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                           Transcriber Notes

 Missing punctuation and obvious typos corrected, other inconsistencies
   in spelling and hyphenation in the original retained.
 Italics are represented by underscores surrounding the _italic text_.
 Underlined text is represented by asterisks surrounding the *underlined
   text*.
 Small capitals have been converted to ALL CAPS.
 Descriptions have been added to illustrations with no captions.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: SHOSHONE TUNNEL, CAÑON OF GRAND RIVER.]

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                     *HISTORICAL FINE ART SERIES.*

                         “GLIMPSES OF AMERICA”
                 A PICTORIAL AND DESCRIPTIVE HISTORY OF
                     Our Country’s Scenic Marvels,
                     DELINEATED BY PEN AND CAMERA.


                             By J. W. BUEL,

                    Who, in a Special Photograph Car
          and accompanied by a corps of accomplished Artists,
          visited every part of the United States and Canada,
    to picture and describe all the wonderful scenery found therein.

      PHOTOGRAPHS OF THE PICTURESQUE WONDERLANDS OF NORTH AMERICA.

     From Regions of Perpetual Ice to Lands of Perennial Sunshine.


                              PUBLISHED BY
                     HISTORICAL PUBLISHING COMPANY,
                             PHILADELPHIA.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: train car]

The Engravings in this volume were made from original photographs, and
are specially protected by Copyright, and notice is hereby given, that
any person or persons guilty of reproducing or infringing the copyright
in any way will be dealt with according to law.

           Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year
                                1894, by
                              H. S. SMITH,
             in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at
                           Washington, D. C.
                          All rights reserved.

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                           TABLE OF CONTENTS.


                                                                PAGE

  THE SUBLIMELY GRAND AND INCOMPARABLE SCENERY OF AMERICA.—
    Picturesque lands and places of other countries—Engagement
    of a corps of Photographers—Equipment of our Camera car—A
    trip to the Rocky Mountains—Hasty resumé of the pictorial
    districts visited—From summer climes to Alaska’s glacial
    shores—Excursions by car, stage, donkey and foot—
    Educational benefits of the tour—The work one of patriotic
    incitement,                                                 6-16


                               CHAPTER I.

  AMONG THE WILD SCENES OF COLORADO.—Through the Gateway of
    the Rockies—Wondrous visions—In the cañons of Bear Creek—
    Colossal cleavage of Clear Creek—A submerged forest of
    petrified trees—Among the clouds—Devil’s Gate to Bridal
    Veil Falls—The Loop at Georgetown—Silver Flume—Cornucopias
    of silver—Over the switchback to silver lands—Between
    towering crags—Terrific convulsions of nature—Dome Rock—
    Invocation of surging waters—The highest point ever
    reached by rail—A marvelous tunnel—An astounding view—
    Through Boulder Cañon and into North Park—A tour of Estes
    Park—Visits to Long’s Peak and Bald Mountain—Wild game in
    savage haunts—Climbing the American Matterhorn—Bewildering
    prospect from the “key-hole”—A trip to Table Mountain and
    examination of the glaciers—A journey through Middle Park—
    A story of Grand Lake—Away up on a dizzy brink,             17-40


                              CHAPTER II.

  MANITOU THE MIGHTY.—Twin cities that sit at the feet of
    Pike’s Peak—A spell of wonderment wrought by the
    eccentricities of nature—God’s acres of tumultuous stone—
    The story of Major Pike’s discovery—The first ascent of
    Pike’s Peak—The cog-wheel railroad to the summit—A trip to
    cloud-land—The wonderful panorama to be surveyed from the
    peak—A battalion of mountains in review—A storm on the
    mountain—Ute Pass to Cascade Cañon—Rainbow Falls and Grand
    Caverns—From the Cave-of-the-Winds down William’s Cañon—
    Garden of the Gods—Nature in wild riot of gruesome forms
    and sublime creations—Through Glen Eyrie and Monument
    Park—Witcheries that confound imagination—A visit to
    Cheyenne Cañon—Seven Falls—Entrancing hymns of nature—
    Legends of the Manitou,                                     41-62


                              CHAPTER III.

  GRAND CAÑONS OF WESTERN RIVERS.—A land of graceful, deep-
    leaping waterfalls—A park of marvelous petrifactions—Buena
    Vista, the beautiful view—Sportsmen’s Paradise—Through
    Hagerman Tunnel to Mount of the Holy Cross—Grand River
    Cañon—Sixteen miles of natural wonders—The Grand Cañon of
    the Colorado—Major Powell’s Trip from Green River to Yuma—
    A perilous journey richly recompensed—Flaming Gorge and
    Horseshoe Cañons—Tossed by dangerous rapids into halls and
    temples carved by Titans—In a chasm 7,000 feet deep—
    Caverns of Enchantment and walls flecked with rainbow
    colors—A borderland of phantasy—Cave habitations of an
    extinct race—Story of the hunted refugees—Vermilion
    Cliffs, Temples of the Virgin and Marble Cañon—Glories
    that thrill the heart with ecstasy, and fill the soul with
    reverence,                                                  63-84


                              CHAPTER IV.

  MARVELS OF THE GREAT DESERT.—Magnificence of the scenery
    along Grand River—From mountain to plain—Beautiful Provo
    Falls—Our great inland sea—Fruitfulness of Salt Lake
    Valley—A wall of mountains around Salt Lake—Shores of
    ancient Lake Bonneville, now America’s Dead Sea—Islands of
    Salt Lake—The Mormon City and how it was founded—Red Butte
    and Emigrant Cañons—Garfield Beach and Giant’s Cave—Echo
    and Weber Cañons—Valleys of marvelous diversity—The
    Devil’s Slide and the Witches’ Playground—Beaver River
    Gulch and scenic wonders about Ogden—A trip across the
    creviced lava fields of Idaho—The magnitude and awfulness
    of Shoshone Falls—A second Niagara in the desert—Twin,
    Cascade and Bridal Veil Falls—A realistic description of
    this incomparable wonderland,                              85-112

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: CURRECANTI NEEDLE, ON CURRECANTI RIVER, COLORADO.]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

                               CHAPTER V.

                                                                PAGE

  OVER THE HEIGHTS AND INTO THE DEEPS OF WONDERLAND.—Through
    the portals of Black Cañon—Astounding views along Gunnison
    River—Chippeta Falls and Currecanti Needle—A sight of
    Fossil Ridge and the Cone of Ouray—The trip over Marshall
    Pass—The terrible mightiness of the Royal Gorge—Hanging
    Bridge—The tempestuously craggy route between Ironton and
    Ouray—Marvelous engineering skill—Weirdly savage Animas
    Cañon—A railroad balcony 1,500 feet above the river—A
    flight high as the eagle’s—Kit Carson’s Exploits in Cañon
    de Chelle—The awesomeness of Toltec Gorge—A parade-ground
    of Nature’s Idols—Looking down upon the world—Blooming
    flowerland of San Luis Park—Down through Comanche Cañon—A
    side trip to ruined pueblos and cliff dwellings in New
    Mexico—Something about an extinct race—The Grave of Kit
    Carson—Some history of remarkable interest—The ancient
    Pueblo Indians and their dwellings—Magnificent ruins of
    the Casa Grandes—Montezuma’s Palace—Evidences of a walled
    and towered city—Prehistoric man in New Mexico,            113-152


                              CHAPTER VI.

  ACROSS THE CACTUS DESERT INTO CALIFORNIA’S GOLDEN LAND.—The
    Zuni plateau—Approach to the Grand Cañon of the Colorado—A
    scene of overpowering sublimity—A Mohave Village—Death
    Valley—From sterility to fertility—Monterey and its
    attractions—A visit to the Lick Observatory and the great
    telescope—In and around San Francisco—The Seals’ Sporting
    Grounds—The Mariposa grove of big trees—A trip through the
    wondrous valley of the Yosemite—A stage journey through a
    region of incomparable grandeur—Wonders and curiosities of
    the Yosemite—Falls of extraordinary beauty and peaks of
    amazing height—The Calaveras big trees—The journey from
    Ogden to California—Across the great American desert—
    Indian camps along the way—The Humboldt Palisades—Lake
    Tahoe—The sad story of the Donner party—Along the lofty
    crest of American Cañon—Giant’s Gap and Cape Horn—The
    beautiful Sacramento Valley,                               153-192


                              CHAPTER VII.

  OUR JOURNEY THROUGH PICTURESQUE REGIONS OF THE NORTHWEST.—
    Winter in vernal climes—A plunge into the Siskiyou Range—
    the light that crowns Shasta’s head—Soda Springs that
    titillate the palate like champagne—Exquisite Mossbrae
    Falls—A glorious sight from Portland’s heights—Lofty peaks
    of the Cascade Range—A trip up the Columbia—Pictorial
    shores that lend charm to interest—Its dales, palisades
    and waterfalls—A panorama of extraordinary grandeur—A side
    trip to Crater Lake—Traditions of the Klamath Indians—The
    most marvelous body of water on earth—Indian legend of
    creation, the flood and repeopling of the world—Wondrous
    visions on the lake—The core of a great volcano—A Siwash
    legend of the Saviour—A voyage to Alaska—First sight of
    the glaciers—In the land of icebergs—Description of Muir
    Glacier—Birth of icebergs—History of the glacial epoch—
    Facts and fancies about Alaskan natives—Their religion and
    mortuary customs—Oh, glorious night of the North!          193-234


                             CHAPTER VIII.

  ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS TO YELLOWSTONE PARK.—A detour on the
    Canadian Pacific Railroad—Magnificent scenery along Fraser
    River—Green lakes on mountain brows—Canadian National
    Park—A glimpse of the Sandwich Islands through other eyes
    than ours—Down the Yakimer River—Spokane and Palouse
    Falls—Sights along Snake River—Pinnacle Rocks—Lost Falls—
    Lakes of marvelous beauty and rivers of torrential flow—A
    trip to the 12 falls of the Missouri—Our visit to
    Yellowstone Park—The wondrous gateway to Gardiner Cañon—
    Nesting place of the sentinel eagle—Mammoth Hot Springs
    Terraces—Remarkable formations more beautiful than the
    Cave of Stalacta—Springs glowing with brilliant coloring—
    Terraces of petrified rainbows—Through the Golden Gate, by
    deep cañon, lofty waterfall and far-soaring cliffs—In
    purgatorial regions—Growling caves and spouting Geysers—
    The Devil’s Kitchen and his Majesty’s Mush-pot—Along
    Firehole River and into the Lower Basin—The land of
    fearful surprises and volcanic energy—Yellowstone Lake and
    its game-abounding shores—Death Valley and Petrified
    Forest—Grand Cañon of the Yellowstone and its flowing
    beauties—Tower and Yellowstone Falls—A grave-yard of
    mammoth quadrupeds,                                        235-288

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: CHIPPETA FALLS, IN BLACK CAÑON OF GUNNISON RIVER.]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

                              CHAPTER IX.

                                                                PAGE

  AMONG THE WONDERS OF THE BLACK HILLS.—Beautiful Dells of the
    St. Croix—Scenes of the last Indian uprising—The scenery
    about Deadwood—Tumultuous wonders of Custer Park—Marvels
    of Elk Creek Cañon—Harney’s Peak and Wedge Rock—Horseshoe
    Curve—Keith’s Crystal Cave—A trip to the Belle Fourche—
    Astounding wonder of the Devil’s Tower—A basaltic column
    higher than the Eiffel Tower—Speculations concerning its
    formation—Crow Butte and Signal Rock—A story of Indian
    heroism—St. Anthony’s Falls—Charming beauty of Minnehaha—
    Dells of the St. Croix—The Devil’s Fishing Place—Customs
    of the Wisconsin Indians—Making a Medicine Man—Witchery of
    the Wisconsin Dells—Cleavages of extraordinary curiosity—
    Funeral ceremonies of the Ojibways—Wonders of Devil’s Lake
    and Camp Douglas—Through the Straits of Mackinaw—
    Picturesqueness of Superior’s Shores—Pictured palisades
    and frozen waterfalls—Scenery along the north shore—A trip
    down the Mississippi,                                      289-344


                               CHAPTER X.

  SCENIC MARVELS OF THE GREAT NORTHEAST.—Mountain scenes in
    the vicinity of Eureka Springs—Legend of the Starved Rock
    in Illinois—Sublime glories and immensity of Niagara
    Falls—Utilization of the waters—Some interesting
    scientific facts—The Mohawk Valley and Leather Stocking
    Stories—Magnificence of Watkin’s and Havana Glens—The
    poetry of idyllic retreats—Down through the Thousand
    Islands—Chateaugay Chasm—Cañons of the Ausable and
    bewildering glories of the Adirondacks—Hunting grounds of
    the great North wilderness—Scenes of incomparable
    grandeur—Story of our tramp through the Catskills—A trip
    down the Hudson—Places famous in American history—West
    Point and its noted surroundings,                          345-382


                              CHAPTER XI.

  A PICTORIAL TOUR OF THE EASTERN STATES.—A trip through the
    scenic regions of Canada—Torrential mightiness of
    Chaudiere Falls—The falls of Montreal River—A trip through
    Lachine Rapids—Something about the early history of
    Quebec—Winter sports in Montreal—The home of Queen
    Victoria’s father—Beautiful scenery in the vicinity of
    Quebec—A journey through the New England States—The Green
    Mountains of Vermont—Description of the White Mountains—
    Singular examples of nature sculpturing—Ascension of the
    highest peaks and bewildering views therefrom—The cog-
    wheel railroad up Mount Washington—Sensations and charms
    of the ascent—A typical village in a New Hampshire valley—
    Vagaries and reveries of a poetaster—Wild grandeur of
    Wild-Cat River—Afloat on the pretty lakes of New
    Hampshire—From Maine to Boston—Historic places of
    Massachusetts, and the stories connected with them—
    Curiosities around Pittsfield and description of the
    Shaker settlement,                                         383-414


                              CHAPTER XII.

  ON HISTORIC FIELDS OF VIRGINIA AND PENNSYLVANIA.—From the
    Blue Grass Regions to the Shenandoah—Scenery of the
    Kanawha River and Blue Ridge Mountains—Marvelous Natural
    Bridge of Virginia—Some remarkable scenes in East
    Tennessee—Pen-pictures of some of the mountaineers—War
    memories that are fast fading—The Great Smoky Mountains—
    Portraitures of North Carolinians, and some typical farm
    scenes—Scenery about Asheville—A tragic story of the
    ascent of Mount Mitchell—A visit to Luray Caverns—Beauties
    of the Under-world that dazzle with their splendor—
    Descriptions of the subterranean chambers—Valley of the
    Shenandoah—Memorable battle-fields—Down the Juniata—
    Scenery of the Susquehanna—Visit to a land of waterfalls
    beyond the Water Gap,                                      415-448


                             CHAPTER XIII.

  THROUGH LANGUOROUS LANDS OF THE SUNNY SOUTH.—A visit to the
    Gettysburg battle-field—Through the Wilderness of
    Virginia—Scene of the closing event of the war—From
    Fortress Monroe to the Dismal Swamp—Story of Nat Turner’s
    Insurrection—A Dream of the Old Cabin Home—From Georgia to
    the orange lands of Florida—Olden times in St. Augustine—A
    boat journey down Indian River, into a land of perpetual
    bloom—Visions of tropic beauty and luxuriance—A trip on
    St. John’s River, and on the Ocklawaha—Alligators, snakes,
    and other slimy things—Marvels of Silver Spring—’Way Down
    Upon the Suwanee River—From Mobile to New Orleans—A trip
    to Mammoth Cave—Descriptions of its subterranean wonders—A
    tour of Wyandotte Cave—Magnificence of its halls, in which
    the splendors of Aladdin’s Cavern are reproduced—
    Conclusion,                                                449-503

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: BERYL SPRINGS AND CLEOPATRA TERRACE, YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL
PARK.]

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                          GLIMPSES OF AMERICA.


The most interesting, because most diversified, country in the world is
America, and the center of that unexampled interest belongs to the
territory comprised within the United States. The castles of England,
crushed by the hand of time; the lochs and friths of Scotland, that
murmur to the sea their wails of the Viking invaders; the lakes and
heaths of Ireland, around which old legends hold perpetual carnival; the
Rhine of Germany, whose banks are strewn with the relics of feudalism;
the Bernese Alps, that flaunt their whitened locks like aged giants
taunting the walled cities about which the sound of battle still seems
to linger; the red glare of Vesuvius, wrestling with fiery wrath in mad
ambition to overwhelm the cities built upon her ashes; the roar and
blaze of Ætna, that growls with the voice of Polyphemus thirsting for
the life of Ulysses; the hills of Greece, on which a thousand gods held
council; the welling breast of Mother Nile, carrying to the sea
remembrances of her ancient children; the Holy Land, blooming with
sacred memories that fill the human heart with fragrance; the mighty
peaks of Himalayas, piercing the heavens with frosted heads and draped
with the fogs of centuries; the plains of Asshur, where Babylon stood,
and the wrath of God was kindled. All these, and more, speak with siren
tongue to lure the traveler and give him appetite for history. But, if
we except the associations which make these places of the Old World
memorable, the student of nature will find a thousand greater charms in
the picturesque, grand, marvelous and sublime scenery that diversifies
our own country. No picture has ever equaled the real, and no book has
ever vividly described the wonders that God has scattered over the
American landscape. We have had glimpses of mountain, plain, lake, river
and cañon, but they have been little more than shadows of the reality,
an intimation of a grandeur almost too great to depict. But as great
telescopes have brought within our vision surprising views of other
worlds, the rings of Saturn, the seas of Mars, and the burnt-out craters
of the Moon, so has inventive genius been active in delineating the
physical features of the earth, and through the perfection of
photography we are now practically enabled to take the world in our hand
and examine it with the same convenience that we can an orange. Travel
is no longer necessary for the masses in order to behold the marvels of
American scenery, for the camera has gathered them all and lays every
inspiring scene upon even the poor man’s table, to minister to the
delight of his family circle. But photography likewise blesses the
traveler, for study of the picture establishes acquaintanceship with
that which is represented, while accompanying description quickens his
understanding and gives a more intelligent conception of the pictorial
subject.

