUNTAIN.

echoed and re-echoed every word uttered with marvelous distinctness,
and below them a steep descent of one hundred feet, to the broad, fer-
tile valley of the Rio San Juan, covered with waving fields of maize and
scattered groves of majestic cotton woods, these old people, whom even-
the imagination can hardly clothe with reality, must have felt a sense
of security that even the incursions of their barbarous foes could hardly
have disturbed."

But I cannot linger over these extremely interesting and instructive
ruins, nor stop to tell of the variety and skill shown in their architec-
ture, in their storage of water and food, in their, means of defense, in
their manufacture of utensils, and the art with which their life was

i MYSTERIOUS PEOPLE. 163

adorned. Out of the hundreds of leveled pueblos, cave-houses, towers,
water-reservoirs and wasted fields which once bore bountiful harvests, I
have only culled one here and there. I may say that not only every
canon which cuts down through the mesa to the Rio San Juan and into
all of its lower tributary valleys, but many of the plateaus between, are
occupied by the ruins which show an Indian occupation previous to
the present savages, and of a different rank, if not of another race.

Particularly accessible to the ordinary tourist are the ruins to be
seen in the Animas valley, about twenty-five miles south of Durango.
These are said to consist of a pueblo three hundred and sixteen feet
long by nearly one hundred wide, which evidently rose to the height of
many stories. Some of the lower rooms in this great house are still
standing, and skeletons and relics of great interest have been taken from
them. In the center of the ruins is a subterranean, cistern- like chamber,
described as about sixty feet in diameter, and plastered everywhere
within with hard cement. This, probably, was the main eslufa of the'
village. Other lesser ruins and remains of farming operations are scat-
tered about the vicinity, and are well worthy of exploration.

Just who and what were these aborigines (if so they were, which is
very doubtful), opinions differ; but that in the Village Indians of New
Mexico and Arizona we see to-day their lineal descendants, seems indis-
putable.

Traditions are few, that have any ralue, but the partial and
imperfect researches which have already been made in the southwest
enable us to make out dimly some strangely tragical scheme of history
for this race of men whose sun set so long ago.

It is evident, for example, that the most ancient of these prehistoric
ruins are those found along the immediate banks of the water-courses in
the valleys. There the forerunners of the troublous times to come dwelt
in peace and prosperity among their fields, which seem to have stretched
over many times the area of land now possible to be cultivated. There
is no question, indeed, that in those days rains were more frequent and
the climate far more favorable to agriculture than at present. But how
many generations — how many centuries — ago was this ? And how did
the change of climate, which turned the fertility of the land into deso-
lation, come about — by slow degrees, through sudden cataclysm, or with
comparatively rapid advance ? Probably gradually.

But it does not seem to have been as the result of meteorological
disfavor that they abandoned their populous pueblos in the pleasant
valleys and began to build refuge homes in the niches of the canon's
wall, or on the crest of inaccessible mesas. From the mountainous
north came enemies they were unable to resist, and which devastated
their fields and laid waste their towns, as we have seen at Ojo Caliente,
and as is written in the ruins of a hundred spring-side pueblos through-
out the San Juan valley. No doubt they still cultivated their fields as

164 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

well as they could between the times of attack, building temporary
summer-houses and spending the idle winter in their rocky fastnesses, or
retreating to them when warned of an attack. Their watch-towers on
every exposed point, tell how sharp and incessant was the lookout they
kept against the well-mounted and savage nomadic tribes, the prehistoric
Utes and Apaches and Navajos, who were to them as the Scythians and
the Vandals and Goths to the weakened empire of effeminate Rome.

But after a time a breathing space seems to have come to the har-
assed people, and they felt themselves safe to return to their ancient
valleys and reinhabit and recultivate them. Certain houses, built upon
the substratum of older fallen structures, seem to show this new era of
reoccupation, which in some places lasted only a short time before ene-
mies and drought together compelled complete abandonment, while in
other more southern strongholds were founded the pueblos that still
exist, at Taos, Acoma, Zuiii, and on the Moqui mesas.

When, some day, you can ride down the Mancos in a railway car
and get flying glimpses of the ruined houses — if your eyes are sharp to
see and your mind quick to apprehend, — do not forget how populous
was this dry and garish valley during those bygone days, when the Cru-
saders were waking up Europe, and all that was known of America was
that the Basque fishermen went to the fog-banks of an icy western coast
to catch codfish. I am more sure of your interest here, though, than in
many other far-paraded precincts of this marvelous realm, I am taking
you so swiftly through in my pilgrimage on wheels. And I cannot
enforce my point better, — leave an impression more lasting and graceful
on your minds of those gentle shepherds and husbandmen (but no less
brave warriors), who were here so long before us, than by giving you
the poem my clever-brained and genial friend has written in Swin-
burnian measure about them :

44 In the sad South-west, in the mystical Sunland,

Far from the toil, and the turmoil of gain;
Hid in the heart of the only — the one land

Beloved of the Sun, and bereft of the rain;
The one weird land where the wild winds blowing,

Sweep with a wail o'er the plains of the dead,
A ruin, ancient beyond all knowing,

Hears its head.
" On the canon's side, in the ample hollow,

That the keen winds carved in ages past,
The Castle walls, like the nest of a swallow

Have clung and have crumbled to this at last.
The ages since man's foot has rested

Within these walls, no man may know;
For here the fierce grey eagle nested

Long ago.
44 Above those walls the crags lean over,

Below, they dip to the river's bed;
Between, fierce winge*d creatures hover,

Beyond, the plain's wild waste is spread.

SWINBURNIAN MEASURES. 165

No foot has climbed the pathway dizzy,

That crawls away from the blasted heath,
Since last It felt the ever busy

Foot of Death.

" In that haunted Castle — It must be haunted,

For men have lived here, and men have died,
And maidens loved, and lovers daunted,

Have hoped and feared, have laughed and sighed—
In that haunted Castle the dust has drifted,

But the eagles only may hope to see
What shattered Shrines and what Altars rifted,

There may be.

* The white, bright rays of the sunbeam sought It,

The cold, clear light of the moon fell here,
The west wind sighed, and the south wind brought It,

Songs of Summer year after year.
Runes of Summer, but mute and runeless,

The Castle stood; no voice was heard,
Save the harsh, discordant, wild and tuneless

Cry of bird.

" The spring rains poured, and the torrent rifted

A deeper way;— the foam-flakes fell,
Held for a moment poised and lifted,

Down to a fiercer whirlpool's hell.
On the Castle tower no guard, in wonder,

Paused in his marching to and fro,
For on the turret the mighty thunder

Found no foe.

" No voice of Spring, — no Summer glories

May wake the warders from their sleep,
Their graves are made by the sad Dolores,

And the barren headlands of Hoven-weep.
Their graves are nameless — Their race forgotten,

Their deeds, their words, their fate, are one
With the mist, long ages past begotten,

Of the Sun.

" Those castled cliffs they made their dwelling,

They lived and loved, they fought and fell,
No faint, far voice comes to us telling

More than those crumbling walls can tell.
They lived their life, their fate fulfilling,

Then drew their last faint, faltering breath,
Their hearts, congealed, clutched by the chilling

Hand of Death.

"Dismantled towers, and turrets broken,

Like grim and war-worn braves who keep
A silent guard, with grief unspoken,

Watch o'er the graves by the Hoven-weep.
The nameless graves of a race forgotten;

Whose deeds, whose words, whose fate are one
With the mist, long ages past begotten,

Of the Sun."

XVI

ON THE UPPER RIO GRANDE.

O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful, and yet again wonderful
and after that out of all whooping.

— MEBOHANT OF VENICE Hi, 2.

FF to Del Norte and Wagon Wheel Gap! That meant
a long run. We might have gone afoot across the
Cunningham Pass and down the Alpine fastness of the
Rio Grande's birthplace almost as speedily as the train
would take us, back to Durango, over the heights and
glories of Toltec, down the mazy labyrinth of the
Whiplash, and across the sheep pastures of San Luis. But we were in
no hurry, and by preparing had the jolliest time you can imagine the
whole way. At Alamosa we bid a reluctant farewell to our three com-
panions, the Artist, the Photographer and the Musician, who can no
longer spare to us their society. But our prospective loneliness is miti-
gated by a new comer, — an old college friend. I shall introduce him to
the reader as Chum, because that was the ordinary way in which we
dispensed with his name.

" A merrier man

Within the limit of becoming mirth
I never spent an hour's talk withal."

Here, the good-bye and the welcome given in the same breath, we
change our cars to a new train headed westward toward the upper
course of the Rio Grande, with its farms and mines and medicinal
springs.

The track is laid right across San Luis park, which is to become,
through irrigation, one of the richest agricultural regions in the world
By and bye, the dull line under the horizon began to form itself into
trees, and among these we could distinguish the scattered log and adobe
dwellings and the half-cultivated little farms of Mexican ranchmen. The
bottoms of the Rio Grande now spread wide around us, with bushes and
trees, and tall, rich grass, and a few miles further on we came to the
town amid a group of picturesquely broken volcanic bluffs of great size.
This is a sort of postern-gate for the San Juan mining region, and also
for Lake City, Ouray and the San Miguel.

Only a postern-gate, for now the railway southward carries the
passenger to Durango and Silverton, and the Salt Lake line makes an

166

SUMMIT GOLD MINES. 167

easy entrance to the northern slope of the Sierra Madre; but, a few years
ago Del Norte was the last outfitting point for those going into all that
region, and the first real civilization encountered on the return. Under
the " boom " of this patronage the old Mexican ranch center became an
American town of some size and importance almost ten years ago. and
its people thought they were soon to be the metropolis of the southwest.
But such has not yet appeared to be their destiny, and a snug, stirring
little village of twelve or fifteen hundred people is all that the settlement
has developed into. It is charmingly placed, and there is so much land
along the river, both above and below, which is cultivated by both
Mexicans and Americans (chiefly in the line of hay), and so many sheep,
cattle and horses are owned and sold there, that this interest alone will
support the village and enable it to grow slowly.

But pleasant Del Norte has more than this to rely upon. Twenty-
eight miles back in the mountains of the Continental divide are the
famous Summit gold mines. The richness of these mines (as they appear
at present) is almost inconceivable — it equals the fabled El Dorado so
many brave fellows have died in their effort to find. The railway
express company, in the three months following the advent of the road
at Del Norte, forwarded to the Denver mint $300,000 in gold bars.
I have seen and handled many pieces of this reddish, rusty, honey-
combed quartz, in which you cpuld see the gold as thickly and plainly
as the pepper on sliced cucumbers. There were streaks of it, maybe
half an inch wide, where the material was more than half its weight,
pure, visible gold.

Prospecting on South mountain in 1874 (or before that) men found
these ledges, and various claims were staked off, and, in 1875, stamp
mills were erected, which at once began grinding out thousands of
dollars a day and saving only about sixty per cent, of the gold, the
remainder running off in the tailings because it was too coarse and
heavy to be caught quickly by the mercurial batteries; this was enough
to set fire to the tinder of the gold-seeking population, which is always
ready to stampede to a new camp, and in 1876 a great rush to the Sum-
mit district happened. The whole region was quickly put under claim-
stakes and a dozen respectable mining beginnings were made. Among
these was a group of claims, more or less worked, which became the
property of a corporation called the San Juan Consolidated Mining
Company. Their principal mine was the " Ida," and their most intel-
ligent stockholder was Judge, now United States Senator, Thomas
Bowen. He came to this region from Arkansas an exceedingly poor
man, though in early life he had been a wealthy planter. Elected a
justice of his judicial district, he plodded on foot from county to
county, too poor to own a horse. For seven long years, the story goes,
he put all his money into prospecting, and at last turned up here at the
Summit. Watching the way in which the "Consolidated" property

168

THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

was being handled, he concluded that its managers were not on the
right track and would speedily come to a halt; furthermore, he had
faith that he could right the mistake if he had the power.

As he anticipated, the stock of that company went down to nothing.
No further back than the winter of 1880-81, its shares were played at
poker in Del Norte, and passed over the bars of saloons at the rate of

two drinks for one
share. Bowen quietly
gathered them in,
getting $300,000
worth, it is stated,
for $75, or one-
fourth of one mill
on the dollar. Two
or three others saved
up smaller amounts.
When the Judge had
secured a controlling
interest, he set on
foot a scheme of
new development,
and very shortly
struck this fabu-
lously rich vein. He
persuaded friends in
Denver to erect a
mill on terms which
have resulted in the
biggest profits a
stamp-mill ever paid
its manufacturer, I
fancy, and Bowen
suddenly found him-
self a Croesus. He

had been heavily in debt, and some of the scores against him had long
been charged to loss by his creditors, but he paid them all without
noticing the drain upon his uncounted cotters. Having fought the
demon of poverty in its most tenacious forms, for so many years, this
sudden affluence did not spoil him, but he glories in it like a boy, and is
never more pleased than when he can make it tell for the surprise and
happiness of some old companion still in the grip of misfortune.

But "Bowen's bonanza" is not the only one. There are others of
perhaps equal merit close by, and 1 have no doubt many more will be
discovered. For, in spite of all the bullion which has this year been
produced, these mines are as yet in their infancy. I suppose the

CLIFF DWELLINGS.

HOW THE GAP WAS NAMED. 169

measure of half a mile would include the total length of underground
workings in all of them together. Who shall say what the future may
not disclose?

Half a dozen miles across the mountain from the Summit is a flour-
ishing little settlement of prospectors who believe they have struck a
profitable lode of silver-galena ; and still farther beyond, among the
springs of the Rio San Juan, lie the Cornwall silver mines, where much
work has been done. The principal properties are on the Perry lode,
which gives sulphuret of silver. Other ores there vary from this, how-
ever, and are said to be best suited to the lixiviation process. A smelter
has been purchased for that locality. Judge Jones, so well known all
over southern Colorado for his steady allegiance to everything which
savors of "San Juan" and for his equal hatred of whisky, has large
visions of future wealth out of this district.

Now the whole of these mines and trials for a mine are so much
grist to Del Norte's mill. So long as they keep men digging, so long
she will thrive exceptionally and remain an important feeder to our
railway.

The scenery along the Rio Grande, above Del Norte, is very fine,
and has always the zest of human interest in the quaint ranches of the
Mexican farmers, whose women and children flock out to see every
train go by. Terraced steeps bound the river-valley where the farms
are, at a little distance, on the right, while rounded pine-clad hills slope
upward on the left. We see this part of the river on our way to Wagon
Wheel Gap, a place for which, if I were writing a separate chapter, I
should adopt as a motto the words of Exodus: "And they came to
Elim, where were twelve wells of water and three score and ten palm
trees, and they encamped there by the waters."

"But what is Wagon Wheel Gap, and how did it get such a name? "
asks the Madame.

" The gap," it is thereupon explained, "is a noble gateway, thirty
miles west of Del Norte, through which the Rio Grande breaks out of
the confinement of its youth in the San Juan mountains; and I heard
only yesterday how it come by its name, from the great and good Judge
Jones, whose narratives most happily combine both facts and fancies.

" You will remember what we heard of the band of men who went
into the San Juan mines four and-twenty years ago, under Colonel Baker.
Well, there was a part of that story you have not heard yet. It seems
that the party was composed of Northern and of Southern men in nearly
equal numbers. When they heard that war had broken out between the
Northern States and the hoped for ' Confederacy,' there was added to
the woe of disappointment, diminished food, and the fear of Indians,
the bitterness of a little civil war among those who previously had been
compatriots and friends. It was a miserable little copy of the great
struggle, but it resulted in disproportionate sorrows, for a panic ensued,
8

170 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

in which the men of the party broke up and scattered out of the moun-
tains by every available passage, a prey to double the dangers which
would have menaced them had they stayed together. Some tried to
take their wagons out piecemeal over Cunningham Pass. Putting them
together on the eastern side, they worked their way down to Del Norte,
Fort Garland, and so to Santa Fe, or around to Denver. But they often
broke down, and a relic of this panic-stricken flight, in the shape of a
large wagon wheel, found by Judge Jones, served to give the place its
peculiar name. To distinguish it from other gaps in the range it was
spoken of as ' the gap where the wagon wheel was found,' which soon,
by natural process of curtailment, condensation .and transposition,
became 'Wagon Wheel Gap,' and Wagon Wheel Gap it is, even unto
this day."

The gap itself is a cleft through a great hill; or it is two half hills
(for they stand not squarely opposite one another, but with somewhat
overlapping ends only) each vertically faced and uprightly seamed on
the river side, but sloping away into a grassy ridge behind. The
southern end of the bluffs, which also is the farthest up stream, is
narrow and tower-like, but the other, rounding out and swelling high,
in the center has a breadth of half a mile or more, the river washing its
bowed base. Of about the same height as the Palisades of the Hudson,
and like them marked with vertical lines of cleavage, this bluff of red-
dish volcanic rock would bear a striking resemblance to that great
monument of the Plutonic reign on the Atlantic slope, did its fapade
present a straight front; but in this swelling front is where it exceeds its
eastern rival, for one gets added pleasure from the perspective of the
massive battlement retreating right and left in grand curvature.

The gap is wide enough not to pen the water into a very narrow
flood, so that only a slight exaggeration of the always lively current
occurs. This is enough, however, to make these ripples a favorite spot
for the splendid trout in which the whole upper part of the river
abounds, and I suppose four or five thousand pounds of these gamy
fish are taken every year.

Right at the foot of the talus stands a group of connected log-
cabins forming a comfortable hotel. As we are bound for the hot
springs, we do not remain here, but climbing into the spring wagon in
waiting ride southward for a mile back into the hills to a second little
cuchara of a valley where are the springs themselves and the hotel, bath
houses and accessories belonging to the sanitarium they have created.
This hotel is delightfully home-like in its excellence of bed and board.

Persons go to Wagon Wheel Gap seeking recreation and for recovery
from ill health. If the first is their object (as it has been in the case of
the late Secretary of the Treasury,— one of the hardest working men for
ten months in the year, in the United States) they have a pleasant home
and good company and no end of out-door fun from which to choose.

THE SPORTSMAN'S PARADISE.

171

There are little hills near by which they may begin on, and taller bluffs
beyond, where they may make perfect their practice; while far away
stand the "ultimate heights" of the Sierra Madre, — unbroken masses of
snow when we last beheld their spear-pointed peaks. There are ponies
they may ride, and donkeys for the children. There are single buggies
and phaetons for the ladies and carryalls for the whole family. There
are geologizing, botanizing and general natural history to invite study
in endless variety.

Then there is good sport. That noblest of the deer race, — the elk —
still haunts the upland pastures and mountain glades. The black-tailed
deer is to be found lurking in the aspens, and, if you are a good climber,
you may enjoy the very next thing to Alpine chamois shooting in the
arduous chase of the mountain sheep. As for fishing, there is no stint
to it in the proper season. I know no place in Colorado where the fly-
fisher will have better sport and the angler, though uninstructed in the
wiles of Walton, get better results.

But it is to invalids that the hot springs especially appeal, holding
out all these pleasures for their delectation as gradually they regain
their health sufficiently to practice and enjoy them. Long ago these
beneficent waters were resorted to by the Indians for healing. A trail,
not yet obliterated, ran across the hills to Pagosa Springs, which were
called The Big Medicine, while these waters were known as The Little
Medicine.

Though of less volume than single springs at Pagosa, the springs
at Wagon Wheel Gap pour out nearly as much water, since there
are thirty or more of them in the sheltered basin which makes a
natural sanitarium. Some are icy cold, others tepid, others extremely
hot. They are diverse also, in respect to their mineral constituents,
nearly every known variety of spa water being represented more or less
closely. Only a few of the springs are utilized, however, those being
selected which seem to have the most powerful curative properties.
These are principally three, — and are known as Nos. One, Two and
Three. The analysis of them published, though imperfect, but serves to
show the general character of each, and reads as follows, the proportions
being thousandths of a given bulk of the water:

No. 1.

No. 2.

No. 3.

69 42

Trace.

144 50

Lithium Carbonate

Trace

Trace.

13 08

31 00

22 42

10 91

5 10

22.42

Potassium Sulphate

Trace.

Sodium Sulphate

23 73

10 50

13.76

Sodium Chloride

29.25

11.72

33.34

Silicic Acid

5 73

1 07

4.75

Organic Matter

Trace.

12 00

Total . .

152 12

71 39

218 77

•

172 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

The largest of these is the "Number One," and from it is drawn
the water for the plunge-bath and to the private bath-rooms, which is
used in the largest number of cases where the disease affects the nerves,
blood or skin. An oval basin twenty feet or more in length has been
excavated and tastefully walled up. Here the spring bubbles up most
copiously, at a temperature of 150 degrees Fahrenheit, and sends off an
incessant cloud of steam if the air is at all cold. From this tank the
water is conducted in an open trough to the bath-houses, losing about 30
degrees of its heat on the way. This introduces it into the baths at the
quite endurable temperature of 120 degrees, but fills the compartment
with a cloud of vapor, so that the patient breathes in the chemically-
laden moisture with every inhalation. Besides this, while in the bath,
the fresh hot water is drunk in big draughts. The invalid is thus
soaked out and in with the healing fluid; the pores of his skin, all the
passages of his head and chest, his stomach and secretory organs feel
the touch of the water and eagerly absorb the medicinal elements it
contains.

Astonishing results have come from a steady continuance of daily
baths and sweatings. They will tell you instances — and vouch for them,
too, by incontestable testimony — of men brought there utterly helpless
and full of agony from inflammatory rheumatism or neuralgia, who, in
a week, were able to walk about and help themselves, in a fortnight
were strolling about the valley erect and comfortable, in a month went
to work. Three mouths of faithful self-treatment, it is confidently
promised, will set straight the most chronic and painful cases of such
invalidism. Many a miner now digging in the wintry mountains passed
from almost certain death to exuberant strength through this Siloam,
and evidences are being multiplied of the startling efficacy of these
springs with every additional season.

Then there is the dreadful list of cutaneous diseases and disorders
of the blood, headed by the fiendish heritage of syphilis. To such cases,
because their disease is communicable, are set apart separate baths.
Here, again, utter helplessness and the awful suffering which tempts to
suicide, are relieved by a few weeks of steady application ; and not merely
relieved, as the druggist's medicines might in some cases do, but, it is
claimed, thoroughly and healthfully cured. But this last claim, in the
case of pronounced syphilis, needs the con Irmation of longer trial. I
am willing to admit that the two or three, or four years which have
elapsed since certain persons have gone away restored to health, have
shown no recurrence of the symptoms; but I should like to know that
the same thing could be said indisputably half a century hence before I
would be willing to admit as proven that this spring or any other could
lay low forever the head of a malady which it has hitherto baffled
medical science to eradicate wholly from an infected system. But even
if this final, full glory shall never be attained by the Wagon Wheel

174 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

Springs, it is enough joy for the present that they are able to alleviate
its miseries and even temporarily check the havoc of body and soul. I
have said so much upon this point, because, it being impossible to deny
the existence of the evil, it is every man's duty to aid in spreading a
knowledge of any method of relief or cure.

It is in the two classes of diseases above mentioned that the little
cold spring comes into play as a useful beverage. Dyspeptics, however,
bathing with less assiduity than their more unfortunate brethren, affect
the hot soda water (Number Three), which bubbles up in a strong, hot
fountain at the head of the gulch, and surrounded by chalybeate springs
of various qualities. This is the water, too, which the mildly ailing like
to sip, perhaps mingling a little lemon juice and sugar with it to make
a foaming compound grateful both to the taste and the system, — a union
rare in these days of doctors.

So, thanking God, we were in no need of the Little Medicine for
health, but could enjoy its delicious warmth and fragrance as pleasure
unalloyed; but profoundly grateful that for humanity in worse luck
there was such an Elim in the desert of our degeneracy, we bade adieu
to pleasant, sunny, warm-hearted Wagon Wheel and its jolly landlord,
— Mr. McClelland, our compliments, and your good health, sir, in some-
thing stronger than mineral water!

Down at the station we went fishing, partly for fun, partly with the
urgency that set the boy digging out the woodchuck. Marvelous stories
— regular fish stories of eight-pound trout caught on^a seven-ounce rod, —
had been dinned into our ears; and as for me, I half believed them (for
I remembered the splendid fellows we used to snatch from the White
Water at pretty Irene canon, up above Antelope park). Our ambition
was not to repeat such performances, but to get one or two of, say a
pound and a half each; while the Madame said she'd be thankful if we
had a few little ones not worth weighing, by dinner time. So Chum
and I went down stream rod in hand.

Having floundered round on the slipping bowlders for awhile with-
out sitting down, we struck a couple of good-sized pools at the head
of a riffle; Chum took the upper, I the lower. Making my way out near
to mid-stream, I took up my station behind a large flat rock that stood
about a foot out of water, and busied myself sending a "coachman"
and a "professor" out into my domain with a little hope that I might
induce something out of the inviting pool. Before I had been there five
minutes, a yell from Chum caused me to look his way. His Bethabard
was beautifully arched, and at the end of twenty feet of line something
was helping itself to silk.

"I've got him; he's a whopper."

" That's the pound and a half I promised you," I answered, as a
beautiful fellow shot across stream not three yarda above me. "But
you'll lose him in that current."

FISHERMAN'S LUCK. 175

"I know it, unless I work him down your way."

" Come on with him — don't mind me." I reeled in, climbed on the
rock, and sat down to see the fun, The noble fellow made a gallant
fight, but the hook was in his upper jaw, and it was only a matter of
time when he would turn upon his side. Working him down stream,
through my pool and round into the quieter water near shore, was the
work of ten minutes at least, the captive, seeming to readily understand
that still water was not his best hold, kept making rushes for the swift
current; but each time he was brought back, and soon began to weaken
under the spring of the lithe toy in Chum's hand. Fifteen minutes were
exhausted when the scale hook was run under his gills and he registered
one pound twelve ounces.

Apologizing for creating a row in my quarters, Chum went back to
his old place, while again I tried my luck. About five minutes elapsed
when I heard another not to be mistaken yell.

"I've got another — he's bigger than the first."

"Yes, I see you have — I think it's infernally mean."

" I know it is, but I can't help it. I've got to come down there
again."

"Well, come on," and I sat down again to walch the issue. The
struggle was not so brave, though the fish, when brought to scale,
weighed half a pound more than the first. While we were commenting
on this streak of luck, we noticed a change in the water, its partially
clear hue began to grow milky, and in less time than it takes to tell it, a
bowlder six inches under the surface was out of sight.

"We might as well go to dinner, no trout will try to rise in that
mud," and I reeled up with the reflection that the next best thing to
catching a trout is to see one captured by one who knows how.

The next day we had another try. Chum crossed the river, and
then we slowly walked down to a magnificent pool a mile below. Here
were a party of half a dozen gentlemen, to one of whom I called out
just as we came within hearing.

" Have you got him? " The inquiry was made on the score of good
fellowship; the bend of his split bamboo, the tension of his line, and the
whirr of his reel indicated the first stage.

" I ve hooked him, and he's no sardine, I tell you — whoa, boy,
gently now," as a sudden rush strung off full twenty feet of line.
"Whoa, boy, be easy now; gently, now; come here; whoa! confound
your picture! whoa, boy, gently, so, boy."

"May be you think you are driving a mule," came from one of the
anglers.

"Oh, no! I'm trying to lead one — whoa, boy, whoa, boy, gently,
now, none of your capers — whoa! I tell you!" as a renewed and vigor-
ous dash for liberty threatened destruction to the slender tackle. "No
you don't, old fellow, so, boy, that's a good fellow," and showing his

176 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

back near the surface, the captive exhibited twenty inches (at a guess)
of trout.

"By George, he's a beauty," came from behind us.

I had allowed my flies to float down stream and had backed out to
give room for fair play. It was a long fight, but his troutship finally
showed side up, and was gently drawn ashore, the water turned out of
him, and he drew down the scale three pounds to a notch.

These are only "pointers" for the angling fraternity. As for our
own luck that day — well, we had good trout left in the ice-box for a
week.

It was our fortune throughout this trip to mix experiences by the
most sudden transitions. It did not seem strange to us, therefore, that
from the gold-fields and trouting and jollity of this beautiful valley, we
should go at a jump into the coal districts east of the range.

XVII

EL MORO AND CANON CITY.

For Knights no more In modern days bestride
Their Rosinante and across the hills
Ride, by my halidome, to succor maids
Or couch a lance against an amorous foe;
Instead, within a Pullman Palace Car
At ease reclining and at peace with all.
We conquer space while romance groweth dull
Under the languor of the April air.

—WILLIAM E. PABOB.

L MORO, sir,— breakfast nearly ready, sir ! "

I had only closed my eyes an instant before, I
was sure, yet then I had been lying quietly in the sta-
tion at Alamosa, away over on the other side of the
Saugre de Cristo. I couldn't remember anything of
the transition. Then it was night; now it was morn-
ing. Time and space had been an utter blank for ten hours and a hun-
dred miles.

Drawing aside my window curtain and gazing out over gray
plains, my eyes caught instantly the bluish outlines of a grander castle
and fortress than ever traveler on Rhine or Danube glanced upon.
Almost a twelve-month before the Madame and I had spent a sunny day
at St. Augustine, where the old square, four-bastioned fort stood grim
on the shore of a foam-flecked and laughing sea. Here was a copy of
that fortress a thousand times as large, — sloping walls, outer works,
bastions, towers and all; you might almost see the huge guns, standing
rigid and ready on the magnificent parapet. This was El Moro. It was
miles and miles away, and a hundred cities had room to cluster about it
and take its name without crowding one another. It is the most mag-
nificent rnpdel of a half ruined, antique, but altogether glorious fortress
in the whole wide world.

At El Moro are some of the great coal mines of this carboniferous
state; but to put the matter Hibernically, they are half a dozen miles
away up in the hills. We went up there on an engine which drew
behind it a box-car load of Mexicans, men and women, who all squatted
down on their heels on the car floor and were quite happy, chattering
like magpies. It is a very miserable class of Mexicans, for the most
part, that one sees in this part of the state. The fathers and mothers of

177

178

THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

most of them were peons of the wealthy Spaniards, who, under the old
regime, owned all this region as pasturage for their flocks and herds.

The coal-bed is some hundreds of feet higher than the valley of the
Purgatoire, where the village is ; and it can be traced for thirty miles
east and west, cropping out frequently and used all along by the farmers
who live near it, as a supply of fuel. Throughout this extent it varies,
of course, in thickness and quality, though in no great degree. Where
the El Moro mines are opened, it runs from a vertical thickness of thirty
feet to thirteen, nearly all of which is solid, merchantable coal. There
are two thin streaks of what the miners term "bone" — something
neither coal nor slate — and little patches of refuse, now and then, but no
great amount.

I do not know how many hundreds of yards of underground tun-
nels we walked through, but it was an immense distance, yet the fore-
man said we had not been half way through it all. Everywhere the roof
was high overhead and the walls solid coal, so that the men did not
have to crawl on all fours or lie prostrate and dig, as I have seen done
in some eastern mines, but could stand full height. All the product of
the mine is taken by the pick, except a small amount cut by machines,
which dig a horizontal trench, level with the floor, for five feet or so
under the breast of the coal and across its whole breadth. This machine
works with extreme rapidity, and after it is done, a couple of blasts will
topple down as much coal as can be carted out in a day.

The output each month is nearly twenty five
thousand tons, about two hundred and seventy-
five miners working. The
piece - work method is
adopted in paying, and
though a smaller rate is
paid per ton in mining
than is usual in the Penn-
sylvania or Illinois mines,
the earnings of the miners
aggregate much larger
than the average in the
East. This is due to
the superior tase with
which this coal can be
taken out, because of
its softness and the roomi-
ness of the working cham-
bers, rather than to any
thing better in the miners
or greater diligence in
working. One difficulty,

UP THE RIO GRANDE.

SOME COLORADO COAL. 179

indeed, arises from the ease with which high earnings can be made
here, namely, that desirable workmen will labor only during the winter,
or until they have made a "grub-stake," as they say, when they will
go into the mountains prospecting for mines until their funds are
exhausted, for, thus far, none of them have become suddenly wealthy.

At the mines, the Colorado Coal and Iron Company, which owns
this property, have built a small village of adobe and wooden houses, in
which the miners reside. About two hundred men were employed,
many of whom had families. They were of almost every nationality,
including some sixty Mexicans.

The El Moro coal is a true bituminous coal, producing a coke of
excellent quality. It is asserted by its owners to be the best coal for
making gas and for blacksmithing in the state ; and it is used exten-
sively for steam and metallurgical purposes. It is also said to be the
only coal yet discovered in Colorado, lying east of the mountains, which
can be profitably used for heating iron in furnaces, and for this it is
equal to the best grades of eastern coal. About two-thirds of the product
is made into coke.

The coke-works lie five miles from the mines and near El Moro,
where there are three steam pumps, a fifty-horse power engine, crushing
and washing machinery and two hundred and fifty coking ovens. A
charge for each of these ovens, they told us, was about four and a half
tons, and the yield of coke from each, after forty-eight hours of burn-
ing, is about two and a quarter tons, making a present total product of
two hundred and eighty tons of coal a day.

The following shows the analysis of this coal and coke, and also
that of the well known Connelsville coal and coke:

COAL.

Water. Vol. Matter. Fix. Carbon. Ash. Sulphur.

El Moro 0.26 2966 65.76 4.32 0.85

Connelsville 1.26 30.11 59.52 8.23 0.78

COKE.

Fix. Carbon. Ash. Sulphur.

El Moro 87.47 10.68 0.85

Connelsville 87.26 11.99 0.75

This analysis of El Moro coal was made from selected specimens;
the average of ash in the coke will probably run up to twelve to four-
teen per cent.

When we were at Cucharas once before (I have omitted to mention
it in its proper place), we ran over to Walsenburg, a neat little settlement
in Huerfano Park, and a headquarters for a large sheep industry, and
visited the coal mines of this company near by. They own a large tract
of land there, containing three seams of coal, four, nine, and five feet in
thickness. Only the thickest of these has as yet been developed, send-
ing out about seventy-five thousand tons annually. This coal analyses

180 THE GEE8T OF THE CONTINENT.

as follows, "No. 1" being the four-feet seam, "No. 2" the nine-feet
seam:

No. 1. No. 2.

Water 3.23 2.97

Vol. Matter 40.93 40.08

Fixed Carbon 49.54 48.67

Ash , 630 8.28

100. 100.

Sulphur 62 .65

It was old traveled ground, for the major part of the distance
between El Moro and Canon City, on the Arkansas, forty miles above
Pueblo; and as we were anxious to save all the time we could for the
new regions in the west, where we were sure the most romantic experi-
ences awaited, we decided for another night-run, disadvantageous as
they were, compared with day journeys. The next morning after our
visit to El Moro, therefore, found us at anchor in Canon City.

" What is there to see about Canon City ? " Oh, quantities of
things. Here is a list of what its Record keeps " set up " as its " advan-
tages, natural and otherwise : "

" Soda springs, iron springs, hot soda baths, wide streets, excellent
town site, immense water power, exhaustless coal fields, good water
works, best building stone, splendid lime rock, iron mines, mica mines,
lead mines, silver mines, oil wells, irrigating ditches, abundance of
shade trees, peaches, plums, pears, apples, walnuts, grapes, vegetables,
grain, flowers, bees, fifteen thousand dollar school house, twenty thou-
sand dollar court house, Masonic temple, city government, low taxes,
streets sprinkled, seven churches, theatre hall, first-class dentists, two
newspapers, excellent physicians, good teachers, brick and stone stores,
excellent society, protection from cold winds, immense stocks of goods,
railroad communication, good ranches, stock ranges, excellent hotels,
military college, and kindergarten."

Most of these items describe themselves, but others are worth men-
tion. Right at the mouth of the Grand Canon, which suggested the
name, this site early attracted to a permanent home many of the earliest
wanderers whom the famous Pike's Peak immigration of 1859 brought
to the country. Half a century before them, though, Major Zebulon
Pike had made a station for part of his troops on this spot, whence he
reconnoitered the surrounding mountains.

Basing their calculations upon the fact that their settlement, which
from the first was called Canon City, was the last place to which the
big emigration and freight wagons could come from the plains, the
pioneers had large hopes of their town as the one entrepot and supply-
point for the mountains. Merchants came here and crammed great
sheds with stocks of goods sold at wholesale, while forwarders were
busy in organizing ox-trains to carry supplies into the mountains.

CAtfON CITY AND THE WAR.

181

Then came the War of the Rebellion. All travel along the southern
trail across the plains was cut off by the Indians, and immigration
ceased, particularly from the Southern states, whence had come into
this part of Colorado a large portion of the early settlers. More from
lack of anything else to do than because of strong convictions on the

GRAPE CREEK CANON.

subject, some two hundred and fifty young men enlisted from here into
the Union service and were sent to New Mexico on that campaign
against Sibley, wherein Colorado's regiments distinguished themselves.
While the war raged Colorado was at a standstill, and the settlers had
hard shift to live, all goods having to come by the way of Denver, sub-
ject to great risk.

Then the war closed, emigration westward revived, and Canon
City, along with the rest of the region, took a new lease of life. A com-
mittee of Germans came from Chicago seeking a place for a colony of
their compatriots, and were guided by Mr. Rudd until they hit upon

182 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

the Wet Mountain Valley and located Walsenburg. A little later, hopes
of a railway cheered the hearts of the southern (Joloradoans. The
Kansas Pacific Company sent engineers up the Arkansas to locate their
road across the range. They surveyed to this point, estimated upon the
cost of grading through the canon, and over the range by two or three
routes. Then they abandoned the locality and deflected to Denver.
This was no sooner done than reports of the advance of the Atchison,
Topeka and Santa Fe came to cheer the citizens, but disappointment
ensued until early in the last decade the Denver and Rio Grande staked
out their narrow gauge, and had the cars running regularly hither by
the Spring of 1874.

All this time the town was slowly progressing and its vicinity being
taken up for ranches, claimed for coal lands, quarried for building-
stone and lime, and prospected for the precious metals. In 1879 came a
"boom." Leadville flashed into sight and the Rosita and Silver Cliff
district sprang to the front to rival it in excitement. To both these
centers of rushing crowd Canon City was one point of ingress. The
town suddenly became thronged with men and women who were strain-
ing every nerve to get into the new regions, and with the undertow of a
returning army of men disgusted with their reception and ill-luck, or
jubilant over quick success, or going east only to return with machinery
or goods or more money and friends.

To the task of catching toll from this careless, hurrying, fat-
pocketed stream of humanity Canon City set herself. The hotels
charged big prices, lodging houses started up right and left, restaurants
and boarding tents thrust out their signs every few steps, merchants
urged your renewing your outfit at their replenished counters, and
every form of wild amusement led to revelry and hideous headaches.
Of all the wild towns it has been my fortune to see in the West, I think
the Canon City of those days was the worst. Ruffianism was the only
fashionable thing, seemingly, and from the tangle-headed, dusty and
drunken bull-whacker or the professional card-sharper to the staid old
citizen, everybody had caught the spirit of a grand spree and the devil
reigned.

But the railway was at last built through the canon, the loud-
swearing, quick-shooting teamsters followed their principals to the end
of the track at Cleora, Salida, Buena Vista, and so on to Leadville
itself; the gamblers and dance-houses and harlots followed; the host of
railway laborers no longer made the village streets scenes of debauchery,
and the town counted its gains, reckoned the loss its manners and
morals had suffered, and returned to its normal quiet.

But its waking up had set its blood flowing faster and it has been a
live town ever since, growing steadily, making public improvements,
building houses and finding occupants faster than they could be put up,
and all without any fictitious excitement.

PEACHES AND HONEY. 183

It is for its coal mines — and these are half a dozen miles eastward —
that Canon City has the highest repute, however, and to these it owes
much of its prosperity. They are the property of the ubiquitous Coal
and Iron Company, who supply from here a large part of the fuel — and
of the hardest and cleanest quality — used in the household all over the
state. The railway consumes a great quantity too, for it has long been
recognized as the best steam-maker. Two veins are now worked, one
five feet and the other four feet in thickness. The mines are worked by
slopes furnished with steam hoisters. The Coal Creek mine has been in
operation for nine years. The company has recently opened two new
slopes at Oak Creek, and are prepared to furnish 1,500 tons of coal per
day from them. The total annual output of these mines is about
125,000 tons. The following are the analyses of these coals:

Water 4.50 6.15

Volatile Matter 34.20 36.03

Fixed Carbon 56.80 52.82

Ash 4.50 500

Total 100 100

Sulphur .65

Everybody will understand from this statement that this coal is
worthless for coking, but most desirable as fuel. Our cook will swear
to this, but declines to tell how much he stole at various times for culi-
nary use.

Withal, Canon City is a pretty town ; one of the pleasantest places
to live in in Colorado. Rows of large trees shade all the side- walks (and
they are side-walks of planking, not mere gravel paths), and the ample
spaces left about each house are filled with fruit trees, flowers and
garden vegetables. To go into such a garden as one I visited in town is
a surprise. A picturesquely built house, its adobe walls hidden by
much climbing vinery, has its porch turned into a thickly-leaved bower
by masses upon masses of clematis, whose white, thistly puffs of seed-
down, each as large as a snow ball, are strung upon the green stem like
monstrous beads. The garden, of which this cottage is the center,
abounds in apple trees, pears, quince, plum, and peach trees, through
whose spring blossoms thousands of bees go to and fro bearing burdens
of honey to the neat store-houses under the shade. The lower part of
the garden falls away, terrace fashion, to the river, and here are arbors
of grapes, thickets of currant and gooseberry bushes, beds of asparagus,
celery, and all sorts of good plants to make the pot-boiler happy.
Down by the river stands a windmill, by which water is pumped to a
reservoir, whence the whole garden and orchard can be irrigated and
sprinkled.

This is only one of hundreds of gardens small and great where fruit
and vegetables are raised for home use and for sale. Marvelous stories
are told of the weight of the cabbages, of the girth of the beets, of the
solidity of the turnips and strength of the onions that go hence. And as

184 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

for apples, scores and scores of acres are being newly set out in apple
trees, and almost square miles of "truck" fields will next year add their
quota to the unsatisfied market. I was astonished when I saw how
extensive and successful was the culture of fruit and garden sauce in
and about Canon City.

This comes from good soil and easy climate. They say some win-
ters here are so mild that one hardly needs an overcoat at all ; it must
be remembered that though the elevation is high the latitude is low. I
saw a field where clover had been cut three times a year for twelve
years, yet showed no signs of running out; and as for alfalfa, they cut
the crop quarterly.

The citizens think that their town is likely to prove a mamaf acturing
center. I see no reason why it should not. The river falls there at a
rate which furnishes a fine water power, already utilized to propel the
public water-works. With the best of coal close by, and iron in abun-
dance only a little way off, I should think the future would see machine
shops and foundries placed at this point; while factories for woolen
cloth, for making wooden-ware from pine and for various other indus-
tries adapted to the resources and market of the neighborhood, shoe
factories and leather-work by machinery generally ought to be flourish-
ing here some day, since hides ought to be tanned here instead of being
sent wholly to the East.