It has been my good fortune to make many trips across the continent over
the various railway lines; and business and pleasure have taken me
during the past several years to nearly all the accessible parts of the
country, reached by rail, boat or stage-coach. Always an admirer of
nature, I have longed for the means to sketch or photograph the imposing
scenery which caught my enraptured eye as I hurried by. This ambition
prompted the really stupendous undertaking whose fruitage is now offered
to the public in all its delicious flavor, in the form of a book as
herewith submitted.

How the photographic views herein reproduced were obtained may be thus
briefly told, and is well worthy the relation: This book was conceived
more than half a dozen years ago, but a press of other engagements
caused a postponement of any effort at its preparation until the spring
of 1890, when the publishers engaged a corps of artists, consisting of
three of the best out-door photographers in the country. A passenger car
was next chartered, which was remodeled so as to provide comfortable
sleeping quarters for the men in one end, a kitchen in the other, while
the center was fitted up as an operating-room for taking, developing and
finishing pictures. Three cameras, of as many sizes, were also provided,
with three thousand prepared plates, and a great quantity of
paraphernalia which might be found useful for the expedition.

[Illustration: A FAMILY OF PUEBLO INDIANS, NEW MEXICO.]

Thus equipped, our photographic party left St. Louis early in May, going
directly west to Denver, from which point we made excursions to all the
near-lying parks, thence to Manitou, and by way of the Colorado Midland
to Salt Lake. Our work about Salt Lake occupied considerable time, and
after leaving there we proceeded to Weber Cañon and then by way of the
Union Pacific to Shoshone Falls. We next returned by way of the Denver
and Rio Grande Railroad, making a sweep southward, through Ouray and the
Valley of the Gunnison, over Marshall Pass and to Pueblo by way of the
Royal Gorge. Our party divided several times in order to cover the
territory more expeditiously, and in making the trip into New Mexico one
part entered by way of Trinidad from Pueblo and the other traveled
directly south through Antonito, forming a junction again at Santa Fe.

Some weeks were spent traveling off the line of road among the ruined
villages of the Cliff-Dwellers, and in photographing the more rugged
scenery of the Rio Grande River. Then we continued our journey westward
over the Atlantic and Pacific and the Southern Pacific Railroads to
California, where nearly three months were spent among the towns,
Yosemite Valley, Big Trees and mountains of that summer-land. On the
appearance of spring we traveled north by way of the California and
Oregon Railroad, still making side trips by stage-coach and wagon, to
Portland, from which point excursions were made up the Columbia and
Willamette Rivers. At Victoria, British Columbia, we took steamer for
Alaska, and returning we passed through the Cascade Range over the
Northern Pacific, working our way back east. But we continued to make
detours a long way off the main line of road, thus visiting the Falls of
the Missouri, the Black Hills, the Custer battle-field, Devil’s Tower,
and Yellowstone National Park, in which latter wonderland we spent two
weeks photographing its scenery and extraordinary formations.

[Illustration: “WHALE-BACK” BOAT of the NORTHERN LAKES.]

More than three-fourths of the grandest views were inaccessible by rail,
so other means of travel had to be adopted. Often it was by stage-coach,
but frequently donkeys were our sole reliance; and when these little
animals could not carry us to the most rugged points, we shouldered our
instruments and scrambled to the peaks and abysses of necessary
observation. The difficulties, dangers and hardships thus encountered
were both great and numerous, while the expense involved was so far
beyond our first calculations, that had it been anticipated in the
beginning the enterprise would certainly never have been undertaken.

[Illustration: GOVERNOR’S RESIDENCE, PUEBLO OF TESUQUE, NEW MEXICO.]

We resumed our eastward journey thence to Superior Lake, Dells of the
St. Croix, rapids of the Wisconsin, lakes and waterfalls of Minnesota,
the Upper Mississippi through Lake Pepin, and back to St. Louis, the
entire trip occupying more than eighteen months.

[Illustration: THE URNS, MANITOU PARK.]

Our camera car had served our purposes in a most gratifying manner while
making the long tour of the West, but in the eastern tour, which
remained to be performed, it was considered that the car would be of no
special advantage, since accommodations are so much more easily obtained
in the built-up sections of the East than in the thinly and sometimes
totally unsettled districts of the West, where in many cases our car was
our only shelter. The journey east was begun in October, from St. Louis
to Chicago, thence to Niagara Falls, and then up the St. Lawrence. Our
route next lay through the Green and White Mountains, and other famous
sections of the New England States; thence west into the Adirondacks,
Mohawk Valley and Lakes George and Champlain, then down the picturesque
Hudson into the Catskills. Continuing our journey southward, we visited
the points of grandest scenery in Virginia, North Carolina, and Eastern
Tennessee, and then proceeded on to Florida, where a part of the winter
was spent photographing everything worthy of a place in this volume. On
the return trip Mammoth Cave in Kentucky, and Wyandotte Cave, in
Indiana, received our attention, as well as other interesting places
along the way, and early in February our labors were ended by a return
to St. Louis to put the results in book form. Nearly all the descriptive
writing was done while our party was on the way, and while the
impressions produced by the glorious visions were fresh in the author’s
mind. This work, accordingly, is practically one of inspiration, the
whole constituting a story of extraordinary interest and a history of
incomparable value.

[Illustration: ON THE OCKLAWAHA RIVER, FLORIDA.]

Illustrations, however fine, whether of wood or steel, represent the
artist’s conceptions, dashed with an individual coloring that prevents a
natural reproduction. The painter sketches his landscape from a special
point of view, and working many days blends the sunrise with midday and
sunset, the mists of morning with the clouds of noon, thus striving to
please the eye rather than to truthfully present nature, without
artificial adornments.

Photography, on the other hand, is the mirror which reflects nature in
all her changeful moods; the absolutely faithful reproducer of her every
aspect, exhibiting her in her every-day garb, noting the disfigurements
with no less fidelity than the sublime graces which she exhibits and all
the widely diversified physical features which render her countenance so
variable that admirer and scoffer alike find reason for urging their
claims. No other attempt has ever been made to so perfectly picture the
wonders of America, and the work has been so thoroughly accomplished
that it is confidently believed no one, however great his ambition or
lavish his expense, will be able to add anything to the completeness of
our undertaking, as here submitted. Whatever may be the measure of
deserving of the descriptive part of this book, certainly the
photographic illustrations are worthy of all praise as fulfilling the
conditions of masterpieces of American scenery, while the publishers are
entitled to most generous public recognition for conceiving and so
liberally endowing an enterprise, which has flowered in the fragrance
and beauty of this exquisite work.

[Illustration: ON THE SUMMIT OF MOUNT TACOMA, WASHINGTON.]

It is seemly to add that our tour was made wholly at the expense of the
publishers. Free transportation was offered us over all the railroads on
which we traveled, but all such courtesies were uniformly refused,
because an acceptance would have placed us under obligations to manifest
some favoritism, and thus interfere with the declared purpose of the
publishers to issue a work on American scenery in which the views and
descriptions should be given truthfully, and without partiality. We
therefore selected the routes which promised most satisfactory results,
without regard to personal convenience, having in view the ambition to
present and describe the most interesting, if not always the most
famous, scenery of our country, and in so doing produce a work of which
all Americans, like the publishers, may be justly proud. In this our
celebrant year such a book is particularly appropriate, and the hope of
the publishers, as it is of the author, is that our ambitious and worthy
enterprise may find a warm welcome at the fireside of every American
family.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: VIEW OF FORT WRANGEL, ALASKA.]

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                               CHAPTER I.
                   AMONG THE WILD SCENES OF COLORADO.

                      “Go abroad
              Upon the paths of Nature, and when all
              Its voices whisper, and its silent things
              Are breathing the deep mystery of the World,
              Kneel at its ample altar.”


[Illustration: PIKE’S PEAK FROM COLORADO SPRINGS.]

Enthusiasm sometimes exaggerates the reality, just as colored glass
confuses the sight; but when it serves to please without doing harm, the
fault may be pardoned. To the enthusiasm of the occasion, and our great
and unique enterprise, may therefore be charged the burst of admiration
that manifested our feelings, when, rolling along the prairies on the
Union Pacific R. R., we saw, rising far to the southwest, nearly one
hundred miles away, the broad shoulders of Pike’s Peak, breaking into
russet above the clouds and showing a head of saffron, mellowed by the
soft rays of a sun just falling into the deep valleys of the Occident.
It was the chief object to chain our attention for the while, and this
first impression awakened most delightful anticipations of the work
which lay before us. A few hours later we were in Denver, making final
preparations for a photographing tour of the picturesque West.
Fortunately, our arrangements were so nearly complete upon leaving St.
Louis that only a short stay in Denver was necessary, and it was with
eager desire that we had our car attached to a Union Pacific train and
started for the heart of the Rockies. The long range of mountains,
rising into sharp peaks, and again spreading their tops into truncated
cones, elbowing and pushing each other like a brigade in too close
quarters at parade-rest, are only fifteen miles from Denver, forming a
grand background to an immense expanse of prairie landscape. Starting on
the Colorado Central Branch of the Union Pacific, we soon pass through
the gate-way of the Rockies; thence on to Golden, a beautiful mining
town that nestles in the bed of a dried-up lake, and looks up with
pleasing satisfaction to the guardian gods of North and South Table
Mountains. Here a stop is made for a trip up Bear Creek Cañon, which is
reached by stage, by which conveyance the traveler is trundled into a
gorge of surpassing beauty and noble grandeur. Through this great gash
the water dashes, swollen by melting snows, and fed by a thousand
sources. On either side the frowning and dusky walls, weaving a tortuous
way like the path of a drunken giant, rear up their castellated heads
until they remind us of the walled cities of Jericho, over which
Joshua’s spies were lowered by Rahab.

[Illustration: MARSHALL FALLS, CLEAR CREEK CAÑON.]

Only a few miles from Golden is Clear Creek Cañon, another wondrous
cleavage wrought by water that goes tumbling through the passage with
rumble of breakers and roar of waterfall. The walls of the cañon rise
perpendicularly to varying heights of 500 to 1,500 feet, and at places
approach so near to each other that an observer looking upward from the
cavernous depths can see only a thin strip of blue sky. Away up on the
brows of the parallel cliffs are large trees that look like feather
dusters, and little streams of liquid silver appear in the distance to
be pouring their contributions from crevice and apex to swell the mad
creek that rushes with complaining voice down the age-swept gorge. Along
this water-bed was formerly the roadway, or trail, used by freight-
wagons and stage-coaches, but it is now become the exclusive
thoroughfare of the Central Branch, so that the magnificent view which
the cañon affords is before the eyes of railroad travelers.

Less than three miles from Georgetown is Green Lake, an exquisite body
of water which has been very appropriately called the Gem of the
Mountain. Its translucent depths are animated by myriads of trout that
are tinged by the green waters to the color of emeralds, while away down
in its profound recesses is distinguishable a forest of stately trees
which has been swept into the lake by some glacial avalanche. Not a
branch appears to have been broken or a position disturbed, for the
trees stand boldly upright in all their original gracefulness, but
through calcareous depositions, that are a peculiarity of this lake,
they have been converted into stone. Thus it is a submerged forest of
petrified trees.

Looking beyond the lake we perceive, some seven miles away, the famous
Argenta Pass, the summit of which is reached by the highest wagon-road
in the world, and from this elevation an almost boundless and
marvelously picturesque view may be had, stretching away to the west as
far as Holy Cross Mount, and eastward to the prairies of Kansas.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: A VIEW OF PIKE’S PEAK.]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

But we have now reached the backbone of the divide and our train starts
down the western grade, circling like a hawk out of the sky. Over
immense fills, through deep cuts, across bridges, following a swiftly-
flowing stream, until at length we gain the level valley and go dashing
away to Graymont, on the way to Idaho Springs and Georgetown. To avoid
tunneling in crossing the divide, the railroad winds around the mountain
elevations, up a steep grade, over a way that has been blasted out of
the eternal rocks, until from away up the lofty sides the traveler may
look upon a scene of marvelous beauty and ruggedness that fades into
indistinctness miles below. Leaning out of the car window we view a
wondrous panorama, and pause directly to bring our cameras into use,
that the scene may be caught and held on paper. There on one side of the
depths is Devil’s Gate, in close proximity, as it seems, to Bridal Veil
Falls, where the clear mountain stream plunges over a precipice of great
height to join the gamboling creek that rushes away on its errand
hundreds of feet below. There, too, is a spider’s web of steel, eighty-
six feet high, that has served as a passage-way for our train across a
chasm 300 feet wide, whose bottom can scarcely be distinguished from our
lofty eminence; but we see that the track makes a complete loop, and
that the road parallels itself, at a constantly increasing grade, no
less than three times. All the while that we are winding around and
crossing our own track, Georgetown continues visible, but it is dwarfed
by the distance to the appearance of a prairie-dog village.

[Illustration: CHALK CLIFFS, CLEAR CREEK CAÑON.]

The picturesqueness of the route now changes from wild scenery of lofty
mountain and the dark awesomeness of deep cañon, to a park-like
landscape, through tillable lands, and on to Silver Plume, a great feat
of mining engineering, and beautiful beyond description. Gray’s Peak
rises like a giant phantom a few miles beyond, and becomes a charming
signet in the ring of park and town of Graymont that lies near its feet.

Returning east a distance of twenty miles, a junction is reached at
Fork’s Creek, where another branch of the Union Pacific leads to Central
City and Black Hawk. Here a marvelous thing is to be seen: The two towns
are only a mile apart, measured by a straight line, yet so fearfully
rugged is the territory to be traversed that the distance by rail
between the places is four miles, and this interval is covered by means
of a “Switch Back,” so called because of the tortuous route and the
extraordinary grades. All along this vicinity are famous mines, and a
wealth of mining machinery, that converts the country into a maze of
industry, and the mountains into smoking mills and cornucopias of
silver. In this mountainous region all roads seem to radiate from
Denver, and hence to reach other charming scenery by means of our camera
car, it was necessary to return again for a trip to Gunnison, which is
on the South Park Branch. But in order to facilitate our work it was
decided to divide our party, so that one photographer might proceed to
Gunnison, while the other two took the northwest route to Estes and
Middle Park, where a larger amount of work was to be done, and which
could be reached only by stage.

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[Illustration: A VIEW OF PLATTE CAÑON.]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: ARGENTA FALLS.]

Continuing our trip, therefore, towards the southwest, our first stop
was in Platte Cañon, which is twenty miles from Denver, and there many
exquisite views were taken. This cañon, formed by the Platte River,
resembles Clear Creek Cañon, but is longer and somewhat wilder. The
route is over Kenosha Hill, which is Alpine in its grandeur, and so
rugged that the road is as sinuous as the trail of a serpent. The cañon
spreads at places until it runs between gradually sloping steeps, but
again the walls draw closer, and rise perpendicularly to a sheer height
of a thousand feet, excluding the sunlight except as it is strained at
times through a narrow rift, until it looks like a pencil of light
cleaving the pall of night. What mighty forces were gathered here in the
age of the world’s infancy! what terrific convulsions and frenzied
spasms of nature that rent in twain the earth’s envelope and left cañons
and mountains where once were lake and plain!

Along the way rushes the impetuous Platte River, that has torn and
eroded a great fissure through the rocks, and in so doing has left many
wonderful incongruities to mark its eccentricity as well as power.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: ALONG THE BREAST OF THE CAÑON WALLS OF THE RIO DE LOS
ANIMAS, COLORADO.]

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[Illustration: BRIDAL VEIL FALLS, NEAR DEVIL’S GATE.]

Dome Rock is one of the conspicuous curiosities in the cañon, resembling
as it does, the top of a mosque that has sunk just behind the wall of
beetling cliff, leaving a graceful dome as its burial monument. But all
along, at frequent intervals, spires, with cathedral proportions, shoot
skyward, lending an appearance not unlike a vast row of churches, where
we may fancy nature worships, and the roar of waters is a perpetual
hymnal invocation. On the same route, fifty miles from Platte Cañon, is
the Alpine Tunnel, which is reached by the road winding about and upward
until a height of 11,600 feet is gained, when, suddenly, the train makes
an abrupt turn, and leaps into the very bowels of a mountain from which
it emerges after many minutes on the other side, and then descends
towards the Pacific. This tunnel is one of the most remarkable in all
the world. It is at the highest point ever reached by any railroad in
America, and in the center of its 1,773 feet of length is the dividing
line of altitude between the two oceans. The boring of this mighty
channel not only involved the naturally stupendous labor of digging
through a mountain, but the work was rendered a hundred fold more
difficult by reason of the rare atmosphere in which the workmen had to
labor. In addition to this, 70,000 linear feet of California redwood was
required for the inside bracing, and this had to be brought up the
mountain side on the backs of burros, the only animals of burden that
could make the ascent. It was a remarkable undertaking; its
accomplishment was very like a miracle.

As we emerge from the tunnel, and creep around the perpendicular side of
the mountain on a roadway barely wide enough to accommodate a single
train of cars, a bewilderingly magnificent panorama opens to us. Away
towards the southwest, one hundred and fifty miles, we observe the lofty
and regular heads of the San Juan range, while a little further west we
are able to distinguish Uncompaghre Peak, that looks down with benignant
aspect upon the town of Ouray. There, too, is the green and happy valley
of the Gunnison, towards the end of which we see Elk Mountains and their
chief peaks, Mount Gothic and Crested Butte.

At this great height the snow lies packed in the deep crevices all
summer through, while upon its borders may be seen beautiful flowers
nodding their bright heads in the delightful wind that plays about the
peak. Now we go down the mountain side with brakes set, marveling all
the way at the natural wonders which have been strewn by some Titanic
hand along the route. There, on the right, are the Palisades, which
might be called sculptured rocks, so graceful and artistic that they
appear to be the creation of the great Phidias, or pupils of his school.
Further on lies Quartz Valley, like a pearl nestling in depths far below
the angry waves of giant mountains. Now we cross Quartz Creek, where
nature laughs with blossoms and fruitage, through Uncompaghre, around
Hair-Pin Curve, with the Fossil range to our right, by Juniata Hot
Springs, and at length arrive at Gunnison. We are now in the midst of
the most magnificent mountain scenery, and in the heart of a great
mining country, where there is bustle above ground and activity and
visions of amazing wealth underneath. The town is at an elevation of
more than 7,000 feet, but many peaks rise high above it, from which
extensive views may be had of the Elk Mountain, San Juan and Uncompaghre
ranges, while to the southwest a beautiful valley stretches away to mark
the devious path of the Gunnison River.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: VALLEY OF THE GUNNISON, NEAR SAPINERO.]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: THE LOOP NEAR GEORGETOWN.]