In the State prison, which is situated here, there is already a shoe-
factory, but most of the prisoners are engaged in quarrying and cutting
stone. The quarries are in the side hill, and the stone is a yellowish
sand-rock, very good for building. The fine-appearing prison-buildings
and the lofty wall which encloses them are built of this stone, as can
readily be seen from the car-windows. Much stone, in the rough and
shaped, is shipped from these quarries to Denver and elsewhere, and
the railway makes extensive use of it.

Just outside of the foot hills, where the sandstone is procured, are
the "hog-backs" — elongated ridges of white lime-rock. These, also,
are being leveled to supply the lime-kilns and also to be sent to Lead-
ville, Argo and elsewhere for the use of the smelting furnaces as flux.
Something like two hundred car-loads a week, I am told, go to Lead-
ville alone ; but the competition of lime ledges near Robinson and else-
where north of Leadville is likely to diminish this shipment in future to
that point. Possibly, though, if the newly discovered silver prospects
over the hills near Blackburn turn out to be of any value, a home
demand may make up for Leaclville's discrepancies. Finally, petroleum
seems to have been found here in quantities which will ultimately prove
highly remunerative. Wells are being bored, and unexpectedly -good
results are obtained, so that high hopes are entertained that to her list of
productions Colorado shall add in profitable quantities this wonderful
substance — mineral oil — and the spirit of speculation and industry be
given a new channel for its activity.

XVIII
IN THE WET MOUNTAIN VALLEY.

For some were hung with arras green and blue,
Showing a gaudy summer morn.

And one a full-fed river winding slow

By herds upon an endless plain.

— TENNYSON.

CITY was by no means a bad place to stay,
and we would have prolonged our visit to the benefit
of our table, had not the railway yard been so busy a
one that there was no rest for our cars, which were
pulled about, here and there, by the necessities of train-
forming, in a way we were far from enjo}ring, so we
decided to go on. At the- last minute, nevertheless, this happy-go-lucky
crowd concluded that they were extremely anxious first to take a run
over into the Wet Mountain valley. One gentleman, of uncertain influ-
ence, raised his voice against it, but was silenced so quickly it made his
head swim. He had endeavored to point out that it would be more
instructive to go down to the great coal mines, a few miles below ; and
far more fun to ascend Signal mountain and *' see what we should see."
He tried skillfully to arouse some enthusiasm by telling how, though it
seemed within rifle-shot, it was really eighteen miles away; how it can
be seen from the plains not only, but also from South Park and the
peaks that surround ; how, in consequence, the Utes chose it as one of
their telegraph stations, and the early pioneers bound for Pike's Peak,
saw from their camps the wavering smoke by day, or the signal fires at
night, upon its summit, through which the Indians informed their com-
panions of the invaders' movements. Thus it came to be known as Sig-
nal mountain, but in this gentleman's humble opinion the old Spanish
name of " Pisgalo Peak" was better. All this was listened to with a
sort of consolatory attention; nevertheless the speaker was compelled,
not only to resign his plan, but to give orders otherwise.

Grown strong in the lap of the Wet Mountain valley, Grape creek
assaults the red walls of rock that bar its progress to the Arkansas at the
mouth of the Grand Canon. The profusion of wild vines its waters
nourish, makes its name a natural one, and they adorn its course as few
streams in the West are garnished. These are particularly abundant
along the rocky lower part of the stream, growing luxuriantly upon the

8* 185

186 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

arbors the great cottouwoods afford, and under the shelter of the warm,
red walls, relieving the ruggedness of their abrupt slopes, " as if nature
found she had done her work too roughly, and then veiled it with flowers
and clinging vines."

"The entrance to Grape Creek canon," writes an acquaintance, who

GRAND CANCN OF THE ARKANSAS.

was there a little iu advance of us, "for over a mile, follows the wind-
ings of the clear flowing creek, with gently sloping hills on either side
covered with low spruce and piiion, and with grass plats and brilliant
flowers in season far up their slopes, and the Spanish lance and bush
cactus present their bristling points wherever a little soil affords them
sustenance. . . About seven miles from the mouth of the creek a
small branch canon comes in from the right. It was once a deep cleft*

IN GRAPE CREEK CAftON. 187

with perpendicular sides, created in some convulsion of nature, but it
has been gradually filled up with debris and broken rock until a sloping
and not difficult path is made, by the sides of which a luxuriant vege-
tation has taken root, and the wild rose and clematis blooms with the
humble blue-bell among the mossy bowlders. Climbing this path for a
few hundred feet a side cleft is seen at the right, which seems to termi-
•late in a solid wall. Following it to the breast, however, you find at the
left a passage made by a water channel, with steps which ladies can
easily pass with a little help, and we enter a narrow passage between
high rocky walls. Turning again to the right, we follow this perhaps
two hundred feet, and looking to the left we find before and above us
the lofty arched dome of the "Temple." About twenty-five feet above
where we are standing is a platform, perhaps fifty feet in width and six
or eight feet in depth, over which projects far above the arching roof.
Though the auditorium in front is rather narrow for a large audience,
the platform is grand, and may be reached without great difficulty.
Music sounds finely as it rolls down from the overhanging sounding,
board of stone. From the platform deep cavernous recesses are seen
at the sides, which time has wrought, but which are invisible from
below. Moreover, the action of water slowly percolating through the
back walls, carrying lime and spar in solution, has coated them with
crystals, which gleam in sparkling beauty when the sunlight touches
them early in the day. Farther up the canon the rocks do not rise to so
great heights, and the vista opens out into pleasant winding valleys well
covered with grass, bui there are several very interesting points where
the action of internal convulsions upon the granite and syenite in elder
ages, when they came hot from the crucible of nature, have rolled and
twisted and kneaded the great rock-masses into most curious and
notable shapes "

These beauties passed all too rapidly, the green expanse of the Wet
Mountain valley opened before us. It seemed to merit its name, for the
Sangre de Cristo, walling in its western side, was the abode of contend-
ing hosts of rain and snow, whose pale, dense phalanxes lent new sub-
limity to the noble battle-ground they had chosen; but the real "Wet
Mountains," — the old "Sierra Mojada" of the Spaniards, the "Green
Horn" range of the dwellers on its eastern outlook — are the ragged
range eastward.

The Wet Mountain valley has long been settled by ranchmen, and
extensive herds pasture on its wide-sweeping hillsides. Grape creek,
flowing from Promontory bluff and the hills to the southward, which
separate this valley from Huerfano park and the drainage of the Cucha-
ras, waters the center of the valley, and its banks are lined with mead-
ows and farms. Each winter sees hay alone sent from these meadows
to the value of not less than $150,000. Oats and barley, especially, do
well, and most of the roots are grown successfully; very fine potatoes

1S8 THE CREST OP THE CONTINENT.

were transferred from those fields to our boiler, so that we have the best
evidence of their excellence. The improved appearance of the numer-
ous ranches, which in one or two places are agglomerated into hamlets,
shows their prosperity, and the whole picture of the valley is one of the
most pleasing in Colorado, — not only in point of natural beauty, but for
its commercial and human interest, for Rosita is one of the oldest towns
in Colorado.

"A legend runs," vide II. H., "that there was once another ' Little
Rose,' a beautiful woman of Mexico, who had a Frenchman for a lover.
When she died her lover lost his wits, and journeyed aimlessly away to
the north ; he rambled on and on till he came to this beautiful little nook,
nestled among mountains, and overlooking a green valley a thousand
feet below it. Here he exclaimed, ' Beautiful as Rosita ! ' and settled
himself to live and die on the spot. A simpler and better authenticated
explanation of the name is, that, when the miners first came, six years
ago, into the gulches where the town of Rosita now lies, they found sev-
eral fine springs of water, each spring in a thicket of wild roses. As they
went to and fro from their huts to the springs, they found in the dainty
blossoms a certain air of greeting, as of old inhabitants welcoming new-
comers. It seemed no more than courteous that the town should be
called after the name of the oldest and most aristocratic settler, — a kind
of recognition which does not always result in so pleasing a name as
Rosita (Tompkinsville, for instance, or Jenkins' Gulch). Little Rose,
then, it became, and Little Rose it will remain."

But the metropolis of the valley, and the terminus of the railway at
present is the newer town of Silver Cliff, a town which saw one of the
"biggest booms" on record. The story goes that the first known dis-
covery of silver here was in July, 1877, by the Edwards brothers, who
had previously been running saw-mills on Texas and Grape creeks.
Returning one warm evening from one of the mills to Rosita, Mr. R. J.
Edwards stopped in the shade of a low bluff, jet-stained reddish rock,
which stood out from the slope of a hill on the western side of the valley
seven miles north of his destination. The peculiar appearance of the
rock moving his curiosity, he procured an assay of it, when, to his
astonishment, he was told that it ran twenty-four ounces in silver to the
ton. In a few days the entire population of Rosita had migrated to the
rock which they agreed to call the Silver Cliff, and were digging holes
and testing for gold, since it was thought there was more of that than
of the less valuable mineral to be obtained. But their efforts came to
nothing; and as quick to be discouraged as they were to have their
hopes aroused, the mercurial crowd vanished, and the black striped
rocks enjoyed their previous solitude through all the next autumn and
winter.

Then (this was in the spring of 1878) some sensible prospectors tried
for silver and located the "Racine Boy" and various other properties

HARDUCRABBLE MINING DISTRICT. 189

right on the brow of the cliff, which have since proved of great value.
This was the signal for a second rush, but the new comers, who dug
holes everywhere and anywhere, like an immense colony of prairie
badgers, each thought himself sure of millions, and held his bit of
ground at so high a price that nobody would buy at all. This resulted
in a panic, the effect of which was really for the prosperity of the
critical camp, since capital now took hold and deep developments pro-
ceeded on some properties that had proved their worth.

It did not take long to evince the fact that ninety out of every hun-
dred of the holes scattered so indiscriminately over the velvety knolls
of Round mountain and the smooth, hard plain near by, were of no
value; and also, on the other hand, to show enough paying mines to
make it appear that the ore (at any rate that near the surface) all lay
in a particular "belt," apparently culminating in the exposed ledges
that had first attracted the miner's eyes.

The Hardscrabble mining district, in which both Silver Cliff and
Rosita are situated, takes its name from a small creek that rises in the
foothills on the west side of the Wet Mountain range, or Sierra Mojada,
and, forcing its way through a wild and difficult canon, flows into the
Arkansas river seven or eight miles east of Canon City. The mountains
themselves are of red granite, which has been thrown up in the wildest
confusion, and which the winds and rains in many places have carved
into all sorts of fantastic shapes. The range is extremely rugged,
almost destitute of large timber, and is impassable for wagons, except
where roads have been built at great expense through the canons and
over the divide.

The western foothills of the Sierra Mojada generally present, at a
distance, a smooth, rounded appearance, with now and then a ledge of
rocks sticking out of the summit or side, and while on some of them
timber of considerable size is growing, in most instances the vegetation
consists solely of a few stunted evergreen bushes and a very thin growth
of gramma grass. The soil on these hills is generally very thin, and, on
approaching them, the surface is found to be covered with loose pieces
of broken rock, which the frosts have detached and the rains washed
out from beneath a slight covering of earth. It is in these foothills that
all the best mines of the Hardscrabble district have been found.

The geological formation of this rich mineral belt is peculiar and
very interesting. Resting upon and against the granite of the Wet
Mountain range and its higher foothills, and extending down into the
valley beyond the southern line of the belt, lies an enormous deposit of
porphyry, or trachyte, a volcanic rock poured out and consolidated
during the tertiary period. Its width is at least five miles, and its length
is probably fifteen or twenty. Extending into the trachyte formation
from the southwest, and following its general direction, is a tongue-
shaped mass of granite about tlrree-fourths of a mile wide and at least

190 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT

seven or eight miles long. When the trachyte was poured out this
granite apparently formed a ridge which rose above the level of the
fluid mass of the surrounding volcanic rock, and therefore was not
covered by it. That it does not now stand higher than the surrounding
country does not disprove this theory, because there are everywhere
to be found evidences of terrible convulsions since the trachyte was
deposited which have completely changed the face of this entire region.
The mines here are found both in the granite and also in the trachyte.
Winding through the porphyry, in a serpentine course, there is also a
stream of obsidian, as it is called here, or volcanic glass, mixed with
trachyte and quartz bowlders. This stream, where it has been exam-
ined, varies from a few feet to many rods in width, and in crevices of
the bowlders which form the mass of it were found, on the Hecla claim,
some very rich specimens of horn silver.

At Silver Cliff, and north of there especially, the trachyte rock has
been shaken up and fractured in all directions, and in many places the
crevices have been filled with iron and manganese, which has become
oxidized, and with chloride of silver. This is the free milling ore which
is found in all the mines that lie directly north of this town and adjoin-
ing it. The trachyte is of itself yellowish white ; when it is stained with
the black oxide of manganese and the red oxide of iron that variegates
the ores, it is sure to carry silver, though this (in the form of a chloride)
can rarely be seen. Sometimes, however, the silver can be seen upon
the surface of a fracture in the form of a green scale, or appears in little
globules of horn silver. While the rich ore is discovered in large masses,
surrounded by leaner or less valuable rock, there is nowhere in the chlor-
ide belt anything that looks like a vein. The rock just covers the entire
face of the country over an area two miles long and half a mile wide,
and the whole muss of it contains at least a small quantity of silver.

The theory of the geologists, accepted by the miners, is, that the
trachyte, after it became solidified, was shaken and broken up by some
great convulsion, and that simultaneously, or afterward, silver, iron,
manganese, and the other metals of which traces are found in the rock,
were disseminated through crevices, either in water solutions or volatil-
ized — in the form of gases. These solutions or gases are supposed to
have come up through cracks in the earth's crust. Such a deposit is
called in the old world " stockwork," and Professor J. S. Newberry, in
writing recently of "The Origin and Classification of Ore Deposits,"
mentions this as one of the two most important examples of this kind of
deposit that have come under his observation. The other is the gold
deposit in Bingham canon, Utah. None of the oldest miners ever saw
before any ore that looked like this at Silver Cliff, and this explains their
failure to discover its value until recently. The same is true of the
quartzite gold ore in Bingham canon. The miners worked for years
there getting out silver-lead ores, but threw aside the gold ore as waste,
not dreaming of its value.

VERT VARIOUS VEINS.

191

But the mineral belt which I have described contains other classes
of mines. At Rosita, in the " Pocahontas-Humboldt " lode, the trachyte,
instead of being shattered and impregnated, has been rent asunder and
a true fissure formed in it, filled with gray copper, galena, zinc blende,
iron and copper pyrites and heavy spar — all carrying sulphide of silver.
These form a narrow pay streak from one to eighteen inches wide, and

THE ROYAL GORGE

192 THE CRE8T OF THE CONTINENT.

the remainder is filled with a gaugue rock, generally of a trachytic forma-
tion. This vein extends for a long distance through the hills, and is
inclosed by walls that are as clearly defined as those of a room. Other
smaller veins of the same character have been found in the country
north of Rosita, and on some of them valuable mines have been located
and developed.

Still another class of mines in the same mineral belt remains- to be
mentioned. Those are what Professor Newberry has called the "me-
chanically filled" veins, and they include the " Bassick" and the "Bull-
Domingo." The former is supposed to be a true fissure vein in the
trachyte rock, the cavity of which, after the rocks were rent asunder,
was filled with well rounded pebbles and bowlders, generally similar in
constitution to the country rock. The interstices in this mass have been
filled with tellurides of gold and silver, free gold, zinc blende, galena,
and the pyrites of iron and copper carrying silver. These materials
surround the stones in thin shells, the pebbles and bowlders forming
nuclei about which the metallic substances crystallized. In the "Bull-
Domingo," situated in the granite tongue, the stones are generally gran-
ite or syenite, and the cementing substance is argentiferous galena, which
not only surrounds the stones, but in many cases entirely fills up the
irregular spaces between them. In both of these cases it is supposed
that the metallic matter came up from below in the form of a hot
solution.

Silver Cliff has been a trifle disappointed, however. Not only were
her streets laid out broad and straight, upon a splendid town site, over
a considerably larger area than has yet been occupied, but two other
towns, Westcliffe, where the railway station is, and Clifton, between
the two towns, invite persons to buy town lots and build houses in
rivalry. At present, however, Clifton's population consists chiefly of its
town-agent, and there is one of the best opportunities to take your choice
of building sites there that I know of in the Centennial state. West-
cliffe has a big smelter, a hay-press, the water-works, and various other
reasons for being a future village of importance.

Yet Silver Cliff is a fine town, and its streets are busy with miners
and merchants and professional men, who know where their money is
coming from and going to. The immense interests of the Silver Cliff
Mining company, with its open, quarry-like mine, and its great mill,
which has the reputation of being the finest in Colorado, employ a large
number of men. Another mill, further down the creek, is running on
the product of its mines, and a great deal of development-work along
the whole belt is in progress, while prospects of rich strikes elsewhere
keep things in a bright, hopeful condition.

As for Rosita, it was a thriving mining camp, half a dozen years
before Silver Cliff and its chlorides were heard of. True fissure veins
were disclosed, and a permanent town resulted, which is yet mining qui-
etly but successfully, and making its people wealthy.

XIX

THE ROYAL GORcfE.

High overarched, and echoing walls between.

— MILTON.

HE Grand Canon of the Arkansas, and its culminating
chasm, the Royal Gorge, lie between Salida and Canon
City, and form a sufficient theme for a chapter by
themselves. It was on our return from Silver Cliff that
we went there.

Situated only half a dozen miles west of Canon
City, the traveler going either to Leadville or Gunnison, begins to watch
for the canon as soon as he has passed the city limits, the penitentiary
and the mineral springs. If he looks ahead he sees the vertically tilted,
whitish strata of sandstone and limestone, which the upthrust of the
interior mountains has set on edge, broken at a narrow portal through
which the graceful river finds the first freedom of the plains, — becomes
of age, so to speak, and commences, however awkwardly, that manly
progress that by and by will enable it to take its important place in the
commerce of the world, —

" The river,

Which through continents pushes its pathway forever,
To fling its fond heart in the sea."

Running the gauntlet of these scraggy warders of the castle of the
mountain- gods within, the train boldly assaults the gates of the castle
itself. From the smoothness of the outer world, where the eye can
range in wide vision, taking in the profiles of countless noble chains and
lowlier but serviceable ridges; where the sun shines broadly, and its
light and heat are reflected in shimmering volumes from expanses of
whitened soil, the etiger traveler now finds himself locked between pre-
cipitous hillsides, strewn with jagged fragments, as though the Titans
had tossed in here the chips from their workshop of the world. He
strives for language large enough to picture the heights that with cease-
lessly growing altitude hasten to meet him. He searches his fancy after
images and similitudes that shall help him comprehend and recall the
swiftly crowding forms of Nature's massive architecture. He taxes his
eyes and mind and memory to see and preserve, until he can have leisure
to study this exhibition of the depth and breadth of the barrier that so
long has loomed before him in silent majesty, yet for which the world

9 193

194

THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

has found no better name than the Rocky mountains. He has gone past
it, — gone over it, it may be; now he is going through it. The track, as
he rushes ahead, seems bodily to sink deeper and deeper into the earth, as
though the apparent progress forward only resulted in impotent strug-
gles to keep from sinking deeper, like an exhausted swimmer in swift
waters. The roar of the yeasty, nebulous-green river at his side, min-
gles with the crashing echoes of the train, reverberating heavenward
through rocks that rise perpendicularly to unmeasured heights. The
ear is stunned, and the mind refuses to sanction what the senses
report to it.

Then a new surprise and almost terror comes. The train rolls
round a long curve, close under a wall of black and banded granite, be-

BROWN'S CAffoN.

side which the ponderous locomotive shrinks to a mere dot, as if swinging
on some pivot in the heart of the mountain, or captured by a centripetal
i?orce that would never resign its grasp. Almost a whole circle is accom-
plished, and the grand amphitheatrical sweep of the wall shows no break
in its smooth and zenith-cutting fa9ade. Will the journey end here ?
Is it a mistake that this crevice goes through the range? Does not all this
mad water gush from some powerful spring, or boil out of a subterra-
nean channel impenetrable to us?

No, it opens. Resisting centripetal, centrifugal force claims the
train, and it breaks away at a tangent past the edge or round the corner
of the great black wall which compelled its detour, and that of the river
before it. Now what glories of rock-piling confront the wide-distended

SPLINTERED AND AIRY PINNACLES. 195

eye. How those sharp-edged cliffs, standing with upright heads that
play at hand-ball with the clouds, alternate with one another, so that
first the right, then the left, then the right one beyond strike on our view,
each one half obscured by its fellow in front, each showing itself level-
browed with its comrades as we come even with it, each a score of hun-
dreds of dizzy feet in height, rising perpendicular from the water and
the track, splintered atop into airy pinnacles, braced behind against
the almost continental mass through which the chasm has been cleft.

This is the Royal Gorge !

But how faintly I tell it — how inexpressible are the wonders of plu-
tonic force it commemorates, how magnificent the pose and self-sustained
majesty of its walls, how stupendous the height as we look up, the depth
if we were to gaze timidly down, how splendid the massive shadows at
the base of the interlocking headlands, — the glint of sunlight on the
upper rim and the high polish of the crowning points ! One must catch
it all as an impression on the retina of his mind's eye, — must memorize
it instantly and ponder it afterward. It is ineffable, but the thought of
it remains through years and years a legacy of vivid recollection and
delight, and you never cease to be proud that you have seen it.

There is more canon after that — miles and miles of it — the Grand
Canon of the Arkansas. In and out of all the bends and elbows, gin-
gerly round the promontories whose very feet the river laves, rapidly
across the small, sheltered nooks, where soil has been drifted and a few
adventurous trees have grown, noisily through the echoing cuttings, the
train rushes westward letting you down gradually from the tense excite-
ment of the great chasm, to the cedar strewn ledges that fade out into the
the gravel bars and the park-like spaces of the open valley beyond
Cotopaxi.

Thomas Paine tells us in his Age of Reason: "The sublime and
the ridiculous are often so nearly related, that it is difficult to class
them separately." It is good philosophy also, that the higher the strain
the longer the rebound ; so no excuse is needed for asking you to enjoy
as heartily as we did, the story an old fellow told us at the supper sta-
tion, who dropped the hint that he had been one of the " boys " who had
helped push the railway through this canon. Moreover, he helped us
to a new phase of human nature as exemplified in the mind of an
"old timer."

The influence of the canon on the ordinary tourist, perhaps, will
be comparatively transient, fading into a dream-like memory of amazing
mental impressions. Not so with the man who has dwelt, untutored,
for many years, amid these stupendous hills and abysmal gorges. His
imagination, once aroused and enlarged, continues to expand; his fiction,
once created, hardens into fact; his veracity, once elongated, stretches
on and on forever. Of all natural curiosities he is the most curious, —
more marvelous than even the Grand Canon itself.

196 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

Strictly sane and truthful in the day-time, he speaks only of com-
monplace things; but when the night comes, and the huge mountains
group themselves around his camp-fire like a circle of black Cyclo-
pean tents, he shades his face from the blaze and bids his imagination
stalk forth with Titanic strides. Then, if his hearers are in sympathy,
With self repressed and nonchalant gravity, he pours forth in copious
detail his strange experiences with bears and bronchos, Indians and ser-
pents, footpads and gamblers, mines and mules, tornadoes and forest-
fires. He never for a moment weakens the effect of his story by giving
way to gush and enthusiasm ; he makes his facts eloquent, and then
relates them in the careless monotone of one who is superior to emotion
under any circumstances.

We could not find our old-timer in these most favorable circum-
stances, but ensconced behind

" Sublime tobacco! which from east to west,
Cheers the tar's labors, or the Turkman's rest,"

he seized his opportunity in our discussion of the heroic engineering by
which the penetralia of the Royal Gorge was opened to the locomotive,
and began :

" Talk about blastin'! *The boy's yarn about blowin' up a moun-
tain 's nothin' but a squib to what we did when we blasted the Ryo
Grand railroad through the Royal Gorge.

" One day the boss sez to me, sez he, ' Hyar, you, do you know how
to handle gunpowder ? '

"Sez I, 'You bet !'

"Sez he, 'Do you see that ere ledge a thousand feet above us,
stickin' out like a hat-brim? ' Sez I, ' You bet I do.'

" ' Wall,' sez he, ' that '11 smash a train into a grease-spot some day,
ef we don't blast it off.'

" '.Jess so,' sez I.

" Wall, we went up a gulch, and clum the mountain an' come to the
prissipass, and got down on all fours, an' looked down straight three
thousand feet. The river down there looked like a lariat a' runnin' after
a broncho. I began to feel like a kite a' sailiu' in the air like. Forty
church steeples in one war'n't nowhar to that ere pinnacle in the clouds.
An' after a while it begun rainin' an* snowin' an' hailin' an' thundrin'
an' doin' a reglar tornado biznis down thar, an' a reglar summer day
whar we wuz on top. Wall, there wuz a crevice from where wre wuz,
an* we sorter slid down into it, to within fifty feet o' the ledge, an' then
they let me down on the ledge with a rope an' drill. When I got down
thar, I looked up an' sez to the boss, ' Boss, how are ye goin' to get that
'cussion powder down? ' Yer see, we used this ere powder as '11 burn

*If anybody doubts the full veracity of this tale, he is referred to Colonel Nat. Bab-
cock, of Gunnison City.

ROCK-RENDING DYNAMITE. 197

like a pine-knot 'thout explodin', but if yer happen to drop it, it '11 blow
yer into next week 'fore ye kin wink yer eye.

"'Wall,' sez the boss, sez he, ' hyar's fifty pound, an' yer must
ketch it.'

" * Ketch it,' sez I. ' Hain't ye gettin' a little keerless— s'pose I miss
it? ' I sez.

•• ' But ye must n't miss it,' sez he. ' 'T seems to me yer gettin'
mighty keerful of yourself all to wunst.'

" Sez I, * Boss, haul me up. I'm a fool, but not an idgit. Haul me
up. I'm not so much afeared of the blowin' up ez of the comin' down.
If I should miss corain' .onto this ledge, thar's nobody a thousan' feet
below thar to ketch me, an' I might get drownded in the Arkansaw, for
I kain't swim.'

" So they hauled me up, an' let three other fellers down, an' the boss
discharged me, an' I sot down sorter behind a rock, an' tole 'em they'd
soon have a fust-class funeral, and might need me for pall-bearer.

" Wall, them fellers ketched the dynamite all right, and put 'er in,
an' lit their fuse, but afore they could haul 'em up she went off. Great
guns! 'T was wuss 'n forty thousan' Fourth o' Julys. A million coy-
otes an' tin pans an' horns an' gongs ain't a sarcumstance. Th' hull
gorge fur ten mile bellered, an' bellered, an' kep' on bellerin' wuss 'n a
corral o' Texas bulls. I foun' myself on my back a lookin' up, an' th'
las' thing I seed wuz two o' them fellers a' whirlm' clean over the moun-
tain, two thousan' feet above. One of 'em had my jack-knife an'
tobacker, but 't was no use cryin'. 'T was a good jack-knife, though ; I
do n't keer so much fur the tobacker. He slung suthin' at me as he
went over, but it did n't come nowhar near, 'n' I don't know yet what
it was. When we all kinder come to, the boss looked at his watch, 'n'
tole us all to witness that the fellers was blown up just at noon, an' was
only entitled to half a day's wages, an' quit 'thout notice. When we got
courage to peep over an' look down, we found that the hat-brim was n't
busted off at all ; the hull thing was only a squib. But we noticed that
a rock ez big ez a good-sized cabin, hed loosened, an' hed rolled down
on top of it. While we sat lookin' at it, boss sez, sez he,

" ' Did you fellers see mor'n two go up? '

" ' No,' sez we, an' pfetty soon we heern t' other feller a' hollerin',
' Come down 'n get me out ! '

" Gents, you may have what's left of my old shoe, if the ledge had n't
split open a leetle, 'n' that chap fell into the crack, 'n' the big rock rolled
onto the ledge an' sorter gently held him thar. He war n't hurt a har.
We wer n't slow about gettin' down. We jist tied a rope to a pint o'
rock an' slid. But you may hang me for a chipmuck ef we could git
any whar near him, an' it was skeery business a foolin' roun' on that
ere verandy. 'T war n't much bigger 'n a hay-rack, an' a thousan' foot
up. We hed some crowbars, but boss got a leetle excited, an' perty

198 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

soon bent every one on 'em tryin' to prize off that bowlder that 'd
weigh a hundred ton like. Then agin we wuz all on it, fer it kivered
th' hull ledge, 'n' whar 'd we ben ef he 'd prized it off ? All the while
the chap kep' a hollerin', ' Hurry up ; pass me some tobacker ! ' Oh, it
was the pitterfulest cry you ever heern, an' we didn't know what to do
till he yelled, ' I'm a losin' time; hain't you goin' to git me out ?' Sez
boss, ' I 've bent all the crowbars, an' we can't git you out.'

" ' Got any dynamite powder ? ' sez the feller.

"'Yes.'

" ' Well, then, why 'n the name of the Denver 'n' Ryo Grand don't
you blast me out,' sez he.

" ' We can't blast you out,' sez boss, ' fer dynamite busts down, an'
it '11 blow you down the canyon.'

" 'Well, then,' sez he, 'one o' ye swing down under the ledge, an'
put a shot in whar it's cracked below.'

" 'You're wiser 'n a woman,' sez boss. 'I 'd never thought o'
that.'

" So the boss took a rope, 'n' we swung him down, 'n' he put in a
shot, 'n' was goiii' to light the fuse, when the feller inside smelt the
match.

" ' Heve ye tumbled to my racket? ' sez he.

" ' You bet we have, feller priz'ner! ' sez the boss.

" ' Touch 'er off ! ' sez the feller.

" ' All right,' sez boss.

"* Hold on ! ' yells the feller as wuz inside.

"'What's the racket now? 'sez the boss.

"'You hain't got the sense of a blind mule,' sez he. 'Do you
s'pose I want to drop down the canyon when the shot busts ? Pass in
a rope through the crack, 'n' I'll tie it 'roun' me, 'n' then you can
touch 'er off kind o' easy like.'

" Wall, that struck us all as a pious idea. That feller knowed
more 'n a dozen blind mules — sed mules were n't fer off, neither. Wall,
we passed in the rope, 'n' when we pulled boss up, he guv me 'tother
end 'n' tole me to hole on tighter 'n' a puppy to a root. I tuck the rope,
wrapped it 'round me 'n' climb up fifty feet to a pint o' rock right under
'nuther pint 'bout a hundred feet higher, that kinder hung over the
pint whar I wuz. Boss 'n' t'other fellers skedaddled up the crevice
'n' hid.

" Purty soon suthin' happened. I can't describe it, gents. The hull
canyon wuz full o' blue blazes, flyin' rocks 'n' loose volcanoes. Both
sides o' the gorge, two thousan' feet straight up, seemed to touch tops 'n'
then swing open. I wuz sort o' dazed 'n' blinded, 'n' felt ez if the prisi-
passes 'n' the mountains wuz all on a tangle-foot drunk, staggerin' like.
The rope tightened 'round my stummick, 'n' I seized onto it tight, 'n'
yelled :

BROUGHT TO "TERRY FIRMYS

199

"' Hole on, pard, I'll draw you up! Cheer up, my hearty,' sez 1,
' cheer up ! Jes az soon 'z I git my footin', I'll bring ye to terry
firmy ! '

" Ye see, I wuz sort of confused 'n' blinded by the smoke V dust,
'n' hed a queer feelin', like a spider a swingin' an' a whirlin' on a har.
At last I got so'z I could see, 'n' looked down to see if the feller wuz a
swingin' clar of the rocks, but I could n't see him. The ledge wuz blown
clean off, 'n' the canyon seemed 'bout three thousan' feet deep. My

200 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

stummick began to hurt me dreadful, V I squirmed 'round V looked up,
'n' durn my breeches, gents, ef I was n't within ten foot of the top of
the gorge, 'n' the feller ez wuz blasted out wuz a haulin' on me up.

" Sez I when he got me to the top, sez I, 'Which eend of this rope
wuz you on, my friend ? '

"'I dunno,' sez he. ' Which eend wuz you on ? '

" ' I dunno,' sez I.

"An', gents, to this day we can't tell ef it was which or 'tother ez
wuz blasted out."

It was afternoon and we were weary — sated — with sublimity; so we
ran straight away to Leadville, and left until our return an examination
of the Arkansas Valley.

THE ARKANSAS VALLEY.

And he gave It for his opinion, that whoever could make two ears of corn or two
blades of grass, to grow upon a spot of ground where only one grew before, would
deserve better of mankind, and do more essential service to his country, than the
whole race of politicians put together.— JONATHAN SWIFT.

HE interest of the Grand Canon of the Arkansas, though
it culminates between the narrow walls of Royal Gorge,
by no means ceases there. For many miles after,
immense piles of rocks are heaped on each side, great
crags frown down, and the river comes tumbling to
meet you down a series of green and white cataracts.
The walls are highly colored, and the whole scene exceedingly inter-
esting. Toward the western end there is a break in the gorge, through
which fine pictures of the Sangre de Cristo peaks present themselves
close by, and then the rocks are heaped up again into the grand defile
of Brown's canon, where one of our illustrations was made.

Just before entering Brown's canon, a branch road can be seen run-
ning off to the northward. That is the short road up to Calumet, where
the Colorado Coal and Iron Company have iron mines of great value and
in constant operation, for the ore is suitable for the making of Bessemer
steel. These mines are open, quarry-like excavations, and the ore is
therefore more easily handled than is usual. The grade on this branch,
four hundred and six feet to the mile, is said to be the heaviest in the
world where no cog-wheels are used. Only a few empty cars can be
hauled up; and the difficulty is almost as great in descending, for it
requires at least four cars, dragging with hard-set brakes, to hold an
engine under control in going down. Marble and lumber in great quan-
tities are also shipped down this little branch from the neighborhood of
Calumet.

Passing some hot mineral springs, where are bathing arrangements,
near the head of Brown's canon, the train runs into the busy yard at
Salida. This town was formerly South Arkansas, and I surprise the
Madame by telling her that no longer ago than 1874, I pitched a tent
where it now stands upon ground which had no vestige of civilization
near it. Salida is a Spanish word, meaning a junction, and is applica-
ble in two ways. It is at the confluence of the Arkansas with its large
branch from the south, and it is the junction of the northern system of

201

202

THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

railway which we are following to Leadville and beyond, with the main
line going west from here to Utah and California. It is therefore a lively
railway center, — the end of divisions, the headquarters of round-houses,
repairing shops, etc. Besides, it is rapidly growing, and increasing in
importance as a busy mercantile center.

The valley of the Arkansas north of Salida, we see as we go on
, nourishes much agriculture, which continues to be seen — at least

THE OLD ROUTE TO LEADVILLE.

in the shape of hay ranches — as far as Riverside, the first station above
JBuena Vista. There Mr. Leonhardy has seven miles, more or less, under
cultivation, and carries on a highly profitable farm. His extensive hay-
barns are close to the track, and his horse-mowers show how scientific-
ally it is cut. All the cereals are grown there, or at any rate have been
grown ; but wheat, though it becomes very plump and hard, has so pre-
cariously brief a season in which to mature, that it is not profitable, and
hence no great amount is now planted. Of oats, rye and barley, how-
ever, hundreds of acres are cut annually, yielding in each case above the
average number of bushels to the acre of eastern crops. I have seen
some very fine samples of all these grains, which, of course, find abun-
dant sale close at home, and hence are unheralded outside.

Then in the way of "roots," large plantations are made, and fine
results brought about. Potatoes are particularly successful, one hun-
dred and fifty bushels, or about fifteen thousand pounds weight, being
the ordinary crop expected to the acre; turnips, beets, onions, etc.,
doing equally well in their way. The only things that can not be pro-
duced here, in fact, are such tender plants as melons, squashes, cucum-
bers, and the like. Even these may often be brought to maturity if
their beginnings are nurtured under glass, but as a matter of regular
gardening, they are not considered profitable.

Apart from this locality not much farming is visible, except close
to Salida, where the road runs over the top of a dry mesa, — one of the
terraces into which the former river has cut the glacial gravels of the

UP THE ARKANSAS. 203

valley-margin. Down in the lower " bottoms," where irrigation is very
easy, one sees some miles of continuous fields cultivated in hay and
grain. The close clusters of ranch-buildings, the stacks of straw, the
yellow and green squares of stubble and the black threads of the divid-
ing fences, with the diminutive dots of men moving to and fro with
wagons, recall the prairie states. We also note the number of cattle
seen all along the lower part of the valley, — and the cheapness and excel-
lence of the beef we bought in all this part of Colorado.

Buena Vista is a town of considerable size and seeming solidity,
which is prettily placed among the cottonwoods. These give a name to
the stream not only, but to the expansion of the valley, which is known
as Cottonwood park. The supply point not only for the Chalk Creek
mines on Mt. Princeton, but for the remoter settlements on the other side
of the range, Buena Vista seems to have a good chance for long life.
One sees here the big, trailed wagons in all their glory, and the voice
of the burro is heard in the land, complaining of his burdens and bewail-
ing the lost friskiness of his unfettered youth.

Below Granite we pass through almost a canon. The inclined and
splintered rocks of reddish granite and gneiss rise very high at certain
points on the eastern bank of the river, and the water itself is in con-
tinual ebullition among large bowlders, falling meanwhile at such a
grade that the track cannot follow it, but must needs rise away above it.
The scene here is one of extreme desolation. There is nothing pretty in
the whole landscape short of the small snow-banks that remind us of
scattered sheep browsing on the crest of the range. Almost the only
relief to the sterility — sterile not only in respect to pleasing vegetation,
but in any comfortable suggestiveness — is when the sun shines suddenly
straight down some rift-like gulch in the precipitous walls, transmuting
what seemed a crystal-clear atmosphere into a golden dust finer than any
flakes that ever came out of the gravels.

Now we are rapidly approaching Granite, a town twenty-five years
old ; and presently we catch sight of the great gold placers that formerly
made the fame of this locality. They are still operated in a quiet, scien-
tific method, and one large flume crosses the track at a height of fully
fifty feet. The western bank has been ploughed up by water and turned
topsy-turvy over a long area, exposing its innermost pebbles and
bowlders, all well cleaned and white by their second scrubbing.*

Three miles west of Granite lie the charming "Twin Lakes," but
we are frustrated in our attempt to reach them on the only day we
wished to spare for that purpose.

During all the summer, carriages from the lake meet passenger

*If the reader cares to know more about the lively times that used to occur now and
then In Granite, years ago, he can find some Incidents in my "Knocking 'Round the
Rockies" (New York, Harper & Brothers, 1882), on page 70 and following.

204

THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

trains at Twin Lakes station, four miles above Granite, in order to carry
visitors to this lake.

" Of all the health and pleasure resorts of the upper Arkansas Val-
ley," I have read, "the Twin Lakes are perhaps the most noted. Water
is nowhere too plentiful in Colorado, the largest rivers being usually

THE SHAFT HOUSE.

narrow and rapid streams, that
seldom form an important feat-
P ure in the extended landscapes,
and these lakes are all the more
prized for constituting an exception.
They are fourteen miles south of Lead-
ville. The larger of the two lakes is two
and one-half miles in length by one and
one-half in width, and the other about half that size. The greatest
depth is seventy-five feet. These lakes possess peculiar merits as a place
of resort. Lying at an altitude of 9,357 feet, — over one and three-fourths
miles, — at Lie mouth of a canon, in a little nook, surrounded by lofty
mountains, from whose never-failing snows their waters are fed, their
seclusion invites the tired denizens of dusty cities to fly from debilitating
heat and the turmoil of traffic, to a quiet haven where Jack Frost makes
himself at home in July and August. On the lakes are numerous sail
and row boats, and fishing tackle can always be obtained. Both lakes
are well stocked with fish, and the neighboring streams also abound in
mountain trout. Surrounding the lakes are large forests of pine, that

THE TWIN LAKES. 205

add their characteristic odor to the air. The nearest mountains, whose
forms are reflected in the placid waters, are Mount Elbert, 14,351 feet in
height, La Plata, 14,311,— each higher than Pike's Peak,— Lake Moun-
tain, and the Twin Peaks. Right royal neighbors are these. And across
the narrow Arkansas valley rises Mount Sheridan, far above timber-
line, flanked by the hoary summits of the Park range. The hotel and
boarding-house accommodations are good, and will be rapidly extended.
During the summer months there is an almost constant round of church
and society picnics and private pleasure parties coming down to the
lakes from Leadville, so that nearly every day brings a fresh influx of
visitors, enlivening the resort, and dispelling all tendency to monotony.

"Twin Lakes is the highest of all the popular Rocky Mountain
resorts, and furnishes an unfailing antidote for hot weather. Even in
midsummer flannels are necessary articles of apparel, and thick woolen
blankets are indispensable at night."

There are mines in the mountains back of Twin Lakes, and grad-
ually a permanent settlement is growing up there, which is reached all
the year round by stage from Leadville. This stage passes over Hunt-
er's pass, and carries the mail to some important camps on the other
side of the range, — Independence, Highland, et cetera. The main
point of interest, I hear, is at Independence, which is said to be much
such a camp as Kokomo, and standing at a greater altitude than even
Leadville. The veins are true fissures filled with quartz containing free
gold, iron and copper pyrites. The Farwell Mining company are the
chief operators, and have recently erected what has been pronounced

BOTTOM OF THE SHAFT.

306 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

the finest stamp-mill in Colorado. It consists of thirty stamps, and cost
$2.87}^ cents a hundred pounds for carriage from the railway to its
site. This feat required the building and repair of roads to an extent
that has been of immense benefit to the public. Besides this mill there

ATHWART AN INCLINE.

is an old one of twenty stamps, and additions are to be made. A few
miles further on, is the flourishing camp of Aspen, standing in a beautiful
valley 7,500 feet above the sea. This is the locality of the Smuggler
mine owned by Mackay and other Eastern capitalists. It is described
as "a large lead of fine-grained galena, carrying native silver in wire
form." Aspen is a good type of the " magic" town, where lots increase
a thousand per cent, in value in six months.

This brings us to Malta, a station in the midst of a wide waste
of denuded gravel, where we turn up California gulch to Leadville,
bidding good-bye, for a little, to the white crests of the Saguache range,
— Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Antlers and others that have been our con-
stant companions. Turn where we will in this region, we can not long
escape the sight of snow-smothered peaks. It is impossible to get away
from them. This river valley is a great basin surrounded on all sides by
mountains that hasten to bid winter welcome before summer has thought
of saying farewell to the valleys. As in that wonderful story, wherein
we are constantly reminded that " the villain still pursued her," so here
the mountains unceasingly confront us, and every changing mood can
be studied by our eager eyes.

CHARCOAL MAKING.

207

Malta seems to be a great place for charcoal, many groups of the
white conical ovens being visible on the blackened and denuded side-
hills.

Charcoal is an extremely important element in smelting operations,
and enormous quantities are made, to the destruction of all the forests,
so that the burners have to go farther and farther with their ovens,
or else, as most of them are doing, have wood brought from increasing
distances. A favorite method is to build a flume and float the timber, in
short pieces, down from the higher woods; or else, simply to make a
trough, laying it partly on the ground and partly on trestles, so as to
secure proper Jevelness. It is great fun to watch them shuteing wood
or ties (for the "tie-punchers" adopt the same expedient) down the
slope of the high, steep hills. Little choice is made in the kind of
wood burned.

The effect of these charcoal makers is very plain as we climb up the
devious track through the hills of California gulch to Leadville.

The trees were cut which once stood dense over the whole of the
gulch, and then every vestige of brushwood, grass, — everything was
burned away, so that the ash-strewn soil and the charred stumps alone
remain of the former verdancy. Into this oddly desolate tract the town
has pushed itself without altering it much for the better. The outer

THE JIG DRILL.

suburbs of a town are seldom pleasing, and Leadville is no exception.
The burned stumps, thick as the original forest, give a general black
aspect to the whole scene. Fences are few, and amount to the merest
pretense of enclosures, more than an unbarked pole or two, strung along
the boundary, being rare. The streets are mere spaces, for there is

208 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

no difference at all between the outside and the inside of the fence. The
public highway finds itself as best it can among the stumps, and the
householder rarely bothers himself to pull one out of his front yard.

This is not mere rough neglect, and, in the center of town, of
course does not exist. It shows that the citizens, as a rule, do not care
to make fine their surroundings, because they have not come to stay.
They are a generation of pilgrims, even though, under endless protest,
they may linger, or be held here, all their lives, and be buried in the
stony little graveyard, under the yellow fumes of the smelters down the
creek, at the last. Inside, though, the houses glow with pretty things
and abound in luxuries. Here, men combat the outward roughness and
resolve that they will be comfortable in compensation for the inclemency
outside.

And so we come to Leadville, the " Camp of the Carbonates."

XXT
THE CAMP OF THE CARBONATES.

Moored In the rifted rock,

Proof to the tempest's shock,

Firmer he roots him the ruder It blow.

—SCOTT.

F the men who sprang from the stones Deucalion cast
behind him set themselves to make homes, the result
must have been a close counterpart of Leadville, Colo-
rado." Such was the phrase with which the present
writer began an article upon the "Camp of the Car-
bonates," printed in Scribner's Monthly for October,
1879. Though the Eeadville of to-day has graduated from the over-
grown mining camp it then was, into a pretentious city of twenty thous-
and people, and boasts all the "improvements," yet the interest con-
nected with the town, for the world at large, is chiefly historical.

Historical ! Why, Leadville is only seven years' old now; but the
years have been eventful, and history is made fast in this state.

The site of Leadville has a pre-historic interest also, — almost mytho-
logical in fact, for have not five and twenty years crept by since then.
This is the well verified tradition :

"After the rush to Pike's Peak, in 1859, which was disappointing
enough to the majority of prospectors, a number of men pushed west-
ward. One party made their way through Ute pass into the grand mead-
ows of South Park, and crossing, pressed on to the Arkansas valley, up
which they proceeded, searching unsuccessfully for gold, until they
reached a wide plateau on the right bank, where a beautiful little
stream came down. Following this nearly to its source, along what
they called California gulch, they were delighted to find placers of
gold. This was in the midsummer of 1860 ; and before the close of the
hot weather, ten thousand people had emigrated to the Arkansas, and
$2,500,000 had been washed out, one of the original explorers taking
twenty-nine pounds of gold away with him in the fall, besides selling for
$500 a 'worked out' claim from which $15,000 was taken within the
next three months. Now this same ' exhausted ' gravel is being washed
a third or fourth time with profit.

" The settlement consisted of one long street only, and houses, even
of logs, were so few that the camp was known as 'Boughtown,' every-
body abandoning the wickyups in winter, when the placers could not be

9* 209

210 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

worked, and retreating to Denver. During the summer, however,
Boughtown witnessed some lively scenes. One day a stranger came
riding up the street on a gallop, splashing mud everywhere, only to
be unceremoniously halted by a rough looking customer who covered
him with a revolver and said:

" ' Hold on there, stranger! When ye go through this yere town,
go slow so folks can take a look at ye! '

"No money circulated there; gold-dust served all the purposes of
trade, and every merchant, saloon-keeper and gambler had his scales.
The phrase was not ' Cash up,' but ' Down with your Dust/ and when a
man's buck-skin wallet was empty, he knew where to fill it again. It
was not long, however, before the placers were all staked off, and the
claims began to be exhausted. Then the town so dwindled that, in half
a dozen years, only a score were left of the turbulent multitude, who, in
'60 and '61, made the gulch noisy with magical gains and unheeded loss.
Among the last of their acts was to pull down the old log gambling hall,
and to pan two thousand dollars out of the dirt where the gamblers had
dropped the coveted gains. This done every body .moved elsewhere, and
the frightened game returned to thread the aspen groves and drink
at the once more translucent streams of California gulch, where eight
millions of dollars had been sifted from the pebbles.

" One striking feature of this old placer-bar had impressed itself
unpleasantly upon all the gold-seekers. In the bottoms of their pans
and rockers, at each washing there accumulated a black sand so heavy
that it interfered with the proper settling of the gold, and so abundant
that it clogged the riffles. Who first determined this obnoxious black
sand to be carbonate of lead is uncertain. It is said that it was assayed
in 1866, but not found valuable enough to pay transportation to Denver,
then the nearest point at which it could be smelted. One of the most
productive mines now operated is said to have been discovered in '67,
and in this way: Mr. Long, at that time the most poverty-stricken
of prospectors, went out to shoot his breakfast, and brought down a
deer; in its dying struggles the animal kicked up earth which appeared
so promising that Long and his partner Derry located a claim on the
spot. The Camp Bird, Rock Lode, La Plata and others were opened
simultaneously outside the placers, but all these were worked for gold,
and though even then it seemed to have been understood in a vague way
that the lead ores were impregnated with silver, nobody profited by the
information. Thus years passed, and I and many another campaigner
in that grand solitude, riding over those verdant slopes, passing beneath
those somber pine woods, camped, hunted, even mined at what nov?
is Leadville, and never suspected the wealth we trampled upon.

" Among the few men who happened to be iu the region in 1877,
was A. B. Wood, a shrewd, practical man, who, finding a large quantity
of the heavy black sand, tested it anew and extracted a large proportion of

212 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

silver. He confided in Mr. William H. Stevens, and they together began
searching for the source of this sand-drift, and decided it must be between
the limestone outcropping down the gulch and the porphyry which
composed the summit of the mountain. Sinking trial shafts they sought
the silver mean. It took time and money, and the few placer-washers
there laughed at them for a pair of fools; but the men said nothing, and
in the course of a few weeks they ' struck it.' Then came a period of
excitement and particularly lively times for the originators of the enter-
prise. Mr. Stevens was a citizen of Detroit, and finding a chance for
abundant results from labor, but no laborers wherewith to ' make the
riffle,' he went back to Detroit and persuaded several scores of adven-
turous men to come out here and amuse themselves with carbonates.

"They came, hilariously, no doubt, with high anticipations of sud-
den wealth and the fulfilling of wide ambitions; came to find the snow
deep upon the ground, and winter bravely entrenched among the gray
cliffs of Mosquito and the Saguache. No one could work ; every one
was tantalized and miserable ; discontent reigned. It was the old story
of Baker and the San Juan silver fields. They took Wood and Stevens,
imprisoned them in a cabin, and even went so far toward the suggestion
of hanging as to noose the rope around their necks. At this critical
moment, reprieve came in the shape of a capitalist who appeased the
hungry crowd with cash and stayed their purpose until the weather
moderated and digging could be begun.

" As spring advanced and the mountains became passable, there
began a rush into the camp, for the report of this wonderful rejuven-
ation of the old district had spread far and wide. The Denver newspa-
pers took up the laudation of the region. The railways approaching
nearest, advertised the camp all over the East for the sake of patronage;
and many an energetic prospector, and greedy saloon-keeper, and many
a business man who wanted to profit by the excitement, started for Lead-
ville. It was early spring; the snow lay deep on the lofty main range of
the Rocky mountains which had to be crossed, and filled the treacherous
passes, but the impatient emigrants could not wait. To be first into
Leadville was the aim and ambition of hundreds of excited men, and to
accomplish this, human life was endangered and mule flesh recklessly
sacrificed. Companies were organized, who put on six-horse stages
from Denver, Canon City and Colorado Springs, and ran three or four
coaches together, yet private conveyances took even more than the
stages, and hundreds walked, braving the midwinter horrors of Mos-
quito pass.

"Meanwhile an almost continuous procession of mule and ox trains
were striving to haul across that frightful hundred miles of mountains
the food, machinery and furniture which the new settlement so sorely
needed, and which it seemed so impossible to supply. Ten cents and
more a pound was charged for freight, and prices ranged correspond-

EAHLY DATS Off LEADVILLE. 213

ingly high, with an exorbitant profit added. Hay, for example, reached
$200 per ton.

' ' Nor were all who came rough or even hardy characters. There
were among them men of wealth and brains, young graduates of col-
leges eager for a business opening, engineers and surveyors, lawyers,
doctors, and a thousand soft-handed triflers who hoped to make a living
in some undefined way out of the general excitement. Many of these
gentlemen went to stay and took their wives, or, more usually, waited
until they had prepared some sort of a home, and then sent for them.
What stories some of these ladies tell of their stage-journey through
those wintry mountains! How many wagons, heavily loaded with
freight, did they see overturned by the roadside! How many dead
mules and horses did they count! How many snow-banks did they fall
through! how many precipices escape! how many upsettings avoid by
the merest margin of consummate good driving! I knew of three ladies
who for twenty-four hours were packed in a stage with a lot of drunken
men, who could only be kept within the bounds of decorum and safety by
being sung to sleep. The driver was utterly powerless to control them,
and had as much as he could do to steer his six horses over that icy
road. The crazy men said, ' Sing to us. we like it, and if you don't
we'll dump you into the snow !' and sing they did, all night long.
Whether this incident be considered laughable or pathetic, it is literally
true. In the summer the stage passenger was not frozen, but was
choked to slow death by impenetrable clouds of dust, and in the seasons
between he was engulfed in mud. Verily that hundred miles of staging
at fifteen cents a mile, with only thirty pounds of baggage allowed free,
was the Purgatory of Leadville, and helped wonderfully to make one
contented with his reception.

"With the beginning of 1879, the steady current that had flagged
somewhat during the tempestuous last months of 1878, burst into a per-
fect freshet of travel. Log huts, board shanties, canvas tents, kennels
dug into the side hill and roofed with earth and pine boughs, were filled
to repletion with men and women, and still proved insufficient to shield
the eager immigrants from the arctic air and pitiless storms of this
plateau in the high Sierras. Men were glad to pay for the privilege
of spreading their overcoats or blankets on the floor of a saloon and
sleeping in stale smoke and the fumes of bad whisky — an atmosphere
where the sooty oil lamps burned with a weak and yellow flame. Per-
haps the dice rattled on till morning above the sleepers' heads, the
monotonous call-song of the dealers lulling them to an unquiet doze
in the murky air, only to be awakened by the loud profanity of some
brawler or sent cowering under the blankets to escape the too free pistol-
balls that fly across the billiard table. Even the sawdust floors of these
reeking bar-rooms were not spacious enough to hold the two hundred
persons a day who rushed into Leadville, and every dry-goods box upon

214

THE CREST OP THE CONTINENT.

the curbstone, every pile of hay-bales in the alley, became a bedroom for
some belated traveler.

"But the era of saloon-floors and empty barrels did not last
long. Enterprising men built huge hotels, and opened restaurants and
great lodging tents and barracks ; strangers joined in twos and threes,
cut logs and planted cabins as thick as corn. . . Every day chroni-
cle d some new acces-
sion of wealth, some
additional tapping of
the silver deposits
which were firmly
believed to underlie
every square foot of
the region. It seem-
ed all a matter of
luck, too, and skilled
prospecting found
itself at fault. The
spots old miners had
passed by as worth -
less, 'tenderfeet'
from Ohio dug
down upon, and
showed to be rich in
'mineral.' One of
the first mines
opened — the Camp
Bird — was discov-
ered by the Galla-
gher brothers, two
utterly poor Irish-
men. Another early
piece of good for-
tune was that of
Fryer, from whom
Fryer Hill, one of
the most productive
districts, derives its
name. He lived in
a squatty little cabin
on the sid^ hill
where the dirt flocr
had become as hilly
as a model of the

CASCADES OF THE BLU. maln T^^ and the

THE DEAD MAN CLAIM. 215

rough stone fire-place in the corner was hardly fit to fry a rasher of
bacon; but one day he dug a hole up near the top of the hill, hiding
himself among the secret pines, saying nothing to anybody, and a few
yards below the surface struck a mine which has already yielded
millions of dollars without being urged. Innumerable incidents might
be related of the patience and expense and hardship which resulted in
failure; of the equal pluck and endurance that brought success; of
happy chance or perfect accident divulging a fortune at the most unex-
pected point. The miners have a proverb, ' Nobody can see into the
ground,' and the gamblers an adage, 'The only thing sure about luck
is that it's bound to change ! '

"One of the grimmest of these tales is that attached to the Dead
Man claim, which is briefly as follows: It was winter. Scotty had
died, and the boys, wanting to give him a right smart of a burial, hired
a man for twenty dollars to dig a grave through ten feet of snow and six
feet of hard ground. Meanwhile, Scotty was stuffed. into a snow bank.
Nothing was heard of the grave-digger for three days, and the boys,
going out to see what had happened to him, found him in a hole which,
begun as a grave, proved to be a sixty-ounce mine. The quasi sexton
refused to yield, and was not hard pushed, for Scotty was forgotten and
staid in the snow bank till the April sun searched him out, the boys
meanwhile sinking prospect-holes in his intended cemetery.

" One mine had its shaft down one hundred and thirty-five feet and
the indications of success were good. Some capitalists proposed to pur-
chase an interest in it, and a half of the mine was offered them for
$10,000, if taken before five o'clock. At half-past four, rich silver
ore was struck, and when at half -past five the tardy men of money
came leisurely up and signified their consent to the bargain, the manager
pointed at the clock, and quietly remarked :

" 'The price of a half interest in this mine now, gentlemen, is sixty
thousand dollars.'

"Prospectors went everywhere seeking for carbonates, radiating
from this center up all the gulches, and over the foot-hills, delving
almost everywhere at a venture. One day, at a hitherto unheard-of
point, wealth comes up by the bucketful out of the deep narrow hole,
that has been pierced so unostentatiously. Instantly the transformation
begins, and the lately green hill-side, refreshing to the townsman's eye,
becomes forlorn in its ragged exposure of rock and soil where the forest
has been swept away, while trial-mines grow as thickly upon its surface
as pits on the rind of a strawberry. All these young mines, good or bad,
looked much alike, and were equally inaccessible and unkempt. There
were no roads, hardly any wagon-tracks and few paths. Every man
went across lots, the shortest way, pushing through the remnant of the
woods, clambering over the prostrate trunks and discarded tree-tops,
whose straight trunks had been felled and dragged away to the saw-

216 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

mill, or chopped into six-foot lengths for posts and logging. Teams
must go around, but life was too short for the man afoot to follow them;
holding his painful breath, he scaled straight up the steep and slippery
ascent.

"But it is time to say something of the processes of getting out the
ores, and perhaps the best way is at once to attack the geological struct-
ure of the region.

"Leadville appears to lie upon the eastern edge of the lava area
of the state. The last of the trachyte peaks are at the head of Mosquito
pass. Underneath the camp, and on all the hills where her riches are
stored, the soil is found to be a porphyritic overflow overlying a highly
silicified dolomite, that goes by the common name of ' limestone.' Be-
tween these two formations (i. e., under the porphyry and above the
dolomite) are found the mineral beds. Various theories have been
advanced as to the reason for their position, so novel in the experience
of silver mining, and some of the explanations are a burlesque of geology,
though uttered in dead earnest. Those who are best qualified to decide,
although confessing limited observation, suggest what seems to me the
simplest theory and the one nearest the truth. The mineral constituents
of the ores are carbonate of lead in large quantity, silica, oxides of iron
and manganese, and the precious chloride of silver. Sometimes the lead
occurs as a sulphide, and there are some other insignificant components.
Now it is possible that the original constituent parts of all these miner-
als should be contained in a porphyritic eruption. Deposits of galena
and some other minerals are now occasionally found buried in the
porphyry, or occupying slender fissure-veins through it. Moreover, all
these minerals are capable of solution in water charged with carbonic
acid, which, of course, was present in abundance, and the suggestion
is that they have leached downward through the porphyry until they
struck the limestone floor, which became in time so highly silicified,
as to admit no further penetration of water, whereupon the valuable
deposits that we are now prying out gradually accumulated. The
silicified surface of the lime, and the semi - saturated line of the
porphyry, next the carbonate, are known as the ' contacts ;' and when
the miners strike this, they have good cause to be hopeful of near
success. The presence of great beds of kaolin (hydrated silicate of
alumina), derived from the thorough decomposition of porphyry or gra-
nite, or both together, and the presence of hydrate of magnesia with
beds of semi-opal (always an aqueous production), argue in favor of
the truth of this explanation.

"The general fact of this position of the ores being understood,
let me suppose that our prospectors have been more than ordinarily
successful; that they have dug not more than a hundred feet, have
curbed their shaft securely with timber, have struck the greenish- white
porphyry, and finally have raftt with the longed for ' contact,' which sep-

MINING FOR CARBONATES. 217

arates the mineral bearing rock from the barren gangue. They. have
been little troubled by water, and they have done all their work with the
help of one man, and the ordinary windlass. There being every indi-
cation that wealth is just beneath their picks, they erect over the shaft
a frame- work of heavy timbers, called a 'gallows,' and hang in it a
large pulley. A little at one side, close to the ground, is fixed a second
pulley. Under this, and over the upper one is reeved the bucket-rope,
and a mule is hired to walk away with it, when the bucket is to be
drawn up, creeping back when the bucket goes down. This is a ' whip.'
The next advance in machinery is the ' whim,' which consists of the
same arrangement of gallows and pulleys as before; but instead of a
mule walking straight out and back, the mule travels round and round
a huge revolving drum, that carries the hoisting-rope. If you care to go
down one of these shafts you may stand in the bucket, or you may
unhook it, and, placing your foot in a noose, be lowered away in the
bucket's place. If your head is strong there is no great danger.

" When the miner really ' strikes it,' and the brown, crumbling,
ill-looking ore begins to fill the bucket to the exclusion of all else, assay-
ing fifty or a hundred or four hundred ounces to the ton, a house is
built over the shaft, and a steam-engine supersedes the patient mule.

" The depth at which a mine may be found (if at all) can hardly
even be guessed at. Paying ' mineral ' has been met with from the sur-
face to more than three hundred and fifty feet in depth. Usually the
shafts are over a hundred feet deep.

"The deposit having been tapped, digging out the ore begins.
This is done by means of horizontal passage-ways or tunnels, known as
' drifts, ' which are driven into the rock from the bottom of the shaft.

" As the ores are brought to the surface they are scanned by an
experienced person, and the best pieces thrown in a heap by themselves,
while the ordinary ore is cast upon the ' dump ' or pile which accumu-
lates at the mouth of the mine, and makes a little ruddy terrace on the
green or snowy hill-side. From this dump wagons haul the ore away to
be sold, the best part often being put in hundred-pound sacks, about as
large as quarter-barrel flour-bags, before being sold. Very rich ore is
likely to be bought by regular purchasers, who either have them smelted
in Leadville or forward them to smel ting-works at Pueblo, Denver,
St. Louis, and Eastern cities. The inferior grades are sold by the ton
to some one of the dozen smelters here in town, the price being gov-
erned by the market quotations of silver in New York on the day of the
sale, less several deductions amounting in all to about twenty-five per
cent, as the reducer's margin for profit, and plus three to five cents
per pound for all the lead above twenty-one per cent, which the ore
carries. Silver and gold are estimated in ounces; lead and copper in
percentages ; but allowance is not made for both of the latter metals in
the same ore. The ore is hauled to the smelting- works by four or six-
10

218 THE CREST OF TIIE CONTINENT.

mule teams, for the most part, the driver not sitting on the wagon,
but riding the nigh wheeler, guiding his team by a single very strong
rein which goes to the bits of the leaders, and handling the brake by
another strap. He is in the position of a steersman in the middle of his
craft, and his ' bridge ' is the saddle. Every load is set upon the scales,
recorded, and then shoveled into its proper bin. A thin-faced, dusty-
haired youth leaned half asleep against a shady corner at one of these
mills, recording the tons and fractions of a ton in each load as he lazily
adjusted the balance. His air was of one so utterly listless and bored
that I was moved to remark cheerily as I went by :

" 'You haven't chosen the most exciting part of this business.'

".'No,' he answered dryly, while an indescribable twinkle came
into his carbonated countenance. ' No, but I'm trying to do my duty.
You know the poet says, " They also serve who only stand and weigh it." '

" That fellow had a history, but I haven't time to tell it. Leadville
is full of such characters, and it only needs to put one's self en rapport
with their happy-go-lucky good humor and stoicism under all sorts of
fortune to find these miners, at heart, the best fellows in the world.
They have a high regard for a gentleman, but a hatred of a swell;
no objection to good clothes, but a horror of 'frills;' a high respect for
genuine virtue, but boundless hatred of cant; an admiration for nerve
amounting to worship, but a contempt of braggadocio that often results
in an impulsive puncturing of both the braggart and his boasts. A
'tender-foot,' that is, a new arrival from the East, green in the ways of
mountain life, they consider fair game for tricks and chaff. Usually
they attempt to frighten him, and his behavior at such initiatory
moments determines, to a large extent, his future standing in the camp.

"But this is a digression from the subject in hand, which is the
reduction of the ores. The smelters cannot be allowed to cool off, and
so are run the twenty four hours through. One evening we made up
a party and visited one of the great smelters. Its chimney-stacks pour
noxious smoke over a nest of cabins down on the bank of the creek,
and guide us, by scent as well as sight, through the streets and across
the vacant lots. The broad upper floor is divided along one side into a
series of bins, opening outwardly into a shed, under which the teams
drive that bring the ore. Each owner's lot is put into a bin and kept
separate until sampled and paid for. This sampling is a process akin to
homeopathy. Supposing one hundred tons are to be sold at the smelter.
Every tenth ton, as fast as delivered, is set aside to be sampled. This
ten tons is then subdivided, — perhaps by being carried from one part of
the floor to the other in wheelbarrows, — every tenth load being set aside.
The single ton thus remaining contains many large, hard lumps. These
are roughly screened out and put through a crusher, which chews them
into fragments no larger than walnuts. The heap of a ton of broken
material thus formed is now separated in a very ingenious way, by

SAMPLING

catching a few lumps
of the ore from each
shovelful in a 'scoop,'
which a man holds
above the wheelbar-
row wherein the
main portion is cart-
ed back to the original pile in the bin. The saved
portion, which has happened to fall into the
scoop, constitutes a new sample, to be further
reduced, by successive crushings and screenings,
until finally there remains only a pound of earth
as the perfect representation of the average qual-
ity of the five hundred tons of rocky ore offered
from the mine. This pound is then ground to

220 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

powder on the bucking board, and a tenth or twentieth is taken for the
scientific fire - test, or ' assay, ' which shall determine its value. All
these processes go on at night as well as by day.

" The red-brown ores lay in little heaps about the floor when we
entered, divided from one another by low partitions. Men with spidery
wheelbarrows were cruising about, dumping a pile of precious earth
here, shoveling up another there, with seemingly aimless purposes, and
the bins were only like so many openings to a mine, so deep were the
shadows hiding their recesses. Across the room, lanterns showed four
great circular chambers of iron, from whose depths hoarse rumblings
drowned in a deep, steady bass the energetic crunch-crunch of the insa-
tiate ore-chewers. Wide door- ways admitted into these dungeons, where
surging volumes of murky vapors were confined, and through their hot
portals red-shirted men hurled the raw material that should be digested,
and the worthy part of which should issue from the furnaces below in a
bright and costly stream: first a barrow load of carbonate ore, next one
of charcoal, then a third of iron and limestone-flux.

"Day after day, night after night, these monsters are fed with this
diet, varied in proportions according to the richness and metallurgical
qualities of the ore that is being smelted. It requires very good judg-
ment to determine just how much foreign material aud lime is needed to
produce the best results with the constantly varying ores. Luck may
find the silver ore but science must extract the bullion. Most profit
accrues to the smelter when the ore produces from seventy-five to two
hundred ounces of silver, and contains a goodly proportion of iron and
lead.

"Leaving the dungeons, we pick our way down the slope of a
small mountain of ore, and enter below, where the engine and boilers
throb, and the openings at the bottom of the furnaces give exit to the
silver and the slag we saw shoveled in above as ore. And what an exit !
The low roof shuts down close and dark upon the huge black cylinder of
iron and bricks that holds in its heart the molten metal. There are
pipes and valves, and draft-ways, and beams and braces, but they show
indistinct in the gloom, and are nothing beside that great central mass,
begrimed with soot and the dust of arsenic and oxides of lead. Watch
that workman. He lifts a lance and stepping near the base of the
furnace, where a single spark directs his aim, gives two or three quick
thrusts. How mighty an effect the simple act evokes! The gloomy
and ghost haunted chamber becomes a home of fire; the grim furnace
breathes out gaseous flames of blue and green, with tongues of light
which hover playfully over a cataract of melted red metal bubbling,
spouting, plunging out of that Plutonic throat and falling in hissing
streams into the iron bowl waiting to catch its hot flood. The little lady
who is with us, seeing the sparks fly, draws timidty outside the doorway
and none too soon, for without warning the whole place becomes

CASTING BULLION. 221

volcanic. No longer a steady stream of artificial lava rolls down the
iron channel, but the liquid metal bursts its bounds and becomes a foun-
tain. The furnace is hidden in lurid gases out of which spring volley
upon volley of burning fragments that scatter showers of fire over the
whole foreground.

" The slag-pot is a conical vessel, with a rounded apex, poised, base
uppermost, on four little legs; when it is full, an iron frame work of a
cart runs up, seizes it on opposite sides as though with two hands, and
wheels it, glowing and fuming, out where a mole of slag is pushing itself
over into the white gravel of the gulch, and where it is deposited red and
crackling among heaps of like cones, some fading into the ashy hues of
spent heat, some black and shining like inverted crucibles of polished
iron. It was an uncanny vision: the huge rough outlines of the great
mill, with its high chimneys and beacons of flame and smoke; the blaze
within, the wan moonlight outside, and the sinewy men with skeleton
carts leaping about in the glare of the spouting slag, handling shapely
burdens of fiery refuse.

" While the worthless slag is doing so much sputtering and making
so lively a show of itself, the silver and lead have quietly sunk to the
bottom as fast as the heat liberated them from the mass of the boiling ore,
and now come oozing up from a small exit far below the slag-spout, into
a well at the side of the furnace. As fast as needful, this liquid ' bul-
lion ' is ladled out and poured into iron moulds, where it remains until it
cools into solid 'pigs' or bars of lead weighing about fifty pounds each,
and carrying about two per cent, of silver. These pigs, when cool,
are stamped with the smelter's name and the number of the car-load
to which they will belong. Then from each one is cut a fragment, and
these pieces — when the whole ' run ' of the furnace has been made — are
collected and re-cast and assayed to determine the value and selling-price
of the bullion."

The foregoing paragraphs, culled without indicating the omissions,
and so, perhaps reading abruptly, it must be remembered, were written
in the early summer of 1879. Yet, to a great degree, the picture out-
lined in that (now old) magazine article holds good to-day. There
are many more people here, and the coming of the Denver and Rio
Grande railway has brought the world nearer and multiplied the means
of trade. It has reduced prices, afforded ready transportation out and in,
civilized the town. Harrison avenue has become a metropolitan street,
crowded with fine business houses, where you can buy almost as many
things as in Denver, and the hills in the outskirts are crowded with
more mine-houses and riddled with more tunnels than formerly. But all
this is an advance in degree, not an addition of a new kind. The paving
of the central streets, the erection of large business buildings, the intro-
duction of public water and gas, the police, the fire-patrol, the morning
and evening papers, the telephone and what not, are all indications of

222 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

the thrift and prosperity of the people but render the city less charac-
teristic and peculiar. The Leadville of '79 in which we took a keen
interest is now a thing of the past.

After dinner, the Madame and I go up as of yore, to a cottage
we wot of that commands a pleasant view, and sit watching the night
put the shading into the picture. But I tell her it is not the picture
I used to see and enjoy. That was a great map of new, bare houses
spread out before us, seemingly without arrangement or form. The
steady drone of late planing mills and the subdued, eager rasp of steam-
saws begrudging the approach of darkness, told how grew the magic
town that was overrunning the plateau, exploring the gulches, and
swarming up the flanks of the half-cleared foot hills. It was a town
without high buildings or towers, church-spires or foliage. In the
clearness with which every detail is seen at a great distance, the houses
looked smaller than they really were. It was all rough and ragged, yet
all the more picturesque.

Slowly the long, sober twilight deepens in the valley into gloam-
ing, and sinks thence into a gloom out of which, one by one, peep the
lights. Still, outlines are not lost, and the massive figures of the foot-
hills thrust themselves hugely through the veil that night is dropping,
solid and blue and forbidding. It is a picture of perfect sweetness and
peace, — a poetic picture in which one can imagine nothing that is harsh,
or selfish, or mean. And overhead the mountains tower, rank behind
rank, peak crowding peak, the pinnacles vying in being the last to hold
the lingering rays of the sun, whose light now enkindles the heights*
until all the wide snow fields burn rosily. Then one by one the glit-
tering banks fade into the softest of ash-tints as the reluctant sun bows
itself away, and the shadows of the blackening ridges fall athwart
the arctic panorama that fills the horizon. Keeping pace, the lights
of the city increase, shining duskily through a purple haze of smoke
and mist. Clearer above this ethereal stratum of haze, gleam the jewel-
points that show where huge engines are tirelessly at work, and where
prospectors and campers have built their fires on the hill-sides, and
sit about them boiling their coffee and gossiping on the events of the day
and the prospects of the morrow. Then the Madame and I saunter
homeward — for our comfortable cars seem very homelike to us these
frosty evenings — breathing the resinous flavor of the crisply fragrant
spruce, and watching the stars spring hastily over the coruscant line
that traces the serrated crest of the snowy range.

Leadville at night is a scene of wild hilarity, and yet of remarkable
order. The omnipresent six shooters that used to outnumber the men of
a mining camp ten years ago are rarely seen here in public. If men
carry pistols, it is in their pockets; and the shoot the lights out ruffian-
ism of the old frontier days rarely shows even a symptom of revival.
You find a city of twenty thousand people or so within the limits and

224 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

up the sides of the hills that overlook the town, where hundreds of
mine-houses, spouting ceaseless jets of steam from ever-laboring engines,
and hundreds of dumps of earth and ore brought to sudden daylight
from their beds in the heart of the hill, tell the story of Leadville's pros-
perity. The rough old camp has crystallized into the city she resolved
to become.

As for these mines — what shall be said. Frjrer Hill, which was the
source of Leadville's " boom," has gone into obscurity under the newer
glory of its rivals, Carbonate and Breece hills. It is said that Fryer HiK
proved a great collection of "pockets," very rich so long as they lasted,
but liable at any time to be exhausted. The other hills, however, seem
not to have suffered the geological turmoil through which Fryer passed,
and, therefore, when a deposit of ore is struck, one may be reasonably
sure of its holding out as long as any one man or generation of men
would be likely to feel an earthly interest in its development. Men now
know pretty well, or think they do, what ones of the hundreds of "dis-
covery shafts " sunk are really worth continuing, and there is a constant
tendency to the consolidation of adjacent properties into the hands of
large companies controlling vast capital, and pushing operations with
quiet dignity. The bullion product of Leadville increases year by year,
and gives an annual output varying from $17,000,000 to $19,000,000.

The yard of the Denver and Rio Grande railway, where our cars
lay for a whole week, is a scene of never ceasing activity. This is
the terminus not only of the main line from the east and south, but
also of two branches, one down the Blue river and the other over to
the Eagle River valley. Both have to -cross the continental range,
and abound in scenery so picturesque that, in the phrase of the penny-
a-liner, "to be appreciated must be seen." That being the case, we
propose to "see" it.

XXII

ACROSS THE TENNESSEE AND FREMONT'S PASSES.

* Unto the towne of Walflngham

' The way is hard for to be gon;

* And verry crooked are those pat lies

4 For you to find out all alone.'

— PERCY'S RELIQUBS.

CCORDINGr to the virtuous intention of the last para-
graph, we went one day over to Red Cliff and the Eagle
river. The branch of the railway which runs thither,
leaves the main line at Malta, and takes in some very
pretty scenery.

From Malta the line skirts the wide hay-meadows
between the village and the Arkansas river; I saw men spreading
manure there, too, and was told they had raised oats successfully. The
whole mouth of California gulch, here, is a vast bed of clean, drifted
gravel, the result of the gold hydraulic operations above, the placers
having been worked more or less continuously for twenty years.

Rising along a tortuous path cut at a heavy grade, as usual, into the
side hills, we mount slowly into Tennessee Pass, which feeds the head of
the Eagle river on one side and one source of the Arkansas on the other.
It is a comparatively low and easy pass, covered everywhere with dense
timber, and a wagon-road has long been followed through it. There
was nothing to be seen except an occasional pile of ties, or a charcoal
oven, save that now and then a gap in the hills showed the gray rough
summits of Galena, Homestake, and the other hights that guard the Holy
Cross. At each end of the Pass is a little open glade or "park," where
settlers have placed their cabins and fenced off a few acres of level
ground whereon to cut hay, for nothing else will grow at this great
elevation.

One of the side-valleys, coming down to the track at right angles
from the southwestward — I think it is Homestake gulch — leads the
eye up through a glorious alpine avenue to where the cathedral crest
of a noble peak pierces the sky. It is a summit that would attract the eye
anywhere, — its feet hidden in verdurous hills, guarded by knightly
crags, half-buried in seething clouds, its helmet vertical, frowning,
plumed with gleaming snow, —

" Ay, every inch a king."

226 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

It is the Mount of the Holy Cross, bearing the sacred symbol in
such heroic characters as dwarf all human graving, and set on the pin-
nacle of the world as though in sign of possession forever. The Jesuits
went hand in hand with the Clievalier Dubois, proclaiming Christian gos-
pel in the northern forests; the Puritan brought his Testament to New
England, the Spanish banners of victory on the golden shores of the
Pacific were upheld by the fiery zeal of the friars of San Francisco; the
frozen Alaskan cliffs resounded to the chanting of the monks of St.
Peter and St. Paul. On every side the virgin continent was taken in the
name of Christ, and with all the eclat of religious conquest. Yet from
ages unnumbered before any of them, centuries oblivious in the mystery of
past time, the Cross had been planted here. As a prophecy during
unmeasured generations, as a sign of glorious fulfillment during nine-
teen centuries, from always and to eternity a reminder of our fealty
to Heaven, this divine seal has been set upon our proudest eminence.
What matters it whether we write " God " in the Constitution of the
United States, when here in the sight of all men is inscribed this mar-
velous testimony to his sovereignty ! Shining grandly out of the pure
ether, and above all turbulence of earthly clouds, it says: Humble thy-
self, O man! Measure thy fiery works at their true insignificance.
Uncover thy head and acknowledge thy weakness. Forget not, that as
high above thy gilded spires gleams the splendor of this ever-living
Cross, so are My thoughts above thy thoughts, and My ways above
thy ways.

Red Cliff is a bright, fresh little camp, made of sweet-smelling, new
lumber just out of the sawmill; it looks spruce in a most literal sense.
Perhaps a thousand or fifteen hundred persons live in and about there,
though you will not see a quarter of that number except on Saturday
nights and Sundays. The hotel where I stopped was made of canvas, but
they gave me a good meal, and when bed-time came took me off to
another tent-roofed shanty, which I occupied all to myself, surrounded
by feminine finery and knicknacks, from tooth-powder and hair-pins to
ruffled skirts and a sewing stand; however, the window-curtains con-
sisted of two very "loud" copies of the Police Gazette, so I locked
my door with extra care for fear the fair owners might unexpectedly
return.

The mines in the neighborhood of Red Cliff— if you saw the
toppling piles of rust-stained quartzite which hung over the gulch,
you would not need to ask why the name was given — are of varied
character, and of wide reputation.

Discovered only in 1878, it was at once seen that here in Battle
mountain were enormous deposits of carbonate of lead carrying silver,
which was so free from any refractory elements, like zinc or antimony,
and so abundant in lead, that they were unexcelled in the world for
the purposes of smelting. It has always been a drawback in the Lead-

228 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

ville ores that they contained lead in too small a proportion to the silver,
copper and other constituents, to make straight smelting feasible ; that is
it is necessary to mix into each charge an addition of "flux," — chiefly
lead, in order properly to perform the operation of smelting. This
Red Cliff ore, however, is so rich in lead, frequently running sixty,
seventy or eighty per cent., that no accessory is needful, and it " smelts
itself," as they say. In consequence, the carbonates of this district are in
great demand at Leadville, and really bring more than their intrinsic
value, since the smelters are anxious to get them to mix with the more
refractory home product, and so get enough lead in the charge to secure
the silver of both kinds of ore. Most of the ores from this camp, there-
fore, are shipped to Leadville ; and not only that, but a large quantity of
the bullion made here is sold there also and re-melted in order to furnish
the necessary lead.

Here, as well as further down the river, some streaks of gold-quartz
are found, and a stamp mill is about to be erected. Fissure veins of sil-
ver ore are also known and worked somewhat, and much is expected of
this branch of production in future. But thus far the chief reliance
of the district is placed upon the carbonate ores of silver. You will
find all the hills and granite ledges and quartzite overflows about here
punched full of prospect-pits; but it is only on the southern slope of Bat-
tle mountain that mines worth mention have been developed as yet.
"The whole interior of Battle mountain," one who knew said to me,
"seems to be one bed of carbonate of lead and silver." Then he took
me into the sheds of his smelter and showed me bin after bin full of
brick red, and rust brown and dark and bright yellow earth, which lay
in crumbling pieces like dried mud, or had fallen into mere sand, and
told me that that was the general style of the ore. I lifted a handful and
it was as heavy as shot: no doubt about that being lead. This stuff
is almost too easy to mine; it is like digging into a sand bank, and every
foot of the way must be carefully protected by a timber tunnel to
prevent its caving in. A mau can pull down three or four tons a day, to
ship, and it is only requisite to wheel it to the brow of the steep hill-side
at the mouth of the mine, and hurl it down a shute a thousand feet or so
to the railway track in the canon.

This canon of the Eagle, through which the railway runs, offers
one of the keenest pleasures in Colorado to the lover of scenery, and one
of the points of pilgrimage to the disciple of trout-fishing. The limpid
green waters of the pretty river, fed, just here, by Turkey creek bring-
ing the melted snows of the main range, and by the Homestake coming
from the foot of the Holy Cross, dash with laughter and gurgle through
a narrow defile of gayly colored rocks and thence pour out to rest awhile
in the parks before its struggle with Elbow Canon down below. From
here to the mouth of the river, it is between fifty and sixty miles accord-
ing to the line of the railway, which will, some day, closely follow its

ROARING PORK REGION. 229

banks down the Grand to Grand Junction. The elevation is uniformly
so great, even after you get fairly out of the mountains, that agriculture
is hopeless, excepting the cultivation of some of the hardiest vegetables,
like turnips, and perhaps risky crops of oats and barley.

At the mouth of the Roaring Fork of the Grand (which is just
below where the Eagle debouches), some remarkable mineral springs
bubble out of the ground. These have long been held in high esteem by
the Indians and hunters, and now a little settlement has grown up
around them called Glenwpod. A hotel, bath houses and other facilities
for a pleasant and healthful time have been erected, and the place is
likely to prove a favorite summer resort. Many men are living and
digging upon the headwaters of Brush creek, Gypsum creek, and other
tributaries. Just below, where the Eagle river discharges itself, the
Grand receives the Roaring Fork and various other pretty large tribu-
taries, so that it becomes a noble stream by the time the great Gunnison
reinforces it, and it mingles its waters with the Green river, which
has come all the way from the National Yellowstone Park, to make the
mighty Rio Colorado.

Hither will come the painters, who need not go to Switzerland for
snowy bergs, nor to Scotland for lochs, nor to Norway for splendid forests
of pine and spruce. No mountains I know of abound in more that is
picturesque; but it is always some phase of the grand rather than the
pretty. The scenery is wild and savage and primeval, being the stock
of which beautiful landscapes are made, rather than the culture that
gentler airs and more temperate winds bring upon the face of the earth
nearer the sea and the equator. The naturalist also may come here with
profit. The fauna and flora are boreal and western. The geologist and
mineralogist and meteorologist will find much here to interest them, and
clear up doubtful points.

This splendid, hilly, well-timbered, well pastured, well-watered
western edge of the state, is the grandest hunting-ground in the
United States, and it will be long before the bears and mountain lions
and wild cats; the wolves and foxes; the mountain-sheep, the elk, the
two deers and the antelope, are driven from its shady courts and dis-
appear from the wide and sunny ranges. Long let us say, in fond hope,
if not in serious expectation, that never shall the dread word exterminated
be written after the name of any of the wild animals whose utility as
game or for beauty of form makes them of interest to us.

Another excursion from Leadville was out on the stub of a line to be
extended down the Blue river toward Middle Park.

To reach the valley of Blue river "the range'' must, of course,
be crossed. The line from Leadville follows up the Arkansas and
reveals to us how small are the beginnings of great things in the way of
watercourses; how a miserable, shallow, wiggling little runlet, which
you can dam with a couple of shovels of mud and stand astride of

230 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT. ,

like another Colossus of Rhodes, may push its way along, undermining
what it cannot overthrow; sliding around the obstacle that deemed itself
impassable; losing itself in willowy bogs, tumbling headlong over
the error of a precipice or getting heedlessly entrapped in a confined
canon ; escaping down a gorge with indescribable turmoil, and always

CRESTED BUTTE MOUNTAIN AND LAKE.

growing bigger, bigger, broader and stronger, deeper and more dig-
nitied; till it can leave the mountains and strike boldly across a thou-
sand miles of untracked plain to "fling its proud heart into the sea."
Hark! what does it prattle up here where we can leap its ripplings, and
the red willows tangle their blossoms and shade it from side to side? —

" Clear and cool, clear and cool.