Having taken many views of this famous region, we turned back again to
Denver, and from that point of radiation started for North Park. Our
route was by way of Boulder, at which place we took the narrow-gauge
road for Fort Collins. A few miles from Boulder is Boulder Cañon, a
stupendous mountain gorge seventeen miles long, and in places the walls
rise to almost the incredible height of 3,000 feet. The falls of Boulder
Creek are not without interest, but the mightiness and awful grandeur of
the granite cañon weighs so heavily upon the startled perceptions of the
spectator, that even the roar of water-fall is scarcely heard, all the
five senses being concentrated in that of sight. The eye is set to
climbing these terrific precipices of stone; up, up, from niche to
niche, from wave upon wave of dizzy height, until it rests upon a world
on high that seems to lift its parapets to the sky and bathe its brow in
the azure of the heavens. Can it be that the little stream that runs
complaining along the ravine has eroded this mighty fissure? No, not
this alone, for water has been no more than a servant of other greater
forces that have torn the earth into clefts and upheavals. Bursting
volcano, denuding glacier, devastating deluge, and cooling fires of
internal furnaces that brought a collapse of the earth crust, have all
been agencies in this work of mighty disturbance.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: MARY LAKE AND LONG’S PEAK, ESTES PARK.]

[Illustration: ENTRANCE TO ESTES PARK, FROM ROCKY POINT.]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: HIGH LINE CANAL, SILVER FLUME AND PLATTE RIVER.]

The temptation is very great to step aside into Estes Park, and explore
Long’s Peak, which, though thirty-six miles distant, looms up in the
clear atmosphere like a frosty-crowned giant almost near enough to speak
to. But the rest of our party have preceded us and are no doubt in need
of photographic supplies, so we hurry on, pausing only long enough to
take a snap-shot at Boulder Falls. Reaching Fort Collins, we had the
good fortune to find the others of our party awaiting us. They had made
an extensive trip through Estes Park, and had a splendid lot of views as
a reward for their labors. It was fortunate, therefore, that we did not
stop, for we could have done no more than duplicate their work, and
repeated the experiences which they reported to me substantially as
follows:

After dividing our party, as already explained, two of our photographers
followed the Colorado Central Branch of the Union Pacific to Loveland,
at which place they side-tracked our camera car, and having made
preparations for the trip, started west to make a tour of Estes Park,
their principal objective point being Long’s Peak. The park is
conveniently reached by a daily stage-line, which travels over a good
road and, with the exception of a few miles of level plains, traverses a
picturesque region, with mountains sweeping every side, the monotony of
which is relieved by many lakes, thirty-five of which may be seen from a
single station, scattered over the plain and bathing the foot-hills. The
road leads up Bald Mountain and Pole Hill to an elevation that brings
into view the valleys of three rivers, and from Park Hill the whole
entrancing scenery of Estes Park, probably the finest in Colorado, is
spread out in one unbroken and bewildering panorama of astounding
beauty. It is not all a vision of primeval nature, for the vast table-
land is abloom with fields of husbandry, and immense herds of cattle
give animation to the seemingly boundless pasturage.

From Ferguson’s ranch there is a lovely prospect of Mummy range, with
its conspicuous peaks, aglow with the soft colors of sunset in the
evening, and mist-crowned in the early hours of the day. On the west are
the Front and Rabbit Ear ranges, whose inaccessible heights run up so
sharply to where storms have their breeding places, that they are
browned by exposure and look inexpressibly bleak. Here, on these wild
peaks, safe from human foes, bear and mountain sheep have their
habitations, and the caterwaul of the puma rings out upon the air of
lofty desolation as a warning to those who would attempt to gain their
savage haunts.

[Illustration: DOME ROCK, BOULDER CAÑON.]

Long’s Peak is hardly more than a half-dozen miles from Table Mountain,
measured by a straight line, but to pass from one to the other is very
difficult, except by a long detour, so that the open route is by way of
Loveland to Ferguson’s ranch, which is near the base of Long’s Peak, and
from which point the ascent is best made. The east side of the mountain
is precipitous and hence inaccessible; viewed from this side the peak
appears so lofty as to almost fade into the cerulean of sky depths, and
for this reason it has been not inaptly called the American Matterhorn.
Its apex, seen from below, bears a striking similitude to an impregnable
citadel surrounded by giant ramparts.

The road from Ferguson’s passes Mary’s Lake, a lovely body of water,
thence over a hill to a forest that is begirt by Lily Mountain with its
monster cliffs impending from a height of 11,500 feet above sea-level.
The ascent may be made by horses as far as what is known as “Boulder
Field,” but from that point foot climbing is necessary. To secure the
finest view, a place called the “Key-hole” must be gained, and it is not
reached without great exertion of muscle and careful equilibrium while
passing along the ledges, since a false step may be attended by serious
result. Having reached the Key-hole, the sight that rewards the climber
is sublimely grand, for he is brought to face a vertical wall of sheer
2,000 feet, extending up to within what appears to be one or two hundred
feet of the apex. The altitude is so great that a finer prospect,
perhaps, never greeted human vision, for the world seems to be spread
out for examination. A little higher up the scene changes, but is
scarcely so beautiful, for every additional foot taken upward increases
the indistinctness of the valley below and the mountain scenery in the
distance. But by the aid of a field-glass we make out Big Thompson
River, Boulder Cañon, and some remarkable columnar cliffs that exhibit
fantastic shapes, sculptured by the erratic hand of nature. Mountains
appear like legions to the right, to the left, upon all sides, but we
are now above them all, and towards the southeast, sixty miles away, we
see a smoke-cloud that has formed from the Denver Smelters. Still
further southward are visible the hazy heads of Pike’s Peak and its twin
brother, Cheyenne Mountain, while a hundred miles north are dimly
distinguishable the range of bluffs east of the city of Cheyenne.

After gaining the summit our party had a still better view, for a bright
sun had now come out from behind clouds that had before obscured his
rays, and so completely dissipated the misty atmosphere that the
panorama was greatly increased. They were lifted so far above the Front
range that beyond the divide there broke into view, in the far
southwest, the Mount of the Holy Cross, while beside it were the very
pale outlines of Jackson Peak, the two almost blending into one.

[Illustration: BOULDER FALLS.]

As they descended on the northeastern side, suddenly their sight was
arrested by a lake slumbering in a little basin that had been scooped
out of the granite sides of the mountain. It is almost immediately under
the vertical cliffs, and so clear that the observer seems to look
through it, as he would through a looking-glass, upon great walls which
appear below, but are in reality reflections of the precipice examined
when making the ascent. Lily Mountain was in bold outline on the right,
where reposed another lake of somewhat greater size, whose water
appeared to feed a stream that ran gamboling down a deep gorge into the
plain which it nourished.

On every side there were evidences of glacial erosion, not only in the
form of bowlders and debris, but in lateral moraines, where the glacier
had left deposits, and in gorges where great granite blocks had been
tumbled, over which in places the water cantered and fell in beautiful
sheets. In one place, towards the base, were found many small aspen
trees cut down, and most frequently the trunks were divested of their
bark, and the tender limbs were missing. Investigating the cause, it was
directly discovered to be the work of beavers, several of whose dams
were perceived in a creek that ran through a beautiful meadow land, but
no one of the party was able to catch sight of the wary animals.

Our party being satisfied with their trip in the park, and especially
with the ascent of Long’s Peak, where they had secured more than a score
of magnificent photographic views, returned to Loveland to be rejoined
by at Fort Collins, as will be presently described.

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[Illustration: MOUNTAIN OF THE HOLY CROSS, COLORADO.]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: GRAYMONT MOUNTAIN, MIDDLE PARK.]

We tarried a short while at Fort Collins, then set off for Mason City,
eighty miles distant, the road to which leads through the world-famous
Cache La Poudre (Powder River) region. After leaving the south fork of
this stream we passed Monitor Peak, crossed the Big Laramie, and brought
up at Medicine Bow range. North Park proper lies west of the range, but
the physical features of the immediately eastern district are almost
identical, and to traverse the whole would have required more than a
month. The park is an elevated plain 9,000 feet above sea level, and
embraces an area of about 2,500 square miles. Properly speaking, it is a
fertile valley enclosed by spurs and branches of the Rocky Mountains,
and is so seldom visited that there are as yet no resorts for travelers,
and the stage is a poor reliance for reaching the most interesting
districts. We also experienced insurmountable obstacles, which compelled
us to abandon our purpose of making a tour of the park. The only
possible way of going through the district and to chief points of
photographic interest (pardon the expression) would have been by horses,
and these were not procurable because the country is devoid of
settlements; besides, we were unprovided with camp equipment. We saw the
mountains rising on every side into jagged spires, and occasional lakes
nestling on their bosoms, but they were inaccessible to us, and after
making so long a journey we were compelled to return without
accomplishing anything worthy to be narrated. Photographs of some
mineral springs bubbling up icy-cold in stony basins, wide stretches of
landscape, hemmed in by a wall of mountains, and some fine views of
scenery along the Cache La Poudre, was all the reward we had for days of
uncomfortable traveling, much of which was done on foot, and on horses
borrowed for short tours. We traversed enough of the district, however,
to satisfy us of its beauty and fertility, and that the region was a
vast game park, in which mountain sheep, bear, deer, pumas were
numerous, and ptarmigan abundant. We caught sight of several wild sheep
and had a far-away (not too far) look at a cinnamon, or grizzly bear, we
were not able to positively decide which, and not being equipped for
entertaining game of that character were indisposed to permit curiosity
to supersede judgment.

Returning to Fort Collins, we retraced our route to Longmount, from
which point we determined to visit Table Mountain, near by, and Mount
Hallett, a little further towards the west. To carry this decision into
effect it was necessary to make some provision for conveyance and
camping, as the mountain cannot be explored in a day, and a few evenings
must be spent in camp in order to do the work satisfactorily.
Fortunately, supplies are easy to procure, and being fully provided, we
set out a merry party on a pleasant errand. We reached the foot of Table
Mountain towards the close of the day, and went into camp beside a
beautiful little stream that had its source somewhere up the gorge that
cleft one side of the mountain. At this point we were also able to take
some pretty views of the imposing scenery by which we were surrounded.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: SADDLE ROCK, AT THE SUMMIT OF THE PASS.]

[Illustration: WITHIN THE GATES, GARDEN OF THE GODS.]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Near noon of the following day we accomplished the ascent, and from that
vantage point surveyed a scene of bewildering grandeur. The wind,
however, blew a gale that made our position extremely uncomfortable, and
one of our party lost his hat, that was borne away and dropped into an
abyss of almost measureless depth. There were mountains to the west that
seemed to hang on the edge of the horizon, and down, far down, below us
was an immense expanse of bowlders that had evidently once been the
sport of a glacier. Indeed, the glacier was still there, a great solid
field of compacted snow that at midday hugged the shadow side of the
mountain, but was evidently moving gradually, imperceptibly, towards the
gorge. Water was pouring from the base and forming waterfalls, cascades
and swift streams, showing that heat radiation from the earth was
melting the glacier more rapidly than the sun’s rays. The effect was
extremely beautiful, for the afternoon sun was changing the edges of the
snow-pack into beautiful reflections of aqua-marine, and waves of light
shimmered above the glacier that made the ice coverlet scintillant with
color.

[Illustration: TORREY’S PEAK, MIDDLE PARK, COLORADO.]

Table Mountain is a truncated cone, from which fact it takes its name;
but it is deeply fissured on every side, and on the west side there is
an appalling gorge, over the edges of which, in places, colossal sheets
of ice impend, vast ledges they appear, threatening the vegetation far
down below, and rendering traveling along the slopes very dangerous.
Having photographed Table Mountain and the fine scenery that is
tributary, we descended and passed over to Mount Hallett, where we were
delighted to find views of yet greater grandeur. The way to this mount
is necessarily over Table Mountain and into Estes Park, the solid
ramparts of rocks which surround the park, as far as Willow Cañon,
preventing the access of pack animals.

Gaining the base of Table Mountain, we followed up Timber Creek over a
natural roadway until the foot of Hallett was reached. The way was easy
and pleasant, being level and almost floored with moss and flowers,
while many species of birds flitted across our path, and in and out
through the trees and bushes, with voices of tuneful glee.

As we ascended the mountain on the northeastern side, a magnificent view
was presented down a deep gorge. A little higher up, and as we veered
towards the west, we saw, a thousand feet below us, a deep, dark lake
whose sides were walled, giving to it the appearance of a crater that
had now become a lake basin. Still further up the steep, in a ravine,
was another lake, the edges of which served to mark both the timber and
snow line. Away off in the southeast was Long’s Peak, frowning in bleak
desolation above a lake that hugged its feet. On every side the scenery
was ruggedly sublime, while immediately at our right was a great chasm
with a vertical wall of stone fully one thousand feet high.

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[Illustration: THE GREAT WESTWARD FLOOD OF EMIGRATION—CROSSING THE
PLATTE RIVER IN 1868 (from a painting).]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The timber was now below us, and our horses picked their way over an
indistinct trail through patches of snow. Occasionally, there were
suspicious places, where the snow was deeply impacted, which might
conceal a treacherous way, a chasm bridged with nothing more substantial
than cakes of ice. Yet, on this lonesome mountain, chilled by
perpetually arctic winds, swathed by eternal snows, and covered by giant
bowlders that menaced everything by their apparent instability, there
was no scarcity of animal life. The mountain rat, chipmunk, woodchuck,
Rocky Mountain sheep and a few lions make this uninviting region their
haunt, while ptarmigan, or mountain grouse, are fairly plentiful. One
enthusiastic photographer who climbed Hallett some years before, claimed
to have found a herd of mountain sheep so tame that he was able to take
their pictures, but none of us had such good fortune.

[Illustration: FREMONT’S PASS, NORTH PARK.]

At one point of the elevation we had an enrapturing view of Middle Park
and Grand Lake, whose waters looked like a vast sea of quicksilver, on
which the sunlight danced in a glorious reflection. North Park might
have been also visible from this same lofty point of observation but for
the intervention of Mummy Mountain, the monumental mark of Medicine Bow
range, far to the northwest, too distant for our cameras to reproduce
the view with satisfaction.

Our visits to Table Mountain and Mount Hallett had proven so delightful
that our previously contemplated trip to Middle Park was now undertaken
with the most pleasant anticipations. Returning to Longmont, we
proceeded over the Union Pacific to Sunset, an arm of the road that
stretches out into the Front range until it fairly grasps the beautiful
scenery of that marvelously grand region. Georgetown would have been a
more convenient point of departure for Midland Park, but we chose to
avoid staging, and by means of pack animals to reach the park by the
quickest, even though it was a more troublesome, route. Middle Park is
separated from North Park by an east and west sweep of the great
Continental Divide, and like its northern sister is completely encircled
by lofty mountains, whose sentinels are Long’s Peak, Gray’s Peak and
Mount Lincoln, with elevations above sea level of respectively 14,500,
14,200 and 14,300 feet. The elevation of the park itself is about 7,500
feet, and its area some 3,000 square miles, or about one-third less than
the State of Connecticut. It is drained principally by the Blue and
Grand Rivers, whose waters flow generally through smiling meadows until
they escape from the park. We traveled by horse through Berthoud Pass to
Hot Sulphur Springs, which is on a small tributary of Grand River, and
only about twelve miles from the south boundary of the park. From this
point we went to Grand Lake, the beautiful body of water that we had
seen from the heights of Mount Hallett. If the scene was grand when
viewed from that distant elevation, it was sublimely picturesque when we
reached its shores. The western shore line of the lake washes the
vertical base of towering mountains, which enclose it on three sides,
and throw their giant shadows into its pellucid depths, where
reflections of brown peaks mingle with the beautiful green of tall
tufted pines. Its bed appears to be a glacier basin, for all about are
cliffs that bear distinct marks of an ice deluge that thousands of years
ago, perhaps, invaded this retreat of nature and tore asunder the earth,
ground its way through stone, scoured the face of the mountains, and
scooped a depression in the plain.

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[Illustration: DODGE’S BLUFF, CAÑON OF GRAND RIVER.]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: GRAND LAKE, MIDDLE PARK.]

Strange it is that near the shores of this lake the water is singularly
crystalline, while towards the center it is dark as midnight. The lake
is also a treacherous body, subject to appalling disturbments from
inrushing storms that first gather on the surrounding peaks and then
swoop down to break with sudden and appalling force upon its expansive
bosom. No wonder that from time immemorial, the Ute Indians have
regarded the lake with superstitious fears, and tell ghostly stories of
its treachery. Upon one occasion, as an old Indian related, a band of
Utes were encamped upon its shores, pleasantly and profitably engaged in
trout fishing. They had their women and children with them, and having
prepared for a stay of some weeks, they had rafts made of pine logs, and
it was from these they did their fishing. While thus engaged they were
attacked by a war party of Arrapahoes, their implacable enemies. The
Utes committed their wives and children to the rafts, which they pushed
far out into the lake, and then engaged with their ferocious
adversaries, whom, after a desperate battle, they repulsed. During the
fight, however, a storm arose on the lake, which quickly lashed the
water into such fury that the piercing cries of the helpless women and
children were scarcely audible above the breaking waves and screech of
savage wind. When the Utes turned from pursuing their enemies, they saw
that a more dangerous foe had attacked their helpless ones. The rafts
were quickly broken up by wild surges of the infuriated lake, and every
woman and child was swallowed up. The Indians, whose minds are
peculiarly susceptible to impressions of a supernatural character, were
prompt to attribute the calamity to a manifestation of the Great
Spirit’s anger, and since that fatal event they have regarded the lake
as being the haunt of water demons, and no Indian has since that
calamitous incident dared to venture upon its bosom.