By laughing shallow and dreaming pool,
Cool and clear, cool and clear,

By shining shingle and foaming weir."

Listen again below, where it rushes triumphant from the ada-
mantine gates that sought to imprison it: —

" Strong and free, strong and free,

The flood gates are open away to the sea;
Free and strong, free and strong,

Claiming my streams as I hurry along,
To the golden sands and the leaping bar
And the taintless tide that awaits me afar."

TWO MILES ABOVE THE SEA. 231

Almost in the very springs of the river, where an amphitheatre
of gray quartzite peaks stand like stiffened silver-gray curtains between
the Atlantic and the Pacific, we curl round a perfect shepherd's crook of
a curve, and then climb its straight staff to the summit of Fremont's, —
the highest railway pass in the world. The pathway is so hidden in
great woods, and the grim giants of the Mosquito range are still so inac-
cessibly far above you, even when you have reached the sterile oberland,
above the trees, that you hardly realize the fact that you are 11,540 feet
— considerably over two vertical miles — above the sea.

Once more on the Pacific slope, with the crossing of this range, we
see the first trickling of Ten Mile creek, and enter the edge of one of the
famous mining districts of the state, catching a sidelong glimpse of the
Holy Cross as we descend.

" Although its now well known silver mines," says a recent histori-
cal account, "are of recent date, the district is not a new one, having
been run over by gold hunters in the ' flush times ' of California gulch,
Buckskin Joe and other famous gold-camps of early days. Gold was
found in the bed of Ten-Mile creek, and in the connecting gulches, „ .
among them McNulty's gulch, said to have yielded more gold in propor-
tion to its size than any other workings in the state, and many fine nug-
gets of unusual size were taken from it. ... The discovery in 1878,
of the famous Robinson group of mines, followed, by the White Quail
and Wheel of Fortune discoveries, attracted large numbers of prospectors
to the new camp, and in spite of the ten feet of snow that covered the
ground during the winter of 1878-'79 locations were made, and shafts
and tunnels begun in every direction. During the winter the town of
Carbonateville was settled, and for a time promised to become a
thriving camp. On the 8th of February, the town of Kokomo, which,
with its younger rival, Robinson, is now a prosperous and growing
mining camp, with two smelters in operation, was located. In the
spring of 1880 Robinson's camp began to build up rapidly, under the
support of the great Robinson mines, and the fostering care of the late
Lieutenant Governor Robinson, and soon became a formidable rival to
Kokomo. The many discoveries made during the spring and sum-
mer of 1880, brought the district into a prominence second only to
that of Leadville, and a large amount of capital was invested in the
development of its many promising mines and prospects. Two smelters
were erected at Kokomo, and one near the old town of Carbonateville,
while extensive works, consisting of furnaces, roasters, etc., were put up
at Robinson to work the ores of the Robinson mine. A railroad to con-
nect the district with Leadville on the south and Georgetown on the east,
was projected, and partially graded during the summer, but was finally
absorbed by the enterprising managers of the Denver and Rio Grande
Company, who, with a watchful eye for the future, began the construc-
tion, under the name of Blue River extension of the Denver and Rio

232 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

Grande, of a road, which in spite of the
many and great difficulties encount-
ered, was completed to Robinson
on the 1st of January, 1881.
Much of the grading and most
of the track-laying were done
under a heavy fall of snow,
the range being crossed in
midwinter, affording a striking
instance of the energy and con-
tempt of obstacles characteristic
of Western railroad builders."

The Robinson mines alluded to,
now abandoned so far as productive
work is concerned, and generally con-
sidered a failure, were called the best mining
property in the state only a year ago. They were
discovered in 1878, the ore proving to be chiefly
galena and iron, with large pockets of rich oxi-
RUBY FALLS dized ore, — the " mud carbonates " so called. A

year later this mine passed into the possession of
a stock company, headed by the late Lieut. Governor George B. Robin-
son, with a capital of $10,000,000. Extensive and thoroughly con-
structed tunnels, etc., were begun, which were soon interrupted by
litigations out of which grew a small war. In the course of this Gov-
ernor Robinson was accidentally shot by a guard, in November of 1880.
These troubles settled, ore began to be produced in large quantities
until the winter of 1882, when work suddenly ceased, the stock of the
company fell to nothing, and the report was given out that the mine
was a failure.

Moving on down the pleasant valley, whose level bottom is carbon-
ate tinted, not with ore dust, but with an almost continuous thicket
of stunted red willows, we pass the Chalk Mountain mines, the Car-
bonate Hill district, Clinton gulch, where gold ore is alleged to be
worth more attention than it is receiving, and so come to Elk mountain
and Kokomo, a locality which has had a wonderful history. In the fall
of 1880 she had only the " White Quail " mine as a steady producer. A
little later the "Aftermath" group came to the front. Now probably
not less than fifteen distinct mining claims on Elk mountain are making
a steady output of ore. This ore is a hard carbonate, running about
twenty-five ounces in silver and twenty-five per cent, in lead, besides a
third of an ounce in gold, which is carefully separated at the smelter.
Much of it is so admirably constituted that it " smelts itself,"— that
is, it requires little or no addition of lead, iron and other accessories
to its proper fluxion.

"AT HOME" IN PONCHO SPRINGS. 233

We were told of alluring pictures of mountains and canons below
Kokomo; of timber-belts and pleasant uplands; of green meadows and
sparkling streams beloved of trout and bass, and the drinking places
of deer in the twilight. But our plan would not permit us to go on
to Dillon, the present terminus, much less beyond it. Instead, we must
turn back, make a swift run down the Arkansas, and begin our explora-
tion of the great overland route to Utah and the Pacific coast.

I will not detain you with the account of our downward trip, but
ask you to suppose us, a few hours after our visit at Robinson and
Kokomo, snugly "at home" in the station in Poncho Springs, half
a dozen miles west of Salida.

10*

XXIII
FROM PONCHO SPRINGS TO VILLA GROVE.

Strength to the weary,

Warmth to the cold,
Blood to the wasted,

Youth to the old:
Ah, and the rapture
Thousand-fold dearer.

Ne'er to be told:
Learn ye the secret, —

Taste ye the sweetness.

HE visitor to Poncho Springs is pretty sure to get into
hot water, and, strange to say, the visitor is pretty sure
to like it. There are several reasons for this peculiarity,
and among the most important is this, that like the
wind to the shorn lamb, the water is tempered. It
needs to be tempered, indeed, for when one literally
gets into hot water, one does not like to have its warmth so emphatic as
to make a veal stew of the first leg that is thrust into it. Hot springs
whose temperature makes any well regulated thermometer's blood boil
and sends the mercury up to 180° in the shade certainly needs temper-
ing. When properly moderated, however, one cannot fail to enjoy a
bath in the soda impregnated waters of the Poncho springs.

The village, to which the springs have given their name, is snugly
tucked away in a niche in the Arkansas valley, at the mouth of Poncho
pass. The waters of the south fork of the Arkansas river, clear as
crystal, and flowing with a foam-flecked current, race rapidly past the
town. Along the river's course the cottonwoods crowd, and to their
branches, beginning to grow bare, still cling a few trembling yellow
leaves. Beyond the river and to the south and west rise the hills, their
sides and summits covered with dark phalanxes of pines. Turning
one's back upon the town and looking toward the north and west, one
sees the snow-crowned summit of the Collegiate range, with all the
differences between Princeton and Harvard and Yale entirely eliminated
by that distance which ever adds enchantment to the view. Closer at
hand, and towering grandly into the sky, a tremendous watch-tower in
the west, stands Shavano, while lesser peaks and nameless pinnacles
cluster and crowd around. Great plains, broken by buttes, stretch
away to the northward, but mountains and foothills circle round to the
east and south and west.

834

236 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

In this sheltered nook lies the picturesque village of Poncho
Springs, and hither do the invalids and tourists flock during the warm
half of the year to drink the medicinal waters and to bathe in the healing
springs. I strolled through the main street of the town, along which
are built substantial frame shops and hotels, and observed evidences of
stability upon every side. Poncho Springs is not the result of a tempo-
rary craze, nor is it a railway terminus town to be torn down and
shipped forward as the road advances. There is a good agricultural
country around the village, and the Springs will be a source of perma-
nent prosperity. One of the most picturesque features of this pictu-
resque town is a residence which my traveling companions called "a
symphony in logs." The house is to the right of the main street and is
built of hewn logs, and with gables filled in with ornamental work, with
painted roof and fanciful porticos, presents a peculiarly pleasing
appearance.

Passing on through the town toward the hills and crossing the
river, one discovers a sign board, upon which it is announced that the
distance to the hot springe is three-quarters of a mile. Putting confi-
dence in this announcement, the visitor cheerfully advances along a
good wagon road, which soon begins to twine and twist among the hills,
at times making a grade of thirty degrees. Finally, just as one begins
to lose faith in the guide board, the trail, with an abrupt turn to the
right, descends into a gulch, and rises steeply on the other side. Clam-
bering up this steep, the visitor sees to the left the hotel buildings, which
announce the presence of the springs, while to the right are pitched a
number of tents, late sleeping rooms for an army of summer visitors
which, vanquished by cold breezes, has broken camp and fled.

After a bath in the conventional zinc contrivance, to which was
admitted hot and cold water through most unpoetic and sternly prac-
tical faucets, all of which suggested "modern improvements" rather
than a wonderful natural phenomenon, I went out in search of the hot
springs, quite as much to re-establish a somewhat shaken faith in their
existence as for any other purpose. My doubts soon dissolved, for back
of the hotel and halfway up the grade of a steep hill, I came upon a
little rivulet of soda water still steaming with the heat of its parent
spring. A little further on I saw a white tumulus of volcanic formation,
and scattered over its summit oval openings in which boiled and
bubbled water fresh from Pluto's kitchen. In some of these springs the
water was scalding hot, while in others it was merely lukewarm.
Springs showing such radical differences of temperature were frequently
not more than two feet apart. There are over fifty of these springs here,
and no two of them precisely alike.

The Springs have lately passed from their former ownership into
the hands of new men, who are very enterprising. Larger buildings
have been erected, and the camp-like freedom of the place has been

CONCERNING THE COOK. 237

exchanged for something more nearly approaching ordinary hotel life.
There is room for about 150 guests, and every requirement for the com-
fort of invalids. The advertisements issued by the proprietors dwell
largely upon the similarity of these waters to those of the Arkansas Hot
Springs, and recommend them as equally curative in the special ail-
ments that have long made the Arkansas waters famous.

A few miles northward of Poncho Springs there is a cluster of
mining villages, of which the chief are Maysville and Monarch. They
lie well under the shadow of the mountains, and silver ore is produced
steadily in considerable quantity. These towns communicate with the
outside world by a branch line of railway which diverges at this point.

In the quiet of the evening, at this charming retreat — for we had
few pleasanter halting places — the Madame bethought herself (seeing
the rest of us pen and pencil in hand) that she owed a letter to her
Eastern confidante, and also remembered that she had promised her an
account of our youthful chef, with whom by this time we all felt toler-
ably well acquainted. Happy accident brought this letter under my
eye and I seized the opportunity to copy it, so here it is, or at least so
much of it as relates to the boy
"My DEAR MRS. Me ANGLE:

"I must tell you about our cook; or, as my husband would, no
doubt correct me, OUT porter. How our first boy fought and bled and
died I wrote you before, and that the last I saw of him he was being
bundled rheumatically aboard the homeward train. Well, after I had
finished that visit at Pueblo San Juan with old Santiago's wife, whom I
described to you, I went home — that is, you know, back to our train —
just at evening. As I opened the door a bright-faced boy rose to meet
me, with a pair of the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen, — just the
kind of orbs young ladies waste oceans of sentiment upon, you know, in
boarding-school days. He was, so he told me, a mixture of Kentuckian
and Canadian Indian blood. His grandmother, the only one of his
family to whom he seemed to feel any allegiance, had set him up in
business as a liquor seller. 'But,' he said, ' the business was too rough
for me, so I gave it up to a friend and came out West.'

" He proved the direct opposite of his predecessor. While Edward
could cook, Burt could not ; and while Edward had an abhorrence of
water, Burt was never so happy as when his pots, pans and kettles were
all before him and he was busy scouring. The only difficulty was, that
he could not keep clean, but was for ever 'clarin' up,' during which
process it required considerable ingenuity to make one's way through
the ddbris of the kitchen furniture.

" It was not long before the inside of his car was covered with tin-
ware of all descriptions, pails, smoothing irons, pokers, tools, — every-
tnmg that could by any possibility be hung up. He had a passion for

238 THE GRE8T OF THE CONTINENT.

driving nails, the larger the more fun apparently, for his nails mostly
went clear through the car-walls, which soon came to bristle like a
newly furnished pin-cushion.

"With an eye to our future interests in all possible contingencies,
Burt laid hold of anything along the road that he thought might be of
use to us, entirely ignoring any proprietary rights which others might
think they had in the object 'smoudged,' as he expressed it. In this way
we gradually became possessed of an endless quantity of odds and ends,
which it required a decided exercise of authority to get rid of.

" In traveling, he was nearly always to be seen on the top of the car,
for he had an appreciative eye for scenery, — so much so, indeed, as
sometimes to interfere with his duties. His great fault was procrastina-
tion

"When we reached Durango he became very greatly depressed, and
on my inquiring the reason for his melancholy, he attributes it to the
dullness of the place; 'for, ma'am, there is no excitement, — no one has
been killed for two weeks Not at all what I was led to expect.' On
reaching Leadville, he became much more cheerful, as he had only been
in the city six hours before seeing two fights and half of another

" His gait was something peculiar. It can best be described by the
ditty we used to sing, my dear, which commemorates so touchingly the
character and adventures of Susanna in her excursions abroad, —

'When she walks she lifts her foot,
And then she puts it down again.'

"Long, lank, dark-skinned, dressed in flapping coat and immensely
broad and excessively slouched sombrero until my husband bought him
a cap), with his loping walk and swinging elbows, he was easily recog-
nized at a long distance ; and as he would come sailing down upon us
from afar, with arms full of bundles, he reminded one a little of some
huge bird of prey.

"He had a wholesome fear of rattlesnakes and grizzly bears which
the wicked men of the fort maliciously represented to him, abounded in
terrible numbers, and of the most ferocious kind wherever we went.
'No, ma'am,' he said, in his slow, stately way, when I cautioned him
one day about trying to shoot a bear if he happened to meet one, as
they were hard to kill and especially dangerous if wounded, ' No,
ma'am ; if I meet a bear you just bet I don't stay to take his portrait,
but shin up the first tree I come lo.'

"He was continually developing new accomplishments. We
learned, after a few weeks, that we had not 'prospected' him thor-
oughly at the beginning. He proved to have had more experience than
his youthful looks and aimlessness of motive lead us to expect. We had
little occasion to call into use whatever knowledge he had acquired as a
bar-keeper, because the education of the gentlemen of the party had not
been neglected in that direction, — wholly in an amateur way, and they

VILLA GROVE AND BONANZA. 239

were accustomed, while ' concocting elaborately commingled potations,'
(as they grandiloquently termed mixed drinks) to say to one another:
' If you would have anything well done do it yourself.'

"One day, however, great delight was caused by the discovery that
Burt was a barber. His services were at once required, and when, al
the end of long labors, he was munificently offered two nickels, he
declined them. This noble independence aroused ' Chum's ' admiration.
He said that he was glad to see that the boy was free from the merce-
nary spirit so painful to witness in the young.

"Our porter seemed to consider the whole expedition a huge joke,
and ourselves a show arranged for his especial benefit. If — as it fre-
quently happened, for a more thoroughly heedless and forgetful youth
never existed — we were obliged to expostulate with him on some neglect
of duty, a seriousness of countenance would remain with him for some
time, but the first joke that came to his ears dispelled it. Sullen, he
never was, or ill natured; and if any real emergency occurred, more
willing and unselfish help could not have been tendered by a firm friend
than was tendered by this servant. I repent me, indeed, Mrs. McAngle,
of having made fun of him, even in the privacy of a letter to you. The
odor of the steaks that he cooked still lingers in my grateful nostrils; I
remember that without him, material for many jokes would have been
wanting, and I look on his fast vanishing, but always picturesque figure,
with regret."

Standing here at the very foot of the mountains that hid the
enchanting netherland of "the Gunnison," we were eager to hurry on to
the Pacific slope of the State; but one litt*3 side trip remained to be
made, and on the second morning we coupled our cars to the express
bound for Villa Grove and Bonanza. The course lay up Poncho Pass,
and in five minutes the noisy locomotives announced that the ascent had
begun.

It was very pretty, as, indeed, we had suspected during our walk
the day before up to the hot springs, which stand near its entrance. The
track is dug out of the side-hill on the northern side of the gulch, and a
bright stream comes tumbling down through willows, cottonwoods, oak
shrubs, wild cherry thickets and bushes of service-berry whose crimson
fruit tempts you to leap off the train and taste its tart and fragrant
juices. The slopes on both sides are covered with evergreens and
aspens

*' That twinkle to the gusty breeze."

Up through a rift in the trees we catch a glimpse of the little watering-
place, and a few miles farther, pass the log-buildings of the old Toll
Gate, occupying a pocket in the hills. Only now are the gray carpeted
plains of the Arkansas, the village at the mouth of the canon, and the
rough high hills, away beyond the river lost to view. At the head of

240 THE CHEST OF THE CONTINENT.

Poncho Pass is Mears' Station. It occupies a narrow defile, the walls
rising steeply to unseen heights, and the gorges dropping apparently to
unfathomable depths. We could not trace the devious course we had
come, nor understand how it was possible the railway should surmount
the stupendous barrier lying to the westward. Yet we knew that a day
or two later our cars would roll steadily to the summit and steadily
descend on the other side, for this little nook, the head of Poncho, is
only the foot of Marshall Pass, by which the oceanic divide is crossed
on the transcontinental route. Nor was it easier to see how we were to
get away down the precipitous defiles in which the southern slope of
Poncho Pass seemed to lose itself. It was with strongly excited curi-
osity, then, that we detached from the express and caused our cars to
be coupled to the freight train, which the bulletin averred knew how to
go down to Villa Grove, and would one day carry the traveller through
to Saguache and the South.

When all was ready to make good this promise, — and if that miser-
ably memorable engineer had thrust his shock of hair and bullet-head a
trifle further out of the cab-window the company might have dispensed
with the headlight— took the back track for a few rods, trended away on
a curved side-track to the right as far as the hillside would admit,
crossed the main line on a bridge, and having by this time accomplished
a half circle, headed eastward again and began to climb the southern
side of the gulch in a line so parallel with the lower track that a mile
later you could fling down a stone from one to the other though you
were a couple of hundred feet above. Half a mile more and the summit
is reached, — a green saddle between the foothills of Mount Ouray on
one side and the far-bracec. buttresses of Hunt's peak on the other. The
going down is fairly straight and easy work, and it is not long before
the gulches widen out, the diminished, grassy hills are left behind, and
your speed increases as you strike the firmly bedded, regular track,
pointing southward through a broad, treeless plain.

Perhaps I have said enough of the wonderful beauty of the Sangre
de Cristo range, seen from this side; have too often told of their compact
array and unbroken grandeur; of the scores of nameless peaks that
vie with Hunt's, Rito Alto, Electric, the gothic Crestones and the group
of pinnacled, sun-gilded summits that crowd near far-away Blanca; but
in the broad morning light of this clay's trip they stood up in freshened
color and renewed majesty. All the cloud-curtains were rolled up, aud
heaven shed unhindered its clear, sharp sunbeams from end to end of the
magnificent chain. The souvenirs of yesterday's storm added decora-
tion, for the summits were all dusted and powdered, with light snow,
like noble heads of the old regime; and this unwonted covering
descended far enough below timber-line to frost the upper lines of trees,
so that there was a soft gradation from the deep verdancy of the lower
slopes, through hoary greenish-gray to the unbroken white of the clear-

BLACK CAffoN OF THE GUNNISON.

242 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

cut gables lifted into the serene and absolute solitude of the caerulean
dome.

Down between the sharp edged spurs come numerous streams, water-
ing little spaces where ranchmen had placed their cabins and fenced in
their fields. Large areas now given up to the badgers and sage-brush,
can be brought under irrigation, when the more favorable lower parts of
the valley have been utilized. A broad road runs down here, — the old
wagon road from Leadville and the Arkansas valley to Saguache, Del
Norte, the San Juan region and New Mexico.

The same words apply to the more broken western side of the
valley, here called Roman's Park, though it is only the upper end of the
San Luis valley ; and, in addition, those western hills are full of pros-
pectors, and of places where prospecting for silver and gold has met
with success. This is the celebrated Kerber Creek district, and Bo-
nanza, Exchequer, Sedgwick and other little centers of human interest,
lie back of those rugged, green hills over which the angular heads of
Exchequer and Ouray mountains stand in high-chieftainship.

Of all these, Bonanza is the largest. The ores, however, are char-
acterized by being of a low grade, but great volume, and by containing
refractory elements, with a small percentage of lead, so that the large
smelter at Bonanza has been compelled to cease running until it could
provide itself with a more adequate outfit of fluxes, etc.

Villa Grove — a pleasant little village on San Luis creek, which
drains the upper part of the park — is the railway point for all these
mines and several other settlements not yet mentioned. Looking south-
east from the station you can see where the track runs up into the foot-
hills of the Sangre de Cristo to one of the great iron mines of the
Colorado Coal and Iron company, whence large shipments are being
made daily. Though of great importance and value, the seeing of this
mine amounts to little, since it is hardly more than an open quarry.

From Villa Grove stages leave daily for Bonanza, Saguache and half
a dozen other places, such as Crestone and Oriental, — little mining
camps in the foothills. The roads are so smooth and level everywhere
that; the great six-horse Concords are unnecessary and spring wagons
are used.

XXIV
THEOUGH MARSHALL PASS.

Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
When a new planet swims into his ken;

Or like stout Cortes, when with eagle eyes
He stared at the Pacific— and all his men

Looked at each other with a wild surmise-
Silent upon a peak in Darien.

-KEATS.

NE of the wonders of Colorado progress is the Gunnison
valley. The " Gunnison," as it is usually termed,
embraces a wide area, being, in popular parlance,
everything in Colorado west of the Continental Divide,
north of the San Juan mountains and south of the
Eagle River district. In fact, this is correct enough,
for nearly all this great region is tributary in its drainage to the Gun-
nison river,— the third great stream which unites with the Grand and
the Green to form the Rio Colorado. The water-shed between it and
the Rio San Juan, the only other feeder of the Rio Colorado worthy of
mention, is the very high and wintry ridge of the San Juan mountains,
crossing which you find yourself in Baker's Park and the region we
had just come from. Betwixt the head of its northern branches and the
springs that feed the Grand River basin, stand the Elk mountains and
the high table lauds of the Grand Mesa. From the one water-shed to the
other it is about fifty miles.

Ten years ago this region had hardly a wanderer in it from one
season's end to the other, and was full of Ute Indians. There were two
or three agencies, and roads leading thereto, but it was all a reservation.
Everything civilized that entered the district came up from Saguache
through Cochetopa Pass and along Cochetopa creek into the Uncom-
pahgre valley, where the Utes spent their winters. There was also a
trail, occasionally traveled by sportsmen and explorers, leading south-
ward from the Los Pinos agency to the headwaters of the Rio Grande
and on over Cunningham Pass into Baker's Park. I marched over it in
1874, and a cruel march it was, though full of picturesque interest. An
Indian trail northward to White river was about the only other internal
pathway. The region, therefore, was a terra incognita to Coloradoans,
as well as to the rest of the civilized world.

But this mystery was soou to be cleared away. The search for gold

243

244 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

and silver, which has led to more exploration of unknown regions than
all the geographical societies of the world put together, did not hesitate
to encounter the darkness that overspread the Pacific slope of the State,
and to go prospecting thither as soon as ever a hope of finding "min-
eral " entered into the miner's heart. Close following upon the rush to
Leadville, was repeated the history of the Pike's Peak sequel. Now, as
then, men disappointed in not finding mines of fabulous wealth, during
the first week of their stay, or shrewdly thinking to anticipate the
crowd, began to walk further and further afield in search of new argen-
tiferous rocks, so that by the summer of 1879 we began to hear not only
of Ten Mile and Red Cliff, but of the Gunnison, as a district where
success had met the prospector. That was only a little over four years
ago. Now how well are we acquainted with this erst mysterious and
Indian-haunted valley! Four years ago a mule was the best mode of
conveyance hither, and an Indian trail almost the only pathway. Yes-
terday 1 rode into the heart of it in a parlor car, and found, ready for
my perusal, the morning newspaper, with a day's history of all the
world, from Chicago to Cathay.

The Gunnison country boasts several towns of considerable size,
some of them the center of a circle of mines which radiates from them,
and from which they absorb cash and conviviality. First in size is
Gunnison City; and after it in importance are Crested Butte, Lake City,
Ouray, Montrose, Delta and Grand Junction, — the last three being situ-
ated in the old Ute reservation in western Gunnison. Of less size, but
yet centers of population, are a large number of small mining towns or
"camps," such as Ruby, Crooksville, White Pine, Pitkin, Irwin, Bar-
num and Ohio. Each of these would require some attention from a
faithful chronicler of the county, for they are all in Gunnison, where
the territory is large enough to enable oce to set in it the whole State of
Massachusetts without crowding — that is if you lopped off Cape Cod or
curled it up into Marshall Pass.

It is by the way of Marshall Pass that the railway enters the Gun-
nison. Leaving the main line and the Arkansas valley at Salida, only
five miles are traversed before the train begins to enter Poncho Pass
and climb the mountains, which it requires four hours, express speed,
to cross, — four hours of uninterrupted pleasure.

Of Poncho's prettiness I have already spoken. Its summit is found
at Mears' Station, and then begins the real ascent of the Continental
Divide. In a few moments the circling rim of the pit-like valley is sur-
mounted, and Hunt's peak, by its cap of snow signifying its superiority
to the giants of the Sangre de Cristo about it, rises like a planet over
the hills we are leaving behind. We seat ourselves on the rear platform
aad watch it until the whole range, of which it is the northernmost
officer, stands drawn up in purple line before us, and we can trace the

ASCENDING THE CONTINENTAL DIVIDE. 245

summits, pressed back into straight line, for perhaps sixty miles to the
southward —

" Sierras long,

In archipelagoes of mountain sky."

What can that goodly rank, each peak sharp and pyramidal just along
side of the other, every curve of the foothills parallel with the one
before, sweeping down into the trough-like park at their hither base, —
what can all this uniformity be but the splendid chain of the Sangre de
Cristo? Have we not seen it time and time again, beheld it from east
and west and south, and now here from the north; and has it ever been
out of line, or anything but a soldierly array of uniform heights bearing
the same relation to the ill-assorted army of the rest of the Rockies, that
the famous grenadiers of Frederick the Great did to his peasant con-
scripts?

This sight explains to us also, that the great width of lofty hills we
are picking our way through now is the junction mass of two ranges. It
is here that the Sangre de Cristo starts off on its own line to the south-
eastward, while the main chain, forming the backbone of the continent,
trends somewhat westward and continues to do so more and more till it
loses itself in the jumble of San Juan, San Miguel, Uncompahgre, Bear
and other ranges that fill the southwestern corner of the State. The
summits north and southwest of us divide the Atlantic from the Pacific ;
but that magnificent corps that will not be left behind, but seems to
march steadily after us, in battle array, separates only the Arkansas
from the Rio Grande. The glimpses of valley we get now and then just
this side its base are of Roman's Park, which is only the upper end of
the wide San Luis, and places can be seen that we could not reach by
long traveling.

Marshall Pass itself, which we enter imperceptibly out of Poncho,
is a depression in the main range and lies between Ouray and Exchequer
mountains. It was a daring scheme to run the road over here — for
through wouldn't express it properly. The summit is almost eleven
thousand feet above the sea, and timber-line is so close that you can
think sometimes you are actually there. The trees are stunted and all
stand bent at an angle, showing the direction of the fierce and prevalent
winds that have pressed upon them since their seedling days. The
cones they bear start bravely, but after perfecting three or four broad
circles of scales and seeds the nipping frosts of August and September
admonish them to make haste; so the remainder of the cone is put forth
so hastily, in Nature's attempt to complete her work, that the whole
remaining length of fifteen or twenty circlets will not exceed the length
of the first two or three full grown scales, and the cone ends ridiculously
in a little useless acuminate tip.

To attain this height, the road has to twist and wriggle in the most
confusing way, going three or four miles, sometimes, to make fifty rods:

246 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

but all the time it gains ground upward, over some startling bridges,
along the crest of huge fillings, through miniature canons blasted out of
rock or shoveled through gravel, and always up slopes whose steepness
it needs no practiced eye to appreciate. To say that the road crosses a
pass in the Rocky mountains 10,820 feet in height is enough to astonish
the conservative engineers who have never seen this audacious line; but
you can magnify their amazement when you tell them that some of the
grades are 220 feet to the mile.

The mountains and hills in the neighborhood of Marshall Pass are
clothed for the most part with grass, or else sage-brush and weeds, and
with timber, scant in some places, dense in others. The tourist will not
see there the startling cliffs and chasms that break up the mountains on
the road to Durango, but, on the other hand, he will not feel any terror
at dizzy precipices, nor tremble lest some toppling pinnacle should fall
upon his fragile car. No better exhibition of the greatness and breadth
of these mountains could be found, however, than here. There stretches
away beneath and around you an endless series of hills, some rounded
and entirely over-grown with dark woods, others rising into a comb-like
crest, or rearing a dome-shaped head above the possibilities of timber-
growth and covered with a smooth cap of yellowish verdure. They
crowd one another on every side, and brace themselves, each by each,
as though their broad and solid foundations were not enough for safety.
They stand cheek by jowl in sturdy companionship, taking rain and
sunny, weather, hurtling storms and serene days with impartial equality.
Your vision will not find the limit of these huge hills until it is cut off
by the serrated horizon of the crest of the Sangre de Cristo, or by some
frowning monarch near at hand, holding his head high and venerably
gray, as becomes a chieftain, where he can get the first messages of the
gods and be looked up to by a thousand of his more humble kin.

"It is like a huge green sea," murmurs the Madame, hitherto silent
with gazing. "I know a great many people have made the same com-
parison before — have often said that these commingled ranges were as a
sea, tossing its white crests here and there and all at once congealed ;
but that is the very impression which fixes itself upon you. These
rounded, or sharp-edged, tumultuous mountains are like a wide, green
ocean." The great cone on the northern side of the track, close to
which the roadway skirts nearly the whole distance through the pass, is
Ouray peak. Ouray, as nearly everybody must know, was the head
chief of the Utes. This tribe only very lately abandoned all this portion
of Colorado, leaving last that reservation which lies beyond Gunnison
City, and which we are soon to visit. The peak we have hugged so
closely does honor to the dead chief. The farther you get around it the
more nobly do its proportions rise into the blue ether. Like Veta
mountain, which it closely resembles, this peak is of white volcanic
rock that has decomposed into small blocks. The sides then are loose

248 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

"slides," as steep as the fragmentary stuff will lie, and the top is a
narrow summit with smooth, rounded outlines. We are only a few
hundred feet from the topmost timber, yet the bald white summit rears
its head to almost unmeasured heights above, and claims our admira-
tion by its simple majesty, far more than does the broken, cliff fur-
nished upthrust of Exchequer peak opposite, though its black head is
held quite as high. Perhaps this is only because we have become
somewhat tired of the closely-shutting high mountains; weary of being

" under ebon shades and low-browed rocks,"

as Milton puts it. Certes, it is good once more to be able to look
abroad !

On our way to the summit we had crawled through long snow-
sheds, built to protect the road from the snows of winter, and which are
hung late in spring with brilliant icicles formed by the sun without and
the cold within. Passing through the last shed, which has a length of
fully half a mile, we reached the highest point of the divide, and while
the extra engine which had helped pull us up the steep grades went
cautiously down the valley toward Gunnison before us, we climbed the
rocks about the little station house, to enjoy at its best the magnificent
view presented. To the northeast, white with snow, towered the serrated
range of the Sangre de Cristo mountains, rising abruptly from the
valley which stretched away to the southeast and standing out in bold
relief against the deep blue sky. Between the range and us were lower
hills and isolated peaks tumbled into a confused mass, and only pre-
vented from pressing too closely together by the little valleys that ran
between them. Immediately around us grew stunted pines, bent, barren,
blackened and lifeless. Down the mountain side the forests became
denser, greener and fresher, while from the distant valleys, at the bottom
of which we could see tiny streams working their way to worlds beyond,
came low murmurs and sweet odors Toward the west, and losing itself
in a hazy distance, ran the Tomichi valley, narrow, heavily wooded,
and free from all that rocky harshness so prevalent in Colorado. Far
below we could look down upon four lines of our road, terrace below
terrace, the last so far down the mountain as to be quite indistinct to the
view. The iron loops were lost to sight at times as the road wound
about some interfering hill ; and often the forest was so dense that the
track seemed to have disappeared for ever. Five hundred feet down
the mountain side we could see a water-tank, and knew that it marked
the spot where we would be, after an hour of twisting down the incline.
As we gazed upon the mountains, the valley, and the far and farther
heights, we could imagine ourselves returned to the beginning of
things, and shown the globe only that moment finished. There was a
wealth of coloring, a sublimity unsurpassed, and withal an attention
given to detail by which the picture was made perfect. I remember to

ON THE SUMMIT OF MARSHALL PASS. 249

have stood on Marshall Pass once when the sun was just dropping out
of sight beyond the rolling hills to the westward. As it sunk lower and
lower behind its curtain of snowy peaks, prismatic hues came flashing
along the pathway of its fading light, which touched the rugged sides of
Ouray peak and the white-capped range beyond until every treeless
spot and gabled peak shone with a mellow hue. All objects — those near
by and those far away — flashed bright colors, beautiful, brilliant, and as
varied as those of the rainbow. From the mountains long shadows were
cast, and in the forest crept dark shades. All nature prepared to sleep,
ana no suuuus came from around the lonely pass but the sighing of the
wind as it swept through the tangled trees. "All outward things and
inward thoughts teemed with assurances of immortality."

Our descent from the pass was continuous but slow. At least it was
slow at first. All steam was shut off in the engine and the air-brakes
were used to preserve a uniform speed. Winding in and out among the
trees, and catching at different times extended views of the Tomichi, we
worked our way to more level country and were soon skirting the
meadows and whirling across the ranch properties of the fertile valley.
Close beside us ran a sparkling stream, tapped here and there by the
farmers, who used its water for their lands, and again winding its way
through the willows that grew on its banks. Looking back over the
way we had come, ihere appeared dark-green forests, backed by high
mountains with bared summits ; but before us lay the Tomichi, shut in
on either side by low hills and extending westward so far that its end
was lost in haze. Everything was green, fertile, luxuriant. Cattle
grazed in the meadows, ricks of hay stood by the side of low-roofed
cabins, and narrow valleys came down from the northern mountains to
join the one along which we kept the swift and even tenor of our way.

XXV

GUNNISON AND CRESTED BUTTE.

"Over the Mountains of the Moon,
Down the Valley of the Shadow,
Ride, boldly ride,"
The shade replied,
" If you seek for El Dorado."

—EDGAR A. POE.

JT its lower end, as the mountains in the range we have
crossed begin to grow indistinct in the distance, the
Tomichi valley pushes aside the hills which have
hitherto confined it, and broadens into a wide, grassy
plateau, encircled by mountains, in the center of which
stands Gunnison, the chief town of Western Colorado.
Westward, where the river comes down, sculptured cliffs rise near and
abrupt; but elsewhere the mountains are far away enough to make
invisible all their lesser characteristics. Those to the north and south
east have their long line of irregular summits capped with snow ; but to
the west the ranges grow less rugged and more rounded, while between
the hills runs the valley occupied by the Gunnison river on its way to
the Grand, and by which the railway enters the rich farming lands of
the newly opened reservation and the territory of Utah.

Drawing rapidly nearer the center of the plateau, we approached
the city and perceived that it consisted of two distinct parts, with a gap
of half a mile between them. Then a new freight- house cut off the view
and we came to a stoppage in one of the busiest "yards" outside of
Denver.

The town, as I have said, stands in the middle of a level park, at
an altitude of about 8,000 feet above the sea. There is room enough
"to hold New York City," as the people are fond of saying. No
stream waters the middle of this area, but skirting the further edge,
just under the bluffs, which on every one of these bright summer
evenings

" topple round the West,

A looming bastion fringed with fire,"

runs the Gunnison river, through a bosky avenue of full-foliaged trees
and thickly interlaced underbrush. Away to the southward of the town
again, the Tomichi curves about the base of rounded, plush tinted hills
that look like the backs of gigantic elephants. I have called the first of

250

HEADWATERS OF THE GUNNISON. 251

these streams the Gunnison, but if you follow it up a little way you will
come to repeated forkings known as East river, Taylor river, Ohio
creek, and so on. I believe, therefore, that properly the Gunnison does
not attain individuality and deserve its name until all this cluster of
northern tributaries joins with the Tomichi, just below the town, and
the united and largely increased stream flows independently onward.

A UTE COUNC'L FIRE.

Ii is in the fork of these chief sources of the Gunnison, — at its very
head so to speak, — that the town is placed. It is not upon the banks of
either, but the pure waters are easily led in open aqueducts all over the
site, running by their own current. There are places enough for them
to run, too, and people enough to consume them, leaving only begrimed
tailings for the engine-tanks at the station.

The town began in two parts and became the shape of a dumb-bell,

252 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

the handle represented by Tomichi avenues. The knobs of town at
each end are rival districts known as Gunnison and West Gunnison, but
the former is the larger, seems to have the start, and has secured such
distinctions as the post-office, the banks, the court-house, the high
school and the principal newspapers. These, with several of the mer-
cantile establishments, show fine structures of brick and stone, the latter
being a white sandstone of great excellence for building purposes, which
abounds in the buttes on the edge of the plateau. The majority of the
houses, both for business and for residence, however, are frame buildings.
Some are of pretentious size, and many prettily decorated, so that we
do not know, a cleaner, more regular, cosy-looking city in the state than
this. The divided appearance is gradually disappearing by increased
building between, which proceeds with amazing rapidity.

The history of this valley and town is entertaining. In the early
days of Rocky Mountain exploration, this whole region was known as
the Grand River country, its noblest stream, now called the Gunnison
liver, then being known as the South Fork of the Grand. Of its his-
tory, or its geography, as I have intimated, little has been known
until very recent times. It is recorded that in 1845, ex Governor Gilpin,
then a mere lad, traversed the entire length of the river- valley from west
to east, on his return from Oregon to St. Louis. "Having cross d
southern Utah by an old Spanish trail he pushed his way up through
the valleys of the South Foik of the Grand, crossing the divide very near
the southeastern corner of what is now Gunnison county. Although
pursued relentlessly by savages he was enthusiastic over the results
of his trip and embodied the knowledge so obtained in a map which
is now on file in Denver. The interval following Governor Gilpin's
exploration between 1845 and 1853 is entirely an historical blank, only
vague Indian stories being given out by occasional trappers and by the
Mormons, who joined in relating the beauty and richness of the country.
"In 1853 Captain Gunnison, a gallant officer, following Rock creek
up to its head, "discovered a nobler stream coursing southward from the
Elk mountains. This stream cost him his life. As he was exploring it,
he was set upon (whether by Indians or not seems doubtful) and cruelly
murdered. After this adventurous officer the Gunnison river was
named and afterwards Gunnison county. In 1854 the indomitable
'Old Pathfinder,' General Fremont, passed over nearly the same coun-
try from east to west and in his report paid glowing tribute to the
beauty and wealth of these regions. It was not, however, until 1861,
when some prospectors, approaching through California gulch, where
Leadville now stands, gave names to Washington gulch, Taylor park,
Rentz's gulch, and Union park, that any positive development was
undertaken. Then it was only on a very small scale, and although the
discoveries they made created considerable excitement in mining circle?
the fear of Indians was yet so great as te r-event any immigration &^

ADVENTUROUS PROSPECTORS. 253

any consequence. This fear was heightened by the horrible discovery
one morning of the massacre of twelve men in Washington gulch. This
wholesale tragedy gave a gloomy side-defile the name of Dead Man's
gulch. The story of this outrage quickly spread throughout the entire
country, each person coloring it as it went and adding a little to the hor-
rors of the event. At this time nothing could tempt the daring miners
of the adjacent and already populous Colorado gulches to risk their
lives in this country. Even the most marvelous stories which were told
of the golden bullets used by the Indians, and of mines to which El
Dorado and Comstock and Golconda were vanities, failed to tempt their
cupidity sufficiently to cause them to venture into the blood- christened
country. A few, however, who had already forced their way in, earned
a precarious livelihood in Washington gulch, fortified from the Indians
and living for months at a time upon game and fish. In their leisure
moments, between fighting Indians and hunting game, they occupied
themselves in placer mining and, it is said, made from five to twenty
dollars a day. Not until 1872, however, was any organized attempt
made to open up the country. In that year Jim Brenuen, of Denver,
headed a small party of prospectors and located in the Rock Creek
region.

" From this time really dates the origin of the mines, their reports
being so enthusiastic that in 1873 Dr. John Parsons, Professor Richard-
son and thirty miners entered from Denver. One of the stories of this
partjr which is told, but which is historically doubtful, runs to the effect
that in pushing around by the southern entrance over the Saguache,
General Charles Adams, who was then in charge of the frontier, for-
bade their further progress without the consent of the Utes. A heated
debate is supposed to have arisen over the matter, which was settled by
Chief Ouray himself, voting to grant them permission. In 1874 a
colony was formed in Denver to settle upon and cultivate the Gunni-
son's agricultural lands. Accordingly twenty men, all told, located
themselves at various points upon Tomichi river and gave their special
attention to ranches. The mining districts, however, on account of the
Leadville and San Juan excitements, together with the difficulties and
inconveniences of mining in this country at that time, did not really
begin to grow until several years later."

In the latter part of 1877 the state legislature set off Gunnison
county, containing about twelve thousand square miles, or an area some-
what larger than the state of Connecticut. Three-fourths of it lay
within the Ute Reservation, and it has since been, subdivided into four
new counties, — Gunnison (restricted to the eastern end), Montrose, Delta
and Mesa. By 1880 matters began to assume a fixed condition. The
people left their tents and sought more durable habitations. Business
ceased to be desultory. The prospect-diggings, of which five thousand

254 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

had been recorded, were developed as rapidly as possible, the buzz of
the saw-mill and planer was heard, and smellers began to be erected.