From Grand Lake we followed its outlet some twenty miles south, and
entered a beautiful valley of Grand River, where the grass was long and
green, the sky a beautiful indigo-blue, and the mountain scenery around
us was magnificent. A marvelously clear atmosphere made the distance
deceptive, so that peaks which were fifty miles away appeared to be
scarcely five. From one point of observation we swept the ragged horizon
with our enraptured eyes, and plainly perceived a battalion of well-
known mountains that locked their massive arms around Middle Park like
loving guardsmen. Roundtop lifted its head to gaze into the mysterious
depths of Grand Lake; and far beyond, Long’s Peak, the great gray
sentinel of Estes Park, loomed up like a cloud gathering inspiration
from the heavens. A little to the right, Elk Mountain projects its snowy
cap far into the sky and looks up into the face of its taller kinsmen.
Following the waving lines of peak upon peak, our eyes caught sight of a
pass through which a river had found its way, and behind the interval
were the faded fronts of Medicine Bow range. A little further to the
left there is another rent in the continuity of mountains, which closer
inspection discovers to us is Gore’s Cañon of Grand River, where it
leaves the park through a fissure made in the eruptive rocks quite three
miles long, and in places nearly 2,000 feet deep. So perpendicular are
these cliffs that a person standing upon the dizzy brink may drop a
stone into the rushing river below.

[Illustration: GORE’S CAÑON, MIDDLE PARK.]

If we look towards the southeast, across a stretch of sage-brush, we see
the peak of heroic Powell, the most majestic elevation in the Park
range, singular not only by reason of its cloud-piercing height, but
also because it looks through the hazy distance like a mountain of
sapphire, while behind it are lofty stretches of peaks with straggling
locks of white, where snow has gathered in the wrinkles of their cheeks.

Our rambles through Middle Park had been so pleasant that it was with
some reluctance we turned our steps eastward again, to pursue the work
of photographing scenery in more southerly fields. We reached Sunset
after an absence of twelve days, and were soon after switched on to the
North Branch of the Union Pacific for Denver. Thence, our route was
south to Colorado Springs and Manitou, where, as the following chapter
will show, we repeated our delightful experiences in Middle Park, and
saw even greater wonders.

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[Illustration: IN THE CAÑON OF GRAND RIVER, COLORADO.]

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                              CHAPTER II.
                          MANITOU, THE MIGHTY!


[Illustration: THE SEAL AND BEAR, GARDEN OF THE GODS.]

The glory of Colorado, in the splendor of its waterfalls, the
awesomeness of its mountains, the wealth of its mines, and the
picturesqueness of its natural parks, is by no means confined to those
Rocky Mountain districts which we have just pictured and described, for
greater marvels remain to be spoken of, and pictorially represented.
Returning to Denver, our tour took us southward, across a plain that
hugs the gnarled bosom of the Continental Divide, by the pearl of Palmer
Lake, and on to Colorado Springs and Manitou, the twin cities that sit
at the feet of Pike’s Peak. Here we are compelled to pause in a spell of
mighty wonderment before the amazing prodigies of a riotously eccentric
nature, that bursts into an exuberance of dashing cascades, top-lofty
mountains, darkling cañons, gruesome formations, monolithic spires,
babbling brooks and magnetic springs. Here are God’s acres of tumultuous
stone, grand, amazing, chaotic, aberrant; a pantheon of forces, a Jovian
council, a mythologic assemblage that sits like a Sanhedrim on the
issues of Titanic upheaval, erosion, conglomeration and elemental
disturbance. There, rising like a giant specter above its lesser
brothers, and dipping its hoary head into the milky baldric of the
heavens, stands Pike’s Peak, the grand old sentinel of millenniums, with
sides gashed by tumbling cataracts and yellow with quivering leaves of
the frosted aspen. So lofty that the stars can almost whisper to it, and
the clouds, when tired of sailing through the sky, circle and settle
upon its peak, while eternal night sleeps undisturbed, save by the
lion’s call, in the deep gorges that split its base.

The first white man who caught sight of this towering mountain was
Lieutenant Zebulon Pike, who was sent out by the Government in the year
1806 to make an exploration of the Territory of Louisiana and the
Provinces of New Spain, a district now characterized as the great
Southwest. From his diary of Saturday, November 15th, 1806, we quote the
description of his discovery:

[Illustration: THE STALACTITE ORGAN, GRAND CAVERNS.]

“Passed two deep creeks, and many high points of rocks; also large herds
of buffaloes. At two o’clock in the afternoon I thought I could
distinguish a mountain to our right, which appeared like a small blue
cloud; viewed it with the spy-glass and was still more confirmed in my
conjecture, and in half an hour it appeared in full view before us. When
our small party arrived on the hill, they with one accord gave three
cheers to the Mexican Mountains.”

On the 26th, following, this intrepid explorer attempted an ascent of
Cheyenne Mountain, ten miles to the east of Pike’s Peak, from which to
make an observation of the more lofty eminence, which he thus describes:

“Expecting to return to our camp that evening, we left all our blankets
and provisions at the foot of the mountain, killed a deer of a new
species, and hung its skin on a tree with some meat. We commenced
ascending; found the way very difficult, being obliged to climb up rocks
sometimes almost perpendicular; and after marching all day we encamped
in a cave without blankets, victuals or water. We had a fine clear sky
while it was snowing at the bottom. On the side of the mountain we found
only yellow and pitch pine; some distance up we saw buffalo, and higher
still, the new species of deer and pheasants.

“Thursday, 27th November.—Arose hungry, thirsty, and extremely sore,
from the uneveness of the rocks on which we had lain all night; but we
were amply compensated for our toil by the sublimity of the prospect
below. The unbounded prairie was overhung with clouds, which appeared
like the ocean in a storm, wave piled on wave, and foaming, whilst the
sky over our heads was perfectly clear. Commenced our march up the
mountain and in about an hour arrived at the summit of this chain; here
we found the snow middle-deep, and discovered no sign of bird or beast
inhabiting this region. The thermometer, which stood at nine degrees
above zero at the foot of the mountain, here fell to four degrees below.
The summit of the Grand Peak, which was entirely bare of vegetation, and
covered with snow, now appeared at the distance of fifteen or sixteen
miles from us, and as high again as we had ascended. It would have taken
a whole day’s march to have arrived at its base, whence I believe no
human being could have ascended to its summit. * * * * The clouds from
below had now ascended the mountain, and entirely enveloped the summit,
on which rest eternal snows.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: CATHEDRAL SPIRES, GARDEN OF THE GODS, COLORADO.]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: JUMBO TUNNEL, GRAND CAVERNS.]

Being convinced in his own mind of its inaccessibility, Lieutenant Pike
contented himself with the above brief notes in his diary, little
thinking that his name would become perpetuated in the discovery, and
that for all the ages thereafter Pike’s Peak would be one of the most
famous of American mounts.

Not again was the lonely desolation of the mountain, or the marvelous
scenery about its base, disturbed by the invasion of explorers until,
forty-one years later, Geo. F. Ruxton came as a hunter to view its
grandeur and make his camp within its game-haunted shadows. Soon
afterwards gold was discovered in the vicinity, and then quickly
followed a rush of adventurers whose hardy spirit accomplished that
which Pike was fearful to undertake. An ascent of the peak was now made
and the altitude ascertained to be 14,174 feet above the sea level.

Simultaneously, through the exploration of industrious prospectors, all
the many amazingly curious formations which now render the region one of
incomparable natural marvels were discovered, and the settlements of
Manitou and Colorado Springs were presently made.

Pike’s Peak has been, since the time of Ruxton’s ascent, an object of
great interest to travelers, and as early as 1852 a rough foot-trail was
established to the summit, which was greatly improved twenty years later
so as to admit the passage of vehicles. In the meantime, the towns of
Manitou and Colorado Springs had grown steadily and the number of
visitors increased until some one conceived the idea of constructing a
railroad from the base to the summit. This idea was seized upon by some
eastern capitalists in 1884, and a large capital being subscribed for
the purpose, the work of building this unique road was begun. The
original company, however, met with difficulties which they were unable
to overcome for lack of capital, and in 1888 a second organization,
under the title of Manitou & Pike’s Peak Railway Company, succeeded the
first corporation, and adopting what is known as the Abt Cog-wheel
System of Mountain Climbing, renewed the work thus interrupted. As the
higher altitudes were reached the air became so rare that labor was
extremely difficult, so that the strongest men were unable to exert
themselves for more than a few minutes at a time. In place of wagons
burros were employed to carry on their sturdy little backs all the
needful materials of ties, rails, tools and spikes, up the steep
mountain side, and without them the obstacles would have been
insuperable. But thus the work went on until the 20th of October, 1890,
when the last spike was driven and the highest railroad in the world
received its finishing stroke. Special locomotives and cars were built
and by the use of cog-wheels the pinnacle of Pike’s Peak was thereafter
to be gained comfortably, if not swiftly. The length of the road leading
to the summit is nine and one-quarter miles, and at times the grade
seems positively appalling (being 25 per cent.) as the noisily-laboring
engine pushes the passenger coach up the devious way, over great
bowlders that have been flung down by some Titan from immense heights
above; under overhanging brows of threatening cathedrals of stone; over
mad-dashing waterfalls; through ever-green forests of silver pines, then
into groves of dwarf aspens, until at length the route reaches up and on
above the timber line. The steepness of the way still continues, but
there are no longer abutting rocks, nor rush of water; the mountain now
becomes a measureless pile of broken stones, between which the chipmunk
and woodchuck play hide and seek; mists of clouds begin to gather, the
snow line shows itself beyond the breath of summer, and a cold wind
rushes around the peak making sport of the enterprise that invaded their
frigid solitude.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  THE CARRIAGE ROAD UP PIKE’S PEAK.—Since the completion of the cog-
    wheel railway to the summit of Pike’s Peak, the older carriage road
    is not so much used as in former times; yet it is still preferred by
    many tourists who travel for pleasure or to gratify their love for
    the grand and the beautiful in nature. Those who have the time to
    adopt this slower method of climbing the mountain will be richly
    repaid for their trouble in the glorious view that bursts upon them
    at every turn of the winding way. A journey over this carriage road,
    either up or down, is an event to be remembered throughout the
    remainder of one’s lifetime.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: TEMPLE OF ISIS, WILLIAM’S CAÑON.]

After two hours of pushing and climbing the train ceases its deep
respirations and stands seemingly exhausted before the stone observatory
that crowns the peak. Ah, now what a view, when the clouds pass away and
the sun bathes with golden splendor the panorama that lies in the
greater charm of indistinctness many leagues below! Towards the west and
south and north is a mighty army of mountains, in companies and
battalions, bold, rugged, majestic; always standing in review before the
Captain and Creator of worlds who seems to have halted His regiment for
inspection before an impending battle; while away towards the east
spreads the fading prairies, losing themselves in the horizon; and down
below, in a long stretch of landscape, is Colorado Springs, with its
intersecting streets looking like a corn-field, and its smoke-stacks
like scare-crows.

At other times a terrible snow-storm may be raging on the peak, while
summer sunshine bathes the plains below; or, standing under the arch of
a clear sky, the summit visitor may see the rolling clouds gathering
into scrolls of darkness, and the livid lightning running through the
storm that is breaking in torrential rain away down the mountain side.
So that winter and summer, storm and sunshine, have their eternal
meeting place on the age-swept breast of this giant peak, and at this
trysting place of the extreme seasons is one of the most beautiful lakes
that ever nestled in the bosom of a mountain.

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[Illustration: THE JAWS OF CLEAR CREEK CAÑON.]

[Illustration: WILLIAMS CAÑON, NEAR THE CAVE OF THE WINDS.]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: PILLAR OF JUPITER, WILLIAM’S CAÑON.]

One of the most picturesque, grand and charming routes in the world is
Ute Pass, which starts out of Manitou and climbs around mountains,
through cañons, and emerges into a roadway that leads direct to
Leadville. The most beautiful section of this pass, however, is in sight
of Manitou, where it rises with bold precipitation around the mountain
side and passes Rainbow Falls, which has a perpendicular descent of
seventy-five feet, and looks down into Cascade Cañon, that is weirdly
wild and awesomely imposing. The beauty of the pass is not more in the
rugged margin, bordered with precipice and waterfall, than in the
marvelous coloring of the roadway and abutting rocks of sandstone which
at a distance appear like the petrified primaries of the rainbow wrapped
around the mountain.

As the road winds upward a mile from Manitou, a branch strikes off from
Ute Pass, and continuing another half mile around and up the mountain
the visitor finds the way abruptly terminated by the entrance to a giant
cave known as the Grand Caverns. Like most places to which visitors are
attracted by flamboyant advertisements, these caves are not so wonderful
as they have been represented, yet they possess considerable interest.
The corridors are spacious and comparatively level, with here and there
formations of stalactites and stalagmites of considerable beauty, though
never large. Each compartment has been given a romantic and attractive
name intended to increase the imagination, and give support to the
marvelous tales with which guides entertain visitors, such as Canopy
Avenue, Alabaster Hall, Stalactite Hall, Opera House, Concert Hall,
Jewel Casket, Bridal Chamber, etc. The one principal object of interest
in the Grand Caverns—a curiosity indeed—is what has been denominated the
“Grand Pipe Organ of Musical Stalactites,” a formation which gives forth
a great variety of sounds, capable, under the skilful touch of a player,
of producing really ear-entrancing music. An “organist” is employed to
entertain visitors by performing many familiar instrumental pieces,
which, emanating from such a strange instrument, and echoing through the
torch-lighted chambers of the grotto, produce a charming effect not
easily forgotten.

In another compartment, particularly dark, if not noisome, and
partitioned off by a grating to prevent profanation, are deposited some
very ancient skeletons, which are said to have been found inurned here
by the original cave discoverer in 1881. The photographer, by a trick,
has pictured these bones as gigantic in size, whereas in fact they are
slightly smaller than those of modern men.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  TRIPLE FALLS, CHEYENNE CAÑON, COLORADO.—It would be exceedingly
    difficult to find a more gloriously beautiful scene than the one
    depicted by the photograph on this page. The pleasure of beholding
    it is also greatly increased by the assurance that it is absolutely
    true to nature, for the camera cannot misrepresent. Cheyenne Cañon
    is one of the wrinkles that sears the face of Cheyenne Mountain,
    some five or six miles east of Pike’s Peak, and both cañon and
    mountain are even more celebrated than their famous neighbor for the
    wildness and picturesque beauty of their scenery. This region is the
    Switzerland of America, except that its scenery surpasses that of
    Switzerland in the same proportion that America is larger and
    grander than the sturdy little republic of the Alps.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

A half-mile further around the mountain, towards William’s Cañon, and
approached by a long stair-way that leads down to a dusky, rock-hewn
platform, is the entrance to the “Cave-of-the-Winds,” as unforbidding a
place as Mephistopheles himself could choose for his abode. This cave is
nothing more than a tunnel, too narrow to admit the passage of a fat man
without squeezing, and with ceilings so low as to compel a person of
ordinary height to keep a stooped position. It is up and down steep
stair-ways, across chasms of uncertain depths, and over obstructions
which are quite enough to exhaust the visitor before half the cavern is
traversed. The stalactites that are found here are very small, but often
clustered in resemblance of chrysanthemums and other composite plants.
Like the Grand Caverns, every little chamber in the Cave-of-the-Winds is
designated by some curious or charm-impelling name, such as Cascade
Hall, Canopy Hall, Boston Avenue, Diamond Hall, Hall of Beauty, Dante’s
Inferno, Crystal Palace, etc.; while the coral-like stalagmites are
represented by the tricky photographer as being of imposing size and
bewildering splendor.

[Illustration: ANVIL ROCK, GARDEN OF THE GODS.]

Emerging from the stifling, half-artificial Cave-of-the-Winds, and
passing down the hill a few yards, a magnificent view of William’s Cañon
bursts upon the enraptured vision of the spectator, the contrast from
the dismal and disappointing cave lending additional sublimity to the
scene. The south entrance to this herculean gorge is within a short walk
of Manitou, and at the very door-way the walls rise up perpendicularly
to a stupendous height and in fantastic forms that positively bewilder
with a grandeur and beauty almost unexcelled by any scenery in the
world. This gigantic gash in the mountain is evidently the effect of
erosion, the result of a rushing torrent that drove down for centuries
through the pass until it wore out a bed hundreds of feet deep and then
found other outlet, or became absorbed in the process of drying-up which
the world is undergoing. High upon the sides of this wondrous channel
may be seen the distinct markings of glacial drift in deposits of shell-
fish and bowlders, while in the bed there are fragments of tufa,
betraying the action of volcanic fires which burned out ages upon ages
ago.

Two miles north of Manitou, and reached by a perfect roadway, over which
carriage driving is a supreme pleasure, is the gate-way to that
chaotically curious and fantastically marvelous district known as the
Garden of the Gods. I know not who gave name to this region of grotesque
formations, but its appropriateness lends belief that it was christened
by one who had in mind the heroes of some eastern mythology, the
Assyrian or Chinese, or the witchcrafts of the Samians. The Greeks, the
Romans, and Egyptians conceived their gods as physically perfect,
symmetrically beautiful; the idols of these people could never have
suggested the wild, distorted, conglomerate forms that are marshalled in
this garden of sweet confusion. Yet, the Greeks personified evil in
horrid forms, and we have here their conception of deep iniquity done in
nature’s sculpturings.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  RAINBOW FALLS, UTE PASS.—Winding its serpentine way up the side of the
    mountain to the right of Pike’s Peak, is Ute Pass, along which a
    carriage-way has been made. The scenery is incomparably grand and
    beautiful. The pass has been cut in the side of the mountain by
    centuries of washings from the little stream that seeks its level by
    this course, breaking into numerous waterfalls and lending an
    additional charm to the picturesque surroundings by the music of its
    rushing waters. Rainbow Falls, so splendidly reproduced on this
    page, is one of the most celebrated and inspiring of the numerous
    cataracts to be found in this locality.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: TOWER OF BABEL, GARDEN OF THE GODS.]