Historically, there is little to add. Steady growth has benefited
the city. New and large business blocks have been erected, a handsome
hotel built, and a smelter put in operation. It has now a population of
fully five thousand, is lighted with gas, and has a system of water-
works. The streets are wide and clean; and the entire town has lost
that frontier appearance which characterized it in its earlier days

And Gunnison is a railway center. To the north the Denver and
Rio Grande has extended a branch to Crested Butte and brought into
closer communication with the outside world the adjoining mining
towns of Irwin, Ruby, Gothic, and others of less importance. The road
leads northward from Gunnison up the pointed valley until it gets close
upon the bank of East river. Following the river, the valley narrows
into a ravine, and some interesting masses of broken volcanic rocks,
injected edgewise into the general sandstone strata, attract the eye.

It is the far-away landscape, nevertheless, that holds attention as we
look backward. Rising above the level of the plain upon which the
city is built, you can span with your vision hills and mesas southward,
and behold " striking up the azure" a vast length of the ever-magnifi-
cent San Juan mountains, — the same glorious pinnacles that towered
about us, near at hand, in Baker's park. We could count the peaks by
dozens if we tried, but it would be rash to try to name the separate
points of the long serration. Many snow clouds have shed their burdens
upon them since we saw them last, but to-day their heavens are clear and
the sun blazes down upon scores of miles of lofty neve fields, the uniform
purity of which, at this distance, seems broken only by the shadows the
higher peaks throw upon their lowlier companions and upon their own
half-concealed sides. Gazing at them across the dim foreground of sage-
plain, the middle scene of receding, intermingled, haze-obscured and
bluish hills, we were more and more delighted with their loveliness, — a
word whose propriety you will appreciate when you, too, have laid
away this treasure of memory — one of the most entrancing bits of land-
scape in Colorado.

There are a few patches of rank meadow, but most of the way
the hills run down so close to the river banks, that there is barely
room for the road-bed to be made. Growing so close to the water that
they are reflected in its depths, are sweet-smelling trees, tall, graceful,
luxuriant, but in winter they bend beneath the snow that clings to
them. Reaching to the top of the hills and completely covering them,
are tangled masses of brush, pushed aside at times by forests of pines
and torn asunder in places by the rocks that have lost their balance on
some far summit and been rolled to the river below. In the narrowest
places precipices menace each other across the stream ; and on their

NATURE AT HER BEST.

255

faces, brown and weather beaten, grow hardy shrubs, clinging to the
crevices and hugging the bold headlands.

Nor does the valley afford satisfaclion to the lover of what is only
picturesque in nature. We have seen many a trout whipped from his
cool retreat under the shadow of the rocks. The region is a sports-
man's paradise. Nature is at her best, the forests are full of health-
giving odors, and a day's tramp could not fail to bring color to the
palest cheek, strength to the weakest body.

Twenty-eight miles north of Gunnison the narrow valley lets us

256 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

into a snug little basin among the bills wbicb border upon the Elk
range, Slate river comes winding through it from the north, while Coal
creek sweeps abruptly around a lofty spur at the left. Straight ahead,
behind a green ridge, a white conical mountain stands challenging our
admiration, and on our right a still nearer height rises like a mighty
pyramid of gray stone from a richly verdant base.

The Madame gazes at them with delight a moment, but quickly
glances with more eager interest to the meadow-land in which we are
coming to a standstill, for the lush grass is dyed with innumerable
flowers.

" Why Crested Butte ? " she asks as the station- sign comes in view.

I point, for reply, to the conical gray height which dominates the
valley.

"That is neither a butte, nor is it crested," she says. "A butte
properly is not a peak of volcanic or primitive rock even if it is isolated
— the proper name for that is 'mountain' or 'spur.' A butte is a hill
of sedimentary rock, not mountain-like in appearance, and standing by
itself in a flat region. Moreover there isn't a bit of crest. Its apex is
as sharp and round as a well-whittled pencil."

" If you could look at it from the other side you might find a very
well-marked crest."

" But I can't, and nobody does, see it from the other side. How-
ever"— and here her prerogative of inconsistency was exercised — "I am
glad they adopted the mistake for now the town has a name worth
remembering, something you can't say of too many of these mountain
villages."

Crested Butte had the honor to be the first settlement in the Gunni-
son region. A recent review of its history says that in the spring of
1877 the Jennings brothers, who were hardy prospectors, penetrated as
far as the Butte and were so.newhat surprised and delighted at finding
coal. Instantly turning their attention to that branch of mining they
located some land. The fame of this discovery, blending with that of
others, proved an incentive to the overflow from Leadville and the rest
of Colorado. In 1877 a few men came in, but no effort was made even
to survey the country tfntil 1878. In that year Howard F. Smith
dropped in and purchased some coal interests. He soon had the
country surveyed, erected a store and advertised so well that within
a few weeks a village had been started which is now one of the pleas-
antest summer places on the western slope, and can boast a hotel that
has no superior in the Rocky mountains for comfort. This is the Elk
Mountain house, and it is the property of the town-site company, who
appreciate that the first impressions of a traveler (and possible settler)
are largely colored by his early experiences in the matter of food and
lodging.

No mines for gold and silver exist in the immediate vicinity of the

SOME COAL STATISTICS. 257

village, though many "camps" in the Elk Mountains from five to
twenty miles away are tributary to it ; and the chief reliance and raison
d' fore of the settlement is found in the coal-beds that are adjacent to it.
These are of the greatest value and importance, and at night, when the
blaze of the coke ovens sheds a lurid glare upon the overhanging wood-
lands and the snug town, one can appreciate the far-seeing expectations
that lead the people there to call their town the Pittsburgh of the West.
Between two great foothills south and west of the town, flows a lit-
tle creek whose channel is cut through five beds of coal, dipping
southward, with the rest of the stratified rocks, at an angle of about six
degrees; the lowest is ten feet in thickness, the others six, five, four and
three feet. This coal is bituminous, and has been proved to be the best
coking coal in the United States, as is shown by the following authorit-
ative analysis:

Coal 44 34.17 72.30 3.09

Coke 1.35 92.03 6.62

The railway having reached Crested Butte, the coking veins are
now well opened " by three drifts on water level, working the seam
to the rise." The mines are prepared for an output of four hundred to
five hundred tons of coal per day, and the coke can be furnished to any
extent, by the Colorado Coal and Iron Company, who own the mines.
At first this coke was made in open pits, but now a long series of ovens
has been built, and the railway tracks run to the ovens and almost to the
mine-entrance. The cars drawn up the incline from the "breasts" to
the surface, are thence dragged by mules through a quarter of a mile of
sheds, built to guard against the deep winter snows, down to the ovens
and the cars. Forty or fifty miners are employed at present, and these
live with their families in large log houses built under the edge of
the forested hill close to the mine.

The coke of all coal, being composed of fixed carbon and ash,
depends for its value on the minimum of ash. The coke from the coal
of Crested Butte contains from two to six per cent, less ash than the
coke of the best eastern coals, its total of ash amounting only to six per
cent. For all purposes of steam, this bituminous coal is said to have no
superior on the continent. A well known mineralogist is reported to
have said of it that, while a pound of Pennsylvania anthracite will
make twenty-five pounds of steam, a pound of this bituminous coal will
make twenty-three pounds; but while one pound of eastern anthracite is
burning, two pounds of this will burn. Therefore, while the pound of
Pennsylvania anthracite is making twenty-five pounds of steam, this
coal will generate forty-six.

These coal-beds can be traced without difficulty up Slate river,
exposed here and there in the western bluff, and can be found hidden in
the opposite hills. As it is followed, however (rising in altitude with
the upheaval toward the mountain-center), a change is seen to take place

11*

258 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

in its character. Two miles above the village it is neither soft nor hard ;
a little farther on, a part of the bed is decidedly anthracitic; while four
miles above Coal creek, and at an elevation of a thousand feet or
so above it, genuine anthracite of the best quality is mined from the
same seams that, four miles below, yield the coking soft coal. " Noth-
ing could be plainer, nor more beautiful to see," than this practical
demonstration of how under different conditions of heat and pressure,
the same carbonaceous deposit becomes bituminous or anthracitic.

The anthracite mine is at the top of a wooded hill and is reached by
one of the most entertaining roads in all Colorado. The coal beds form
strata right across the hill, so that the miners can run their tunnels
out to daylight in any direction, and need not fear the gas which is
so troublesome in the bituminous diggings below. The vein now
worked is five feet thick at the entry, but increases to ten feet in thick-
ness within. It is solid and pure, and is thrown down by blasting.
The men are paid seventy-five cents per ton for breaking it into con-
venient pieces and loading it into the little cars. These cars are then
drawn to the brow of the hill and dumped into larger cars which travel
on a tramway sixteen hundred feet long, and most skillfully erected on a
curved trestle, down to the breaker at the river level. This breaker
is the only one west of Pennsylvania, and is capable of transmitting five
hundred tons a day, properly crushed, to the railway cars, which
run underneath its shutes.

The highest excellence is claimed for this anthracite coal by its*
owners, not only for domestic purposes, but in the making of steam. In
price, this company is able to meet the Pennsylvanians at markets on ihe
Missouri river, and to furnish all nearer points at a much lower rate than
eastern shippers can afford ; while they hope to secure a large part, if not
the whole of the California business, which amounts to about fifty thou-
sand tons annually. The mine and breaker have now been put in shape
to yield steadily a large product ; they are hereafter expected to be able
to meet the whole demand. The anthracite beds in this region are
believed to be very extensive, so that undoubtedly other mines will be
opened as soon as a large enough demand will justify it. The discovery
of these anthracite beds caused an immense excitement, for it was the
first true hard coal found in the State; and a mob of men rushed in as
though to an old-fashioned placer-find.

This region in 1879, indeed, caused a great flurry in the minds of
prospectors who began to enter it at the risk of their lives long before it
ceased to be an Indian reservation. As long ago as 1872 argentiferous
quartz had been found in Rock creek just over the divide between these
waters and the Roaring Fork of the Grand river, where Galena, Crys-
tal, Treasure and Whopper mountains are seamed with large veins of
comparatively low-grade, but easily smelted galena ore. The center of
this district is Crystal City, and from that point prospectors pushed

WHAT'S IN A NAME. 259

their way right and left as fast as they dared, and thus led to the open-
ing of the Gunnison region.

It was not until 1879, however, that the precious metals were found
in the southern slopes of the Elk mountains, and the region in which
we are now interested was heralded abroad as the long-awaited El Dor-
ado. Hundreds of men flocked in, striving to be first on the ground.
A few of the earliest comers chose a spot at the base of the sharp, white
mountain so plainly in view north of Crested Butte, and decided that a
town must be placed there to be called Gothic — a name suggested by the
appearance of some cliffs near by. It was done, and the people came to
fill it. To it came all the business of the Brush creek, Rock creek, Cop-
per creek, Sheep mountain, and Treasure mountain silver and gold
mines, besides those nearer at hand — Schofield, Galena, Elko, Bellevue
and others.

Another somewhat separate mining locality was one that we looked
down upon as we stood at the mouth of the anthracite tunnel and gazed
across the deep gorge which sank between this and the opposite hills,
and down which flowed the gentle current of Slate river. The wall on
the other side rose above the line of timber growth, and one peak showed
an exposed face of brilliant red rock in high contrast to the blue-gray of
the rest. Beneath it lay Red well basin. At the right frightfully rough
cliffs and forested crags shut in Oh-be joyful gulch, at the head of
which, just out of sight, was Poverty gulch, while Peeler basin showed
its edge. It seems to us that we can perceive through the clear atmos-
phere every tree and stone and crevice on the opposite slopes, though
miles away, and can almost hear the prattle of the great waterfall thai
shines white in the shady bottom of the gorge ; but we can see no signs
whatever that a human being has ever been in all that area. Neverthe-
less over all that mountain side there is said to be scarcely an acre
of ground not partially covered by mining claims, and upon some part
of each one of these a discovery-shaft has been sunk. Many of the
fissures thus disclosed are of immense size, carrying veins of argentif-
erous galena from three to nine feet in width, assaying on the surface
from forty to one hundred and sixty ounces of silver to the ton. In
some cases ruby silver or gray copper have been reached at forty or
fifty feet in depth, assaying over one thousand ounces. At night the
coal men see the opposite mountains dotted with camp-fires, and the
merchants of Crested Butte will tell you that many a wagon-load and
train of burros is packed with provisions for those apparent solitudes.

" What's in a name ! '' exclaims the Madame as we are riding home-
ward, while talking over these districts and discussing the notable prop-
erties.

"Generally nothing," it is replied, "so far as the designations of
mines are concerned, but from the prevalent style of names in the whole
district it would be possible to judge something of the men who settled

260 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

it. Here, for instance, one can't help noticing an absence of the rough
gambling titles so common among California mines. The ' Euchre
Decks,' the 'Faro Banks,' the 'Little Brown Jugs,' etc., are few,
and in their place we find the 'Shakespeare,' the 'Iron Duke,'
'Baron De Kalb,' 'Catapult,' and others with similar literary, histor-
ical or mythological meanings. It is evident that no rude typical miner
presided at their christening, but that intelligent, and in many cases
highly educated, men discovered and named them.

Eight miles northwest of Crested Butte are the almost united towns
of Ruby and Irwin, which, in 1879 and '80, had " booms," but now are
almost deserted. The neighborhood abounds in silver, but it has been
found that too many obstacles stand in the way of successfully working
the mines, which are very high, and in a region famous for its deep
snows, until the science of ore-treatment has progressed, and cheaper
methods of operation and transportation have been devised.

Leaving Chum to take the Madame and the train back to Gunnison,
I left Crested Butte on the morning after our ride to the anthracite
mine, on my way to Lake City, discouraging all company.

GATE OF LODORE.

XXVI

A TRIP TO LAKE CITY.

A wild and broken landscape, spiked with firs,
Roughening the bleak horizon's northern edge.

— WHITTIER.

AKE CITY is a mining town at the foot of the San Juan
mountains thirty miles south of the railway station of
Sapinero (the latter named after a sub chief among the
Utes who was looked upon by the whites as a man of
unusual sagacity). It was at that time reached by a
buckboard, carrying the mail tmd passengers.
The stage-road led up a long, long hill to the top of the mesa
between the Cochetopa and the Lake Fork of the Gunnison. This
much of the way was in the track of the old southern road to Cali-
fornia, which came up from Santa Fe to Taos, San Luis park, Saguache,
and so on over here along the Cochetopa, striking the Gunnison river
just above this point and continuing on down to the Uncompahgre,
where it crossed the Gunnison to the northern bank and pushed west-
ward to Utah. This was the route followed by Captain Gunnison
in 1853, and it came to be known as the Salt Lake Wagon Road; and the
whole course of the Denver and Rio Grande railway follows it closely
from Grand Junction to the Wasatch mountains. The road is still
occasionally traveled for short distances by light wagons and by men
driving bands of horses, who wish to escape paying the tolls demanded
along the new and improved roads, so that it is in no danger of becom-
ing obliterated.

From the top of this high plateau, a great picture opens be ''ore the
eye, in all directions. Northward the peaks of the Elk range form
a long line of well-separated summits. Northeastward, the vista between
nearer hills is filled with the clustered heights of the Continental Divide
in the neighborhood of the Mount of the Holy Cross. Just below them
confused elevations show where Marshall pass carries its lofty avenue,
and to the southward of that stretches the splendid, snow-trimmed
array of the Sangre de Cristo. They fill beautifully the far eastern
horizon, and end southward in the massive buttresses of Sierra Blanca,
of whicb no more impressive view can be had than this elevated stand-
point affords. As we advance a few miles other mountains rise into
sight straight ahead,— that is, in the southward. These are the cold and

262

LIVELY LAKE CITY. 2C3

broken summits of the Sierra San Juan; while isolated from them,
and a little to the right, stands the Saul of their ranks, — Uncompahgie
peak, head and shoulders above all his comrades. Nor is this figure an
idle comparison, for his tenon shaped apex easily suggests it.

Half way to our destination, the crazy buckboard rattles us pain-
fully down a steep and stony hill into the valley of the Lake Fork of the
Gunnison, where there is room for several ranches whose fields of hay
and oats show a plentiful growth, and whose potato-patches are some-
thing admirable. The best of these is Barnum's, where there is also a
store and a post-office, and where your "humble correspondent," suppos
ing himself about to lay his head upon a soft bag of oats, nearly dashed
his brains out by hurling it in misplaced confidence against a marble-
solid bag of salt Eheu ! miserere me !

When we had wound our way farther up the narrow canon into
which the valley contracted on the further side of this gateway, there
came to view the precise similitude (but here on a lesser scale) of the
massive, pillared, mitre-crowned cliffs that form the shores of the
Columbia river between Fort Vancouver and The Dalles.

As a mining-town Lake City is not now so active as formerly. It
stands in a little park at the junction of the Lake Fork (of the Gunnison)
with Hensou creek, — both typical mountain streams, each wavelet
flecked with foam and sparkling like the back of the trout it hides.
Henson creek became especially famous among prospectors, who found
that, however large an army of miners might flock in there, new veins
were always to be had as the reward of diligent searching Thus a pop-
ulous and highly enterprising town arose, which became the supply
point for a wide mountain region, owing to its accessibility from both
north and south; and though it was over one hundred miles — mountain
miles at that ! — from a railway, more than ten million pounds of
merchandise, and five million pounds of mining machinery and supplies
were taken in on wagons during 1880, at a cost of over a million dollars
for transportation alone. A very good class of people went to Lake
City, too, so that a substantial and pretty town arose, school-houses and
churches were built, and I have never seen a mining camp where
the bookstores and news-stands were so well furnished and patronized.
At the beginning of 1881 about two thousand people lived in the town
itself, not counting the great number of men in the mountains round
about ; and three factories for the treatment of ores were in operation.

Since then, however. Lake City has retreated somewhat; not that
the mines have proved false to the confidence placed in them, but
because it has been shown that until cheaper methods of transportation
and more economic treatment can be devised, the mines cannot be
worked to the same profit which a similar investment in some neighbor-
ing districts will return. This is due to the fact that the ores, of mar-
velous value when their mass is considered, are of too low grade, as

THE CREST OP THE CONTINENT.

a rule, to afford a
high margin over the
expenses of working.
This by no means
condemns the dis-
trict; it only causes
its stores of wealth
to be held in abey-
ance for a while be-
fore their coinage.
Many another dis-
trict, a few years ago
thought equally prof-
itless, has risen to be-
come the scene of
steady dividend-mak-
ing labor through the
perfection of process-
es. It will not be long,
before, by like means,
the reviving of Lake
City's mines will oc-
cur, and enable her
to catch up with her
more fortunate sisters
in the wide circle of
the San Juan silver-
region.

But when that time
has come, — though
the Alpine grandeur
of the scenery cannot
be lost, the splendid
shooting and fishing
which now make the
village one of the fa-
vored resorts of the
west, will have disap-
peared ; and there are
some of us, more sen-
timental than world-
wise, who will regret
the change. Over
these rolling uplands,
among the aspen
groves, upon the foot-

' WINNIE'S GROTTO.

A BUNTERS PARADlSfi. 265

hills and along the willow-bordered creek deers now throng, and even
an occasional elk and antelope are to be seen. In the rocky fastnesses
the bear and panther find refuge, and every little park is enlivened by
the flitting forms of timid hares and the whirring escape of the grouse
disturbed by our passing. Upon these lofty, grass - grown plateaus,
some cattle already get excellent feeding; and the time will be short
before they are multiplied into the vast herds whose pasturage will be
economised by good management, and for which a market will be found
within a few days drive of the range. Too high and arid for exten-
sive farming, the opposite, yet inter-dependent, pursuits of mining and
cattle-raising, will ere long bring all this elevated interior of the state
into full utilization. When one wonders how this railway company is to
support itself amid the wilds, this future must be remembered.

XXVII

IMPRESSIONS OF THE BLACK CAftON.

By what furnaces of fire the adamant was melted, and by what wheels of earthquake
It was torn, and by what teeth of glacier and weight of sea waves it was engraven and
finished into perfect form, we may hereafter endeavor to conjecture.

—JOHN RUSKIN.

T was with eager interest that we despatched a hasty
breakfast, and attached our cars to the early morning
express westward bound from Gunnison. The Grand
Canon of the Gunnison lay just ahead. An open
"observation" car, crowded with sightseers, was
hooked on behind us, but that did not interfere with
our favorite rear platform, and thither our camp-stools were taken.

This river Gunnison has a hard time of it. The streams that finally
unite to make it up, are loath to do so, and it came near not being born
at all. The flat country we see just below the town vouchsafes a few
quiet miles under the cottonwoods, but presently the hills close in, and
then the river must needs gird up its loins for a struggle such as few
other streams in the wide world know. Its life thenceforth is that of
a warrior; and it never lays aside its knightly armor till the very end in
the absorbing flood of the Grand.

Above the rattle of the train, echoing from the rocky highlands
that hem it in, we can hear the roaring of this water as we thunder
down its sinuous course toward Sapinero. Great fragments that have
fallen from the steep banks, where an avalanche of stones lies pre-
cariously as though even the shock of our passing would set them
sliding, fret the stream with continual interruptions and turn its green
flood into lines of yeasty white. These same rocks are admirable fish-
ing-stands, however, for the trout love the deeply aerated water that
swirls about them ; and we see more than one silvery fin snatched
from its crystal home to hang in mute misery upon the angler's switch of
forked willow.

"Do you think it's right?" asks the Madame, with a pitiful tone
in her voice.

" No, but it can't be helped ; and you'll find some casuistry to meet
the case about dinner-time."

"Casuistry — casuistry?" says Chum reflectively. "Is that a new
kind of sauce? "

Ahead the green hills, marked with horizontal lines, that we suspect

ENTERING BLACK CAfrON. 267

to indicate outcroppings of lava, shut quite across our path. Neverthe-
less we can detect a dark depression toward which the track points
straight as an arrow, and we suppose that at that point an entrance
exists. Behind it stood summits so lofty that this barrier did not seem
imposing ; but now that a gateway has opened (yet far enough only for
our track to enter by encroaching on the river's highway), we are
surprised at the altitude of the walls which momently rise higher and
higher on each side, as though we were descending a steep incline into

ECHO ROCK.

the earth. At what an abyss must the river lie in the middle of the
range !

The early morning sun streams warm and rich into the canon,
dispelling the nocturnal chill and making the air delightful beyond
expression. We are hurled along between close-shutting crags that
are the type of solidity, yet seem to waver and topple at their summits
as we gaze at them, cut strongly against the tremulous blue of the sky.
Our ears are assaulted by the crashing of iron against iron and steam
shrieking at the wind, and by the roar and dashing of enraged and baf-
fled water. The lyric sweetness of the distant hill-picture caught in our
backward glance as we entered the gates of the canon, is gone; the
poetry of this scene has the epic dignity and the stirring excitement of
a war-story sung on the eve of righteous battle. This is the site and the

268 THE CREST Off THE CONTINENT.

monument of a struggle between forces such as we have no capacity to
comprehend. Take a fragment of this shining rock not so large but
that you may lift it, and you will find that studied ingenuity, and the
vigorous application of power that men speak of as enormous, are
required to break it into smaller pieces. Yet here are masses many hun-
dreds of feet high and wide, that have been riven as I might halve a
piece of clay. You may say it was done thus, or so. No matter, the
impression of stupendous power remains and imprints itself deeply
on the mind. Here for miles we pass between escarpments of rock,
a thousand, fifteen hundred — ay, here and there more than two thousand
feet high. This is not a valley between mountains with sloping sides
slowly worn away. Here are vertical exposures that fit together like
mortise and tenon ; facing cliffs that might be shut against one another
so tightly that almost no crevice would remain. To view this mighty
chasm thoughtfully, is to receive a revelation of the immeasurable
power pent up in the elements whose equilibrium alone forms and pre-
serves our globe ; and if we call it "awful," the word conveys not
so much a dread of any harm that might happen to us there, as the
vague and timorous appreciation of the dormant strength under our feet.
If the gods we call dynamic can rive a pathway for a river through
twenty miles of solid granite, of what use is any human safeguard
against their anger ?

But away with these serious thoughts! The cliffs are founded
in unknown depths it is true, but their heads soar into the sunlight, and
break into forms not too great for us to grasp. Straight from the liquid
emerald frosted with foam which flecks their base — straight as a plum-
met's line, and polished like the jasper gates of the Eternal city, rise
these walls of echoing granite to their dizzy battlements. Here and
there a promontory stands as a buttress; here and there a protruding
crag overhangs like a watch-tower on a castle-wall ; anon you may fancy
a monstrous profile graven in the angle of some cliff, — a gigantic
Hermes rudely fashioned. In one part of the canon where the cliffs are
highest, measuring three thousand feet from the railway track to the
crown of their haughty heads, faces of the red granite, hundreds of
feet square, have been left by a oplit occurring along a natural cleavage-
line; and these are now flat as a mirror and almost as smooth. On the
other hand, you may see places where the rocks rise, not solid, sheer and
smooth, but so crumpled and contorted that the partition-lines, instead
of running at right angles, are curved, twisted and snarled in the most
intricate manner, showing that violent and conflicting agitations of the
rock must have occurred there at a time when the whole mass was
heated to plasticity. In another place, the cliff on the southern side
breaks down and slopes back in a series of interrupted and irregular
terraces, every ledge and cranny having a shapely tree ; while not far
away another part of the long escarpment, the rocky layers, turned

CURRECANTI NEEDLE. 269

almost on edge, have been somewhat bent and broken, so that they lie in
imbricated tiers upon the convex slopes, as if placed there shingle-
fashion.

Just opposite, a stream whose source is invisible has etched itself a
notched pathway from the heights above. It plunges down in headlong
haste until there comes a time when there is no longer rock for it to flow
upon, and it flings itself out into the quiet air, to be blown aside and
made rainbows of, to paint upon the circling red cliffs a wondrous
picture in flashing white, and then to fall with soft sibilancy into the
river. The river has no chance to do so brave a thing as this leap
of Chippeta falls from the lofty notch; but seeing a roughened and
broken place ahead where the fallen bowlders have raised a barrier, it goes
at it with a rush and hurls its plumes of foam high overhead, as, with
swirl and tumult, and a swift shooting forth of eddies held far under its
snowy breast, it bursts through and over the obstacle and sweeps on,
conqueror to the last.

In the very center of the canon, where its bulwarks are most lofty
and precipitous, unbroken cliffs rising two thousand feet without a
break, and shadowed by overhanging cornices, — just here stands the
most striking buttress and pinnacle of them all, — Currecanti Needle.
It is a conical tower standing out somewhat beyond the line of the
wall, from which it is separated (so that from some points of view it
looks wholly isolate,) on one side by a deep gash, and on the other by
one of those narrow side-canons which in the western part of the gorge
occur every mile or two. These ravines are filled with trees and make a
green setting for this massive monolith of pink stone whose diminishing
apex ends in a leaning spire that seems to trace its march upon the
sweeping clouds.

It was in the recesses of the rift beside Currecanti Needle, says a
tradition which at least is poetic, that the red men used to light the mid-
night council -fires around which they discussed their plans of battle.
Though judgment may refuse the fact, fancy likes to revel in such a
scene as that council-fire would have made, deep in the arms of the
rocky defile. How the fitful flashes of the pungent cedar-flame would
have driven back the lurking darkness that pressed upon it from all
sides ! How, now and then starting up, the blaze-light would sally forth
and suddenly disclose some captive of the gloom rescued from oblivion
— perhaps a mossy bowlder, an aged juniper, a ghostly cottonwood
stump, or a ledge of sleeping blossoms ! How the bright and polished
rocks would be re-reddened and sparkle at their angles under the glanc-
ing light; while the pretty soprano of the stream and the deep bass of
the river's roar sang a duet to the narrow line of stars that could peep
down between the canon walls ! Surely the time and place were suitable
for planning the lurid warfare of a savage race ; and as these untamed
men, their muscular limbs and revengeful faces, disclosed uncertainly,

270 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

like the creatures of a flitting fantasy, in the red firelight, enacted with
terrifying gestures the fierce future of their plotting, a spectator might
well think himself with fiends.

"On Night's plutonian shore,"

or else discard the whole picture as only the fantastic scenery of some
disordered dream.

Opposite Currecanti Needle and canon stand some very remarkable
rocks, underneath the greatest of which the train passes. Then there is
a long bridge to cross where the river bends a little ; and perhaps the
echoing chasm will be filled with the hoarsely repeated scream of a
warning whistle. And so, past wonder after wonder, Pelion upon Ossa,
buried in a huge rocky prison, yet always in the full sunlight, you sud-
denly swing round a sharp corner, leaving the Gunnison to go on
through ten miles more of canon, and crashing noisily through the zig-
zag canon of the Cimmaron, which is so very narrow and dark it deserves
no better name than crevice, quickly emerge into daylight and a busy
station.

Thus I have tried to give the reader some trifling indication of
what he may expect to see during his hour in the heart of the " Black "
canon, which is not black at all but the sunniest of places. I cannot
understand how the name ever came to be applied to it. No Kobolds
delving in darkness would make it their home; but rather troops of
Oreades, darting down the swift green shutes of water between the
spume-wet bowlders, dancing in the creamy eddies, struggling hand
over hand up the lace ladders of Chippeta Falls, to tumble headlong
down again, making the prismatic foam resound with the soft tinkling
of their merry laughter. All the Sprites of the canon are beings of
brightness and joy. The place is full of gayety.

This sense of color and light is perhaps the strongest impression
that remains. Though it is quite as deep and precipitous as the Royal
gorge it is not so gloomy and frowning; though the cataracts are greater
than those at Toltec, they are not so fear-inspiring. In place of dark
and impenetrable walls, here are varied facades of lofty and majestic
design, yet each unlike its neighbor and all of the most brilliant hue.
The cliffs are architectural, suggestive of human kinship and more than
marvelous — they are interesting.

Then there is the brilliant and resistless river. At Toltec it is only
a murmuring cataract ; in the Royal gorge a stream you may often leap
across ; the Rio de Las Animas is deep and quiet. But here rushes along
its gigantic flume a great volume of hurried water, rolled over and over
in headlong haste, hurled against solid abutments to recoil in showers of
spray or to sheer off in sliding masses of liquid emeiald. Now some
quiet nook gives momentary rest. The water is .still and deep. Small
rafts of seedy foam swing slowly around the edges, tardy to dissolve.

PICTURES OF THE

271

GUNNISON'S BUTTE.

The rippled sand can be seen in wavy lines far underneath like the
markings on a duck's breast. The surplus water curves like bent glass
over the dam that rims the pool on its lower side, and beyond is a whirl-
pool of foam and the hissing tumult of shattered waves amid which rise
the sharp crests of crimson bowlders flounced with snowy circles of foam.

272 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

Alternating with the vast pillars and the slick faces of red rock are
the nooks and ravines where trees grow, flowers bloom and the eye can
get a glimpse of a triangle of violet sky ; while sometimes a silken skein
of white water can be traced down the deepest recesses of the glen, and
the gleam of swallow's wings flitting in colonies about their circular
adobes bracketed against the wall.

These facts, noted like short hand memoranda upon the brain as
they quickly flash by, slowly return to the memory and feed recollection,
as the mind in after days elaborates the impression made by each, and
summons a series of separated and leisurely pictures before the imagina-
tion; but no writer can depict for another what the form of these
pictures shall be. I recite to you the elements — stupendous measure-
ments, majestic forms, splendid colors, the gleaming green and white of
water, the blue and gold of sun and sky, the crystalline sparkle of red-
dened rocks ; but you must yourself receive these elements if you are to
paint adequately to your fancy the pictures of the canon. It is not
literary cant, but the literal truth, when I say that to be understood, this
marvelous pathway through the mountains must be seen. And having
seen it, you have enriched your memory beyond anything you could
have foretold.

XXVIII
THE UNCOMPAHGRE VALLEY.

The hills grow dark,

On purple peaks a deeper shade descending;
In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark,
The deer, half -seen, are to the covert wending.

— WALTEK SCOTT.

HE station at the western end of the canon of the Gun-
nison is called Cimmaron after the river upon whose
banks it stands. In the prehistoric days before the rail-
way, this was Cline's ranch, where all the stages from
the Gunnison to the San Miguel region stopped. He
was one of the few pioneers who got on well with the
Indians, and his monument stands in the name of a peak down by
Ouray.

From Cimmaron upward stretches one of the steepest grades between
Denver and Salt Lake, in order to surmount Squaw Hill in the Cedar
range, — the water-shed between the Cimmaron and the lower drainage
of the Gunnison. Two locomotives drag us at a snail's pace, struggling,
puffing rapidly and spasmodically just as though their lungs were tor-
tured by the rarity of the air. Their efforts suggest Pope's line, and
seem to beat time to it, —

"When Ajax strives, some rock's vast weight to throw.
The line, too, labors, and the words move slow."

There is nothing to be seen but great knolls of grass and sage brush,
sometimes showing their rocky anatomy; and this nakedness is a relief
after the strain upon our attention in the canon. Finally we get high
enough to look far away to a horizon full of hazy mesas and peaked
mountains, with a touch of valley land down in the center of the picture.
A cool breeze blows, and comes with refreshing.

The valley we see is our first view of the Uncompahgre ; and in the
middle of the afternoon we reach the town of Montrose, — a settlement of
wooden houses.

Here we stopped. There were two reason : first, this was the point
of departure for the upper valley of the Uncompahgre, and the mining
region on the northern front of the San Juan mountains; second, we
wanted to know the arguments that had induced some hundreds of peo-
ple to make their homes in the midst of this white Sahara.

The first of these objects required instant attention, for between our

273

274 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

arrival at Montrose and the departure of the stage up the valley to the
Uncompahgre Cantonment, and the town of Ouray, there was time only
to get a hearty luncheon. Chum had said from the start that he was
quite willing to concede all the attractions of Ouray, and declined posi-
tively to leave the comfort of home. I told him he was missing a good
deal, but he said that he had lost all faith in good deals — didn't " gamble
any more on that chance," — and persisted in his "No, thank you."

The Madame felt both inclined and disinclined. She knew the hor-
rors of staging, she said it was a fit punishment for malefactors, and she

BUTIES OF THE CRObS.

dreaded even forty miles of it, on a level road, worse than a fit of sick-
ness. " Then she looked unutterable sympathy at me, and began to
reflect that possibly her duty as a wife required her to go (seeing that
I couldn't escape it,) in order to share the discomforts her husband was
obliged to undergo, and do what she could to alleviate his tortures.

Just at this juncture, for doubt had swayed her usually well-decided
mind up to the last minute, she caught a glimpse of the big red coach
coming from the hotel toward us. Its noise was as the thundering of
"the chariots of Israel and the horsemen thereof." It swung from side
to side like a fire steamer tearing over Baltimore cobble stones. It
lunged into irrigating ditches and came pitching up out of them, while
the hind boot dived in to be brought up with a frame-cracking jolt, and
it rocked fore and aft like a Dutch lugger in a chop sea. Its great con-
cavity was packed full of unfortunate Jonahs, swallowed "bag and

THE STAGE RIDE. 275

breeches." Its capacious baggage receptacles before and behind were
distended with trunks and valises, rolls of blankets, packages of news-
papers, boxes of fruit and dozens of mail-sacks. Its roof was piled with
a confused mass of luggage and sweltering humanity. There wasn't a
lady to be seen. Chum looked at me as I buttoned my duster, and lift-
ing a corner of the Madame's apron to his eye, choked back a sympa-
thetic sob.

" Come on! " I called to the person who was anxious to alleviate my
tortures, but she held back.

" I'm— thinking — whether — after all " —

"Oh, are you? Good — give us a kiss — goodbye! Better do your
thinking now than after you're tired out up the valley. I'll be back
shortly, and expect you to know all about Montrose."

The big red coach came to a lurching anchorage close by the door
and I climbed to the vacant seat beside the driver, for which, with the
wisdom of experience, I had telegraphed a request the day before.

"Been a-keepin' this seat for you with a club," said Jehu, curtly,
as he gathered up the reins of four grey horses and removed his foot
from the brake.

There was the sensation of a geological upheaval, forward. I dug
my heels hard into the mail-sacks heaped upon the foot-board, clutched
the hand-rail of the seat, set my back against the knees of the man on the
dicky seat, stiffened my neck to save my head from being snapped off, —
and we were under way.

A whole chapter could be written about that stage ride and my
fellow travelers, but it will keep. The road crossed the yellow Uncom-
pahgre, and stretched like a chalk-mark athwart the sage green expanse
of gravelly valley. One of the outside passengers was an Englishman
who had spent seven years in the diamond fields of South Africa. He
told us this region reminded him of that land, and entertained us by
his accounts of it, and of the Caffres — especially the English habit of
knocking one down (a Caffre-boy was always handy) whenever the
aggrieved temper of a white man required any little relief. So, with
umbrella overhead and green goggles to break the glare, — despite the
purple-blue storms we could see stalking about the mountain-ranges
ahead — the first seven miles passed speedily, and we drew up at the
sutler's store of the pretty military cantonment, whose buildings had
loomed mirage-like for more than half the way.

When the Utes were ready to be moved from this valley over to the
new Uintah agency, a military post was established here. As its per-
manence was not decided upon, only a cantonment was founded, pro-
viding temporary quarters in log houses for six companies. It was
called simply the Cantonment on the Uncompahgre, and was at first gar-
risoned by the Twenty-third Infantry. In 1882, however, this regiment
was relieved by four companies of the Fourteenth Infantry. Its com-

276 THE GRE8T OF THE CONTINENT.

manding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Henry Douglass is here, although
the headquarters of the regiment are at Sidney, Nebraska.

The post, as I said, is not intended to be a permanent one. The
visitor must not expect, therefore, the handsome buildings and grounds
to be seen at Camp Douglass, Salt Lake City, where this regiment was
domiciled for seven years, enduring meanwhile some hard service in
Indian fighting.

We had already passed Ouray Farms, where Ouray, the fine old
head-chief of all the Ute confederation, lived toward the end of his life
in a good house built of adobe after the Mexican fashion, and cultivated
the neighboring bottom-lands. His farm made the grand center of Ute
interest, and from the pleasant groves near it radiated all the trails across
mountain and plain. Many out-houses, of log and frame, surrounded
the main building and testify that order was one of the great chief's good
qualities. Here, after his death Chippeta, widow of Ouray, continued
to live, raising farm products and pasturing sheep, and so attached had
she become to the spot that she importuned the government to be granted
the privilege of abandoning her race and returning to her farm home.
The government refused this request, but decided to sell the farm for
the personal benefit of Chippeta.

All along the river, which ran between thick belts of trees some
distance at our left, we had seen spaces of meadow and a few ranches.
At the old Agency — four miles above the post — we came to its lofty
bank at a point where the river bent in so close to the foot of the bluff,
that water for the station-stables was drawn up by means of a pulley
mounted in a tall scaffolding of poles standing in front of the cliff, and
reached by a bridge. It was a well, built some sixty feet out of ground,
like that Nevada tunnel Mark Twain describes, which, having gone
quite through the hill, was continued out upon a staging.

The road thence ran along the edge of the bluff and through the
woods — a road upon which we rattled at a steady trot, although on the
left there was nothing to break our fall for a hundred feet or so, should
an accident tip us over. The river valley, thus sunken, was sometimes
narrow and the stream turbulent among rocks; sometimes a mile or two
wide with willow-covered bottoms ; sometimes showing islands crowded
with trees and thickets, or of great bends where lay spaces of rank
meadow. Two or three little houses were pointed out where head men
among the Indians had lived on small farms, and the driver, who had
run a stage before the red men left, told us many interesting stories
of their life in this favorite valley.

Leaving the river and the verdant gorge, its cottonwoods illumined
with flaming light of the sunset, the road took to the higher ground and
gave us many a good jolt in crossing the small acequias which watered
the upper ranches on the edge of the mesa, and then came into view of
Uncompahgre park, stretching away to the westward like a prairie, and
the scene of some of the finest farming in Colorado. There are about

COLORADO RANCHES. 277

thirty ranches where, half a dozen years ago was nothing but wild
pasture. The ranchmen were all poor men when they came here; now
they have pleasant houses, well fenced and irrigated farms and equip-
ments in abundance. I heard of one ranch sold lately for ten thousand
dollars, and was told of another where the owner cleared six thousand
dollars for his last season's profits. Everything is raised except Indian
corn, but wheat is not cultivated so extensively as it will be when mill
ing facilities are better. Barley, oats, hay and vegetables are the princi-
pal crops, and potatoes probably offer the highest return of all. Prices
have decreased to one-fifth the figures of five years ago, yet the ranch-
men prosper and increase their acreage, putting surplus money into
cattle which roam upon the adjacent uplands. The land is by no means
all taken up, however, and improved property can be bought at reason-
able prices. There is plenty of water, too, an important consideration.

In the center of the park we passed a copious spring of hot mineral
water, carrying much iron, as we could tell by the circular tank of
ferric oxide it had built around it, forming a bath large enough for
a hundred persons at once. As yet there are few arrangements for mak-
ing use of this fountain, — a fact due to the plentiful hot springs of iron
and of sulphur (sulphate of lime, etc.), water close to Ouray, where
a sanitarium and bath houses have been fitted up, and where persons
suffering from rheumatism and kindred ailments find great benefit.
So much Warm water is poured into the Uncompahgre, in fact, that
nothing more than a film of ice forms upon it in the coldest weather.
Remembering all these varied advantages, it is no wonder the Utes
loved the place and protested against its loss.

The mountains ahead came into plainer view, as we left the park ;
we caught a glimpse of the curious Sawtooth range off at the left,
saw that the rounded outlines of the bluffs on each side were changing
to abrupt walls, and trending inward, and then the hush of night and
the quiet of weariness came to still our conversation and turn our
thoughts into meditative channels. Darkness enveloped the world and
we pulled slowly through it by the light of a thousand brilliant stars —
the same stars that shone on the Madame and Chum; that, beyond the
Range, shed soft light on the shepherds and herdsmen of the great
plains ; that trembled in the eddies of the Mississippi ; that were watched
by wakeful people on the slopes of laurel-crowned Alleghanian hills;
that caught faintly the eye of revelers — for it must now be after the
opera— in New York ; that spoke a mysterious language to the watcher
upon the far ocean ; and, oh, best of all ! that looked in at a curtained
New England window and saw a child in peaceful slumbers. Little
daughter under the ancient elms, — planet in the far sky, — father passing
under the massive shadow of gigantic cliffs whose pine-fringed bulwarks
are lost in the thick gloom above! What an immeasurable triangle, yet
how swiftly does the mercury of thought compass it and link its points
together?

XXIX
AT OURAY AND RED MOUNTAIN.

Bathed In the tenderest purple of distance,

Tinted and shadowed by pencils of air,

Thy battlements hang o'er the slopes and the forests,

Seats of the gods In the limitless ether,

Looming sublimely aloft and afar.

Above them, like folds of imperial ermine,

Sparkle the snowflelds that furrow thy forehead,—

Desolate realms, inaccessible, silent,

Chasms and caverns where Day is a stranger,

Garners where storeth his treasures the Thunder,

The Lightning his falchion, his arrows the Hail.

—BAYARD TAYLOR.

URAY is — what shall I say? The prettiest mountain
town in Colorado? That wouldn't do. A dozen other
places would deny it, and the cynics who never saw
anything different from a rough camp of cabins in
some quartz gulch, would sneer that this was faint
praise. Yet that it is among the most attractive in sit-
uation, in climate, in appearance, and in the society it affords, there can
be no doubt. There are few western villages that can boast so much
civilization.

Ouray stands in a bowl-shaped valley — a sort of broad pit in fact —
hollowed out of the northern flank of that mass of mountains which
holds the fountains of so many widely destined rivers. A narrow notch
in the bowl southward lets the Uncompahgre break through to the IOWT-
lands, and furnishes us with a means of ingress; otherwise the most
toilsome climbing would be the only way to get into or out of town.
From this point diverge three or four short but exceedingly lofty, and
several lesser ranges, like the spokes of a wheel from its hub. East-
ward stretches the continental divide of the Sierra San Juan proper;
southward the Needles and the circling heights that enclose Baker's
park; westward the Sierra San Miguel; northward the spurs of Uncom-
pahgre; and the diminishing foothills and mesas that sink gradually
into the Gunnison valley.

Yet the first comers — it is only seven years ago, but the mists of
antiquity seem to gather about it— did not enter that way, but came
over the range from the south. Prospectors for precious metals, they
ascended the Rio Las Animas from Baker's park, until they found its

278

THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

279

head, and stood upon the dividing- crest of the range. Here a streamlet
trickled nortKward, and they followed its broadening current down the
unknown gorges into which it sank. The walls were often too steep to
allow any foothold for them, and then they would wade in the icy water
and stumble over the slippery bowlders that had fallen from above.
When a dozen miles of this work had been accomplished, they found

themselves entering
a canon so narrow,
that by stretching
out their arms they
could almost touch
both of its walls ; and
so irregular that a
few rods before and
behind was all the
distance that ever
could be seen at once.
Uncertain when they
would be brought to
a standstill by some
pool or precipitous
fall, and compelled
to struggle back
against a torrent
which scarcely al-
lowed them to move
downstream in safe-
ty, they pushed on
until they suddenly
emerged into a beau-
tiful round valley,
filled with copses of
trees and sunny
glades. In this haven
the.chilled and weary
prospectors rested
for the night. While
one man — there were
no more than three,
I believe, — built the
fire, sliced the fat ba-
con and molded the
bread; the second
went to the river
with his fishing-line,

280 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

and the third started out with his gun. By the time the bread was
baked the angler came back with eighteen trout and the hunter returned
for help to bring in a bear he had killed within a couple of hundred
yards. So runs the tradition, and there is no reason to discredit it.

Now, where the bear was shot and the trout caught, stands a town of
fifteen hundred people, which forms the center for supplying a wide cir-
cuit of mining localities, including Red Mountain, Mt. Sneffles, Mineral
Point and Mineral Farm, Bear Creek, and half a dozen other places
of lesser note ; and which affords a good market for the agriculturists
of the lower valleys, and the cattle breeders of neighboring mesas.
Prosperity, comfort, and even much luxury prevail now; but some of
the trials of the earliest settlers, beset by isolation, winter, famine, and
the fear of Indians, would be worth recounting could I have unlimited
space.

This is not a miner's guide, and nothing could be drier reading for a
stranger than a catalogue of diggings and minerals. The ores abound in
a thousand ledges which run up and down, and here aud there, all
through the mountains, from the metamorphic limestones of the outer
ledges to the storm-hewn trachyte that caps the hoary summits. What
I have said concerning the ore of the opposite (southern) side of the San
Juan system of mountains, and the way in which it occurs, applies well
enough to this side also. It could not well be otherwise, for the age
and general geology of the two regions is as nearly alike as the two
sides of the same mountain-chain are very likely to be. In a word the
ores are varied, but chiefly ores of galena and copper, occurring in
fissure veins and carrying a "high grade " proportion of silver (in various
forms) and a considerable quantity of gold. The extraordinary variety
of minerals, and the vast bulk of the ore deposits are the two noteworthy
features of the region. These ores, moreover, as a rule, are not " refrac-
tory " though containing antimonial elements which in an excess would
make them so. Works for their concentration, i. e., the sifting out
(after pulverization) of the worthless vein-matter, in order to save the
expenses of transportation, are run to great advantage.

Ouray's principal claim to our notice as sightseers lay in its beauti-
ful situation, and^he attractive bits of mountain scenery in its neighbor-
hood,—a collection of pictures which it would be hard to duplicate in an
equally limited space anywhere else in the whole Rocky mountains.

The valley in which the town is built is at an elevation of about
7,500 feet above the sea, and is pear-shaped, its greatest width being not
more than half a mile while its length is about twice that down to the
mouth of the canon. Southward— that is toward the heart of the main
range, — stand the two great peaks Hardin and Hayden. Between is the
deep gorge down which the Uncompahgre finds its way; but this is
hidden from view by a ridge which walls in the town and cuts off all the
farther view from it in the direction, save where the triangular top of

A PICTURESQUE WAGON ROAD 281

Mt. Abrams peers over. Westward are grouped a series of broken
ledges, surmounted by greater and more rugged heights. Down
between these and the western foot of Mt. Hayden struggles Canon
creek to join the Uncompahgre; while Oak creek leaps down a line of
cataracts from a notch in the terraced heights through which the quad-
rangular head of White House mountain becomes grandly discernible, —
the eastermost buttress of the wintry Sierra San Miguel.

All of these mountains, though extremely rugged, precipitous, and
adorned with spurs and protruding shoulders of naked rock, yet slope
backward somewhat, and through one of these depressions passes a
most remarkable and picturesque wagon road to Silverton, constructed
at immense cost and displaying wonderful engineering skill. But at the
lower side of the little basin, where the path of the river is beset with
close canon-walls, the cliffs rise vertical from the level of the village,
and bear their forest-growth many hundreds of feet above. These
mighty walls, two thousand feet high in some places, are of metamor-
phic rock, and their even stratification simulates courses of well-ordered
masonry. Stained by iron and probably also by manganese, they are a
deep red-maroon; this color does not lie uniformly, however, but is
stronger in some layers than in others, so that the whole face of the cliff
is banded horizontally in pale rust color, or dull crimson, or deep and
opaque maroon. The western cliff is bare, but on the morj frequent
ledges of the eastern wall scattered spruces grow, and add to its attract-
iveness. Yet, as though Nature meant to teach that a bit of motion, — a
suggestion of glee was needed to relieve the sombreness of utter immo-
bility and grandeur however shapely, she has led to the sunlight by a
crevice in the upper part of the eastern wall that we cannot see, a brisk
torrent draining the snowfields of some distant plateau. This little
stream, thus beguiled by the fair channel that led it through the spruce
woods above, has no time to think of its fate, but is flung out over the
sheer precipice eighty feet into the valley below. We see the white
ghost of its descending, and always to our ears is murmured the voice of
the Naiads who are taking the breathless plunge. Yet by what means
the stream reaches that point from above, cannot be seen, and the picture
is that of a strong jet of water bursting from an orifice through the
crimson wall and falling into rainbow-arched mist and a tangle of grate-
ful foliage, that hides its further flowing.

As Mr. Weston well says, and as I have insisted in my chapters
upon the southern side of the San Juan range, the indescribable charm
of this scenery is due not so much to its gigantic proportions, its grotesque
and massively-grand outlines, or its variety of composition, as to the
contrasts of color and condition. "Even now (May) while I write," he
says, " it is warm and summery in town, tho side hills are covered with
flowers and the whistle of the humming bird's wing is heard in the air;
yet I can look up at White House peak and see the snow banners blow>
12*

282 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

ing from its summit, as in the coldest day in winter. In the autumn,
more especially, are the contrasts of color seen, and the landscape, as
it then appears, if painted on canvas, would, I believe, be laughed at, if
shown in Europe or the Eastern States, as an impossibility. I have
climbed the heights above Ouray, and looked down on it, when the
atmosphere of the valley seemed of a hazy blue, the sloping sides of the
surrounding mountains being clothed with the golden yellow and the
red brown of the quaking aspen and the dwarf oak, the varied greens of
the spruce, balsam, cedar and yellow pine, and above that the brown
gray of the trachyte peaks, their snow-capped summits forming a charm
ing contrast against the lovely violet blue of the evening sky."

This valley alone, with its everchanging panorama of summer and
winter, of verdurous spring and the noise of gushing waters, of flaming
autumn and the drapery of haze etherializing the world, presenting
under always novel aspect the forms and colors so lavishly displayed —
this nook alone would satisfy a generation of artists. But the enchant-
ment of the half hidden gorges, the allurement of the beckoning peaks
urge us to explore beauties beyond.

I cannot redescribe the way in which these bristling peaks of purple
and green trachyte cut the tremulous sky, nor try to make you under-
stand anew the abysses that sink narrowly between the closely crowded
mountains. If the reader will kindly turn back to where I have endeav-
ored to convey to him some idea of the Alps that lie about Baker's park
and at the head of the Rio Dolores and the Rio de La Plata, he will
learn what I might repeat of scenes this side of the divide; for some
of those former peaks can be seen from here, and this, too, equally with
the southern slope, "is Silver San Juan."

The ride across the hills towards Red mountain was something to be
remembered The great walls of maroon rock and the precipices that
rose in terraced grandeur upon their shoulders, coming into view one
by one as we ascended from the basin to the foothills, were all wet with
the night dews, and gleamed like mirrors under the morning sun. The
foothills themselves were rugged jumbles of rocks heaped about the base
of the mountains, and full of deep crevices where the streams coursed
far out of sight and hearing. They were covered with a mingled growth
of spruces, cedars, small oaks and several other shrubby trees. There
were open spaces where a dense chapparal or heather of small thorny
bushes of various kinds hid the ground; and other slopes where tall
grass and innumerable flowers formed favorite pastures for sedate
groups of donkeys. Passing the dizzy brink of the chasm into which
Bear creek makes its awful leap, snatching a beauty beyond portrayal
from the very jaws of terror, we enter a rank forest of aspens and
spruces. One might fire a pistol-ball across to the side of Mt. Hayden,
•vhich rises an almost sheer wall of indigo-gray from a gulf between

THE RIDE ACROSS THE HILLS.

283

GRAND CANON OF THE COLORADO.

us and it, whose creviced-bottom is out of sight below. Deep and varied
shadows lie in the little ravines that seam its almost vertical slopes, and
streaks of dusty snow lurk in the higher crannies feeding trickling
cascades of sunbright water that drop like tears into the unfathomed
canon.

284 THE GREST OF THE CONTINENT.

Through the trees southward, to the right of the triangular peak of
Engineer mountain, and the great barrier of Abrams, we could now
catch a glimpse of a rounded summit as gaudy as the hat of a cardinal.
This was the Red mountain, of which so much has been heard. The
road there follows the course of Red Mountain creek from its mouth for
two miles through dense pine timber. At this point, four miles from
Ouray, and two thousand feet higher, it enters a flat valley or park two
miles long, which is covered with willows and with prairies of long
grass that every autumn is mowed for hay. This park contains many
ponds and miry places, and is said to be underlaid everywhere with bog
iron-ore. On either side of the park is a high range of mountains
and trachyte peaks, that on the west being the divide between the Red
Mountain district and Imogene basin in the Sneffels district, and that on
the east being the divide between the Red Mountain district and the
Uncompahgre district and Poughkeepsie gulch. At the upper end of
the park commences the chain of scarlet peaks, from twelve to thirteen
thousand feet in altitude, which are regarded as the volcanic center
toward which all the lodes of the surrounding region seem to converge.

The history of this new "camp," Red Mountain, is a short one. In
the summer of 1881 three men discovered the Guston mine, but as
the ore was low grade it was worked only because it gave an excess of
lead which was just then in demand at the Pueblo smelter. In August,
1882, John Robinson, one of the owners, was hunting deer, and while
resting, carelessly picked up a small bowlder, after the manner of pros-
pectors who never stop a moment anywhere but they scrutinize every
bit of stone within reach, out of pure habit. Astonished at the weight
of this piece he broke it in two and found it to be solid galena. This
clue led to the discovery of the Yankee Girl lead close by. A month
later the owneis had sold the prospect-hole for $125,000, but retained
two other apparently equally valuable mines near at hand. In the
Yankee Girl rich ore was found only a dozen feet below the surface;
and though it had to be packed upon mules and burros all the way
down to Silverton, it yielded a profit of over fifty dollars a ton.

Upon the heels of this discovery there was a great rush of miners
and speculators toward the scarlet heights, and several large settlements
— principally Ironton and Red Mountain Town — sprang up on the
rough and forested hillside. Claim stakes dotted the mountain as thick
as the poles in a hop-field, and astonishing success attended nearly
every digging. Among them all the first lode opened, the Yankee Girl,
held supremacy, as is so often the case; but a few months later a neigh-
boring property, the National Belle, leaped far to the front at a single
bound.

This occurred by the accident of a workman breaking through the
tunnel wall into a cavity. Hollow echoes came back from the blows of
his pick, and stones thrown were heard to roll a long distance. Taking

A TREASURE GA YE. 28*

a candle, one of the men descended and found himself in an immense
natural chamber, the flickering rays of the light showing him the vaulted
roof far above, seamed with bright streaks of galena and interspersed
with masses of soft carbonates, chlorides and pure white talc. On
different sides of this remarkable chamber were small openings leading
to other rooms or chambers, showing the same wonderful rich forma-
tion. Returning from this brief reconnoisance a party began a regular
exploration. They crept through the narrow opening into an immense
natural tunnel running above and across the route of their working drift
for a hundred feet or more, in which they clambered over great bowl-
ders of pure galena, and mounds of soft gray carbonates, while the walls
and roof showed themselves a solid mass of chloride and carbonate ores
of silver. Returning to the starting point they passed through another
narrow tunnel of solid and glittering galena for a distance of forty feet,
and found indications of other large passages and chambers beyond.
" It would seem," cries the local editor in his account of this romantic
disclosure, "as though Nature had gathered her choice treasures from
her inexhaustible storehouse, and wrought these tunnels, natural stop-
ping places and chambers, studded with glittering crystals and bright
mineral to dazzle the eyes of man in after ages, and lure him on to other
treasures hidden deeper in the bowels of the earth. . . The news of
the discovery spread like wildfire, and crowds came to see the sight,
and to many of them it was one never to be forgotten."

This was only the first of these surprises, for many cavities have
since been divulged, great and small, in each of which crude wealth had
been locked up since the world was made. The character of the ores,
the occurrence of these cavities, and the extremely short distances
beneath the turf at which rich ore is struck, have combined to cause
much discussion among geologists as to the true history of the district.

One of the most striking scenes in the neighborhood of Ouray is
the passage through which Canon creek makes its way down to join the
Uncompahgre just above the village. A wild and interesting gorge
leads upward toward the western foot of Mt. Hayden, the trail carrying
one along the edge of a little cliff, and the walls rapidly contracting so
that little room is left even for the foot-trail. A quarter of a mile,
perhaps less, above the village, these walls suddenly close together, and
the steep, brush-grown slope, is lost in a lofty crag, towering far above
the tallest spruces, and standing squarely across the gorge. In this
escarpment a zigzag crevice shows itself extending from top to bottom :
at the top you may look some distance within it, but at the foot the pro-
truding masses on one side, the sharp curve on the opposite, and the
deep shadows, never illumined by the highest sun, shut off all searching
by the eye. Out of this narrow, upright, cave-like crevice, as though
from its original strong fountains, gushes the deep and turbulent stream,

286 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

cold as ice and sparkling with a million imprisoned bubbles of air. Get
as near as you can to its aperture — crane your head around the very
corner of these mountain water-gates, and you can see nothing but dark
ness, in which only the outlines of the nearest irregularities in the rocky
walls are dimly defined, while the beetling ledges above shut out the
narrow line of sky that might be seen were the sides of the canon
smooth. Retreating down stream a little way, you look past bright pil-
lars of rosy quartzite, across the glittering pathway of foam necked
water, glorying in its escape, up to the lofty gates and the shadowy
crevice between, whence the river comes ceaselessly and with singing;
you note the color-touches of the flowers and blossoming vines; the soft
hangings of the ferns under the damp ledges, the emerald foliage of the
poplar standing bravely beneath the shadow of the cliffs and the darker
forms of giant spruces — you see this contrast of brightness and color
and sunshine just without the damp glooin of the mysterious portals;
and you tell yourself that there are few scenes in the Rockies that can
equal it.

There is a roundabout way to get to the top of these cliffs and look
down into the chasm; and at one point, where it is much more than one
hundred feet in depth, a person may easily step across from edge to
edge. Though it would probably be impossible in the lowest stage of
water to make one's way up from below against the swift flood that fills
the whole width of the chasm, yet by going above it is possible to work
your waj down stream for a long distance into the crevice. A cave
exists there, entered at the surface of the water, and occasional picnic
parties are made up to go to it. These consist mainly of young people
whom age has not sobered, for during the latter part of the way it is
needful that the gentlemen wading should carry the ladies across fre-
quent portages — to borrow a word from a reverse custom. The cave
entrance at the water side is only an ante-chamber to the real cavern.
To reach that a ladder and rope is required, by which the men first
ascend to a second higher chamber and then draw the ladies up. The
entrance is a hatchway so narrow that portly persons have been known
to express fears as to their getting through.

Both cave and canon are eaten out of the limestone, and several
cnasms of the same sort occur upon this and neighboring streams,
where the water flowing along the strike of the upturned strata, has cut
into it a narrow channel between walls of more resisting rock. Along
Portland creek, just above the village, Tuch a canon is to be visited, con-
taining many beautiful cascades, where the canon walls do not rise
vertically but at a considerable slant, one leaning over the other, and the
stream ever edging sidewise as it cuts deeper and deeper. The erosion
in these cases is not accomplished so much by attrition, as by a chemical
decomposition of the limestone. Yet attrition must do a great work at
times; for now and then these purling brooks become the channels for

GRAND CANON, FROM TO-RO-WASF.

288 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

cloudbursts at their sources, and then a mighty and impetuous flood
hurls itself down the gorge and chokes the bursting canons with an
unmeasured mass of water and detritus, whose weight and velocity are
so great, however, that the flood of water not only, but thousands of
tons of bowlders and rocky fragments are forced through and spread out
in the valley below. Every such a deluge leaves its marks plainly upon
the sides of the canons, as well as upon the softer banks outside.

It was in the afternoon that I mounted the coach homeward bound,
and bade good bye to a host of pleasant acquaintances. I felc rather
guilty. I had stayed longer than I intended, and had had a much better
time than I had anticipated. I felt somehow, therefore, as though I
defrauded the Madame and Chum out of a pleasurable opportunity
and I resolved to note more carefully whatever I might see that was
delightful.

The gap in the great red cliffs which lets the river and us out to the
lowlands is only two or three hundred yards in width, and is filled with
a dense growth of trees. The river trickles as a narrow, winding stream
through a broad swath of pebbles that it has swept down, and which
annually it overflows. The lofty cliffs stand on each side, erect and
imposing. Theirs were the massive forms seen dimly in the darkness
and enveloping us in inky shadows when we came up at midnight.
Their irregularities break into new forms of picturesqueness as we roll
past, enchanting our eyes. Three or four miles below town the thick
growth of trees in the bottom and on the ledges thins out, while the
valley grows wider, and ranches begin to appear. Pleasan': houses, sur-
rounded by trees, stand in the midst of wide fields of grain and low-lying
meadows of natural hay. The cliffs still rise hundreds of feet high and
are redder even than those above, — as brightly vermillioned as the
crest of the treasure-mountain I have compared to a cardinal's hat.
Those on the eastern side (we are heading squarely northward) are
sparsely wooded with spruces and cedars that get a foothold on the
rocky shelves and lean outward craving the light ; those on the left are
almost bare, even of herbage.

It is said that Uncompahgre in the Ute tongue, means " red stream,"
and, if so, it is easy to understand the application. The water is not
red (though it might sometimes look so when roiled by freshets,) but the
whole canon is crimson and blood-stained. The color shines between
bushes and trees, stands out in great upright masses, tinges the dust
underfoot, and intensifies both the green of the heathery hills and the
azure of mountain and sky.

At Dallas Station, where the Dallas river comes down from the west
into the Uncompahgre, we stopped to get supper and wait for the stage
from Telluride, Rico, Anies, and the other mining towns in the San
Miguel range, whose outlet is this way. Those mountains were in plain
view — Sneffles, Potosi, and all their peers, — glorified in the sunset;

A RIDE AFTER NIGHTFALL. 289

while away in the eastward could be seen the gashed and splintered
peaks of that quartzite group (here called the Sawtooth, but reckoned
on the maps as part of the Uncompahgre range) the outline of which
I can only compare to the jagged confusion of the broken bottles set
along the top of a stone wall.

It is dark when we leave Dallas and darker in the gloom of the
mesa shadows and under the shrubbery that overhangs the road along
the high river bank. Out of the blackness below came up the sound of
the river's fretting as from a nether world, for we could only now and
then get a glimpse of the shaded water. When this had been passed, how-
ever, and we were going at a steady trot across the wide-reaching and
starlit uplands, it was very delightful. The air was cool and soft and
drowsy. The stars shone with that brilliance which long ago suggested
to the savage mind that they were pin-holes in the canopy through
which beamed the ineffable refulgence of an endless day to be attained
when the probation of this life was over. Every moment or two a
meteor would leap out, flash with pale brilliance across the firmament,
eclipsing the steady stars for an instant, and then disappear as though
behind a veil. Sleepy cattle, resting in the dust, would rise with heavy
lurchings to get out of our way and stupidly stare at us as we swung
past. The "watch dog's honest bark " came to our ears from ranches,
whose position we knew by a dot of yellow light; ghostly forms would
quickly resolve themselves into the white hoods of freight wagons, their
poles piled with harness and their crews asleep underneath ; faint rust-
lings in the sage-bush told of disturbed birds and rabbits; and so, peace-
fully and enjoyably, midnight brought us to our journey's end.

XXX

MONTROSE AND DELTA.

My father left a park to me,

But it is wild and barren,
A garden too with scarce a tree,

And waster than a warren;
Yet say the neighbors when they call,

It is not bad but good land.
And in it is the germ of all

That grows within the woodland.

— TENNYSON.

HE compassion I had been feeling for probable ennui
endured by the two who hud been left behind at
Montrose was quite unnecessary. They had amused
themselves very well during my prolonged absence.
" Montrose is better than it looks," they told me.
" But what did you do? " I asked.
"Well, we studied the situation," said Chum, who is becoming
thirsty for knowledge in these latter days. " And we got acquainted
with some very pleasant people, who told us good stories, and took us
out riding and lent us books."

"Yes," said the Madame, "in one of our rides we went up to the
camp."
"Eh!"

" And heard how you spent a whole day there doing nothing but
playing billiards with the officers. Do you call that being industrious? "
"Well," I began.

"No, it is not well at all; at any rate you might have told me, and
not made believe you only saw the camp by passing through. And we
heard all about that hop in Ouray. You forgot that, too, didn't you?
The people were greatly surprised to learn you were not a gay young
bachelor. It was three o'clock in the morning before you went home."
" Oh, Oh-h! " groans Chum.

" ' Pon honor, it wasn't," I protest. "It was only two."
"Only two! Well, the next time you go to Ouray I'm going with
you."

Chum sings:

"Now is the time for disappearing, * and takes a header out of the
side door. It is my cue to follow suit, but instead the Madame picks up
her parasol and sails out with dignity. She wouldn't make a bad figure

290

TALL TIMBER. 291

in the Lancers, I think, as she closes the door. I had intended to do
some writing before the time came to pursue our journey, but I don't
feel like it now and pick up Felix Holt and a cigar. Presently the two
return in high good humor over some joke, and luncheon is ordered and
eaten amid a f usilade of chattered nonsense.

Betweentimes I extract bits of information in regard to Montrose
and its neighborhood. The town is the center of a very large agri-
cultural district. It supplies all of the valley of the Uncompahgre as
far south as Dallas creek, and westward nearly to Delta; while north-
ward its bailiwick extends over to widely scattered but numerous settlers
on the North Fork of the Gunnison and its tributaries. A glance at the
map will show the reader that a great number of small streams come
down from the mountains lying north of the Gunnison, and of its North
Fork, to feed those trunk-streams. The mountains themselves, and the
spurs that stretch down between the creeks are rocky, sterile, and too
cold for farming; but in the valleys where the descent is always rapid,
water is easily led aside in irrigating ditches, and the soil is invariably
found to be rich and responsive. Throughout these remote creek-sides,
then, a large farming and stock-raising population has already settled
itself ; and though out of sight, it forms a large element in the class of
buyers for whom the merchant at the railway station must provide.
Those living on the lower part of the North Fork trade at Delta.

Lately coal has been found within half a dozen miles of town, and
veins of great thickness and soundness are being opened in several
places by Montrose men, who can sell it much cheaper than it has
hitherto been brought from Crested Butte. At Cimmaron, about twelve
miles from Montrose, coal of very good quality occurs in great abun-
dance, and is being mined. On the mesas, surrounding Montrose,
grows timber of unusual size and importance, and nearly all the large
sticks — some forty-four feet in length, — used by the railway in the con-
struction of bridges on this half of the line, were derived from those
forests of yellow pine. Several sawmills, each a nucleus of small set-
tlements, buy and sell at Montrose. Local cattle-owners make the town
their headquarters, the herds ranging on the upland pastures within a
few miles. The cattle business in this region has just begun, but every-
thing proves so favorable that great expectations are entertained of it as
a source of wealth. The object is to raise fat beef for local markets, and
Durham blood is being introduced to raise the grade of the native stock.
The Cimmaron range, the heights beyond the North Fork and the
Uncompahgre mesa, supply the chief ranges at present. A good many
people are employed at Montrose, also, in the forwarding business, —
that is, the re-loading of merchandise and other goods into the huge
trailed wagons which they used to call "prairie schooners" on the
plains, to be dragged away to the mountain mining camps. Finally,
the town is the county seat.

292

THE CREST OP THE CONTINENT.

EXPLORING THE WALLS.

While these re-
sources are all of im-
portance Montrose
depends mainly
upon the farming
which she says is to
make her valley and
the dun-colored me-
sas, "blossom as the
rose."

"They tell me,"
says Chum, "and
they prove it, too,
that there is nothing
you cannot raise here
short of tropical
fruits, and they're
not quite sure about
that, for they propose
peaches, nectarines,
and apricots. And
as for grain, great
Injuns! why I saw
stalks of oats as big
as a walking-stick,
and stems of barley
that looked like gun-
barrels."

The Madame
raises her eyebrows
and coughs slightly,
but I take no notice.

' 'And as for wheat,
sir, — wheat? why it's
immense! Thirty-
five and forty bush-
els to the acre is the
regular yield, and of
oats they will pro-
duce fifty or sixty
bushels, and of bar-
ley eighty or ninety.
As for corn, I forget
the figures, but when
we go down the road
this afternoon you'll

A FERTILE VALLEY. 293

see great green fields of it that'll make you think you're back on
the banks of the Wabash. There isn't anything they can't raise in these
bottoms, where they have more water than they know what to do with,
and it '11 be only a few years before this whole great patch of grease-
wood and chalk will be verdant with— with potatoes and corn."

It was a bit of a break, but when this young man gets a fair grip
upon poetry he don't let go so easy. He frowned down the suspicion of
a smile round the corner of our eyes, and rising to his feet, continued:

" I tell you, sir, in five years from now the people of this favored
spot can say in the words of the immortal singer — speaking historically,
of course, you understand — can say,

" Behind, they saw the snow-cloud tossed

By many an icy horn"

********
"Before, warm valleys, wood-embossed
And green with vines —

(watermelons, squashes, pumpkins, hops, morning glories, grapes,
strawberries, parsley, honeysuckles — I 've seen 'em all !)

**^and corn."

We exploded with laughter, and even the enthusiastic orator smiled
grimly as he sat down.

" May be Mr. Whittier wouldn't have seen so much poetry in the
way I used his words, but I tell you Montrose knows there's a heap of
truth in it."

"Yes, no doubt. But how about the 'icy horn' — these high and
dry benches up here? "

"Well, they say the very strongest and most productive soil of all is
on those same gravelly mesas. It's lighter and different from the saline
clays of the bottoms. Now, over there " — pointing to the great upland,
which lay elevated a hundred feet or so above the river on the southern
side of the Uncompahgre — "lies a mesa that contains about twenty-two
thousand acres. Then down below, at the mouth of the river, is
another stretch just twice as large. All that is needful to make that
productive farming land is water. A company here is building a canal
which will be twenty-seven miles long and will cost a hundred thousand
dollars. It takes the water out of the Uncompahgre away up by the
Cantonment, leads it along the foot of the wooded bluffs behind the
mesa, and can furnish enough to water the whole expanse. If you have
a farm there, all you have to do is to select half a mile square or so
— there's heaps of it left untouched as yet, — pay $1.25 an acre, dig side
ditches and draw as much water as you need at so much an inch rental
from the company. That's going to make one vast wheat-field."

"I see, but what next? "

" Well, by the time your wheat is grown there will be mills here to

294 THE GRE8T OF THE CONTINENT.

grind it. There is one now at Montrose which will make from seventy-
five to one hundred barrels of flour per day, and when the crops get
ahead of it other mills will be built. This is not poetry and fancy and
talk; it is a settled fact, for the soil has been tried in more places than
one, and — but, hello ! there 's our train 1 "

Precipitately retreating to our "parlor," we don our dusters and go
steaming down toward Grand Junction.

The mountains whence I have just come lift their snow-embroidered
heights grandly to the sky, and I can point out nearly all the separate
peaks though they are fifty miles away.

"You should have seen that long~hill-range

With gaps of brightness riven —
How through each pass and hollow streamed
The purpling lights of heaven —

" Bivers of golden-mist flowing down

From far celestial fountains, —
The great sun flaming through the rifts
Beyond the wall of mountains."

On the right, extended a long line of bluffs, close at hand, sprinkled
with cedars between which the brick-red soil showed queerly. The
strata in the base of these bluffs were yellowish white and had been cut
by water into a series of little knolls and spurs like sand-dunes and
equally bare of vegetation. They were hot, desolate, and glaring.

The train ran along the edge of the bottom-lands of which these
bluffs were the boundary, and on the left stretched a continuous line of
farms watered from the river which was hidden in a distant grove of
cottonwoods. That the land was rich was shown not only by the flour-
ishing fields of grain, and of Indian corn, but by the luxuriance of
sagebrush and greasewood in the uncultivated spaces. This was the
Uncompahgre we were following, and at Delta, where the bottom-lands
spread out into a spacious plain, we reached its junction with the Gun-
nison, and passed to its right bank over a long bridge.

Dominating everything here to the northward is that vast plateau,
protected from decay by its roofing of lava over the softer substances
that make its bulk, which forms the watershed between the Gunnison
and the Grand rivers, and is called the Grand Mesa. We know that its
surface is hilly and rough, but from here and everywhere else, its edge,
as far as can be seen, cuts the sky with a perfectly straight and even
line as though it were as level on top as a table. In color it appears
dark crimson above the brown and green of mingled forest and exposed
rocks that cover its lower front. Looking past it, up the river, we can
see the snowy Elks, and a line of rails is surveyed from Crested Butte
right down to this point through a series of canons. There is little
opportunity for farming below the mouth of the Uncompahgre, where
abrupt walls of red sandstone shut in the river, and sometimes hem it

NATURE'S MASONRY. 295

so closely that a road bed had to be blasted out of the cliff. The river
has grown, since we saw it last in the Black canon, to be a hundred
yards wide. It still flows deeply and swiftly, but has lost the cataracts.
Its color, too, after so much contact with loose earth, has changed from
green to turbid yellow. The run along its banks is straight and swift.
Generally the track is laid just at the brink, upon the solid rock, and the
river is occasionally crossed upon admirable bridges. One of these
bridges, I remember, is at a place where enormous cliffs of carmine-
tinted sandstone most curiously worn full of little pits and round holes
as though moth-eaten, rise sheer from the water to a great height. The
strata of these cliffs — which also have bands of yellow — wear away
unequally but always in a rounded shape, so that you can see them
edgewise, as at a bend, the protuberances take .the form of "volutes;
and this will continue for long distances unchanged, as if the cliff had
been adorned with gigantic beads of molding. It is one of the most
interesting stages of the whole journey.

Just east of the Grand are the finest cliffs of all, — great piles of
ponderous masonry, fit for the bulwarks of a world, each massive block,
a hundred feet or so square, set firmly upon its underlying tier, and the
whole rising two or three thousand feet in majestic proportions and col-
ors that please by their softness and harmony. Past these we roll slowly
out upon the longest bridge in the state — 950 feet— spanning the swift
yellow flood of the Grand river just abov» *iitire the Gu&nison enters,
and find ourselves at Grand Junction,

XXXI

THE GRAND RIVER VALLEY.

As a true patriot, I should be ashamed to think that Adam in Paradise was more
favorably situated, on the whole, than a backwoodsman in this country.

— THOREATJ.

VERY honest little circular — quite a phenomenon among
prospectuses — had come into our hands, which gave in
terse language the claims that Grand Junction made to
the notice of the world and upon the attention of the
man who was looking for a place of residence in western
Colorado. This honest little circular, toward its end,
contains the following paragraph:

We desire, however, to inform all eastern people who may be think-
ing of coming west, that, while this is one of the most productive valleys
in Colorado, it is anything but this in appearance now. Excepting
along the banks of the streams or near them, there is probably not a
tree to be seen in the valley, unless it was planted since the valley was
settled, or within the past eighteen months. The soil has a dull grayish
appearance, with hardly a blade of grass growing in it for several miles
back from the river, and it produces naturally only sagebrush and
grease wood. It is uninviting and desolate looking in the extreme, and
yet it is far from being so in reality. We are thus explicit in speaking
of the desolate appearance of the country, so that no homesick wanderer
in this far-off western land will say when his heart fails him in looking
over our valley, that he has been deceived, and that all that has been said
of Grand Junction and its surrounding country is a delusion and a snare.
If the reader of this lives in the east, he will almost surely be disap
pointed at first, if he comes out here. It will be the disappointment of
ignorance though, for it is only a man who is ignorant of the productive
ness of this country who will refuse to believe what is said of it in this
respect.

That paragraph put us upon our metal. We were eastern people
undoubtedly, but then we had seen "a heap" of Colorado, and the
word "ignorance," we would not confess applied in our case. It was
therefore with no little curiosity, and something of a resolution to be
pleased anyhow (since we had been told we might not be,) that we
detached our peripatetic home and slipped into a resting-place upon
the customary siding. The glow of the sunset filled the valley with a
blaze of yellow light, and the mesas wore chevrons of indigo shadow and
pink light to the northward, while the scarred bluffs across the Grand
reflected the last rays from burning crests of red sandstone. Weary
with travel we threw open our doors, brushed and dusted and bathed,

296

WAITING TO LEARN.

297

CASTLE GATE

while the kitchen was busy, and then sat down to dinner in the cool soft
air of the twilight. When it was over a multitude of twinkling lights
alone showed where the town lay, and so we left until morning learning
more about it.

When we came to the learning, there were persons enough to teach
us, besides all the explicit information Mr. William E. Pabor and others
have put into type about the new town — the western Denver, the
metropolis of —

" Did n't we hear Gunnison called that, too? and Montrose? and — ?''

298 THE GREST OF THE CONTINENT.

asks the Madame, whose serious mind can never quite become accus-
tomed to local flowers of speech.

Undoubtedly we had; but who shall say which one of them, a cen-
tury from now, shall not deserve the name? Describe it? That would
be merely repetition. Situated, as I have said, in the midst of a level
sage-plain, utterly treeless, it is an orderly jumble of brick buildings,
frame buildings, log cabins, tents, and vacant spaces. It is South
Pueblo or Salida or Durango, or Gunnison of two years ago over again.
The more important question to be answered, is, why is a town built
here at all? It is here in anticipation of the agricultural productions of
the valley by which it is surrounded, water for the irrigation of which is
supplied by the largest river in Colorado, and therefore inexhaustible.

A year before the railway came, speculators, chiefly from Ruby and
Irwin, who had no dread of loneliness, went to this point and started
the town. "They staked off several ranches," says the report, "and
located one irrigating ditch and a town site." This town, which they
called Granville, is situated across the Grand from the mouth of the
Gunnison. A town site was afterwards staked by the Crawford party,
and given the name of Grand Junction.

That is the way these marvelously new and flourishing towns are
started out here. They reverse the proverb and may be said to be made
not born; or, as Chum puts it, fititur non nasce. I could n't have done
that, but it was easy enough for Chum who has been to college ; he
don't mind a little gymnastics in Latin like that.

In the mountains dividing Middle park from North park the clus-
tering streamlets pour steadily into Grand lake, whose surface is rarely
free from gusts of chilling wind or the shadow of gathering storms.
Hidden in heavy forests, it occupies a basin scooped out by the mighty
plow of a glacier and held back by moraines and montonnes that record a
geological history of the utmost interest to the student. About this
solitary lake gather gloomy traditions of fierce warfare between Ute and
Arapahoe, and since the Indian owners have yielded it to the white
men, one of the darkest crimes in the history of the Rockies has hap-
pened upon its shores.

From this dark mountain-tara flows a strong outlet fed by the snows.
Its whole youth lies in the depths and gloom of canons, for range after
range open their gates to let it pass, but the gates are narrow and the
pathway rough. Thus this river, constantly recruited, more and more
the Grand, fights its way from the center almost to the western edge
of the state. There, when its labor is fairly done, and aid is no longer
needed, comes the help of the powerful Gunnison, and doubly strong it
rolls westward to the Utah line, and then southwestward till it meets
the flood of the Green and both become the Rio Colorado;

Where the Gunnison now empties into the larger stream was once
a wide lake embanked by the abrupt and lofty bluffs that now bound the

IRRIGATION. 299

plain, and whose mesa-top indicates the ancient level of the whole
country, out of which the valleys, canons and lake-beds were eroded.

Into this old expansion of the rivers, had been poured the freight of
soil brought down from the mountain-sides, where the varied rocks
were being ground to powder under the feet of glaciers, and swept
along by gigantic torrents fed with endless meltings. Hither was car-
ried by the swift waters the mingled dust and pebbles of primeval
granite, volcanic overflows and sedimentary sands, lime, and argillace-
ous rock. It was the latest mixture of all that before this had been
handled again and again through the fires that upheaved the inner
ranges, and the waters that laid down the rocky tables, leaning against
their flanks. Into the river-lakes went all this mixture to sink into mud
upon the bottom of the quiet sea, — a union of the best elements in all
the composition of the western slope of the Rockies. In the whole
world you could not find a soil made after a better recipe. Slow
changes in the climate proceeded, and the lake drained away and left a
valley twenty five miles long and half as wide, waiting to nourish the
farmer's grain and the children's flowers.

The first requisite to adapt it to human service, however, was that
the valley should be watered. Thousands of acres of good land in the
Rocky mountains from Kootenai to Chihuahua remain worthless be-
cause there is not enough water available to spread over them, but at
Grand Junction there is no such deficiency. The great drainage of the
Grand would not miss all the water that could possibly be used. Already
along its margin miles of ranches have been begun, by men digging
small and temporary ditches bringing water to irrigate a single farm or a
small group of fields in the bottom. These were the first comers who
had choice of the whole area. Later two or three larger ditches were
made having a greater scope, and now there has just been finished a
waterway, led for twenty-five miles along the benches at the base of the
Roan or Little Book Cliffs, bounding the plain on the north, which will
bring under cultivation thirty thousand acres of valley heretofore
unwatered, and may be extended when the population demands. This
ditch comes out twelve miles above town. It is fifty feet wide across
the top, and is thirty-five feet at the bottom ; the depth is five feet, and
it delivers seven hundred cubic feet of water each second, at a speed of
two miles an hour, though there is only twenty-two inches of slope in
each mile of length. A ditch like this costs $200.000, yet dividends are
confidentl}7 expected. If anybody can invent a steamer which will not
wash the banks, pleasure yachts and freight barges will be put upon it,
for it is of considerably greater dimensions than the Erie Canal when
first opened. There is no lack of water, therefore. Competent obser-
vers say the supply is sufficient for half a million acres, so that the
intricate and expensive lawsuits vexing the farmers of the eastern slope
can hardly arise here. This abundance is a matter of vital importance,

300

THE CREST OF THJ3 CONTINENT

and an inestimable advantage. Water has a value above that of land
everywhere in Colorado. Where land, in the valley of the Cache
la Poudre, is valued at ten dollars per acre, a water right carries a cash
valuation of fifteen dollars per acre and is more easily disposed of. The
blessing attending the cultivation of the soil where the water-supply
exceeds the area of land, can only be appreciated by those who have
seen their crops wither for want of it.

SPANISH FORK CANON.

It is only recently that this water-supply has become available, how-
ever, through the medium of the canals, for any extended farming.
Large crops, therefore, cannot be expected until next year, but enough
has been learned to make it sure that when the peculiarities of this
adobe soil and the looser mesa soil are understood, so that the farmers
may know exactly how to supply their irrigation to the best advantage,
the most plentiful crops of all the cereals can be produced. We were told
that the experiments right here at Grand Junction already, had yielded

STRAWBERRIES AND WATERMELONS. 301

corn-stalks eleven feet seven inches high; a bunch of wheat having
seventy-four stalks iti one stool; barley with seventy-six stalks in a stool;
oats five and a half feet high ; Egyptian millet, one hundred and five
stalks from a single seed, weighing thirty-six pounds; four cuttings
of alfalfa ; Irish potatoes weighing from two to four pounds apiece ; cab-
bages from five to twenty-three pounds apiece; beets, carrots, parsnips,
and all the vegetables of equally prodigious dimensions. There can be
no question of the extraordinary productivity of this region, and that its
agricultural future is to be a very prosperous one.