The old legends tell us of the Sabbat, a nocturnal assembly at which
demons and sorcerers celebrated their revels, and to the imaginative
mind, stored with remembrances of the tales wherein are described the
riot of nameless things and loathsomely fearful personages around the
throne of Satan, it is easy to fancy this spot as the assembling place,
and the strange forms of stone, that sit like dumb monstrosities waiting
the call of a master, as the bodies of maleficent devils petrified in
the very midst of their orgies. There on that mound squats old
Sagittary, the man-beast who shot arrows of lightning from his bow,
until he was struck down by a bolt of his own forging. A little beyond
is the foul witch Sycorax, the dam of Caliban, whose raven wings shelter
a demoniac progeny. In that depression, which looks afar like a seething
quagmire, sits Abaddon, the promoter of wars, combustions and plagues,
his face awry with fretful anxiety to renew his course of destruction.
Behind a mound, that may well be called a breastwork, stand Ægæon,
Cottus and Gyges, the brother triplets, each with a hundred arms and
fifty heads, who made war upon the Titans and then stormed Olympus with
stones plucked from the core of Ætna. Still further up the hillside,
protruding from a gash in the side of a giant bowlder of red sandstone,
is the distorted face of Hagen, that demon dwarf of a single eye, whose
devilish claws tore out the heart of Siegfried. Everywhere, to the right
and left, are these garish and ghastly remembrancers of the tales that
make children crouch closer to grandmother’s knees, and people the
darkness with forms infuriate. But the comical side is not wanting; for
nature is protean in this godless garden of quaint conceits done in
stone. If we have cause to laugh, it is at the Brobdingnagian frog that
we see to the left of the door of the garden, sitting beneath a
mushroom, with his gaze towards the mountain. But there is a whole
settlement of giant fungi, each capable of giving shelter to a pond-full
of modern-day frogs; and we can only explain the absence of other
representatives of the croaking batrachia by the possibility that the
one who has his home under the petrified umbrella was a political boss
in his time and compelled all his followers to remain out in the rain
when the big wet spell set in. On the first rock that we pass as we
enter the garden, is the perfect outline of a stag’s head, with antlers
laid back and nose high, as if startled by the sudden baying of the
hounds; while a few yards within the entrance is a huge stone of two
hundred tons weight perched like a spinning top upon the shoulder of
another, so nicely balanced that every wind seems to threaten its
stability, and yet centuries have failed to disturb its equilibrium.
Still further on, and to the left, are to be seen a duck complete in all
its outlines, and as demure as though she was hatching a brood. Then in
succession is shown an alligator stretched out at full length, taking a
siesta as natural as though it had life. Next in this procession of
statuary wonders are Punch and Judy, peaceful folks in vermilion
raiment, with faces full of righteous satisfaction, as if they were on
their way to church. Punch’s cap is a little the worse for the long
service it has seen, and Judy has a rent in her gown, but they affect no
false pride and are evidently content with their fortune. Why should
they not be happy, when within a few yards of them there is a poor old
washer-woman bending over a tub, and a child tugging at her skirts?
Certainly by contrast their lot is infinitely more bearable. And the
washer-woman has been at her hard task as long as Punch and Judy have
been on their way to the meeting house.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  OBSERVATORY ON THE SUMMIT OF PIKE’S PEAK.—The Observatory is built of
    stones collected from the immediate vicinity. It occupies the
    highest point on the mountain, and was erected by the Government as
    a home for the officers who are employed in taking meteorological
    observations. It is a stormy region, and a place of unrest. Many
    tourists assert that snow falls here every day in the year, but
    while this is not literally true it is always cold enough to snow,
    even when the valleys at the foot of the mountains are sweltering in
    an August sun. The altitude is so great that tourists frequently
    faint before reaching the top, and in other instances blood is
    forced from the nostrils and mouth by the terrible pressure of the
    atmosphere.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: UTE PASS, NEAR MANITOU.]

As we advance further into this museum of wonders, and turn our eyes
away from the imps, reptiles and broad-smiling people of stone, our gaze
is arrested by still stranger freaks of nature. There, before us, in
awful sublimity, is the red sentinel who guards the north portals of the
garden, flanked on either side by cathedrals and fortresses of amazing
size, and aflame with brilliant coloring. There are thin slabs of
sandstone standing on edge and lifting their heads a hundred feet high,
on which the gods or witches have sculptured images of birds, animals,
and moving caravans. A herculean lion is crouching on the peak of one,
looking towards the north, where a bear and seal are eyeing each other
from a lofty perch, uncertain of their safety, and undetermined whether
to attack or retreat. Away up on the pinnacle of another peak sits a
little old man in a rusty coat, but semi-respectable in a plug hat, very
intently contemplating a coach-and-four driven by a pioneer stage
engineer muffled to the chin in a shag overcoat, and bowling along over
the dangerous comb of the Tower of Babel. Turning to look back, our
sight is arrested by the towering form of Pike’s Peak, and a view that
is incomparably and overwhelmingly grand.

Leaving the Garden of the Gods, and passing massive hills of gypsum,
virgin in their whiteness and soft velvety reflection, the roadway north
lies through a large prairie-dog village, where scores of wish-ton-
wishes, of Indian name, scamper through the grass and lift themselves
into comical postures on their little mounds to watch the carriage roll
by. To the left is Glen Eyrie, where a few disaffected gods seem to have
started a small, independent park of wonders, chief of which is Major
Domo, a monolith of red sandstone thirty feet in circumference and more
than one hundred feet tall; a frowning shaft with slightly inclined
head, as if threatening the lesser forms about its base.

Five miles still beyond, nature has opened another museum of surprises,
which some human invader has named Monument Park, but which might better
be called Fiddler’s Green, or the Devil’s Ante-Chamber, for tradition
tells us that the former place is located just five miles this side of
Hades, and that all fiddlers en route stop there twenty minutes for
refreshments. This assembling place of monstrosities; this parliament of
satyr, sibyl, succuba and grim-visaged ogres, is rarely visited, not
particularly because the sights superinduce nightmare, but probably
because it is at the end of a long and dusty way, and the gruesome
formations are not numerous. The views which delight those who love to
fellowship with the incongruous and distempered products of nature, are
pillars of white—almost calcareous—sandstone which the wind and sand
have eroded into fantastic and outre shapes, leaving a top layer of dark
limestone to complete the multitude of strange images.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  GATEWAY TO GARDEN OF THE GODS.—The next best thing to seeing a thing
    itself is to see its counterpart in a good photograph. Any one who
    has ever looked at an object through a camera will realize the force
    of this assertion, for a photograph is a perfect reproduction of the
    view as it is reflected in the camera. There cannot be any
    misrepresentation. Hence a good photograph is far more valuable than
    a painting or a drawing, let the latter be ever so well done, for
    the best artist that ever lived cannot draw or paint a scene just as
    nature made it. We see these facts clearly illustrated in this
    beautiful photograph. Every line, crevice and indentation of the
    huge rocks is brought out and stamped upon the printed page, while
    in the distance we observe the snow-covered summit of Pike’s Peak
    just as thousands of tourists have seen it with their natural
    vision.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: THE DUTCH WEDDING, MONUMENT PARK.]

Here we find the Devil’s Anvil, apparently used by his swarthy majesty
in the dim ages in fashioning his roasting spits. And near by is a
concourse attending what is known as The Dutch Wedding, where all the
goodly company are disattired outrageously, for not one has a stitch to
his or her back. But they are more decent folks than old Mother Grundy,
who stands in a nook to herself, trying to gossip with her shabby
surroundings, and looking for all the world like a hag who has lost her
teeth through salivation. Not far below her is The Idiot, as repulsive
appearing a fellow as ever violated the laws of nature, and who might
well be the offspring of a harridan like Mrs. Grundy. But there are
other shapes and misshapes scarcely less wonderful; and if the visitor
is at all imaginative, they take forms that are variable and astounding.
Doré never pictured creatures of his fancy more weird than the wind-
sculptures of Monument Park.

Turning back, and passing south of Colorado Springs some four or five
miles, we are brought again into the Rocky range and enter at one of the
Cheyenne Cañons, between beetling brows of tremendously high cliffs,
through which a mad-dashing water-course has eaten its way. Whether we
visit North or South Cañon, the view is augustly sublime and awful in
its grandeur. We stand in the bed of the gorge and gaze upward on either
side to a dizzy height, where the eagles float lazily about, just below
the level of the summit, and build their nest upon the breast of the
escarpment because the apex is sky-piercing in its loftiness. Yet
tumbling down from that great eminence, where the gray spires of the
peaks are dwarfed by distance until they grow thin as needles, is a
stream of water, fed by springs that lie in the lap of still taller
mountains in the rear, rushing in tumultuous flow until it breaks into
seven waterfalls, and then checks its pace as it joins the river that
runs on to the sea. A stair-way has been built alongside of the falls,
by which the visitor may mount to a height of two hundred feet, and then
stand upon a platform and watch the play of leaping waterfall as it
breaks into rainbows and mist below, and hear its ceaseless song of
praise mingling with the echoes that sport between the cañon walls. They
who can feel no inspiration under the moving power of Cheyenne Mountain
are hopelessly prosaic, who close their ears against the most entrancing
hymns of nature.

It is not strange that the simple people who were reared centuries ago
in this cradle of natural wonders entertained strange conceptions of the
curious formations and mighty mountains that distinguished their
surroundings from other places. Indeed, it would be matter for surprise
had the primitive tribes of this region left no legends telling how
Manitou, the Great Spirit, had upheaved the peaks, fashioned the
grotesque images, scooped out the cañons and set his sign of ever-
flowing mercy in the welling spring and roaring waterfall.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  BALANCED ROCK, GARDEN OF THE GODS.—Balanced Rock is one of the most
    remarkable curiosities in the Garden of the Gods. It is an immense
    stone, weighing thousands of tons, balanced upon so small a pedestal
    that it seems as if the hand of a child could push it over, and yet
    the winter storms and the summer cyclones have raged around it for
    centuries without shaking it from its solid bearings. Nature does
    many things more wonderful than art or ingenuity of man can devise,
    and this is one of them. If Balanced Rock were the only curiosity in
    the Garden of the Gods it would be worth a trip there to see it, and
    as many of us are not able to bear the expense of such a trip it is
    gratifying to have within our reach, almost without cost, the living
    image of these wonders of nature.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: THE DEVIL’S TOOTH, CHEYENNE CAÑON.]

[Illustration: VULCAN’S ANVIL, MONUMENT PARK.]

Among the several traditions which are preserved, we have the fragments
of the following, which appear to have been left by the Toltecs, who
undoubtedly at one time had their dwelling place in the Manitou
district: A certain tribe, whose name is forgotten, living somewhere on
the great plains towards the east, were driven from their homes by a
mighty flood, and hearing that lofty mountains lay several days’ journey
towards the setting sun, they fled to these for refuge. Having thus
escaped the fury of what they believed was an angry god, and found
safety under the benign shadow of Pike’s Peak, they came to regard it as
the dwelling place of Manitou, and instituted a form of worship as an
evidence of their gratitude. The climate being healthful and the region
abounding with game, this tribe prospered and so increased in power that
they made war on their less fortunate neighbors and reduced them to
slavery. In other ways they so offended Manitou that, having once saved
them from a deluge that drowned a large part of the world, he would now
punish them with another flood visitation. And so the windows of heaven
were opened, and the rain poured down in such volume that the valley was
soon overflowed, and the rising waters began to rapidly climb the
mountain sides. Perceiving that the deluge was an infliction sent upon
them for their sins, the tribe gathered all of their possessions and
with them hastened to ascend Pike’s Peak—which no one before had ever
attained—to make an offering to the Great Spirit of all that they had,
with the hope of propitiating his anger. All the members of the tribe
succeeded in reaching the summit, where they prayed so fervently that
the heart of Manitou relented and he consented to save the people by
admitting them into heaven. But he would receive none of their earthly
possessions, and these were accordingly thrown down and in time were
changed into stone, so that by the accretion of the burdens thus
rejected, the mountain became much higher than nature had formed it. The
deluge was finally assuaged by a dragon which Manitou unchained from a
huge rock in heaven, where it was kept prisoner, and sent down to drink
up all the water. This dragon never came back to heaven, for after
abating the flood it was turned into stone and laid on Cheyenne
Mountain, where its crocodilian form may still be recognized by an
observer stationed at Colorado Springs.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: MAJOR DOMO, GLEN EYRIE.]

[Illustration: NEEDLE ROCKS, GARDEN OF THE GODS.]

The two photographs on this page furnish us additional evidence of the
wonders and beauties of the scenic region embraced by the Garden of the
Gods and that immediate locality. There is no other place in the world
like it. Nature has run riot here in the manufacture of strange and
curious things. But the names which have been bestowed by chance upon
these curiosities are not always appropriate. Needle Rocks, for
instance, hear a much stronger resemblance to the ruins of some ancient
cathedral than they do to the useful and pointed instrument whose name
has been unadvisedly bestowed upon them. It is quite probable, however,
that the bold pioneer who first beheld and named them was more familiar
with needles than castles and cathedrals, and we can afford to let the
misnomer pass with the assurance that it was given in good faith, and it
certainly does not lessen the pleasure of beholding the object.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: MEDICINE ROCK, MONUMENT PARK.]

In after times, a new tribe came into the valley, and finding it
fruitful and inviting, they established their homes and prospered so
well that they soon grew mighty. For a long while no people were so
grateful and devout, so worshipful and kindly as they; but power always
begets arrogance, and in time these favored people became filled with
conceit and began to esteem themselves as the equals of Manitou and to
defy his power. This so offended the Great Spirit that he sent a mighty
host of monsters out of the north to punish the vain bigots who thus
contemned him. But some of the priests of the people had remained true
in their devotion, and these now interposed with Manitou and made many
offerings and sacrifices to appease his wrath. They so far prevailed
that many of the people also purged their hearts of all iniquity, and
Manitou was propitiated. As the host of monsters came swooping down,
like an army of invincible Centaurs, suddenly Pike’s Peak appeared as if
on fire, and the face of the Great Spirit was visible above it, shining
with a splendor greater than the sun. On the next instant that invading
army of satyrs and gorgons was changed to stone, and it is their bodies
that stand, and lie, and posture in strange incongruity in the Garden of
the Gods, Glen Eyrie, Bear Athol and Fiddler’s Green.

Many other legends are told to account for the singular formations, but
none are so old and often repeated as the one here related. The region
was certainly regarded by the early people who occupied it as possessing
supernatural features, a fact attested not alone by the traditions so
carefully preserved, but by rude carvings found on pieces of shale dug
up in the valley, and winged images carved from gypsum, which appear to
be very crude representations of a conception of preternatural
creatures. These relics, however, are very few, and by many are
pronounced spurious, so that it would be treading on doubtful ground to
attempt to introduce evidence of the faith imposed by the Toltecs in
such legends, or how they sought to perpetuate them. It is sufficient,
therefore, to accept the curiosities that are in this wonderful garden
merely as strange freaks of nature, without considering the tales handed
down from a questionable source, pretending to show that the formations
are the results of supernatural causes.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: THE IDIOT, MONUMENT PARK.]

[Illustration: MOTHER GRUNDY, MONUMENT PARK.]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: PHANTOM FALLS, NORTH CHEYENNE CAÑON.]

[Illustration: CASTLE FALLS, NORTH CHEYENNE CAÑON.]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: HELL GATE, AUSABLE CHASM.]

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                              CHAPTER III.
                  THE GRAND CAÑONS OF WESTERN RIVERS.


[Illustration: CRYSTAL FALLS, CASCADE CAÑON.]

Having pretty thoroughly photographed the region roundabout Manitou, we
hitched our camera car to a train on the Colorado Midland and started
westward for Salt Lake, and to embalm the scenery that lay between. The
way led around the base of Pike’s Peak, passed Cascade Cañon, and along
Bear Creek, the road doubling upon itself and twisting around in the
most tortuous course imaginable in order to get through the mountain
defiles. Every foot of the route is grand, for there is no point that
does not offer a view of scenic splendors beautiful, awesome and
sublime. So rugged, tumultuous and wonderfully aberrant is the way, that
the road plunges through no less than eight tunnels in traversing as
many miles, and thus the traveler is whirled through the heart and arms
of the mountains. The approach to Green Mountain Falls is up a valley
which spreads out into a fascinating landscape, where the green of the
meadowlands is set in a brown frame of sky-piercing peaks and impending
cliffs. Fontaine River refreshes the glade that opens through the
towering range, and a little way from the town the water goes leaping
down Foster’s Falls in a sheet of liquid crystal. It is from this
cascade that Green Mountain Falls takes its name. But besides this deep
dash of broken water, there are many other beautiful falls in the
vicinity which have served to make of the place a popular resort,
indeed, one of the greatest in Colorado.

Onward we speed through valleys aflame with flowers and noisy with the
laughter of gamboling streams, until, seventy miles from Colorado
Springs, we plunge into a gorge known by its length as Eleven-Mile
Cañon. It lies directly in the way to South Park, and is wonderful not
so much for its darkling depths as for its marvelous petrifactions and
other natural curiosities; its great masses of granite that have broken
away from the peaks above and become a wall to the turbulent torrent
that has cleft the mountains on its bridleless way to the sea. Thence
our train winds around, up hill, past lakes, trout streams, and ranches,
until we stop a while at Buena Vista, where the train pauses on the side
of Gold Hill Mountain, fully one thousand feet above the town. From this
natural observatory a beautiful view is had indeed: Below is the madly-
rushing Arkansas, and the silvery Cottonwood Creek that joins its waters
with the river at this point. Buena Vista is in a valley that glows like
an emerald in the sun, across which rises a giant bank of mountains
known as the Saguache range, in which we distinguish the collegiate
trinity of mounts Harvard, Yale and Princeton, each being above 14,000
feet, and the former the second highest in the Rocky Mountains. Snowy
and Sangre de Cristo ranges are also visible from this point, while
eleven miles up Cottonwood Pass is Cottonwood Lake, a very gem set in a
wilderness of snow-covered peaks. It is the same distance from Buena
Vista to the summit of Mt. Princeton, reached by an easy wagon road, and
on this lofty pedestal the observer sweeps the horizon with enraptured
vision that commands a view of Salida, Poncha Pass, the wide expanse of
South Park, and grand old Pike’s Peak one hundred miles away; Twin Lakes
are twenty-five miles to the north, near Buffalo Peaks, where the
sportsman finds a paradise and the health-seeker is exhilarated with
balsamic winds; while all around, whichever way we look, the omnipotence
of the Creator is exhibited in the mightiness of His handiwork as
displayed in the weirdly broken landscape of jocund mountain peaks,
bowlders of granite torn from the great heart of the earth, babbling
streams, tumbling water-falls, and teeming valleys.

[Illustration: THE BEARS’ CAVE, NEAR GREEN LAKE.]

After leaving Buena Vista the route was along the Arkansas River,
through somewhat less rugged scenery, and on by Leadville, a city whose
life is drawn from the bowels of the mountain. The whole territory is
speckled and dotted with engine houses, and derricks, and flumes, and
cavities, where the cupidity of man has laid a tribute upon the
everlasting hills, and is collecting it by the sweat of his brow and the
exercise of his genius.

The road continues to rise until we reach Hagerman Tunnel, a mammoth
passage-way bored through solid rock. Its length is 2,164 feet, and to
provide perfect ventillation the cut is eighteen feet wide and nearly as
many high. The grade is a continually ascending one from Colorado
Springs to this point, where an altitude of 11,530 feet is reached, and
the slope towards the Pacific begins. Just as we emerge from Hagerman
Tunnel, Loch Ivanhoe bursts into glorious view, a silvery sheet that
wraps the cold feet of Snowy Mountain, while off to the left, like a
sign of hope to the Christian traveler, is the Mount of the Holy Cross.
This wonderful peak has become a veritable shrine, visited as it is by
thousands, whose reverent feelings it never fails to excite. The
mountain obtains its name and reputation from the clefts on its northern
side near the summit, which are in the form of a cross and in which the
snow lies at such a depth that summer suns never melt it. The height of
this peak is 14,176 feet, but though not so lofty as some others in
Colorado, it is apparently more exposed and holds the snow longest, the
summit being nearly always covered.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  PORTAL OF GRAND RIVER CAÑON.—Grand and Green Rivers form the Colorado
    River, and all are rich in scenery of the most splendid and imposing
    character. A fine example of the beautiful and the grand blended and
    combined is seen in the photograph on this page. This is the gateway
    or portal, as it is aptly named, to other views equal in all
    respects to this one. A tour through this region is worth the toil
    and effort of a lifetime, and yet how few there are who can afford
    to spend their accumulations in giving to themselves such a supreme
    pleasure. But the camera overcomes the difficulty, giving us mirror-
    like reflections of these majestic wonders, in which we behold them
    as perfectly as if we were there in person.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: SYLVAN FALLS, CASCADE CAÑON.]

The next point of interest on the way to Salt Lake is Glenwood Springs,
situated at the junction of Grand and Roaring Fork Rivers. This place
derives its importance from its numerous thermal springs of great
remedial virtues, and the beautiful adornments which a lavish but well-
directed use of money has provided. The situation, too, is one of great
natural picturesqueness, as the scenery rivals that about Manitou.
Glenwood Springs is located at the head of Grand River Cañon, which
extends a distance of sixteen miles through colossal mountains, the
palisades of which rise in serried ranks and terminate in towering
columns and gigantic turrets frequently 2,000 feet above the bed of the
river. It is through this tremendous chasm that the railroad runs, so
that travelers have a perfect view of the Titanic scenery from the car
windows, as they are whirled through it. Three miles from Glenwood
Springs is No Name Cañon, while further up the stream is a tremendous
fissure which admits the river, and on account of its wildly savage
appearance is called Grizzly Cañon. Ten miles more towards the river’s
source is Dead Horse Cañon, which may be gained only at the expense of
most laborious effort, for the trail is over great bowlders and along
crumbling walls which frown far above the roaring waters below. But away
up in this darksome retreat of nature, where the lion and bear have
their haunts, is Meteor Falls, that leaps almost out of the mouth of the
cañon and hurls its waters down a precipice nearly one hundred feet
deep, and then spreads through crevices of the rocks into a score of
separate streams. Not far distant is Alexander’s Cave, which, though not
so well known, is much grander in size and more curious with stalactite
formations than those near Manitou, which have an undeserved fame. From
the summit of a mountain just east of Glenwood, and reached by a walk of
three miles, an immense expanse of charming scenery is viewable. For
seventy miles towards the east extends the snow-crowned chain of the
Continental Divide, while towards the north, like a babe sleeping to the
lullabys of a brooklet’s voice, lies the White River plateau. Southward
the observer’s vision swings across the valleys of Roaring Fork and
Crystal River to the Elk range, and then sweeps around to the west,
where it lingers on Book Cliffs, ninety miles away, which gleam with
scintillant beauty, and inspire with a grandeur that fills the very soul
with wondering ecstasy.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  BOOK CLIFFS, WALLS OF GRAND RIVER CAÑON.—It would be a difficult thing
    to find a more beautiful picture than the one that embellishes this
    page. It is gloriously beautiful. The camera has done its work so
    well that the very reflection of the sun’s rays and the soft glimmer
    of the summer air are shown as perfectly as they could be seen with
    the natural eye. In fact it has been said, and truly so, that the
    camera is a good detective, for it discovers objects which are
    invisible to ordinary human sight, and prints them indelibly upon
    its sensitive plates. Hence good photographs, like those in GLIMPSES
    OF AMERICA, are in many respects more desirable than a visit to the
    scenes themselves.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------


                    THE GRAND CAÑON OF THE COLORADO.

[Illustration: TRIPLE FALLS, CASCADE CAÑON.]

The tumultuous anarchism of nature, the wild riot of natural forces, the
savage disarrangement, the chaotically indefinable throes of internal
madness that characterize the region, suggests other wonders of eruption
and erosion, the dissolution and disorganization which have been wrought
along the water-course and which has gnawed its way through these
everlasting—nay, it would appear, transitory—mountains. The first
travelers that fought their way into these vastnesses of cañon, roaring
peak and soughing forests, carried back to civilization wondrous tales
of the things which they had seen, and though discredited as the
conceptions of perfervid imaginations, others were stimulated to seek
the proofs, and confirm the theories that were offered by adventurous
gold-hunters. The Government itself, unconscious of its own possessions,
joined in the search for the wondrous evidences and sent expeditions
into the Rocky Mountain regions to make topographic and geologic
investigations, the results of which were to increase surprise.
Operations in the west, chiefly against the Mohave Indians, made it
necessary also for the Government to ascertain the most convenient
routes for the transportation of supplies to the military posts in New
Mexico and Utah, and in this search the Colorado River became an object
of special interest, because if navigable it presented the easiest way
to the seat of war. In order to determine the question, an expedition
was despatched by the Secretary of War, in 1858, under the command of
Lieutenant J. C. Ives, chief of topographical engineers. An iron
steamboat fifty feet long was built in Philadelphia, which, being in
sections convenient for transportation, was shipped by way of Panama to
the Gulf of California, and put into service at Fort Yuma, at the mouth
of the Colorado River, for an ascent of that stream.

The expedition thus conducted by Lieutenant Ives resulted in the
exploration of a large territory which was before his advent therein a
_terra incognita_, except that it had been partially traversed in 1540
by a few Spanish explorers, acting under orders of the Viceroy of New
Spain, whose reports, however, were so crude as to be almost valueless.
Ives succeeded in ascending the Colorado a distance of 425 miles in his
steamboat, which he concluded was within seventy-five miles of the head
of navigation during the most favorable season. The practical results
were not of very great value, but his reports were extremely
interesting, chiefly for the descriptions of marvelous scenery which
they contained. Or, as he writes, “The region explored after leaving the
navigable portion of the Colorado—though, in a scientific point of view,
of the highest interest, and presenting natural features whose strange
sublimity is perhaps unparalleled in any part of the world—is not of
much value.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  NEAR HANCE’S CABIN, GRAND CAÑON OF THE COLORADO.—The Grand Cañon of
    the Colorado, in Northwestern Arizona, is the supreme natural wonder
    of the world. It is formed by the Colorado River cutting its way
    through the high plateau of that region. It is not a mountainous
    district, but a level plateau, and for this reason the tourist sees
    no indication of the wonders soon to be unfolded to his astonished
    vision until he is right upon the brink of the awful chasm which
    gashes the earth in many places to a depth of more than one mile, at
    the bottom of which the river writhes and dashes like a tortured
    serpent. The towering cliffs on either side reflect all the colors
    of the rainbow, and when they are illuminated by the noonday sun the
    scene is indescribably beautiful as well as grand.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: TEN-MILE PASS, NEAR KOKOMO, COLORADO.]

Subsequently the Government determined to effect an exploration of the
headwaters of the Colorado, and to this end Major J. W. Powell, chief of
the U. S. Survey Corps, was sent out in charge of a party of a dozen
equally intrepid men, with instructions to descend the stream if
possible. To accomplish his purpose Major Powell provided four
staunchly-built row-boats in which he and his party debarked at Green
River Station, on the 24th of May, 1869, to run the gauntlet of cañon,
maelstrom, rapids and waterfalls in the Green and Colorado Rivers. It is
to Major Powell’s report that we are indebted for descriptions of the
terribly sublime scenery of these two streams, which surpass in wonder
every other region on the globe, and to the photographer of that
expedition we make our acknowledgments for several of the views which
are here reproduced. Mr. W. H. Jackson, who was for a long while
attached to the survey corps as photographer, has also kindly furnished
us with a number of exquisite pictures of the more accessible cañons of
the Colorado, and to him, therefore, credit in large share must be
given. Our own party, while thoroughly equipped for photographing
regions contiguous to railroads, was unprepared for making a trip down
the most dangerous of rivers, and we have accordingly been compelled to
rely for our photographs of the Green and Colorado Cañons upon the work
of those above credited. Condensing as much as possible the elaborate
and entrancing report of Major Powell, as it fills a very large volume,
his explorations may be thus hastily described:

Almost from the beginning of the trip, the scenery was delightful,
variegated as it was with high-reaching cliffs dyed in great variety of
colors, and long lines of mountains stretching away into an infinity of
distance. The blue sky above, green shades of forest pines along the
side, empurpled clouds catching the tints of a rising and setting sun,
and lines of buff, red and brown, marking the strata of the banks, made
a picture which no painter has the genius to reproduce. Green River
enters the Minta plateau by the Flaming Gorge, and after reaching the
heart of the chain turns eastward, then southward, cutting its way out
by the splendid cañon of Lodore. Then following the base of the range
for a few miles a sudden caprice seizes it. Not content with the
terrible gash it has inflicted upon this noble chain, it darts at it
viciously once more and cuts a horseshoe cañon in its flank 2,700 feet
deep, then twists and emerges near the point of entrance. Thenceforward
the river runs a tortuous course of 300 miles through gently inclined
terraces which rise gradually as the stream descends. Further down, the
Kaibab (Buckskin) Plateau rises to contest its passage, and a chasm
5,000 to 6,000 feet is the result. The whole province is a vast category
of instances of river channels cutting through plateaus, mesas, and
terraces where the strata dip up-stream, as will be more particularly
described in the summary of Major Powell’s hazardous explorations.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  GRAND CAÑON OF THE COLORADO, NEAR THE TEMPLE OF SET.—This splendid
    photograph will convey to the mind of the reader a good idea of the
    awful grandeur of this locality. The picture is taken at the bottom
    of the cañon, beneath the overhanging cliffs which rise
    perpendicularly for thousands of feet, and between whose jutting
    crags the sun can penetrate only when it is at the meridian. It is
    well to contemplate such scenery, for it shows us our own littleness
    and impotency in the midst of the fearful and resistless forces of
    nature which God has set in motion.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: KAIBAB PINNACLES, GRAND CAÑON OF THE COLORADO.]

Sixty miles from Green River the expedition floated into Flaming Gorge,
a chasm fifteen hundred feet in depth, through which the water poured in
swift measures and gave intimation of a more impetuous course further
down. But undeterred the gallant party proceeded, through Red and
Horseshoe Cañons, where the walls drew closer and big bowlders in the
stream caused the water to boil with such ominous signs that portage
around the obstructions was necessary. Thereafter the way became more
difficult, for to dangerous rapids were added lofty falls, while along
the vertical walls in places there was scarcely a space to set foot.
Frequently the only possible means of passage was by lowering the boats
by ropes attached to stem and stern, which taxed the strength of the men
as well as the staunchness of the crafts. Time and again, in running
rapids, the boats were capsized, but being built in water-tight
compartments they righted themselves and were a refuge for the men, who
clung to the sides until they drifted near the shore.

At one place, which Major Powell named Disaster Falls, one of the boats
was swept over a fall and carried down to a rapid, where, striking
broadside against a bowlder, it was broken in two, leaving the three
occupants adrift to battle with the surging waters. Their escape from
drowning was almost a miracle, due to good luck and the extraordinary
efforts of their brave comrades. In this spot the walls were more than
3,000 feet high, and drawn so near together that only a thin strip of
sky was visible, which at night-time appeared to rest on the jagged
edges of the cliffs.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  PYRAMID PEAK, IN GRAND CAÑON OF THE COLORADO.—We have on this page a
    general view of some of the rugged and imposing scenery of this
    region. The space is too limited, however, to show the towering
    heights of the cliffs to the right, which, when viewed from this
    standpoint, seem to bathe their faces in the blue vault of heaven.
    Along these cliffs, in many places, are found the deserted homes and
    the ghastly relics of an ancient race of men, long since perished
    from the face of the earth. They made their dwelling places in this
    rugged and secluded region as a protection against wild animals and
    still wilder savage men, but with all their precaution they were
    unable to shield themselves from the fury of their enemies, and
    another chapter of mystery and sorrow is thus added to the history
    of man.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: HORSESHOE CAÑON, GRAND CAÑON OF THE COLORADO.]

Sixteen days after their departure from the starting point, the
adventurous party were swept into Lodore Cañon, which extends its
colossal walls along twenty-four miles of the river, sometimes in the
form of hanging cliffs, tousled and gray with stunted vegetation, and
rising nearly three thousand feet above the stream, and again in
beautiful terraces of red sandstone that spread upward till they are
lost in the Uintah Mountains.

It was not until two months after leaving Green River Station that the
explorers approached the junction with Grand River. As they dropped out
of the winding gorge whence they had descended, they caught a view of a
wondrous fissure, down which poured a rushing stream which appeared to
issue from the very bowels of the earth, so bottomless seemed the
channel. It was Grand River, which, in many respects, is the counterpart
of its sister stream, having the same features of waterfall, rapid, and
awesome cañon, into which the sunlight falls only at midday, and where
night-birds are on the wing almost constantly. It is a fitting thing
that these two remarkable rivers should mix their fretful waters and
flow on together in a perpetual quarrel, through arid plains, until they
end their differences in the Gulf of California.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  ECHO CLIFFS, CAÑON OF GRAND RIVER.—The resounding cliffs on either
    side of the valley so beautifully photographed on this page, give
    name to the locality. The echo is one of the finest known in any
    region of the world, and the place will some day become as famous as
    similar resorts in Europe, which attract thousands of visitors every
    year. The scenic regions of our country are so vast, so diversified,
    so grand and so beautiful that the time is not far distant when
    pleasure seekers, and those desiring rest and recreation from the
    toils and worries of business will turn their footsteps in this
    direction, rather than toward the less attractive and more distant
    wonders of Europe.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: CLIFF RUINS IN THE CAÑON.]

[Illustration: JURASSIC TERRACE OF THE CALAB, GRAND CAÑON OF THE
COLORADO.]

The Colorado River is formed by a union of the Grand and Green Rivers,
the former taking its rise near Long’s Peak, and the latter having its
source in the Wind River Mountains of Wyoming, within a few miles of
Fremont’s Peak. The two streams form a junction near a point known as
Fort Morrison, in southeast Utah, at the head of the most appalling
gorge in the world, called the _Grand Cañon of the_ _Colorado_. The
scenery along both the Grand and Green Rivers is inexpressibly sublime,
rising into towering buttes out of the plains; soaring to the clouds in
the form of mountains; revelling in the wildest disorder of landscape,
and the most turbulent panorama of mad-dashing streams between walls of
amazing height; but the wild passions of both rivers seem to be united
with more than double intensity when they mingle their waters and thence
become one turbid flood gnawing a way through the southwest desert. How
hard it is for the inexperienced eye to catch a mental view of the
tremendous chasm of the Colorado, however realistic a descriptive writer
may paint it, for height and depth almost lose their significance when
we apply the terms to dizzy crags above, and the dark lonesomeness of
Plutonian recesses beneath.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  BUFFALO BILL AND PARTY AT POINT SUBLIME, GRAND CAÑON OF THE COLORADO.—
    During the summer succeeding his triumphal tour of Europe, General
    W. F. Cody (Buffalo Bill), accompanied by a party of friends,
    visited and explored the famous Grand Cañon of the Colorado. The
    photograph on this page represents the party at lunch on Point
    Sublime. Buffalo Bill is a warm friend and admirer of the author of
    GLIMPSES OF AMERICA, and loaned this photograph to him for
    reproduction in this work. It was taken by the special photographer
    who accompanied the party on the tour referred to.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: SKULLS OF THE CLIFF DWELLERS.]