Equally large expectations are held at Grand Junction, Delta, Mon-
trose on the North Fork, and in all the adjacent lowlands, that this
whole region will prove a great fruit-bearing country. The plentitude
and excellence of the wild fruits along the streams and in the foothills is
remarkable, and formed one of the attractions of the reservation in the
eyes of the Indian. The similarity in soil, climate and altitude to the
fruit-growing region of Utah is adduced, and, in respect to grapes,
peaches, plums, apricots, nectarines, and all the small fruits, successful
experiments have justified all the arguments. Just below Ouray, last
year, a ranchman raised seven thousand quarts of strawberries for
market. I saw watermelons and muskmelons growing finely on Surface
creek at the foot of the Grand Mesa near Delta, and everywhere you will
find young fruit trees doing well and uninjured by winter, which is
always mild so far as known, the thermometer rarely indicating cold
below zero, and the snowfall in the valleys being light. " This new
Colorado has a climate essentially different from that of old Colorado
and the country east of the Continental Divide. It is the climate of
the Pacific coast modified only by altitude and latitude. The air cur-
rents come up over the valleys, plateaus, hills and mountain sides, fresh
from the ocean currents that wash the Pacific shores. These ocean
streams are heated under an equatorial sun and sweeping north around
the circle of the earth, temper the whole western slope."

In this neighborhood, too, are splendid grazing regions, which
are rapidly filling with cattle. I have before me a trustworthy scrap
from the Colorado Farmer on this point: "The face of the country,"
says the writer, referring to the hill regions of the Uncompahgre and
the grand plateaus, "is gently sloping but cut by gulches, ravines and
canons; grass grows luxuriantly from the creek and river bottom to the
very tops of the highest plateaus ; on the higher uplands there are plenty
of pine and pinon trees, in many places interspersed with cedars and
aspens; many small brooks and springs course their way down the
hillsides; natural shelter is found in every neighborhood from storms
when they come, which is seldom. Game abounds in the greatest
plenty and taken all in all, it is probably the finest stock range in the
state. The quality of the grass is excellent and cures completely. It is
different from the plains grass, grows tall with an abundant wealth

302 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

of leaf, stem and seed. This country is to be the great cattle country of
the state. The Rio Grande railway runs through it and will carry
the fattened beeves to the market of the mountains and to Denver and
even start them on their way to the great markets of the East. There are
already cattle there and they are but forerunners of the thousands yet to
come."

The important point is, that the wide mountain areas insure sum-
mer pasturage without driving to great distances; while the valleys
afford good winter grazing. I have been in every cattle region in the
United States, and I never saw anywhere such magnificent grass as
I have ridden through for miles and miles along the upper part of
Surface creek in Delta county. When the herds have so increased that
the winter pasturage falls short — some years must elapse before that —
the valley lands will furnish an abundance of millet, oats, alfalfa and
other grasses, by means of the inexhaustible supply of water which
is possible for irrigation.

As further aids to her progress, Grand Junction has easy access to
coal, both hard and soft; has limestone in great abundance, and excellent
white sandstone for building purposes; while the soil is adapted for
making sun-dried adobes or for being made into burned brick, of
which material most of the buildings and many of the sidewalks in town
are now constructed. Game is common in the neighboring mountains,
especially throughout the great wilderness which stretches northwest,
and the rivers abound in edible fishes.

At length there conies a day when we are ready to leave Grand
Junction and " go West." It is a long ride that lies ahead and we turn
our parlor car into a sleeper by setting up the cots and curtains that
have not been needed for several weeks. It is late in the afternoon, and
when the morrow's light dawns we shall be out of Colorado and among
the lakes and deserts, the mountains and Mormons of Utah.

XXXII

GREEN RIVER

And then the moon like a goddess came

Over the mountains far,
Wrapping her mantle of silver light

Over each golden star;

And the cliffs grew grand in the dazzling light,
High as the skies, and still and white.

— F ANNIE I. SHBKBICK.

HE sweet clear twilight was fading from the cliffs, and
had long since left the valley, when it came time to
leave Grand Junction. The rising moon beckoned us
on, however, and we look forward with eagerness to
our journey, for to-night we are to cross ''the desert,"
to span the canon-begirt current of Green river, and
beheld the mountains of Utah. Doubtless the silent hours of the dog
watch would finally close our eyelids ; but now we bade Bert be sure
that the lamps in the parlor car were well filled and trimmed, for none of
us would confess the least desire for sleep.

In a short time the valley of Grand Junction had been left behind,
and we quickly passed through the gravelly, grass-covered hills that lie
between the river and the cliffs in this region. It was not quite dark,
therefore, when all this had disappeared, and our train ran in a swift
straight course across an open and level, though by no means smooth
plain. Northward it was bounded at a few miles distant by the frown-
ing and banded wall of the Book cliffs, colorless now in the wan light,
but distinct in their majestic outline; southward it stretched to the hori-
zon, save where it was broken by the splendid file of the Sierra La Sal —
an isolated group of eruptive mountains singularly graceful in contours.
The surface of the ground was drab or blue or yellow in color, nowhere
quite flat, but divided into low, rounded ridges and conical mounds, by
the shallow dry channels, down which have coursed the waters of the
powerful storms that at long intervals burst over the desert. Stimu-
lated by the occasional moisture in these channels, a few spears of grass
and twigs of wormwood are thrust up through the soil, along their
depressions; but between — over the general face of the country, —
not a sign of water, vegetation, or animal life appears. It is the repose
of utter silence and quietude, a netherworld only half lighted by the
worn-out moon. Yet it has a fearful beauty, found in the magnitude of

80S

304 . THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

the space — the grandeur of the huge rocky masses faintly but continu-
ously outlined against the bright sky north of us — the wide realms of
gray darkness southward — the marvelous brilliance of the moon — the
luminous glory of the overspreading dome, unbroken from horizon to
horizon, almost as at sea, and so seeming really a part of the globe and
not an external thing. These things impress us greatly and emphasize
the sense of loneliness and remoteness. No other railway journey in the
country, I believe, could reproduce as this does the impressions of an
ocean-voyage.

At Grand Junction we leave the Grand river, though our course for
some miles is parallel with it and not far remote. Skirting the edge
of the great Uncompahgre plateau which lies between the Uncompahgre
and Gunnison rivers and the Rio Dolores, the river flows west and south-
west through deep gorges in the Jurassic and Triassic rocks as far as the
mouth of the Dolores. This river comes in from the southeast, takiug
its origin in the Sierra de La Plata, and running a most picturesque
course. Through its mouth it is supposed the Gunnison, before it was
deflected toward its more northern outlet by the slow upheaval of the
plateau, once flowed by the way of a canon which connects the present
valleys of the two rivers. This deserted canon was called by the Utes
Uriaweep (Red Rock), describing the scenery it presents. The granite
rises vertically from the bottom of the valley, in narrow, bas-relief
columns, for some hundreds of feet; above, the beds of red sandstone
cap it in broken precipices. In some places massive promontories of the
granite, whose slow elevation has raised the whole breadth of the plateau
upon its shoulders, juts out into the valley worn down through it.
The scenery reminds one strongly of the Yosemite,

In the acute angle between the Rio Dolores and the southward bend-
ing Grand lies the Sierra La Sal, — a center of drainage in all directions.
It is a mass of volcanic rocks thrust up from beneath. Like the Henry
mountains, the Sierra Abajo and other groups of that region, these
peaks were once covered by a great thickness of sedimentary strata bent
over them; but they have been cleaned away, leaving the hard core
of porphyritic rock exposed. The original shape of the upthrust was
probably that of a huge dome, but the tooth of time has gnawed it into
a score or more of clustered mountains rising eight and nine thousand
feet above the level of the adjacent rivers. Yet there is no doubt that
the summits of mountains like these, as I remarked of the elevations
about Abiquiu in New Mexico, mark the depressions in the primitive
surface before this prodigious work of erosion and corrosion had begun.
One of the streams flows with strong brine, suggesting the name Salt
mountains to the group; but the rest give pure, sweet currents when
they flow at all, which with many of them is only for a few hours fol-
lowing a storm. The source of Salt creek is in Sinbad's valley, — a steep-
walled nook in the mountain-side abounding in crystallized salt.

THE RIVER THROUGH THE

305

After receiving the Dolores the Grand river flows straight south-
west to its junction with the Green, burying itself at first in a deep,
narrow, winding canon in the red beds, then emerging into a valley
of erosion surrounded by tremendous cliffs of deep red sandstone, 1,600
to 2,500 feet high, carved in fantastic forms. It rose 8,150 feet above
the sea, 350 miles away; it has fallen to 3,900 feet, or an average of
more than ten feet in every mile, and delivers to the Rio Colorado about
5,000 cubic feet of water every second. Considering this weight and
speed we need not wonder at the profound canons it has cut, and is still
chiseling deeper and deeper, nearly keeping pace with the slow elevation
of the land.

The line of ragged, roan-tinted, book-edged cliffs on the north,
behind whose battlements stretched an invisible plateau of broken
wilderness, covered with grass, but almost treeless and waterless, where
the traveler must not leave the Indian trails, — this line of massive and

306 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT

vari-colored cliffs stretched all the way to Green river (and far beyond
it,) rising there into the loftier and bluer bluffs which have been named
Azure, and, in the sunlight, seemed carved from cobalt. Between their
towering portals, through the corridors of Gray canon, came the yellow
flood of the Green river, sweeping with enormous power from north to
south, and crossed by us toward midnight upon a long and lofty bridge.
We looked down with eager eyes upon its swift flood of chocolate-
colored water, half as broad as the Missouri — twice as deep and impetu-
ous. We wished it had been daylight, that the pregnant mysteries of
the half-darkness might be revealed, wherein distant forms full of curi-
ous interest were dimly suggested. They told us that here, at noonday,
the passenger upon the railway can see the summits of the broken walls
that form the Grand canons of the Colorado, fifty miles to the south.

But all the "grand canons" are not away in the southern drylands.
The whole track of Green river from its birth to its death runs in gorges
whose depth and splendor excite our amazement. There are few rivers
in the world that have a history so striking; and if, as is fair, we count
it one stream from the Wind River mountains to the Pacific, the mighty
river is without a peer in its erosive work.

Its source is at the southwestern corner of Yellowstone park, in
Wyoming; its mouth, two thousand miles southward, at the head_of the
Gulf of California. The present writer pens with gratification the
record that he has seen both these points. Its upper course lies in open,
or wooded valleys, where sparkling, trout-haunted rapids alternate with
pools in whose mirror-smooth surface the images of fleecy clouds play
with the tremulous forms of snowy peaks. Then it learns lessons for
the hard-working future among the plains and buttes of southern
Wyoming, cutting through its first obstacle where the Alcove bluffs rear
their gaudy crests abreast of Bitter creek.

Here is a little village, settled long ago by emigrants and cattle-
breeders, and here, in 1869, Major J. W. Powell, now Director of the
United States Geological Survey, and chief of the Bureau of Ethnology,
began his celebrated exploration of the river in small boats, which ulti-
mately navigated all the thousand miles of almost continuous canons
that lay unexplored, uncanny and perilous before them. Wonderful
stories of it were believed by the frontiersmen. Boats, they told Major
Powell, had been carried into overwhelming whirlpools, or had been
sucked with fearful velocity underground, never to reappear, for the
river was lost in subterranean channels for hundreds of miles. Falls
were reported, whose roaring music could be heard on distant mountain-
tops ; and the walls were so steep in the desert, that persons wandering
on the brink had died of thirst, vainly endeavoring to reach the waters
they could see below. The Indians believed the river had been rolled
into an old trail that once led from their hard home to the beautiful

SHOOTING THE RAPIDS. 307

balmy land of the Hereafter in the great west, in order to keep them
away until death gave their release.

Undeterred by these tales, the explorers started. Their story has
been told by Major Powell himself in his report to the government, and
in magazine articles. Before him Macomb, Ives, and Newburry had
seen the southern gorges; since then Button, Homes and others of the
Geological Surveys have surveyed, mapped and sketched the strange
scenery of that strange river. Yet to no one can anything but seeing
with his own eyes bring more than the faintest conception of the reality.
And here we are, at midnight, in the very midst of it— northward and
southward lie the profound chasms, the immeasurable and uncountable
cliffs ; — under our feet flows the mighty river that carved them out and
connects them into one.

What a voyage was that of Powell's! The fantastic architecture
of the Alcove foothills, with the gleaming points of the Uinta range in
the south; the ever-changing panorama of the badlands — scenery for
Hades; the vermillion gateway opened through the snow-capped moun-
tains, called Flaming Gorge, where lies a vast amphi-theatre, each step
built of naked red sandstone, and a glacis clothed with verdure! Then
the cautious advance, after letting the unladen boats down with ropes
over foaming rapids; threading gorge and canon and flume, each char-
acteristic in some new way, and separated by little parks and lowlands
filled with trees and quaintly shaped rocks from the next; always
hemmed in by lofty and brilliant walls; on to the Canon of Lodore and
Ashley's Falls where years ago a party of men were drowned and where
Powell loses one of his boats. "Just before us," he says at one point,
"the canon divides, a little stream coming down on the right, and
another on the left, and we can look away up either of these canons,
through an ascending vista, to cliffs and crags and towers, a mile back,
and two thousand feet over head. To the right a dozen gleaming
cascades are seen. Pines and firs stand on the rocks, and aspens over-
hang the brooks. The rocks below are red and brown, set in deep shad-
ows, but above they are buff and vermillion, and stand in the sunshine.
The light above, made more brilliant by the bright-tinted rocks, and the
shadows below more gloomy by the somber hues of the brown walls,
increase the apparent depth of the canons. . . . Never before
have I received such an impression of the vast heights of these canon
walls; not even at the Cliff of the Harp, where the very heavens seemed
to rest on their summits."

Below the Canon of Lodore was found the wonderful Echo Rock,
where the Yampa enters; next the Whirlpool, where the boats waltz
down the tortuous and bowlder-strewn rapids in a merry dance of eddies
over which the oars have no control. "What a headlong ride it is!
Shooting past rocks and islands! I am soon filled with an exhilaration
only experienced before in riding a fleet horse over the outstretched

308 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

prairie." Passing through the "broad, flaring, brilliant gateway" of
Split mountain, and down a series of rapids in a more open region, the
mouths of the White and Uinta rivers are passed, and the river brings
them to the chaotic scenery of the Canon of Desolation.

This canon is very tortuous, and many lateral canons enter on either
side. The great plateau, in which they are sunken, extends across
the river east and west from the foot of the Colorado Rockies to the
base of the Wasatch. It is eight thousand feet above the sea, and there-
fore in a region of moisture, as is attested by the forests and grassy vales.
On these high table lands elk and deer abound, and they are favorite
hunting-grounds for the Utes, whose trails cross them. Nothing of this,
however, is seen from the river level, where the voyager is surrounded
by a wilderness of gray and brown crags. "In several places," says
Powell, " these lateral canons are only separated from each other by
narrow walls, often hundreds of feet high, but so narrow in places,
that where softer rocks are found below, they have crumbled away and
left holes in the wall, forming passages from one canon into another.
. . . Piles of broken rock lie against these walls; crags and tower-
shaped peaks are seen everywhere; and away above them long lines
of broken cliffs, and above and beyond the cliffs are pine forests. . .
A few dwarf bushes are seen here and there, and cedars grow from the
crevices — not like the cedars of a land refreshed with rains, great cones
bedecked with spray, but ugly clumps, like war clubs beset with spines."

Various adventures carry the plucky party througli and beyond this
gorge down to where our railway bridge spans the river with its tena-
cious links. They note the existence of an Indian ferry of rude tog-
rafts somewhere near here, but there was nothing to induce their
stoppage for more than a night. Now, those of us who are minded
some day to behold the wild crags of Desolation canon will reverse
Major Powell's course, and embarking at this railway station on the
river bank go up the Green, through the Azure Cliffs and fifty miles
beyond. Or, turning southward, our boat may equip itself for a longer
journey, and our minds make ready for even more marvelous and mem-
orable sights, in the profundities of the canons of the Rio Colorado,
below the junction of the Green and the Grand. If so long a journey is
forbidden, there is much delight, with the advantage of easy and safe
navigation, to be found between the railway and the mouth of Grand
river.

A few miles after leaving the railway, downward bound, the
voyager would get among curious bluffs and buttes that would interest
him all the way to the mouth of the San Rafael, a strong tributary from
the west, up which passed one of the principal overland trails from New
Mexico to Utah. If he is interested in archaeology, Indian "relics" in
abundance will reward his search along the banks. The river is tortu-
ous here, but deep and quiet. Sometimes there is a narrow flood-plain

TOOM- PIN- WIT- NEA&. 309

between the river and the wall on one side or the other, the peninsulas
being pleasantly wooded. The walls are orange-colored sandstone, and
vertical, but not very high. At one point, where the river sweeps
around a curve under a cliff, a vast hollow dome may be seen, with
many caves and deep alcoves. The doublings of the river are many;
one loop carries you nine miles around, yet makes only six hundred
yards of headway. Gradually the chasm of the river grows deeper; the
walls are systematically curved and grandly arched; of beautiful color,
and reflected in the quiet waters with deceiving distinctness.

This is Labyrinth canon, or, as the Indians called it, Toom'-pin
wu-near, — the Land of Standing Rocks. " The stream is still quiet, and
we glide along through a strange, wierd, grand region. The landscape
everywhere, away from the river, is of rock — cliffs of rock; tables of
rock; plateaus of rock; terraces of rock; crags of rock — ten thousand
strangely carved forms. Rocks everywhere and no vegetation ; no soil ;
no sand. In long gentle curves the river winds about these rocks.
When speaking of these we must not conceive of piles of bowlders, or
heaps of fragments, but a whole land of naked rock, with giant forms
carved on it: cathedral-shaped buttes, towering hundreds or thousands
of feet; cliffs that cannot be scaled, and canon-walls that shrink the
river into insignificance, with vast hollow domes, and tall pinnacles, and
shafts set on the verge overhead, and all highly colored — buff, gray,
red, brown and chocolate; never lichened; never moss-covered; but
bare, and often polished."

Below the Labyrinth is Stillwater canon, forty miles long. Its walls
at the lower end are beautifully curved, as the river sweeps in its mean-
dering course. Suddenly gathering swiftness it rushes hastily forward
to unite with the current of the Grand. These streams join their floods
in solemn depths, more than twelve hundred feet below the general sur-
face of the country. Up the Grand you look into another "labyrinth."
It is the central artery toward which innumerable side-canons concen-
trate. In every direction they ramify, deep, dark and impassable to
everything but the winged bird. Through such underground passages
are sent the waters from the distant highlands, and their confluence fills
the whole chasm of the Grand with a turbid stream.

Climb out, laboriously and cautiously, ascend one of the fantastically-
formed buttes that rise above the level of the plateau, and what a world
of grandeur is spread before the eye ! Nothing one can say will give an
adequate idea of the singular and surprising landscape, — nothing in art
or nature offers a parallel. Below lies the canon through which the
Colorado begins its wonderful course. It can be traced for miles, and
occasional glimpses of the river caught. From the northwest comes the
Green, in a narrow, winding gorge ; from the northeast the Grand, hid-
den in a canon that seems bottomless. "Away to the west are lines of
cliffs and ledges of rock,— not such ledges as you may have seen where

310 THE CREST Of THE CONTINENT.

the quarryman splits his blocks, but ledges from which the gods might
quarry mountains, that, rolled out on the plain below, would stand a
lofty range; and not such cliffs as you may have seen where the swallow
builds its nest, but cliffs where the soaring eagle is lost to view ere
he reaches the summit. . . . Away to the east a group of eruptive
mountains are seen — the Sierra La Sal. Their slopes are covered with
pines, and deep gulches are flanked with great crags, and snow fields
are seen near the summits. So the mountains are in uniform — green,
gray and silver. Wherever we look there is but a wilderness of rocks;
deep gorges where the rivers are lost below cliffs and towers and pinna-
cles; and ten thousand strangely carved forms in every direction; and
beyond them, mountains blending with the clouds."

I cannot go on to tell of the profound crevices in the crust of the
globe beyond, where the Rio Colorado, taking its name from its vermill-
ioned borders, flows a full mile below the surface. A whole volume like
this would not suffice to portray fully the pictures and the teaching of
a single day's ride down that engulfed stream, or an hour's march along
the giddy brink. Only one man, Captain C. E. Dutton, has ever given
anything approaching an adequate description. He lived on the plateau
and studied it for years; and he tells us that it is a long time before the
unaccustomed mind can come to have any real comprehension of the
magnitude and the sublimity and the exquisite beauty of what the can-
ons above and below have to show to the attentive eye. Nothing in the
wide world equals or compares with it in its peculiar and amazing beauty
and force.

But the fanes and museums of these rock-gods are guarded against
the too easy profanation of human curiosity. The terrors of personal
discomfort and danger surround them. Enduring and brave must
be the horseman or canoeist — what a trip for the Rob Roys of the
future!— who penetrates this naked wilderness and feasts his eyes on the
riches of novel color and form spread before him in the glory of the set-
ting sun!

The dog watch comes. The gray waste of sterile land sweeps steadily
past. The stars wheel slowly along their cosmical paths. Utter loneli-
ness envelopes us as we rush forward with direct and tireless speed.
The rolling music of our progress, and the solemnity of our thoughts as
we ponder what we have seen and heard, quiet mind and body, the lamps
are turned down, the curtains drawn, and silence and darkness reigns in
our car, as over the night-beleaguered desert save where some official
passes silently through, shading his lantern with his hand.

XXXIII

CROSSING THE WASATCH.

The splendor falls on castle walls
And snowy summits, old In story;
The long light shakes across the lakes
And the wild cataracts leap In glory.

Blow bugle, blow; set the wild echoes flying;

Answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.

— TENNYSON.

the first full light of dawn, on the morning after
leaving Grand Junction, the vigilant Madame was
awake, and we heard her calling upon us from her cur-
tained corner to wake up and look out of the window.
Well, as the Shaughran said when punished for his fox-
hunt on the Squire's horse, "It was worth it," even
at the expense of the morning nap. Here was something different from
anything seen before.

We were far inside the boundary of Utah Territory and were
already beginning to climb the first steps toward the heights of the
Wasatch — the western bulwark of the Rocky mountains. The way lay
up the South Fork of the Price river, along a broad valley sunken
between enormously high walls of sedimentary rock whose horizontal
stratification betrayed no signs of disturbance. How long must the
waters of the paleazoic sea have surged against the primitive granitic
caves and lava-masses — how steady must this part of the earth's crust
have remained for ages — to let these thousands of feet of rocky tablets
be piled up! And then, when it was done; when the slow upheaval had
come, and the water had gradually been drawn off; how patiently did
the centuries wait while these great depressed spaces were cut down and
the material carried away to be spread — who knows where?

Here mountain-like table-lands stretched their white and cedar-
spiked terraces, one above another to the plateau-top, for scores of miles
out from the range against which they were braced. The water and the
sand-blast of the fierce winds had worn their exposed cliff-faces, and
sometimes carved their crests (now gold-tipped by the first sunbeams)
into fantastic shapes that recalled pictures in the Dakota badlands or the
grotesque monuments near Colorado Springs. In some places they were
honeycombed with round holes, connecting pits and fissures, like a pro-
digious display of Arabesque fret-work; elsewhere they would stand

332

CASTLE GATR 313

massive and plain. As we proceeded colors began to appear, — yellows,
warm browns and pale reds, against which, in thorough keeping, grew
the bent and aged forms of junipers. In the soft gray of the morning
light, nothing could be more pleasing than these worn and variegated
battlements, between which for miles and miles the road winds its way.
Every stupendous headland was a new rendering of the general idea — a
novel design coherent with hundreds of its fellows ; and of each the eye
was afforded several altered aspects as the train changed its point of
view.

Finally we attained a higher level, and the cliffs came nearer,
became more precipitous and the inter spaces more green. This was
Castle Valley. We had risen and dressed ourselves and were thinking of
oreakfast. The sun had come high enough over the " great, lone land "
m our rear to shoot his beams half way down the projections of the
dewy and glittering cliffs, when the 'train came to a stop, though there
was only a side-track. Stepping to the platform to enquire why, we
came with all the shock of complete surprise face to face with what
to me, is the most inspiring, as a single object, of all the marvelous
scenes between the Plains and the Salt Sea. This was Castle Gate.

The canon here becomes very narrow and tortuous, with pictur-
esque defiles opening here and there and conducting tiny streams, swelled
in spring to noisy torrents. Trees and bushes in great abundance grow
on the narrow banks of the river and swarm up the rough heaps of rocks
that bury the foot of the cliff on each side. Just here, these cliffs are
several hundred feet high and exceedingly steep, showing great ledge-
fronts as upright and clean of vegetation as the side of a house. All
the rocks are bright rust- red, darker and lighter here and there ; and over
all arches a sky, violet-blue, vivid, and immeasurably deep, for you may
look far into it, as into water that lies quiet and luminous under the sun-
shine.

Now out from this wall on one side pushes a great projection half
way across the valley, crowned on its point by a round turret. This is
on the left or southern side. Opposite it has been left standing an
enormous natural wall — a thin promontory projected from the face of
the mountain as Sandy Hook stretches narrow and straight out in the
ocean beyond the Atlantic coast-line. From base to combing it rises
sheer and toppling whichever way you scan it; and on the western side
the topmost ledges overhang. Here the face is scarred not only by the
horizontal lines denoting the separate strata, but also by vertical gashes
of cleavage some of which are strongly marked cracks extending from
top to bottom. These, show how, by the continual scaling off of enor-
mous slabs on each side, under the prying levers of heat and cold, mois-
ture and weight, this once thick headland has been reduced to a thinness
so contracted that its thickness in proportion to its height is no greater
than that of Cleopatra's Needle or any other monumental shaft; while
14

814 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

the narrowed peninsular, which connects it with the main crag, has only
the proportions of a garden wall: but what a wall! for it is eight hundred
feet from its weedy top to the foundation. You can count in the patches
of freshly exposed rock on its surface how season by season it is dimin-
ishing; and one great crack almost splits its extreme edge in twain so
that some day, with an earth-jarring crash, half the thickness of this
noble remnant will drop to its base and burst into dust and fragments.

Heedless of such a castatrophe, and unmindful of the grandeur of
their home in human eyes, birds build their nests in the crevices and
crannies that are nicked into its crimson front, and bats shrink from the
light into the seams that make a network upon its sides. Great gaps
mar the regularity of its sky line; bu« these mark the ruinous hand
of time and add to the antique grandeur of the pile. We cannot take
our eyes from it, and forget the even more lofty walls and pinnacles
opposite, which have not the advantage of the isolation, and the Olym-
pian dignity and pose, of this daring pier.

A little group of Indians on horseback, in the full toggery of Uinta
Utes, were jogging along the road beside the track when presently we
emerged from Castle Valley and drew up at Pleasant Valley Junction.
Here a branch road comes from some important coal mines sixteen miles
to the westward. This coal occurs in a bed eleven feet in thickness, and
so situated as to be worked very conveniently. The mines were opened
four years ago, and a railway built to them from Provo — a distance
of sixty miles. This was bought by the Denver and Rio Grande and a
part of it was utilized. Now all the coal comes down from the mines by
gravity, and the locomotive is required only to haul up the empty cars.

This coal is bituminous, and of better quality than that from Rock
Springs, in "Wyoming, which it is gradually displacing in the Utah
markets, since it is found to give more heat, ton for ton. Its introduction
was a boon to the people generally, for instead of seven dollars and
fifty cents a ton, with occasional extra prices, they now pay only five
dollars, and get a better article. The mines are operated by the Pleas-
ant Valley Coal Company, who employ about one hundred men and
produce a daily output of three hundred tons, which is constantly
increasing to meet the growing demand.

After leaving Pleasant Valley Junction the ascent of the Wasatch
was begun in earnest, but, though a long pull, the grade was not remark-
ably steep, nor was the canon (worn through a red pudding-stone,)
astonishing in any way, while always interesting. By the time break-
fast was fairly out of the way, the summit had been reached and the
descent began through the canon of the Spanish Fork into Mormondom.

A few miles down we came to Thistle Station, a place of some con-
sequence because it is the railway outlet for the large San Pete valley,
which stretches nearly along the western foot of the Wasatch until it
emerges into the valley of the Sevier. This valley is reached from the

8AN PETE VALLEY. 315

westward by a narrow-gauge railway line, built years ago by Mormon
capital. It enters it from Nephi by the way of Salt creek and termi-
nates at Wales, where there are coal mines worked by Welchmen and
operated by English capital. The San Pete valley is not particularly
interesting. Yet the little settlements back in the eastern foothills where
the many streams come down are pleasant enough.

This valley became famous in 1865-67 as the scene of the San Pete
Indian War. " Several companies of the Mormon militia were mustered
here, and held the mountains and passes on the east against the Indians,
guarded the stock gathered here from the other settlements that had
been abandoned, and took part in the fights at Thistle creek, . . .
and the rest, where Black Hawk and his flying squadron of Navajos and
Piutes showed themselves such plucky men."

Toward the lower end of the valley stands the important town
of Manti, its suburbs encroaching on the sagebrush. " As a settlement,"
says Phil Robinson, the most recent traveller thither, "Manti is pretty,
well ordered and prosperous. . . . The abundance of trees, the
width of the streets, the perpetual presence of running water, the fre-
quency and size of the orchards, and the general appearance of simple,
rustic comfort, impart to Manti all the charateristic charm of the Mormon
settlements." Robinson says that the people in that region are chiefly
Danes and Scandinavians. " These nationalities contribute more largely
than any other— unless Great-Britishers are all called one nation — to the
recruiting of Mormonism, and when they reach Utah maintain their
individuality more conspicuously than any others." The temple at
Manti will be something worth going far to see when it is completed.
"The site, originally, was a rugged hill slope, but this has been cut out
into three vast semicircular terraces, each of which is faced with a wall
of rough hewn stone, seventeen feet in height. Ascending these by wide
flights of steps you find yourself on a fourth level, the hill-top, which
has been leveled into a spacious plateau, and on this, with its back
set against the hill, stands the temple. The style of Mormon architect-
ure, unfortunately, is heavy and unadorned, and in itself, therefore,
this massive pile, one hundred and sixty feet in length by ninety wide,
and about one hundred high, is not prepossessing. But when it is
finished, and the terrace-slopes are turfed, and the spaces planted out
with trees, the view will undoubtedly be very fine, and the temple be
a building that the Mormons may well be proud of."

The lower part of the valley is undulating, — "for the most part
a sterile looking waste of greasewood, but having an almost continual
threat of cultivation .running along the center," until it suddenly opens,
at Mayfield, into a great meadow of several thousand acres. Passing on
to the Sevier, volcanic hills and benches shut in the valley, but the
bottoms along the river were level, grassy, "clumped with shrubs and
patched with corn-fields." Here there are frequent settlements, one

316 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

of the most important of which is Salina, where the alkalies that infect
the soil of all this region are concentrated in salt-beds that have long
been dug for export. The Denver and Rio Grande Company have pro-
jected a track from this point due east to join its main line and thus
secure not only the salt trade, but tap this farming and grazing region,
which some day will be of great consequence, for there is plenty of
water. Furthermore, this same company has laid a sort of preemption
right upon a railway route surveyed westward from Salina toward the
Pacific coast through southern Nevada and central California, which
will pass close by the Yosemite and the Caleveras groves of Big Trees.
We had gathered all this information from books and good friends,
and the recollection of former reading, while

"like Iser, rolling rapidly,"

we descended the Spanish Fork. This canon is not rough and cliff-
bound, but its sides, though steep, are rounded, and soft walls of greenery
— small bushes, rank grass and tufted groves of aspen and oak; while
the river purls along the narrow depression under the continuous shade
of young maples, alders, oaks and other shrubbery. A wagon road
is to be seen most of the way showing long use. The rude kennels
built for temporary use by the rail way- makers have not yet had time
to crumble, and add a picturesque note to the pleasant vale. Here and
there were camps of emigrants, or of railway people. That they were
Mormons was plain by the comfortable, home-like appearance of each
bivouac, where buxom women were tending to the children and car-
rying on the ordinary duties of housekeeping in houses of cloth and
kitchens made under booths of maple boughs. Children and dogs and
donkeys abounded, and at two or three camps we caught sight of
pet fawns. This canon was formerly an Indian highway, and through
it, in days gone by, more than one incursion of Navajos and Piutes has
swept down upon the settlements, "bringing fire and the sword."
Through it also came, long, long ago, the pious friars, — explorer-priests
— bent upon the conversion of the Indians; and the digging up of a few
coins and other relics of their visits has given the name of Spanish Fork
to the stream, which really is a "fork" of no other water course, but
empties directly into Lake Utah.

As we emerge from the canon a wide, haze tinted sketch of moun-
tains and green-gray plains, with a touch of steel- white water, greets
the eye to the westward, where stretch the arid deserts and volcanic
ranges of Utah and Nevada. Southward, nobly tall and rugged, rise the
hights of the Wasatch, with the magnificent pyramid of Mt. Nebo,
overtopping the rest, exalted above the sunlit clouds and crowned with
early snow wreaths. It is the last of the great, lone, Rocky Mountain
peaks that we shall see, and a worthy reminder of the splendid scenery
in whose presence our life has been expanded and glorified during the
bygone months.

XXXIV

BY UTAH LAKES.

Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures
Whilst the landscape round it measures;
Russet lawns, and fallows gray,
Where the nibbling flocks do stray;
Mountains, on whose barren breast
The laboring clouds do often rest;
Meadows trim with daisies pied,
Shallow brooks and rivers wide;
Towers and battlements it sees,
Bosomed high in tufted trees,
Where, perhaps some Beauty lies
The Cynosure of neighboring eyes.

—MILTON.

EBO does not long remain in sight from our windows:
for speedily we swing out into the sloping valley land,
bringing into close companionship on the right the
northern half of the Wasatch range, which, were it
a trifle more arctic and bristling aloft, would remind
us strongly of the Sangre de Cristo. On each side now
are spread wide areas of grain field and grassland, with abundant hedges
and thickets and orchards surrounding clusters of houses and barns.
The train makes frequent halts at little villages, which seem to have
been built along both sides of the track, because the reverse process
occurred and the rails were laid in the middle of the main street. The
first of these farmer-settlements was Spanish Fork (the Palmyra of
old settlers) where, not long ago, a copper image of the Virgin Mary was
dug up, together with some fragments of a human skeleton. "This
takes back the Mormon settlement of to-day to the long ago time when
Spanish missionaries preached of the Pope to the Piutes, and gave
but little satisfaction to either man or beast, for their tonsured scalps
were but scanty trophies, and the coyote found their lean bodies but
poor picking." A few miles further is Springville, hidden in well-
watered trees, where a stream tumbling out of a mysteriously dark
canon just behind the town, turns the wheels of extensive flour mills
and woolen factories.

It is with growing and animated interest, that we pass on through
miles of fertile farmland and come into plain sight of Utah Lake, — a
glassy sheet of water beyond which loom through their mist the vague

817

318

THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

forms of many angular hills. The water is fresh, and none of thfc
barrenness that has smitten the shores of the Salt sea northward accur-
ses this beautiful lake, with which the Indians strangely enough,
associated many evil influences and dark legends. Between us and the
shore stretch vast meadows of green prairie grasses and bulrushes, upon
which herds of sleek cattle and fine horses were grazing. Except upon
the western side, where the hills yield no water, there is a semicircle of
villages at the feet of the encompassing hills, with checkered fields

BEE HIVE HOUSE.

of grain and fodder between the embowered clusters of houses and the
swampy meadows along shore. Sometimes the meadows and gardens
the squares of wheat and Indian corn come clear down to the shore.

Though most of the houses were of adobe, showing signs of long
occupancy in the advanced state of orchard and garden, and the home
like air about them, the pioneer's wagon top makes him a good enough
house for several weeks in this dry and genial climate, but he builds
something better for the winter. The second season, therefore, will find
him living in a small, but tight and warm, cabin of slabs, chinked and
roofed with dirt. His stables will be low structures of poles thatched
with straw or rushes cut at the border of the lake, and his grain will be
stacked out of doors.

A CHARACTERISTIC MORMON TOWN. 319

A great gap in the Wasatch has been in sight for some time, in
which lies the source of the Provo river, and down here upon its banks
is Provo — the largest town on Utah Lake. We have " Sinners and
Saints" open before us as we draw up at the station; and the Madame
reads to us what the author has to say about this very town:

' ' Visitors have made the American Fork canon too well known
to need more than a reference here, but the Provo canon, with its
romantic waterfalls and varied scenery, is a feature of the Utah valley
which may some day be eqally familiar to the sight-seeing world. The
botanist would find here a field full of surprises, as the vegetation is of
exceptional variety and the flowers unusually profuse. Down this
canon tumbles the Provo river; and as soon as it reaches the mouth
. . it is seized upon and carried off to right and left by irrigation
channels and ruthlessly distributed over the slopes. And the result
is seen, approaching Provo, in magnificent reaches of fertile land and
miles of crops. Provo is almost Logan [in Cache Valley] over again, for
though it has the advantage over the northern settlement in population,
it resembles it in appearance very closely. There is the same abundance
of foliage, the same width of water-edged streets, the same variety
of wooden and adobe houses, the same absence of crime and drunken-
ness, the same appearance of solid comfort. It has its mills and its
woolen factory, its 'co-op.' and its lumber-yards. There is the same
profusion of orchard and garden, the same all pervading presence of
cattle and teams. . . . The clear streams, perpetually industrious
in their loving care of lowland and meadow and orchard, and so cheery,
too, in their perpetual work, are a type of the men and women them-
selves; the placid cornfields, lying in bright levels about the houses, are
not more tranquil than the lives of the people; the tree-crowded orchards
and stack-filled yards are eloquent of universal plenty ; the cattle loiter-
ing in the pasture contented, the foals all running about in the roads,
while the wagons which their mothers are drawing stand at the shop
door or field gate, strike the new comer as delightfully significant of
a simple country life, of mutual confidence, and universal security."

At Springville and again at Provo, the train was surrounded by a
flock of little girls who held up to the windows baskets of fruit — apples,
pears, raspberries, plums, grapes and peaches. They sought buyers
very prettily, offering whole handfuls of the fruit for five cents. Every-
body bought it, for nothing could be more welcome after the weary
journey. The Madame rushed out to the platform and proceeded to
empty the basket of one gentle speculator whose frock was white
and clean, but whose shapely legs and feet were bare and brown. She
wore no hat, and there fell down her straight young back a heavy braid
of beautiful corn-silk hair tied at the end with a bow of cherry ribbon.
Her figure and manners were full of naive grace. As the bargain was

320 THE GRE8T OF THE CONTINENT.

concluded and we rolled away, the Madame came near kissing her good-
bye, and we heard some one humming

41 Happy little maiden she,
Happy maid of Arcadle."

But was it this, or another little maid, or both, she had in mind, while
the soft light shone in her eyes?

Nephi, the next station — a mass of orchards surrounding straggling
streets of doubled-doored gray houses — is memorable because of the
remains of fortifications that surround it, with lesser defences near many
of the houses. These consisted of thick mud parapets pierced for rifles ;
and they recall the dangers these pioneers had to encounter from the
"Lamanites," at they called the redskins. "Young men tell how as
children they used to lie awake at nights to listen as the red men swept,
whooping and yelling, through the quiet streets of the little settlement;
how the guns stood always ready against the wall, and the windows were
barricaded every night with thick pine logs."

The beautiful valley of Utah Lake has now been lef" behind, and
the scene returns to the familiar sagebrush and volcanic scoria, through
which a small river -of yellow water finds its way, and we follow all its
curves. The river is the Jordan, so called because it connects the Utah
with the Great Salt Lake, as its namesake does Galilee and the Dead
Sea. But the yellow river and its desolate ridges are presently passed,
and there opens out on each side a vista of great fields of wheat and
tasseling corn; of orchards heavy with ripened fruit, and meadows sere
with summer heat; and of houses hidden in trees and hopvines, and
touched with the brilliant points of climbing roses and honeysuckles, or
the lofty standards of the hollyhock, flying by like the panorama of
a dream.

Up the grand slope of the Wasatch beyond, stretches a mass of
houses and a forest of shade trees, that are sweeping every instant nearer.
Shade of Jehu, how we are tearing along! Swish! That was a
smelter. Swish again! That was a furnace. Crash! Bang! Salt
Lake City! Shall we halt? No, only a few moments to watch the
crowd alight and wrestle with the hotel runners; and also to detach and
arrange for the side-tracking of our two household cars. We will keep
the coach and go on to Ogden while we are "in running order" as
Chum says. Then we will come back to-night and stay in Salt Lake
City as long as we please. So with a parting admonition to Bert we
take our seats and are moving onward once more.

Here again the track for a long distance runs along the middle of a
surburban street slowly traversed, — a street of lowly houses, each in its
dense garden. It is not at all a bad notion of the whole city, which that
glimpse gives the traveller, but shortly it is exchanged for a sage-bush-
plain, followed by a region reminding us strongly of the St. Clair flats in
Cana*da. Meadows and marshes, vividly green, stretch to the westward,

SKIRTING THE GREAT SALT LAKE. 321

diversified by planted groves of cottonwood, while mountains rise close
at hand on the east. Here and there pools of calm water flit by, on
whose surface large flocks of snow-white gulls sit motionless. It is a
great place for blackbirds, also,— Brewer's grakle and the yellow-headed
blackbird— one of which races with the train, apparently just to show
how fast he can fly. Presently the ground becomes dryer and shows
wide cultivation. Stacks of hay and straw dot the level and unfenced
expanse, but the houses and barns of the farmers are all at our right
along the foot of the hills. They are pleasant homes, embowered in
orchards, and the whole scene is sunny and peaceful.

The soil is black and loamy, the foothills green and studded with
blooming farms and homesteads, the lowlands lush with long grass and
willow thickets. Westward, the scene might be a replica of, say, the
coast of North Carolina, for now the Great Salt Lake is in full view, and
the mist which hides the mountainous islands and western shore, leaves
its expanse as limitless as that of the open ocean, whence no salter
breeze could blow than this morning air. We gradually approach the
shore, or its bays bend forward to our straight line, and we leave the
fields behind to skirt and cross a great expanse of salt whitened mud
flats, where chestnut-backed plovers flit about as the only sign of life.
On higher ground, just beyond, a frail pier or landing stage runs far out
into the lake, where is moored a small steamboat, and two or three sail-
boats rest on the gently ruffled water. This is a bathing resort and
picnic grounds, which hereafter will be made more of than at present.
Beyond, for miles and miles, the country seems to have been one contin-
uous wheat-field, for the golden stubble stretches in vast unfenced
spaces, and we can count dozens of huge yellow stacks that have been
reaped. A long ridge of dry gravel is traversed, a vista of valley land,
filled full of groves, and orchards, market gardens and neat houses,
opens at the base of high rocky walls and the locomotive gives its last
long shriek, for this is Ogden, the terminus of our westward jaunt, —
771 miles from Denver, 2,500 miles from New York, 864 miles from San
Francisco.

When luncheon was over, I sat me down to my work, and the
Madame began putting on her hat, making quite sure that it was
straight, nor leaving the neighborhood of the mirror until wholly satisfied
on that head.