The region through which the chafing waters of the Colorado run is
forbidding in the extreme, a vast Sahara of waste and inutility; a
desert too dreary for either vegetable or animal life; a land that is
haunted with wind-storm, on which ride the furies of desolation. But
there is in its very bleakness and consumptive degeneracy something that
appeals to the observer; a sympathy is aroused that stimulates
contemplation of the wondrous works of Deity, of the omnipotent hand
that sows seeds of plenty in one place and scatters tares of poverty in
another; that makes the valleys to laugh with verdure, and the plains to
wail with nakedness. In this sterile domain, this borderland of phantasy
and reality, nature is so distraught that the supernatural seems to hold
carnival, and in the forms which we here behold there is constant
suggestion of chaos. The earth is parched to sterility, and yet there
are abundant evidences that in centuries long ago this same land was
abundantly blessed with an amazing fertility. Depressions ramifying the
region are the dry beds of what were once water-courses, and the whole
plateau is garish with rocks over which life-giving floods once poured
their vivifying nourishment. But the friable nature of both soil and
rock has given way before the action of the river, which has constantly
deepened its path and drained the moisture from the earth. Now it is
like the Moon, a parched district, save for the single stream which,
instead of supplying sustenance, is eating its vitals. The channel is
worn more than 5,000 feet deep, with stupendous banks terraced and
wrought into shapes most fantastic, and at places diabolic. Imagine a
chasm that at times is less than a quarter of a mile wide and more than
a mile deep, the bed of which is a tossing, roaring, madly impetuous
flood; winding its way in a sinuous course along walls that are painted
with all the pigments known to nature! What an imposing spectacle; what
a scene of awesome grandeur; what a sublime vision of mightiness! But
the geologist sees in the crags and precipices, the strata and bed of
that brawling stream, the handwriting of nature, the easily decipherable
physical history and geology of the land. The antiquarian and
ethnologist, following after, translate the relics of rude habitations
found along the cliffs, and the skulls fortunately recovered from the
ruins, into a story of the ancient people who in the long centuries ago
dared to make their homes in these almost inaccessible fastnesses,
driven to such refuges by the ruthless hand of persecution.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  HANCE’S TRAIL, GRAND CAÑON OF THE COLORADO.—Between the beetling crags
    and along the serpentine windings of the river, we obtain in this
    photograph a fine view of some of the wonders of the Grand Cañon.
    The beauties of the scene would be largely enhanced if the varied
    hues of the red and orange and amber tinted cliffs could be painted
    by the camera with the same accuracy that it gives to all the other
    surroundings and characteristics of the picture. This much to be
    desired result is largely accomplished, however, in the splendid
    colored photograph of a similar scene in this connection, and which
    in fact gives a better idea of the splendors of the Grand Cañon than
    any photograph in a single color could convey.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: ROTARY SNOW-PLOW.]

In many places, Major Powell found overarching cliffs, formed by the
river in making a sharp bend eating away the shale and gypsum of the
base. Occasional inlets were observed, cut by creeks that have been
dried up for ages; and following up one of these deep aroytas a little
way, he came to a natural stair-way of small and regular terraces that
led up fully 500 feet, to an oasis of vegetation, out of which burst a
spring that lost its waters before they had run a hundred feet down the
parched cliff. Just below this point a beautiful glen was found, where
the walls of the cañon appeared to almost meet above the deep and quiet
river, which, though narrowed, had an unobstructed channel. The cliffs
were of a marvelous beauty, appalling in height, but as variegated as a
bed of poppies, with their strata of white, pink, saffron, gray and red.

Passing out of Glen Cañon, the party came directly into the jaws of
another chasm, where the river had excavated an amphitheater of mammoth
proportions, and then plunged into a gorge where both the walls and bed
of the stream were of marble so pure that they shone with an iridescent
splendor, and the now lazy river reflected its walls until looking down
was gazing into the heavenly depths. Just below was Cataract Cañon, the
entrance to which was indicated by a lofty cliff that, from a distance,
shone like a crystal mountain, but which, on closer inspection, was
discovered to be the source of many springs whose waters glinted in the
sun like jewels.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: PORTION OF THE ANCIENT PALACE AT CASA GRANDE, ARIZONA.]

[Illustration: PART OF THE ANCIENT CITY WALL AI CASA GRANDE, ARIZONA.]

The ruins of the ancient city of Casa Grande, in Arizona, and others not
less wonderful in the same region, prove that this portion of our
country was once inhabited by a powerful and numerous race of people,
who possessed a civilization and knowledge of the arts on a parallel
with Babylon and Assyria. The walls of these ruins are built of adobe,
thick and strong, and guarded with buttresses and towers to meet and
repel the attacks of an enemy; but their age and the date of their
occupancy cannot be determined. They may be a thousand years old, and it
is just as probable that they date back two or three times that distance
into the unknown past. Their origin is a profound mystery, and must
always remain such.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: BRIDAL VEIL, SHOSHONE FALLS.]

In many places the arid desolation which was noticeable in the upper
portion and on the plateau, and which stretched away on both sides, was
broken by patches of vegetation, and the appearance of side gorges in
which creeks were still contributing to the river. Storms were not
infrequent, too, and these occurring where the cañon walls were a mile
high and close together, produced an effect that was almost supernatural
in its awfulness. Every obscuration of the sun brought dense shadows in
the chasm, which were split in twain by blinding flashes, while the deep
thunder echoed sharply between the cliffs, producing a roaring sound
that was almost deafening. Such rain-storms, however, were invariably
confined to the immediate vicinity of the cañon, the territory lying two
or three miles east or west continuing parched, with hardly a cloud
above it. Even more remarkable than the stupendous walls which confine
the Colorado River, are the ruined cave habitations which are to be seen
along the lofty and apparently inaccessible ledges, in which a vanished
race long years ago evidently sought refuge from their enemies. These
caves are no doubt natural excavations, but in many instances the mouths
are partially walled and otherwise fortified. They were reached by very
narrow, precipitous and devious paths, and being extremely difficult to
attain by the occupants themselves, presented an impregnable front to
invaders. But the security which such cavernous retreats afforded was
purchased at great cost, for we wonder how the inhabitants managed to
exist, situated as they were in a desolate country, where there was
great scarcity of both vegetable and animal life. Perhaps the most
strikingly beautiful sections of the Grand Cañon are the Vermilion
Cliffs, and the Temples and Towers of the Virgin, the one fading into
the other. Vermilion Cliffs are a great wall of remarkable height and
length of persistent proportions, and so ornate with natural
sculpturing, and rich with parti-coloring, as to justify the most
extravagant language in describing them. Each of the several terraces
has its own style of architecture, and yet they contrast with one
another in the most harmoniously artistic manner. The Elephantine ruins
on the Nile, the temples of Greece, the pagodas of China, and the
cathedrals of Southern Europe, present no more variety of pleasing
structures than those encountered in descending the stair-way from the
high plateaus to the deep Cañon of the Colorado. As we pass from terrace
to terrace, the scene is constantly changing; not only in the bolder and
grander masses which dominate the landscape, but in every detail and
accessory as well: in the tone of the color-masses, in the vegetation,
and in the spirit and subjective influences of the scenery. The profile
of the Vermilion Cliffs is very complex, though conforming to a definite
type and composed of simple elements. While varying much in different
localities, it never loses its typical character. The cliffs consist of
an ascending series of vertical ledges, rising story above story, with
intervening slopes covered with heaps of rocks, through which project
their fretted edges. The composite effect given by the multiple cliffs
and sloping water-tables rising tier above tier, is highly
architectural, and shows in striking contrast with the rough and craggy
aspect of the cliffs of other regions. This effect is much increased by
the aberrant manner in which the wall advances in promontories or
recedes in alcoves, and by the wings and gables that jut out from every
lateral face. In many places side cañons have cut the terrace platforms
deeply, and open in magnificent gate-ways upon the broad desert plain in
front. We look into them from afar, wonderingly and questioningly, with
our fancy pleased to follow their windings until their sudden turns
carry them into distant, unseen depths. In other places the cliffs verge
into towering buttes, rearing their unassailable summits into the
clouds, rich with the aspiring forms of a pure Gothic type, and flinging
back in red and purple the intense sunlight that is poured upon them.
Could the imagination blanch those colors, it might compare them with
vast icebergs, sent from the face of a glacier and floating majestically
out to sea.

Grand, glorious, sublime, are the pictorial cliffs of vermilion hue; yet
a more magnificent spectacle is presented by an unfolding of the
panorama that stretches southward, revealing as it does the heavenly
crowned and resplendently painted temples and towers of the Virgin. Here
the slopes, the serpentine ledges, and the bosses of projecting rock,
interlarded with scanty soil, display all the colors of the rainbow, and
in the distance may be likened to the painter’s palette. The bolder
tints are of maroon, purple, chocolate, magenta and lavender, with broad
bands of white laid in horizontal belts. The cañon proper is 7,000 feet
deep here, but less than two miles beyond it stands the central and
commanding object of this sublime painting, the glorious western temple
that looms up 4,000 feet above the rapid river. This, however, is only
the foreground of a matchless panorama, for right opposite are a mighty
throng of structures wrought in the same exalted style, separated by two
principal forks of the Virgin, known as the Parunuweap and the
Mukuntuweap, or Little Zion Valley. At one point the two side cañons
swing around and form a junction, where the walls break into giant
pediments covered with the most remarkable and picturesque carvings. The
sumptuous, bewildering and mazy effects are boldly discernible; but
detail is lost when attempt is made to analyze it. The flank of the wall
receding up the Mukuntuweap is similarly sculptured and decorated for
two miles, and then changes into new kaleidoscopic forms still more
wonderful and impressive. A row of towers half a mile high is sculptured
out of the palisade, and stands in relief before its face. There is an
eloquence in their forms which stirs the imagination with a singular
power, and kindles in even the dullest mind a glowing response. Just
behind them, and rising a thousand feet higher, is the eastern temple,
crowned with a cylindric dome of white sandstone. Directly in front is a
complex group of white towers, springing from a central pile and
mounting to the clouds. The highest peak in this cumulus mass is almost
pure white, with brilliant streaks of carmine descending its vertical
walls, while the truncated summit is a deep red.

Nothing can exceed the wondrous beauty of Little Zion Valley, which
separates the two temples and their respective groups of towers. In its
proportions it is probably equal to Yosemite, but it very far exceeds
that natural wonder in the nobility and beauty of sculpturing. We are
not surprised that a Mormon zealot gave to this cañon the name of Little
Zion, since the scenery is so imposing as to immediately and powerfully
suggest those “houses not built with hands.”

Far to the westward is to be seen the last palisade, lifting its
imposing front behind an army of towers and domes to an altitude of more
than 3,000 feet. Beyond it the view changes quickly, for it passes at
once into the Great Basin, which to this region is another world.

The passage of the Grand Cañon of the Colorado, that most fearful,
colossal and extraordinary chasm in all the world’s surface, was
completed on August 29th, the perils which beset the explorers being
constant and the hardest work unremitting. Nor was it accomplished
without great sacrifice. The dangers so increased that three of the men
deserted, whose fate, however, was most tragic, for they were shortly
afterwards murdered by Indians. Starvation threatened the party, for
repeated capsizing of the boats resulted in the loss of nearly all their
provisions, while exposure brought on illness, so that the men were in a
desperate situation when they finally emerged from the jaws of the cañon
and found succor among some hospitable Indians.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  FALLS OF THE PARUNUWEAP.—The Parunuweap is a wady, or dry bed, during
    a great part of the year, but which carries in season much of the
    rainfall of southwest Colorado into the San Juan River, and thence
    into Colorado River. Throughout a great part of its length the bed
    of Parunuweap is a cañon of enormous depth and precipitous sides,
    into which, at frequent intervals, streams that are suddenly swollen
    by heavy rains pour their overflow. The illustration above shows one
    of these temporary falls, flowing in large volume over a precipice
    of the cañon that is nearly perpendicular and quite 200 feet high.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                              CHAPTER IV.
                      MARVELS OF THE GREAT DESERT.


[Illustration: TWIN LAKES, COTTONWOOD CAÑON, UTAH.]

Grand River valley is followed by the railroad from a point about forty
miles north of Leadville for a distance of nearly two hundred miles, and
until State Line is reached, when the road cuts across the plains of
Utah, which are relieved by little diversity of landscape until Mount
Nebo, of the Wasatch range, breaks into view. The scenery along Grand
River is, however, extremely beautiful, being very rugged and at times
mountainous. The road leads through several cañons that have very high
vertical walls, around ledges, over bridges, and takes an occasional
plunge into the midnight of tunnels bored through solid granite. The
landscape which meets the traveler’s vision when he reaches Utah is very
different from that which characterizes Colorado, the difference being
apparent almost when the border is reached. After passing the plateau
the route is by Provo Lake, where the region becomes broken, and near-by
are lofty ledges, over one of which rushes a pellucid stream that is
formed by melting snows from the adjacent mountains. Provo Falls is a
beautiful sheet of water, dashing down a height of forty feet and then
spreading away until lost in Provo Lake.

The Wasatch range is now plainly visible, coasting the eastern shore of
Great Salt Lake, and winding around to the southwest until they enclose
a valley that by Mormon industry has been converted into a veritable
paradise, ramified as it is by canals that render it prolific with
nearly everything that fertile soil can produce.

The Wasatch range forms one of the most important topographical features
of the Cordilleran system; in fact, it marks the central line of
elevation of this great mountain region, and is the dividing ridge
between the arid interior basins of Nevada and the high and relatively
well-watered plateau country that drains into the Gulf of California.
All the mountain formations here are on a scale of universal magnitude,
while in their structure are to be seen the effects of dynamic forces,
which have folded and twisted thousands of feet of solid rock as if they
were as pliable as so many sheets of paper. To the westward the range
presents a bold, abrupt escarpment, rising suddenly out of the plains of
the Utah basin, and attains its greatest elevation within a couple of
miles of its western base. To the eastward it slopes off very gradually,
forming a succession of broad ridges and mountain valleys whose waters
drain into the Great Salt Lake through cañons and gorges cut through its
main western ridge. The altitude is from 10,000 to 12,000 feet above sea
level, so that snow is continuous on the summits, while a condensation
of the eastward moving atmospheric currents, produced by the chill on
the mountain peaks, furnishes a constant supply of water to the mountain
streams, and from which the valleys derive their exceptional fertility.
A view of the range, as observed from one of the islands in Salt Lake,
presents a mountain wall more than 100 miles in length, of delicately
varied outline, the upper portion wrapped in a mantle of snow, but
dotted with patches of pine revealing all the intricacies of its rocky
structure, and cut through at short intervals by deep cañon gashes of
rare grandeur and beauty. A striking feature is presented in the old
lake terraces which mark the former beach-line of ancient Lake
Bonneville, of which the uppermost is 940 feet above the level of the
present lake, and can be traced with few interruptions from one end of
the range to the other. Lake Bonneville was formerly the great inland
sea of which Great Salt Lake is now a part. It covered nearly one-sixth
of what is now Utah territory, and there is evidence that it was
connected with the sea by an arm extending to the Gulf of California.
The upheaval of mountains through volcanic action reduced its bed and
gradually confined its waters to the lower basin of what afterwards came
to be known, because of its saline waters, as the Great Salt Lake.

[Illustration: BLACK ROCK, GREAT SALT LAKE.]

As early as 1689 mention was made of this remarkable lake, which was
somewhat indefinitely located and described by Baron La Houtan, “lord-
lieutenant of the French colony at Placentia, in New Foundland,” in a
work which was first published in the English language in 1735. But
though known at such an early day, it was not until 1849 that a survey
of the lake was made by Howard Stansbury, captain of topographical
engineers, U. S. A., though General John C. Fremont circumnavigated it
in 1844, giving names to its several islands and prominent points. The
settlement of Mormons in the Salt Lake Valley, near the shores of the
lake, served to bring the Dead Sea of America into prominence, and to
this fact was largely due the action of the Government in ordering a
survey of the great basin to be made. The lake was found to be nearly
eighty miles long by fifty broad, and to contain such a quantity of
salt, sulphates of silver, chlorides of magnesium, potash and alum, that
its solid contents were about four times greater than that of ocean
water, while its specific gravity almost equalled that of the Dead Sea.
Having no outlet the lake has a fluctuating level, dependent upon the
amount of inflowing water and solar evaporation, which varies each
season, but though theoretically the lake ought to be diminishing, the
fact remains that it is rather increasing, showing marked encroachment
on the eastern shores, while on the west there is an apparent recession
of its waters, a peculiarity not easily explained.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  UTALINE, OR LINE OF DIVISION BETWEEN UTAH AND COLORADO.—It was a
    poetic as well as an artistic idea that led to the marking of the
    division line between Utah and Colorado upon the everlasting hills.
    It is a place of interest to all tourists, who never fail to comment
    upon it and admire the execution of the idea as the trains pass by.
    A path has been worn on the rocky side of the hills by the numerous
    tourists who have personally visited the place, and in the
    photograph we see an enthusiastic traveler returning to the waiting
    train after satisfying his curiosity.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: THE TEMPLE, SALT LAKE CITY.]

There are a number of islands in Salt Lake, the two largest being
Antelope and Stansbury, which rise abruptly to a height of 3,000 feet,
terminating in rocky ridges that range north and south, and from which a
marvelously beautiful view is had of the surrounding scenery, varied by
towering peaks, boundless plains, fields of grain, irrigating ditches,
prosperous farm houses, and away to the southeast a delightful vision of
Salt Lake City. Other islands in the lake are those known as Gunnison,
Fremont, Carrington, Dolphin, Black Rock, Mud, Egg, Hat, and several
others that are so insignificant as to appear to be unworthy of any
name. The total area covered by the lake is about 2,500 square miles, or
nearly 400 square miles more than the State of Delaware, and its
elevation above the sea is 4,000 feet.

But if Great Salt Lake is one of the prime curiosities of America, its
municipal namesake may well claim the distinction of being one of the
artificial wonders of our land. Salt Lake City is the sublime result of
Mormon persecution, having been founded by that alien sect in 1847. The
history of their expulsion from Nauvoo, Illinois, and Gallatin,
Missouri, is familiar to every school-boy, yet there will ever linger
about the story of their flight, across the winter-swept plains of Iowa
and the icy prairies of Nebraska, to the desert lands of Utah, a glamour
of romance, second in interest to that of the exile of the Acadians, as
told by Longfellow in _Evangeline_.