"That is complimentary to Ogden!" I observe with a rising
inflection.

"Not particularly," she answers slowly. "I would want my hat
to sit straight and my feather be right if I were going into a camp of
Digger Shoshones. It wouldn't feel right otherwise."

I do not argue the question. Turning to Chum she enquires sweetly
(ignoring anybody else) if he will go with her on a stroll of exploration.

322 THE CHEST OF THE CONTINENT.

That young man is just filling his pipe, and the expression of anticipated
delight fades utterly from his countenance.

"E-r-r," he stammers, thinking how he may escape. "Thanks,
thanks, but I can't very well — I — I have letters to write, you know."

"Yes, I know, everybody has, under certain circumstances. How-
ever, I can go alone. Au revoir ! "

Then I sit down at work. Chum lights his pipe and lazily scratches
a postal card to keep up appearances, and silence reigns for an hour or so.

It is put at end by our lady's return.

"Well, what did you see? " we both ask.

"Oh, Ogden is a big collection of little houses and behind each
house is a pretty little farm and market garden. There is a ledge
beyond the main part of the town, and up there are situated the better
houses of the city, with larger gardens and lawns, from which you can
look off over the wide plain with bluffs and ridges, in the foreground,
catch a glimpse of the lake in the middle distance, and a vision of
sharp-pointed mountains on the horizon."

Ogden holds interest at present, chiefly— and it always will I fancy
—as a center for transportation lines. Here, in 1869, was welded into a
continuous whole the first line of rails connecting the Atlantic with the
Pacific. This is the scent- of Bret Harte's stirring poem, which tells us

* . . . what the engines said.
Pilots touching— head to head,
Facing on a single track,
Half a continent at each back."

That event was an occasion of public rejoicing, and the success of
those lines at that time was a matter of public concern.

Since her one line east and west was first connected, Ogden has
seen a great growth in railways. The traveller may now go northward
into the mining regions of southern Idaho, or on to the quartz and
placers and the silver ledges of Montana; or, still further, around Peud'
Oreille and Cosur d' Alene and down the majestic Columbia to Oregon,
Washington Territory and British Columbia; he may go westward to
California and the Pacific; he may go southward to the farms and
mines of southern Utah; or eastward into the heart of the Rockies and
so through to the Atlantic over the route we ourselves have just passed.

Ogden has some thousands of people claiming it as home; and
besides the large patronage of the railways it is the supplying-center,
and the market for a considerable farming district in southern Idaho. It
is a busy and enterprising and growing town. Its union station is a
sort of narrows through which the larger part of all exchange of men
and goods between the east and west must drain ; and there is excitement
and variety enough to keep alive the attention of the dullest witness.
The train that brought us in the morning had sent a merry crowd on to
San Francisco— a train-load of acquaintances in jolliest mood, for the

ENTRY INTO DESERET. 323

other incoming trains contributed very few to the company bound west
ward. Now the arriving train of the Central Pacific poured across th«
busy platform another just such a merry company, filling the cars of the
Denver and Rio Grande, to which our special was attached, and losing
few to the older line.

At Salt Lake City, that evening, our faithful Bert had a good
dinner ready for us almost the moment we returned; and, restored
to the comforts of our own bed and board, we made an auspicious and
good-natured entry to Zion, and to Deseret, the chief city of the Latter
Day Saints.

XXXV

SALT LAKE CITY.

" I have described in my ;lm3 many cities, both of the east and west; but the City ot
Che Saints puzzles me. It is the young rival of Mecca, the Zion of the Mormons, the Lat-
ter-day Jerusalem. It is also the City of the Honey Bee, 'Deseret,' and the City of the
Sunflower — an encampment as of pastoral tribes, the tented capital of some Hyksos,
'Shepherd Kings' — the rural seat of a modern patriarchal democracy; the place of the
tabernacle of an ancient prophet-ruled Theocracy."

—PHIL ROBINSON.

T was on a Saturday night that we returned to Salt Lake
City. It followed, therefore, as a matter of course,
that the ensuing morning was Sunday. Had the calen-
der not been our authority we might have known it
from the solemn stillness that prevailed — a contrast
very vivid and suggestive after our experience of the
Holy Day in the mountain mining towns.

Everybody was eager of course to go to the Tabernacle.

The Tabernacle stands inside the big wall surrounding the " Temple
block," and could have been found by simply falling in with any one of
the currents of Sunday-dressed people which set toward it from every
direction. We went early so as to look about us at leisure.

This square of ten acres was set apart for temple purposes at the
founding of the city, and there the pioneers held their first worship.
There was built the building known as the Endowment House, and
there, thirty years ago, were laid the foundations of the temple, wherein
(it is promised) Jesus Christ shall appear bodily to the faithful as soon as
it is completed. Reared to a height of eighty feet above the ground, but
not yet ready for the roof, its snowy walls gleam in the sun, hot, and
dazzling.

There is a little time before the services in the Tabernacle and we
go over to the new building, picking our way among redoubts of the
sparkling blocks of granite. A picture of the building as it will appear
when the work is finished, hung under glass, at the closed door of the
superintendent's office, and enabled us to get a very good idea of how
the great structure would look. The Madame joined the rest of us
in admiration for the massive character of every part of the work.

We found that above the enormous foundations the wall had a
thickness of nine feet, which decreases to seven at the height of the roof.
Nor was this wall hollow, or filled or backed with brick or anything

824

/86 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

tflse, but was made solid throughout of hewn granite. Even the pillars,
the partitions, the stairways, the floors and ceilings in many apart-
ments, were of solid matched stone,, The beveled window openings
through these thick walls are like embrasures of a fort; and the many
small rooms in which it is to be divided, will cause the structure to seem
more like a prison than a religious temple. In fact it is not designed as
a house of worship, — the Tabernacle remains for that — but is intended
as a sacred edifice within which various ordinances of the Church,
closely allied to those of Masonry, now performed in the Endowment
House, shall be celebrated.

The external ornamentation of the great building is original and
symbolical in its plan. The wall is pierced with four tiers of large win-
dows, the second and fourth tiers being circular. The keystone of each
of the arches over these windows, as well as over the various doors,
bears a star in high relief; and between the windows room is found for
three tiers of circular bosses, eight on each side, upon which symbols
will be carved in high relief. The lowermost of these rows will bear
maps of various parts of the world ; the second tier, eight phases of the
moon; and the topmost tier eight blazing suns. The suns, moons and
stars are already cut, but the maps of the earth remain to be carved.

The cost of the temple has been the subject of much public ques-
tioning and careless slander. A man assured us that it had cost sixteen
millions of dollars. This is certainly an exaggeration. I have the word
of President Taylor that the total cost up to the present time has been
about two millions of dollars, derived from the church tithings. The
same work could be duplicated now for a far less sum; but a large part
of this was done before the railway was built, when the stone had to be
hauled from the distant quarries by ox teams. It is supposed that
another million dollars and two years more time, will complete and fur-
nish the building. That will be a great day for Salt Lake.

By the time we had finished our inspection of the temple, the Tab-
ernacle had been pretty well filled by the crowds of people who poured
into its many doors. One of these streams we followed.

The Tabernacle has been so often described and figured that I need
spend little time over it. Imagine an elliptical dome, shingled, set upon
a circle of stone piers about twenty feet in height, and you will have an
image of this extraordinary building. Were it set upon an eminence it
would be as grand in its place (perfectly fitting Utah scenery in its
severely simple outlines) as the Acropolis at Athens.

Service in the Tabernacle is held on Sundays at two o'clock in the
afternoon. The people assemble not only from the city but from all the
country around. Women and children are in great force. The great
amphitheatre supplies seats for thirteen thousand people, and it is
nearly filled every Sunday. A broad gallery closes around at the front
end where the choir sit in two wings, facing each other — the men on one

THE TABERNACLE. 327

side and the young women on the other. The space between is filled by
the splendid organ (back high up against the wall) and by three long,
crimson-cushioned pulpit-desks, in each of which twenty speakers or so
can sit at once, each rank overlooking the heads of the one beneath.
The highest of these belongs to the president and his two counselors;
the second to the twelve apostles, and the lowest to the bishops. The
acoustic properties of the building are wonderful ; a person standing in a
certain space near one end, can hear the gentlest whisper, or, that univer-
sal test, a pinfall, from quite the other end. A former deficiency of light,
has been overcome by the use of gas and electricity; and the chilling
barrenness of the vast whitewashed and unbroken vault is relieved by a
liberal hanging of evergreen festoons, and trailing wreaths of flowers
made of colored tissue paper. These trimmings are far enough away
from the eye, and in masses of sufficient size to make their effect very
satisfactory.

Every Sunday the sacrament is administered, the tables loaded with
the baskets of bread and silver tankards of water (never wine) occupying
a dais at the foot of the pulpits, upon which several bishops take their
places, and break the bread into fragments. Precisely at two o'clock
the great organ sends forth its melodious invocation, and the subdued
noise of neighborly gossip, which, as the Madame said, " seemed the
veritable humming of the honey bees of Deseret in their house hive," is
wholly hushed. The music at the Tabernacle is far-famed in the west,
and gives constant delight to all the people. The singing is followed by
a long prayer by some one of the dignitaries in or about the pulpits,
during which the time is utilized to prepare the bread and water; and as
soon as the prayer has ceased a large number of brethren begin to pass
the sacred food and drink. Everybody, old and young, partakes, and
it is an hour and. a half before the communion is completed. Mean-
while some one of the highest officers of the church, or perhaps two
or three of them in succession, has been preaching; so that two long
hours are exhausted before dismissal. Such was the experience of our
visit, and it was an average occasion.

The history of Salt Lake City is the history of the " Mormons,"— of
the Church of the Latter-Day Saints in Utah. It begins on the 24th of
July, 1847, when Brigharn Young, leading the people, who likened their
pilgrimage to a second exodus of Israel, emerged from the long canon that
had let them through the westernmost range of the Rockies. As the head
of the weary train passed the last barrier they saw spread before their
eager vision a huge basin— miles of sage-green, velvety slopes, sweeping
down on every side from the bristling mountain-rim to the azure surface
of the Salt sea set in the center.

Here, their leader told them, the Lord commanded a halt ; here his
tabernacle should be raised. It was done, and to-day a populous city
stands on the site of the first camp of the religious host,— a city as baffling

328 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

to describe in its appearance, in its social aspects, in its pervading senti-
ment as any which can be found in Christendom. It was with an
intense sympathy for Mr. Robinson, that I listened to the Madame read-
ing the opening paragraph of the fifth chapter of his " Sinners and
Saints," a part of which I have selected as the motto of the present
chapter.

Yes, like Mr. Robinson, I would have liked " to shirk this part of
my experiences altogether," but the reader would never have pardoned
me. "What? Leave out Salt Lake City!" I hear you exclaim,
" What's the good of mentioning Utah at all, if you do that? "

Well, to begin with, the city is not on the lake nor within a score o)
miles of it. When the pioneers came they descended to the foot of the
last " bench " in which the foothills yield their rights to the plain, and
there made their camp. In the same spot was founded the city. It was
quite as good a locality as any other, no doubt they thought, considering
that the whole region alike was nothing but a plain of sagebrush.
Indeed, you cannot see the lake at all from the city, except by going up
upon the "bench" of higher ground to the northward and eastward,
whence it appears only as a line of distinct color between the dusty olive
of the wide foreground, and the vague blue of the distant hills.

The habitations of the pioneers were not built hastily and at ran-
dom. Brigham Young caused a town-site to be carefully surveyed and
accurately laid out, and it was done on a generous scale. The streets
were made one hundred and thirty feet wide, placed true to the points of
the compass and crossing one another at right angles. Each square con-
tains ten acres, so that when the Madame and I merely walked " around
the block " while I smoked a post-prandial cigarette, we tramped precisely
half a mile. A square of nine blocks was made to constitute a " ward "
•-now the city has twenty-four — presided over by a bishop of the
church. Despite his title, he was more a temporal than a spiritual head,
deciding all small matters in dispute in those simple first days when there
was no appeal, nor desire for one, from ecclesiastical decisions to civil
.-judgment. Even yet, this ward classification enters largely into the
social constitution of the city.

When the streets and wards had been determined each pioneer was
given an acre and a quarter as a town lot, and as much outside land
as he could occupy. This accounts in a great measure for the ample
space and farm-like appearance of the grounds around most of the houses
in this widely dispersed city.

To make this real estate of value, however, water for irrigation
must be brought to it. This was supplied by the "City " creek flowing
down from Emigration canon, whose current was led into ditches all
over the new colony, and still fills the roadside gutters with sparkling
streams, nourishing many gardens, and the roots of the long lines of
varied shade trees, whose boughs almost reach over the thoroughfares.

EARLY DATS IN SALT LAKE CITY. 329

AH the brethren worked in common at this ditching, and it was done so
soon that within a few days after their arrival seeds had been put in the
ground for the first crop.

"Yes," says the Madame, as I relate this history, "and they say
that old Jim Bridger watched them cynically and said they were a pack
of— well, no matter what kind of fools, and that he would give a thou-
sand dollars for the first ear of corn raised there."

" That's said to be true," I assent.

"But he had to acknowledge the corn," Chum puts in — and flees!

Formerly this water alone was available for domestic purposes and
<drinking, as well as for irrigation, and even yet the poorer part of
the population dip it up at the curbstone for daily service. But the
introduction of pipes and hydrants has now superseded this old way,
though the water is no better; for table use, therefore, the sweet pure
beverage drawn from very deep wells is preferred. Experiments are
making in this respect to artesian wells also.

The houses built by the first settlers were mainly log cabins, and
some relics are still to be found hidden away in blossoming orchards.
The Spanish-American adobe house was also a favorite, and has continued
so to the present, though instead of almost shapeless chunks of mud,
plastered in Mexican fashion, regular imburnt bricks are made by
machinery. These adobes are twice the size of ordinary bricks, and the
wall into which they are formed is made twice as thick as one of burned
bricks would be. Of course this material lends itself to any style of
architecture, and many of the elaborate buildings, as well as cheap cot-
tages, are made of it, the soft gray tint of the natural adobe, or the gentle
tone of some overlying stucco harmonizing most tastefully with the
crowding greenery. Low houses, with abundant piazzas and many
nondescript additions, are the most common type in the older part of
the town; and over these so many vines are trained, and so much foliage
clusters, that one can hardly say of what material the structure itself is
formed. The residences recently built have a more eastern and conven-
tional aspect, and some are very imposing; but, big or little, old or new,
it is rare to find a house not ensconced in trees and shrubs and climbing
plants, while, smooth, rich, well-shaven lawns greet the eye everywhere
in town, in brilliant contrast to the bleak hills towering overhead just
without the city. As for flowers, no town east or west cultivates them
more universally and assiduously.

" There are no florists here," says the Madame.

"And no need for any — each man has his own plants if not the
luxury of a greenhouse."

Salt Lake City, then, is beautiful — a paradise in comparison with

the buffalo plains or the stony gulches in which the majority of Rocky

Mountain towns must needs be set. Nor is there any question as to the

fact that this is wholly to the credit of the Mormons — not because they

14*

330 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

were Mormons, but because they were diligent and foresighted, and
came hither not to make a fortune and escape, but to stay and build up
pleasant homes and a prosperous commonwealth. Any other set of men
might have done the same; but certainly no other set of men did, for to
no others was presented the same compelling motive.

The suburbs— except toward the rocky uplands northward — grade
off quite imperceptibly, the streets continuing straight out into country
roads between dense jungles of sunflowers, — glorious walls of gold, and
green; and in these suburbs you may find some of the queerest, most
idyllic cottages.

The two broad distinctions of "Mormon" and "Gentile," are not
enough to represent the elements of Salt Lake society. At least three
divisions ought to be counted. First, the Latter-day Saints; second, the
seceders from the Mormon Church; third, the Gentiles — respectable
people, mostly attendants at Christian churches.

" Such a classification must make queer comrades," remarks Chum,
as we sit talking over these matters.

"I should say so," I reply, "the Jew becomes a Gentile, and the
Roman Catholic becomes a Protestant, making common cause with
Calvinism against the hierarchy of the Temple."

"I do not suppose," the Madame observes, "that they can sink
their own little differences, although allied in one fight; so that society
must necessarily be divided into a lot of little groups, and thus lose
a great deal."

"Yes, the people who profess no religious adherence have rather
the easiest time of it in Salt Lake, I believe."

The non-Mormon part of the citizens probably enjoy themselves
more than they would if the isolation of the locality did not compel
them to be self-centered and contrive their own amusements to a great
extent. It is a society made up of the families of successful merchants
and mining men, of clergymen and teachers, of the officers of the army
stationed at Camp Douglass, and the representatives of the government
in the judicial and other territorial offices. This composition, it will be
seen, presupposes considerable intelligence and cultivation. It was not
until Gentile gold came in to break up the old custom of barter, that the
resources of the Mormon community became really available either to
themselves or to others.

Utah has always been pre-eminently an agricultural district. Out of
her one hundred and fifty thousand people probably one hundred and
twenty thousand are now farming or stock-raising in some capacity or
other. When you look down the valley from the city, your eye takes in
a wide view of fields, orchards and meadows, green with the most luxur-
iant growth, and marked off by rows of stately trees or patches of young
woodland. All these farms are small holdings, and though cultivated

332 THE GRE8T OF THE CONTINENT.

by no means scientifically, have long produced well up to their several
capacities.

The exports of all sorts of grain, produce and fruit are large, and
increasing, thanks to this new railway of ours and its encouraging rates
of freight.

The Mormon leaders, and particularly Brigham Young, at first
opposed any attempt at a development of the mineral resources of the
territory, though the latter is said to have been well informed of their
character and value. He forbade all mining to his people, and would
have closed the mountains to Gentile prospectors if he had been able.
So far as a desire existed to avoid the evils of a placer-working excite-
ment, drawing hither a horde of gold-seekers, this course was a wise
one ; but as years went on, it was seen by the shrewder heads among the
Mormons themselves that this abstinence from mining was harmful.
There was no cash in the treasury, and none to be got (I am speaking of
early days). If a surplus of grain was raised, or more of any sort of
goods manufactured than could be used at home, there was no sale for
them, since at that time, the market was so far away that the profits
would all be lost in the expense of transportation.

It is funny to hear the tales of those days. Business was almost
wholly by barter, and payments for everything had to be made by
exchange. A man who took his family to the theatre wheeled his
admission fee with him in the shape of a barrel or two of potatoes, and
a young man would go to a dance with his girl on one arm and a bunch
of turnips on the other with which to buy his ticket. Gentile emigrants
and settlers soon began to bring in coin, but the relief was gradual and
inadequate.

Finally, about fifteen years ago, it was publicly argued by more
liberal minds that the only things Utah had which she could send out
against competition were gold and silver. When, from preaching they
began to practice, and enterprising men encouraged outside capital to
join them in developing silver ledges in the Wasatch and Oquirrh
ranges, then Salt Lake City began to rouse herself. Potatoes and carrots
and adobes disappeared as currency, and coin and greenbacks enlivened
trade which more and more conformed to the ordinary methods of
American commerce.

One quite legitimate means taken for centralizing of trade was the
establishment, twenty-five years ago, of Zion's Cooperative Mercantile
Institution. In the early days it was extremely difficult for country
shopkeepers to maintain supplies when everything had to be hauled by
teams from the Missouri river, and the most extortionate prices would be
demanded for staples, whenever, as frequently happened, a petty dealer
would get a "corner" on some article. A few great fortunes were
quickly made, but a stop was put to this by setting on foot the

EDUCATIONAL FACILITIES OF UTAH. 833

cooperative establishment, which was imitated in a small way in many
rural settlements.

The design of this institution was to furnish goods of every sort
known to merchants out of one central depot in Salt Lake City under
control of the Church and partly owned by it. This was a joint-stock
"cooperative" affair, however, and the capital was nearly a million
dollars. The people were advised from the pulpit to trade there,
but they would have done so anyhow, for the " Coop," as they called it,
was able to reduce and equalize prices very greatly. Branches wrere
established in Ogden, Logan, Soda Springs, and lately a warehouse
built in Provo. These and other additions were rapid. The central
salesrooms in this city now occupy a four-story brick building, three
hundred and eighteen feet long by ninety-seven wide, where every
species of merchandise is to be found. In other quarters are a drug-
store, a shoe factory (supplied by its own tanneries and running one
hundred and twenty-five machines propelled by steam), and a factory for
making canvas " overall " clothing. Altogether about two hundred and
fifty persons are employed, working reasonable hours and for reasonable
wages. The stock, which originally was widely scattered, has been
concentrated for the most part in the hands of a few astute men, who are
credited with large profits. There is an air of great prosperity about the
institution, whose business is stated to reach five million dollars annually,
derived almost wholly from Utah.

Though this concern had a practical monopoly at first, as soon as
the railways came to Salt Lake, individual merchants could sell goods
about as cheap, and opposition to it arose.

Religious competition has arisen. Among the first of these local
Protestants was a mission of the Roman Catholics. Now they have
a considerable colony here and in Ogden. The St. Mary's Academy, in
charge of the Sisters of the Holy Cross, has a large building, beautiful
grounds, and the reputation of being a first class higher school for girls.
There is a school for little boys in the same enclosure. The boarders at
the Academy amount to about one hundred annually, and the day scholars
to one hundred and fifty. The Sisters of the Holy Cross also have
charge of a large and finely-conducted hospital in the eastern part of
the city.

Another hospital is the St. Marks, supported partly by monthly
dues from miners, and otherwise by special contributions. This is
in charge of the Episcopal Church, which has been active in Utah for
many years under the guidance of Bishop Tuttle. St. Mark's School,
belonging to the local church organization, had three hundred and thirty
pupils during its last term. The Methodist Episcopal denomination,
also, has churches scattered about the territory and schools in Salt Lake
City, among the rest night schools for Chinamen, who are an important
element of the population. The Presbyterian Church has set up here a

334 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

Collegiate Institute, owning property worth about seventy-five thousand
dollars and giving instruction to about two hundred pupils, from the
primary to a high-school grade. This is unsectarian, as, I suppose, are
all the rest so far as any active religious pressure is brought to bear.
The most exclusive school, probably, is that sustained by the Hebrew
Society. As in other western towns the Jews are in large force in Salt
Lake City, their characteristic names occurring on many a signboard.

The Mormons themselves sustain a system of public schools, in
which, in addition to the usual branches, the tenets of their faith are
taught. These schools are well conducted and will compare favorabty
with those in any city the same size.

Salt Lake City is a great center of wholesale trade in provisions and
textile fabrics not only, but in machinery and mining supplies. She has
smelters; a lead-paint factory; foundries and boiler works; sampling-
mills handling two hundred tons of ore a day, brought from far and
near; breweries, carriage and furniture shops; and all sorts of small fac-
tories. Traction engines and locomotives, if not wholly built there, are
reconstructed; and complicated machinery of other sorts is manufac-
tured. Her salt business, now that a liberal minded railway has come to
her relief, is likely to become of the greatest importance, which will be
a benefit to her, not only, but to all the smelters and chlorodization
works in the Rocky Mountain region.

The city grows rapidly and becomes daily more cultivated and
beautiful, and less mtre. Every appliance of civilization is utilized, and
she has the best hotels by far between Denver and San Francisco-
some think even better than either, but that is an extravagant estimate.
Statistics show that six hundred new houses were built, five hundred
and seventy-four of them dwellings, at a cost of $1,636,500. By the
time the next census is taken, in 1890, she may contain fifty thousand
inhabitants. The Madame and I thought we would rather make our
home in Salt Lake than in any town west of the Plain.* • but Chum casi
his vote in favor of Denver.

XXXVI

SALT LAKE AND THE WASATCH.

Behind, the silent snows; and wide below,

The rounded hills made level, lessening down
To where a river washed with sluggish flow
A many-templed town.

— BAYABD TAYLOB.

NE day we all went out to the great Salt Lake, as in duty
bound. You might as well go to Mecca and fail to see
the tomb of the Prophet, as to visit Deseret and avoid
the lake. It is a ride of twenty miles by rail, and the
fare for the round trip is only fifty cents. Two trains
are run every day in summer, and they are especially
well-filled on Sundays. The cars used are chiefly open ones, with seats
crosswise, like those run to Brighton and the other Beaches from New
York, and it would be good fun in itself to go racing in this free way
across the breezy desert between the city and the lake, even if there were
not the salt waves at the end of the journey.

For, of course, the only object in going to the lake — or at any rate
the prime object — is the bathing. There are two or three landings, all
much alike, and not far apart; which one it was we stopped at, I have
forgotten, and it doesn't matter. One is called Garfield and another
Black Rock, after a great cubic mass of lava that stands out of the
water a little way from shore like the end of a huge ruined pier.

Unfortunately it is impossible to make trees grow at the shore. The
water and the soil are too bitterly salt; moreover, there is no fresh
water in the rocky hills of the Oquirrh that tower straight up from the
beach, and irrigation is thus forestalled. In lieu of this, a few wide-
verandahed houses and open sheds exist, with several booths made of
boughs and evergreens, under which are long tables and benches for the
accommodation of those who bring their lunches. Nearly every day
you will see these bowers half -filled with picnic parties who have come
to spend the day; and there are frequent excursions from the city,
where large parties go out in the evening, dance all night and return by
a special train in the early morning.

At the edge of the water are rows of dressing closets where the
bathing suits are donned and whence you go by stairways directly into
the water. No special hours are thought preferable. Men and women go
in under a noonday blaze that makes the brain swim on shore, and

336 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

assert that their bare heads suffer no discomfort. We thought their
crania must be harder than ours, however, and postponed our dip till
the cool of the evening.

While the danger of sunstroke seems very small — the rarity and
purity of the air get the credit for this — the lake is a treacherous place
for swimmers. The great density of its waters sustains you so that you
float easily, but for the same reason swimming ahead is very tiresome
work. Moreover, fatal consequences are likely to ensue if any consider-
able quantity of the brine is swallowed. It not only chokes, but is
described as fairly burning the tissues of the throat and lungs, produc-
ing death almost as surely as the inhalation of flame. Of course this
occurs in exceptional cases only, but many persons suffer extremely
from a single accidental swallow. I remind the Madame of this as I
lead her rather timid feet down the steps, and add that most of the
sufferers hitherto have been women.

" That's because they can't keep their mouths shut even on pain of
death," remarks Chum, with malice aforethought. For this remark,
some day, I have no doubt, he will be called to account, by my wife,
who seems more worried at present, however, to keep the brine out of
her hair than out of her mouth.

The powerful effect of this water is not surprising when one remem-
bers that the proportion of saline matter — about twenty per cent. — in it is
six times as great as the percentage of the ocean, and almost equal to
that of the Dead Sea, though Lake Oroomiah, in Persia, is reputed
to contain water of a third greater density yet. This density is due
mainly to common salt held in solution, but there are various other
ingredients. In Great Salt Lake, for example, only 0.52 per cent, of mag-
nesia exists, the Dead Sea having 7.82 per cent.; of lime, Salt Lake
holds 1.80 per cent., while the Dead Sea contains only a third as much.
As you look into it the water seems marvelously transparent, so that the
ripple-marked sand and pebbles at the bottom show with strange distinct-
ness. This is usually adduced as an evidence of its purity, and in
one sense it is so; but it is also the result of its density, since the invisi-
ble particles of salt in it, catch and carry the light to far greater depths
than it would be able to penetrate in distilled water, which, also, would
be perfectly clear. The crystal clearness and intense color of the water
of the Mediterranean is noticed by all travellers; but it is also the fact
that the Mediterranean is considerably salter than the open Atlantic.

Great flocks of gulls and pelicans inhabit the upper part of the lake
and breed upon the shores and islands; what they all find to eat is a
mystery. No vegetation can survive where the spray of these bitter
waves has dashed, save a miserable little saltwort and a melancholy spe-
cies of Artemisia, whose straggling and thorny limbs appear black and
burnt on the scorching sands. Salt is made in great quantities in sum-
mer, by the simple process of damming small bays and letting the

CAPTURING WILD HORSES. 337

enclosed water evaporate, leaving a crust of crystallized salt behind.
Several thousands of tons are exported annually, and great quantities
used at home in chlorodizing silver ores.

I think few persons realize how wonderfully, strangely beautiful
this inland, saline sea is. Under the sunlight its wide surface gives the
eye such a mass of brilliant color as is rarely seen in the temperate zone.
Over against the horizon it is almost black, then ultramarine, then
glowing Prussian blue; here, close at hand, variegated with patches of
verdigris green and the soft, skyey tone of the turquoise. If the lake
were in a plain (remembering the total absence of forest or greensward)
doubtless this richness of color would not suffice to produce the effect of
beauty, but on every side stand lofty mountains. They seem to rise
from the very margin to their riven, bare and pinnacle-studded
crests spotted with snow, though some of them are miles beyond the
water's edge.

Two mountainous islands stand prominently in view at the lower
end of the lake — Church and Antelope. On the former some two thou-
sand head of cattle are pastured. The latter has a less prosaic history,
though at present similarly utilized as grazing-land. When the Mor-
mons first came hither they wintered their cattle and horses upon it.
The eastern side of the island contains some farming land, and a quarry
of roofing-slate.

An obliging gentleman told us all about the island, and also gave an
account of what must have been an exciting chase. He said that until
two or three years ago there roamed upon the island a remnant of the
horse-herds once pastured there, numbering fifty or sixty horses and
mares. These were as wild as wild could be, and grazed upon the
western side of the island, which is very broken and rocky, and trav-
ersed by narrow trails that the horses had worn in the hillsides. It was
decided to attempt to capture some or all of these horses and a novel
method of snaring was adopted. Nooses were made at the ends of long
lines which were securely anchored ; the nooses were then hung in the
bushes in such a way as to overhang the trail at the proper height.
Several mounted men then got behind a few of the wild herd, and drove
them as furiously as they could frighten them forward along the narrow
trails. Overcome with terror the leading animal never saw the dang-
ling rope, but rushed his head through the noose and was instantly
jerked off the trail. Tearing wildly past him half a dozen others, one by
one went into as many consecutive snares and were caught. Bancroft Librarr

As each horse was caught, one of the pursuers would hasten to him
as rapidly as possible, fasten the end of the lariat to the horn of his sad-
dle, and then lose no time in loosening the noose about the captive's
neck, which by that time would have choked the poor beast almost into
insensibility. This done, he would leave the wild and tame animals
tied together, to fight it out, and hurry on to help his companions. In
15

338 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

this way several horses were captured, and proved very docile and
capable when put in the harness.

The story has scarcely been concluded, when we are called to
our homeward-bound train. It is just at sunset — the western horizon a
fountain of fiery gold seen through a saffron veil of ineffable splendor.
The air seems to become saturated — thick with color throughout the
whole space between us and the horizon. The mountains shine through
this veil in a sharply defined mass, not a single feature visible, but their
whole silhouette washed in with a fiat tint of marvelous softness and
inimitable delicacy. Yet it changes, almost every instant, and grad-
ually, as the orb disappears behind the island, and the cloth of gold laid
down for his feet across the lake, is drawn away, the island-hills and the
jagged sierras beyond settle into cold ashy blue, and the coolness of
approaching night already fans our cheeks.

Another day we made an excursion up into the canon of the Little
Cottonwood to Alta— a mining town known all round the world. The
place is not only entertaining in itself, but in its neighborhood are a
large number of easily accessible gorges, lakes and hilltops full of artistic
material and of trout fishing; or, if the tourist goes late in the season, of
good shooting and ample opportunity for dangerous adventures in
mountaineering. The Little Cottonwood is one of those great crevices
between the peaks of the Wasatch range plainly visible from Salt Lake
City, and distinguished by its white walls, which when wet with the
morning dews gleam like monstrous mirrors as the sunlight reaches
them from over the top of the range.

"We took the early morning train down to Bingham Junction,
so called because branch roads diverge here, not only to Alta, our desti-
nation, but also to Bingham, a mining camp opposite, in the Oquirrh,
which has attracted much attention in the past and still has very profit-
able mines, with many peculiarities of great interest to the specialist.
Here at the Junction stood awaiting us a locomotive heading a train
made up of almost every kind of car known to rolling stock. Whisked
away past fields of lucerne we were quickly climbing the foothill
benches and entering the mouth of the canon, where the train came to a
standstill underneath an ore-shed and alongside of a beer-saloon. In
front of the saloon stood on slender rails two or three of the queerest
vehicles it was ever my fortune to ride in. If you can imagine the body
of a three-seated sleigh, with its curled up splash-board, mounted upon a
hand-car and rigged with a miniature "boot" behind, you will have an
idea of these vehicles in which we were to finish our trip up the eight
miles of canon remaining. The motive power consisted of two black
mules, harnessed tandem, and the driver was the conductor of the train,
who disguised himself so effectually in a big hat and bigger duster that
ft was a long time before we discovered his identity.

JACK FROST AS A QTTARRYMAN. 339

The walls of this canon are extremely lofty, and in places almost
vertical. Though in crevices and ledges here and there some fearless
bushes and trees have maintained a foothold, yet there are large spaces
of almost upright slope, wholly bare of the least soil or vegetation, and
smoothed by the waters that drip over them, the sliding avalanches that
sweep their faces, and the fierce winds that polish them under streams
of sharp-grained dust. Whiter precipices I have never seen, and the
rock lies in long layers, that in the case of sedimentary rocks we would
call strata, inclined at a very steep angle against the higher heart of the
range within. Here, too, are the usual lines of cross-cleavage, and
in these lines, as well as between the layers, water finds itself able to
penetrate more or less easily. Hence the frost during past ages has
slowly cracked off great masses of exposed cliff and hurled them down.
This rock does not crumble, as would the lavas, but falls in masses, and
with these the bottom of the canon has been gradually filled up. The
water of the creek finding its way over and among the great pieces, never
ceases to be a cataract, or has a moment rest from its foaming haste ; and
our tramway squirmed and dodged among angular fragments, each
as big as a house, which had fallen so recently as yet to be lying on
top of the ground.

It is by splitting to pieces these great detached droppings of the
cliff — solid fragments of the original granite cliff, — that the contractors
get the fine building stone of the Mormon temple in the city. There is
no need to open any quarries. It is only necessary to drill and blast
these big stones lying on the surface, and the demands of a hundred
temples would not exhaust the supply. Men were at work as we passed,
splitting out blocks that were dragged by stoneboats, or sent along the
tramway down to where they could be loaded upon the railroad cars.
Until three years ago every bit of this stone was hauled all the way
to Salt Lake City by bullock teams, and the great expense and labor
account both for the large expense and the slow progress of the mighty
structure.

A mile or so above Wasatch station, the tramway entered a snow-
shed; and with momentary exceptions, it never got out of it for seven
miles. To the sight-seer this was discouraging; but it was compensated
by the coolness, for in the stillness of the cafion, the sunshine, reflected
from the dazzling walls, was fiercely hot, and our occasional emergen-
cies into it was like passing before the door of a blast furnace. These
sheds are said to have cost one hundred thousand dollars, though the
timber was close at hand and sawed in the canon. They were necessary,
for this is a gorge famous for its depth of snowfall and its avalanches.
It required two hours to toil through the sheds and at the end we found
as peculiar a scene of human life as could well be imagined. The canon
"heads" here, in an almost complete circle of heights, some of which
reach, stark and splintered, far above timber-line. At the disbandment of

340 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

General Connor's regiment of Californian troops in 1863, they scattered
through the mountains and among other places came here. Prospecting
the higher slopes, silver ore was discovered, and a host of miners came
in, and began digging on all the hills. The famous " Emma," the
"Flag Staff," and dozens of other mines were opened. A town, well-
called Alta (high), sprang up, and filled all the level land at the head of
the valley, while buildings, and machinery and dumps dotted the moun-
tain sides to their topmost ridges. Long paths had marked the ruin
of avalanches before this, but when, to supply timber for the mines and
the cabins, the mountain sides were denuded of their forests, large areas
of deep snow became loosened in every great storm, and slid with crush-
ing force, tearing up and carrying everything before it, to the bottom of
the slope. Once the whole corner of the town was swept clean away;
again and again miners lost their buildings at their tunnel entrances.
Little work could be done in winter yet many stayed in Alta, isolated
from the world, and at the mines, and many and many a one lost his
life, to have his body found in a horrible condition when the winter was
over. Then in the spring, when the frost was loosening the ground,
and the melting snow was pouring a thousand waterfalls down the sides
of the canon, the snowslides were succeeded by the giving away of
masses of soil and loose rocks, which came headlong into the bottom of
the canon. One such avalanche of rocks was pointed out to us which
had slid down the opposite mountain with such force as to carry it clear
across, and almost a hundred feet up the hither slope, sweeping away
the tramway, sheds and all.

Meanwhile the original owners of the mines had sold them in the
most prominent cases, for enough to make the men wealthy. Companies
had been formed, the stock had been put upon the market, and the usual
history of a mining camp was gone through. The "Emma," in the
hands of a company of English capitalists, was made notorious by liti-
gation, and for a long time was shut down. Now, however, a new era
is beginning. "Work has been resumed on many lodes that for years
have been idle, and arctic Alta may yet range herself among the foremost
silver-producing localities of the territory. We were all glad we went
up there, yet were quite ready at four o'clock to return.

When we took our seats in the little sleigh-like car, no mules stood
sedately tandem in front of it ; and before we understood that we were
ready, behold we were off! It was merely the loosening of a brake,
and the car began to roll swiftly down the track. That was an exhilar-
ating ride! Whisking round the curves, rattling through long tunnels,
dodging out into the sunlight to catch a glimpse of a sparkling waterfall,
or a bit of plain seen away down the canon, then back again into the
tunnel, where gophers and chip-munks and cotton tails were continually
perking up their heads and then scuttling into some small cave of refuge
as we rushed past — on and on, down and down in the face of the stift

COASTING BY RAtL. Mi

breeze and under lofty walls, without an instant's check, until we glided
into the little terminus, just twenty -five minutes out of Altai

But our gravity railroading was not done yet. A small passenger
car stood at the head of the railway track by which we had come up
from the valley. As soon as we had entered it, our jolly driver-con-
ductor (there was no gravity about him!) loosened the brake and we
rushed off again like the ghost of a train, without engine or engineer,
and went spinning down the tortuous track for a dozen miles to Bing-
ham Junction. It was just as good fun as coasting — and better, for you
did n't have to drag your own sled back up hill again.

XXXVII

AU REVOIR.

End things must, end howsoever things may.

•—BROWNING.

HIS was our last excursion, and all three of us knew it
as we gathered in our own coach again at Bingham
Junction.

"At last," remarks Madame, cheerfully — she is
thinking that before many more days an apple-cheeked
little damsel in far New England will be back in her

arms " we have come, sir, to the final chapter. The emptiness of your

utmost corner-pigeon-hole will reproach you no longer. A few days
more and Finis will be written across the completed manuscript, and our
glorious cruise will be a thing of the past. Meanwhile, sir, remember
your ' Cochelunk,' —

* Act, act in the living present,
Heart within and God o'er head.' '

" For instance? " I ask, after this homily.

" Observe, and make a note of, these great meadows of rich grass
and the russet areas where hay has been cut. Note how, among the
plumey masses left standing scarlet flowers are burning like coals — I
wonder if prairie fires ever originate from their igniting the dry and
feathery stalks! See how the Jordan flows stately down the center
of this wide mountain trough, its banks crowded with farmhouses, each
in its little copse of trees. Long lines of Lombardy poplars mark the
boundaries of many farms and willows show where the big irrigating
ditches pass or rivulets trickle. All these things are of the highest
interest, and imply a mass of statistics you ought busily to gather and
carefully to record in tables of precise and copious information."

"Eh?" I say.

What is the matter with the Madame? Is she making fun of some-
body whom she ought to hold in a respect almost amounting to awe?
Feeling that I ought to assert myself I gently hint that this is my affair,
and her help is uncalled for in the matter of book-making; that her own
department is wide enough for all her energies; and that —

But here Chum interrupts in that strix-like way of his which always
so commands attention that one must listen whether or no.

This young man is possessed of a family heirloom in the shape

THE PARTING STOIl . 343

of several hundred traditions of a more or less mythical grandfather.
Some of these tales are distinctly poetical, while none of them are prosy.
It is one of the traditions coined in the ingenious brain of this talented old
gentleman with which we are now regaled, apropos of the matter in
hand.

The old gentleman, it appears, was once— but let his heir- apparent—

"Who," the Madame interrupts maliciously, "has very little hair
apparent."

''Let him," I say, ignoring the insinuation, "tell his own story."

" Why it was this way, as you very justly remark. The old gen lie-
man was once captured by the Indians, who, instead of scalping him,
decided to make him a beast of burden. They, therefore, loaded him
down with cooking utensils, the most prominent article of which was
the useful, but heavy frying-pan known in the vernacular as 'skillet.'
Each Indian deposited upon my grandfather's venerable and enduring
back, his skillet. The old gentleman dare not protest, but meekly sub-
milted and trudged off under his Atlas-like burden. After two hours
hard marching, however, he resolved to argue the question, so he
shouted imperatively,

"'Halt!"

"The Indians paused in wonder. The venerable victim climbed
upon a fallen tree and delivered his famous forensic effort, as follows:

"'Mr. Injuns! I have a proposition to make. I move that every
Tnjun carry his own skillet.1

"The modesty and yet fairness of this proposition met with an
enthusiastic reception and every Indian after that 'carried his own
skillet,' which commendable example it would be well for all to follow."

" That's a good story! " I remarked. " A good moral story 1 This
expedition, my dear Madame, was for fun, not for geographical pedan-
try; and my book shall make no pretense to be a cyclopaedia, a guide, or
a useful companion of any sort, but just a jolly story of a care-forget-
ting vacation. If it jogs the curiosity, whets the appetite, nerves the
fingers, weak through long toil in tying, and untying purse strings, to
come and see what we have seen, that is all the effect that can be
expected; and this much done, the traveller who follows our uncertain
trail will find out far more for himself than we ever could hope to tell
him. Seeing Colorado, no matter how briefly,

'Of her bright face, one glance will trace

A picture on the brain,
And of her voice in echoing hearts

A sound must long remain.'

" But here we are at Salt Lake, and home again, for one more gay
dinner in the red- walled car; one more gay evening under the cool stars;
one more night's rest in the queer little stateroom. To-morrow, Chum,
old 'friend and fellow-student,' in lonely grandeur you will be taking

344 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT.

the long-to-be-remembered ' special ' swiftly back to Denver ; while
the Madame and I are rolling away to the Golden Gate. Fill your
glasses. And what shall the toast be? The God- wrought landscape we
have seen? The wide-awake people we have known? The splendid
railroad whose achievements we know and of whose hospitality we have
partaken? The glorious 'good times' we've had? The stores of health
we have laid away? Ay, all these and more. Let us toast each other:
and then —

GOOD NIGHT 1

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