In this valley of desolation, as it then appeared, Brigham Young, the
Moses of his people, founded a city and re-established a hierarchy which
has persisted and prospered to a degree that invites the world’s
amazement. By industry as remarkable as it was well directed, the desert
was converted into an oasis, and the bare earth, with its poverty of
sand and sage-brush, was made to cover its nakedness with the green
vestures of almost unexampled fecundity.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  PROVO FALLS, NEAR PROVO CITY, UTAH.—There is perhaps not in the whole
    world a more beautiful sheet of water than Provo Falls. It plunges
    over a precipice forty feet high, striking boulders on the way that
    break it into jets and misty lace-work which reflect and re-reflect
    the sun’s rays in a thousand brilliant and ever-varying colors and
    tints, until the beholder is entranced with the loveliness of the
    vision. During the wet season, when the volume of water is greater,
    the falls are even more beautiful than they are represented in this
    photograph, but under the most adverse circumstances they are lovely
    enough to satisfy the most critical taste. Provo Falls constitute
    one of the chief attractions of Utah scenery.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The town thus established under harsh conditions grew into the stature
of a city, whose very isolation seemed to contribute to its prosperity.
For the first score of years the place was in nearly all respects one of
refuge, where the church was dominant and where priestcraft and polygamy
were the two institutions upon which the life of the sect depended. We
are not surprised, therefore, to find that the first great building
erected in Salt Lake City was a tabernacle, with a seating capacity for
12,000 persons, the largest hall without pillar supports in the world,
and that next to this a tithing house was built, for it was a principle
with the Mormons that the church should be supported by levies upon the
communicants of one-tenth of their annual profits, whether such earnings
came from the soil, merchandise or the trades. Then followed the
building of an endowment house, where the rites of the church were
celebrated; and besides a residence for the president or chief priest,
there was erected a structure known as the Bee-Hive, for the
accommodation of Brigham Young’s harem, also an assembly hall, and
lastly a Grand Temple, costing nearly $3,000,000, which, after twenty
years, is just now approaching completion.

[Illustration: BEE-HIVE HOUSE, SALT LAKE CITY.]

The City of Salt Lake, with a population of 44,000, is about seven miles
from the southeastern shore of the lake, is beautifully laid out with
streets 132 feet wide, the gutters of which are kept clean by the
constant running of pure water through them, brought down from the
Wasatch range and conducted thence through a myriad of ditches to
irrigate the soil.

Salt Lake City is one of the chief military posts of the United States,
and Fort Douglas, situated about five miles from the city, on a gently
sloping hillside at the termination of Red Butte Cañon, is a delightful
place and commands an unobstructed view of the entire valley. A mile
toward the south is Emigrant Cañon, from which point it is said the
Mormon pioneers first caught sight of the verdureless plain which they
were destined to convert into a very Eden of productiveness. One of the
greatest attractions in the neighborhood of the city (about eighteen
miles distant) is a noted bathing resort called Garfield Beach which,
during the summer season, is visited by thousands of persons who there
indulge the incomparable luxury of a bath in the marvelous Dead Sea of
America. The water is so buoyant that those who have not mastered the
art of swimming find equal sport with those who are most expert, for
they can lie on the delicious waves and be rocked like a child in its
cradle, without putting forth any effort whatever. Just back of
Garfield’s Beach is a great cavern in the Oquirrah Mountain side known
as the Giant’s Cave, the entrance to which is some 300 feet above the
lake level, though it is plainly evident that in former years the
opening was submerged. When the cave was discovered, in 1860, it was
found to contain several complete human skeletons, recklessly disposed,
as though they were the victims of slaughter or starvation. It was a
custom among the Utes to place their dead in caves and in hollows among
the rocks, but the irregularity of the positions of the skeletons found
in Giant’s Cave lends plausibility to the belief that the remains are
those of a band of Indians who, having taken refuge there, were
exterminated by their more powerful enemies.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  DOUBLE CIRCLE, NEAR EUREKA, UTAH.—This photograph is interesting to
    lovers of mountain scenery as well as railway engineers. The distant
    hazy mountains form a soft and beautiful background, with their dark
    sides and white, snow-crowned peaks; while in the foreground we
    behold as fine an example of railroad engineering as can be seen
    anywhere in the world. In climbing the mountains it is necessary for
    the tracks to wind and zigzag and cross themselves back and forth,
    until the train which first passes beneath the bridge a few minutes
    later dashes across the top of it a hundred feet or more higher up.
    It is exceedingly interesting to occupy a point where the whole
    scene is in view and watch a train pursuing its devious way around
    and over this portion of the track.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: BRIGHAM YOUNG’S GRAVE, SALT LAKE CITY.]

About forty miles north of Salt Lake City, and on the main line of the
Union Pacific Railroad, are two remarkable chasms known as Echo and
Weber Cañons, which are not only sublimely grand by reason of their
lofty and often vertical walls, but are also marvelously curious on
account of the weird formations which distinguish them. The first one
reached on our trip from Salt Lake was Weber Cañon, which invites
attention and admiration not so much by beetling cliffs as by its great
variety of scenery and the kaleidoscopic changes which appear at every
hundred yards of advance into it. The cañon is not always narrow, nor
are the walls invariably high, for there is a succession of all kinds of
mountain scenery, including stretches of beautiful meadow land and
fertile fields wrapped about the feet of giant peaks; colossal gate-ways
leading into dark defiles; mighty summits breaking way through
cloudland; slopes covered with pine and aspen; and ridges that appear to
have been fashioned by gods of war into towers, bastions and crenelated
battlements. Weber River has forged its way through this chasm, and
along its sinuous and rocky bed the railroad runs, sometimes cutting
under an overhanging ledge, again almost scraping the sides of the walls
that swing so near together, then leaping out of night-infested chasms
into broadening valleys that are green and russet with prolific
fruitage. While admiring the peaceful landscape and contemplating the
happy environments that render the valley a place of delightful
habitation, our dreamy reflections are suddenly disturbed by a sight of
what seems to have been most appropriately named The Devil’s Slide, a
formation whose singularity entitles it to consideration as one of
nature’s marvels. The hill upon the side of which this unique wonder
occurs is about 800 feet high, composed of a dark red sandstone, whose
face has been scarred by some internal disturbance that has caused to be
cast up from the base two gray parallel walls of white sandstone, which
rise to a varying height of twenty to forty feet above the general
surface of the hill, and are not more than twenty feet apart. This
remarkable slide begins at the summit and continues to the base, where
it is reflected in the clear waters of Weber River, opposite Lost Creek,
producing a vision that is weirdly grotesque and sublimely curious.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  CASTLE GATE IN PRICE’S CAÑON, UTAH.—We observe in this photograph not
    only a castle gate but the castle itself, with its battlements and
    buttresses, as natural and picturesque as any of the ruins that lend
    their attractions to mediæval Europe. The scene is a grand one as we
    observe it from the railroad tracks, and to this grandeur there is
    added a vision of indescribable loveliness when the surrounding
    country is viewed from the dizzy heights of the castle walls. Such a
    view is one that never can be forgotten; it impresses itself upon
    the mind as a permanent and lasting memory. All tourists who have
    been this way will instantly recognize their old friend, the castle
    gate, in this splendid photograph.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: JOSEPHINE FALLS, BEAR CREEK, UTAH.]

“Echo Cañon,” says an English traveler, “is a superb defile. It moves
along like some majestic poem in a series of incomparable stanzas. There
is nothing like it in the Himalayas that I know of, nor in the Suliman
range. In the Bolan Pass, on the Afghan frontier, there are intervals of
equal sublimity; and even as a whole it may compare with it. But taken
for all in all—its length (some thirty miles), its astonishing diversity
of contour, its beauty as well as its grandeur—I confess that Echo Cañon
is one of the masterpieces of Nature.”

One of the first objects which claims particular attention near the
entrance to the cañon from the west is Pulpit Rock, which is near the
village of Echo. This projection receives its name from its suggestive
appearance as well as from the popular tradition that Brigham Young
occupied it to preach his first sermon in Utah. The rocks and precipices
which line the way are variegated with subdued tints, heightened by the
pronounced coloring of the mountain vegetation that covers the slopes
and spreads out in occasional level tracts at the base. Remarkable and
often fantastic formations diversify the cañon, which for their fancied
resemblance to artificial things have received such appellations as
Steamboat Rock, Gibraltar, Monument Rock, etc. Our further advance
brings into view towering cliffs that seem to be suspended from the sky,
and again the walls reach over the way like mighty claws, and exhibit
their serrated peaks in a series of ruins that in the distance conjure
the imagination and present a vision of monoliths, temples, galleries
and castles, such as bestrew the old world. Hanging Rock and Castle Rock
are two specially bold promontories that give suggestion of Nilotic and
Rhenish ruins, a verisimilitude that is intensified by the knowledge
that when Johnston invaded Utah in 1857 the Mormons fortified many of
the cliffs of both Weber and Echo Cañons, the fading wrecks of these
structures being still visible.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  MOUNT NEBO, WASATCH RANGE.—Mount Nebo is about sixty miles almost due
    south of Salt Lake City, and about twenty-five miles south of Provo.
    Its snow-covered summit may be seen for a hundred miles or more, for
    the atmosphere of this region is so clear that the vision has almost
    an unlimited range. This mountain, as well as many other points and
    places in Utah, was named by the Mormons on account of its fancied
    likeness to its celebrated Old Testament namesake. It is one of the
    finest mountain scenes in the whole Western country.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: PULPIT ROCK, WEBER CAÑON.]

Church Buttes and The Witches present a strange conglomeration in
uniting religion with superstition, for they appeal to the two strongest
attributes of human nature. From the west the “Witches” first come into
view, a group of fantastically-wrought images that appear like chaotic
creations, the rock-carved dreams of distempered boyhood, the feverish
personations of old Granny Bunch’s tales. There they stand, like an
assemblage of weazened and wrinkled wizards plotting some scheme of
diabolism, though everlastingly anchored to the eternal hillsides,
where, like Giant Grim, they can do nothing more than make faces at
passers-by.

Church Buttes are more harmonious in their outlines, as well as massive
in their proportions, simulating as they do cathedrals and meeting
houses, some with towers and spires, and others of less ostentatious
architecture, but all bearing some intimation of a worshipful purpose.
But these curious efforts of nature are not confined to the cañons
named, nor a limited district, for directly north of Green River, and
reached by a Government trail leading to Yellowstone Park, are what are
known as the Bridges and Washakie Basins of Bad Lands, a region that is
remarkable for its capricious formations, the results of upheavals,
glacial scouring, and erosions by wind and water. This district of
marvelous forms is a part of Fremont county, covering an area of twenty
by twenty-five miles. The country is a mixture of limestones, shales and
calcareous sandstones, with occasional green clays, marls, and whitish
sand, the latter often drifting into long dunes. Towards the south end
of this dry valley there is a chain of bluff escarpments, extending
about fourteen miles, and it is in these escarpments that the most
remarkable examples of Bad Land erosions are to be found. The ridges
rise 300 feet above the valley and present a series of abrupt, nearly
vertical faces, worn into innumerable architectural forms, with detached
pillars standing like monoliths some distance from the walls. Along the
dry ravines the same curiously picturesque forms occur, so that a view
of the whole front of the escarpment, with its salient angles, bears a
striking resemblance to the ruins of a fortified city. Enormous masses
project from the main wall, the stratifications of cream, gray and green
sands are traced across their nearly vertical fronts like courses of
immense masonry, and every face is scoured by innumerable narrow, sharp
cuts, which are worn into the soft material from top to bottom of the
cliff, offering narrow galleries which give access for a considerable
distance into this labyrinth of natural fortresses. At a little
distance, these sharp incisions seem like the spaces between series of
pillars, and the whole aspect of the region is that of a line of
Egyptian structures. Among the most interesting bodies are those of the
detached outliers, points of spurs, or isolated hills, which are mere
relics of the beds that formerly covered the whole valley. These
monoliths, often reaching 100 feet in height, rise out of the smooth
surface of a level plain of clay, and are sculptured into the most
surprising forms, surmounted by domes and ornamented by many buttresses
and jutting pinnacles.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  OLDEST HOUSE IN SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH.—Whether or not this is actually
    the oldest house in Salt Lake City might be a disputed question, for
    when it comes to ancient things, or to the oldest inhabitant, we
    generally find that there are several claimants for the honor. But
    we can say with sincerity and truth that this is one of the oldest
    representative houses of the Mormon capital. It is one of the better
    class, erected immediately after the city was laid out, and it has
    been occupied continuously ever since. The house and its
    surroundings have an air of quiet restfulness that is exceedingly
    inviting, and a tired man could sleep like a new-born infant under
    the board roof with the rain pattering down upon it.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: WITCH ROCKS, WEBER CAÑON.]

Clarence King, U. S. Geologist, in a monograph on the Bad Lands, says:
“It is not altogether easy to account for the peculiar character of this
erosion, resulting as it does in such singular vertical faces and spire-
like forms. A glance at the front of these Bad Lands shows at once that
very much of the resultant forms must be the effect of rain and wind-
storms. The small streams which cut down across the escarpment from the
interior of the plateau, do the work of severing the front into detached
blocks; but the final forms of these blocks themselves are probably in
great measure given by the effect of rain and wind erosion. The material
is so exceedingly fine, that under the influence of trickling waters it
cuts down most easily in vertical lines. A semi-detached block,
separated by two lateral ravines, becomes quickly carved into spires and
domes, which soon crumble down to the level of the plain. It seems
probable that some of the most interesting forms are brought out by a
slightly harder stratum near the top of the cliffs (like the strange,
and often uncouth, examples in Monument Park, Colorado), which acts in a
measure as a protector of the softer materials, and prevents them from
taking the mound-forms that occur when the beds are of equal hardness.”

As we follow down Green River, the same effects are observable in the
vertical bluffs which extend along the shores, images to which fancy has
given such names as the Devil’s Tea-pot, the Giant’s Club, Vermilion
Cliffs, and many others, for the geologic structure is the same through
nearly the whole of southeast Wyoming. But the so-called Bad Lands are
not wholly confined to Wyoming, for they are met with in both North and
South Dakota, west of the Missouri River; though for beauty and
magnitude, those of Wyoming are incomparable.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  MORMON TITHING HOUSE, SALT LAKE CITY.—This is one of the houses
    occupied by Brigham Young during his lifetime as a residence and for
    office purposes. We presume from the name that it was also the
    appointed place for the payment of tithes by his devoted followers,
    and if this is true we can safely estimate that many millions of
    dollars were carried through its gates and deposited in the coffers
    of the Church as a tribute from ignorance and superstition to the
    superiority of cunning and avarice. The Mormon leaders have all been
    shrewd money getters and have not overlooked themselves while taking
    care of the interests of the Lord.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: HANGING ROCK, AMERICAN FORK CAÑON.]

From Green River Station we doubled our track and returned to Ogden,
where we took some very beautiful views of Ogden Cañon, the Narrows,
Adam’s Falls, and the mountains that soar very far skyward at the city’s
rear. But our stay here was limited to two days, when we took the Oregon
branch of the Union Pacific for a visit to Shoshone Falls, on Snake
River, which for size as well as magnificence takes a position second
only to our world-wonderful Niagara.

Directly after leaving Ogden the road enters the valley of Bear River,
which it follows as far north as Weston Falls, a distance of about
seventy-five miles. The scenery along this part of the route is almost
as rugged as that of Weber Cañon, being a succession of cañons and
lovely stretches of level lands brought into the highest state of
cultivation by Mormon industry. At Pocatello the road branches, one of
its iron arms extending northward to Helena, while the main line turns
westwardly to Oregon. The district which it penetrates after leaving
Pocatello is desert-like and devoid of interest almost to the western
limits of Idaho, if we except the point where the road crosses Snake
River. Here the American Falls go brawling and boiling over immense
basaltic rocks that are struggling with the impetuous stream, and whose
tops are flecked with tufts of foam thrown up by mad-dashing waves. But
the waters have not yet worn a chasm through the desert, which spreads
away on either side a level plain, until forty-four miles distant the
dreary monotony is broken by three buttes that rise into view out of the
uninviting landscape. We now enter a region that is somber beyond all
power to describe; a wretched desolation that is relieved by no
vegetation save of sage-brush, which straggles through little rifts in
the earth and barely lifts its head above the surface. These are the
lava beds that extend from Beaver Cañon all along the north side of
Snake River, until they lose themselves in the stream where it turns due
north and draws a boundary line between Idaho and Oregon. The land
appears to have been cursed with such a fire as destroyed Gomorrah, for
the eye wanders over nothing but the fiery sputa of volcanoes, that,
having wrought the fullest destruction, were in turn destroyed.
Everywhere we look there greets our vision waves of lava that lashed the
earth until, tired of their devastating work, they became congealed, or
were arrested by the hand of omnipotence. But between the knolls of
scoria are occasional depressions, which are cross-seamed and cracked
until in many places the fissures are hundreds of feet deep, apparently
extending in depth to the very vitals of the earth. Some of the crevices
are only a few inches in width, while there are others several feet
broad, into which creeks have lost themselves, and lead into bottomless
pits.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  THE DEVIL’S SLIDE, WEBER CAÑON.—This great natural curiosity is in
    Weber Cañon, about forty miles north of Salt Lake City. It is
    composed of two parallel walls of white sandstone, thrown up by some
    ancient convulsion of the earth, which stand out in bold contrast
    with the dark red sandstone of the hill. The “Slide” is nearly 800
    feet in length, the walls rising to a varying height of twenty to
    forty feet above the general surface of the hill. A few feet to the
    left of the “Slide” there is another wall of similar formation, but
    almost covered by the accumulated washings of centuries. It is a
    pity that so remarkable a curiosity should have received so profane
    an appellation; but we presume there would be no regrets if the
    devil should be required to take a hasty run down the top of the
    ragged and jutting walls of his famous slide.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: TEA-POT ROCK, GREEN RIVER.]

It is a little more than one hundred miles from Pocatello to Shoshone
Station, at which point we left the train, and by private conveyance
struck across the lava fields, a distance of twenty-five miles due
south, over the dustiest wagon-road that mortal ever traveled. The way
is like a switch-back, up and down over sharp waves of lava, with
desolation and discomfort obtrusive companions, and nothing rising above
the dull undulations except a purplish tint in the horizon, marking with
faint intimation a range of mountains one hundred miles away in Utah.
For more than four hours we traversed this wearying stretch of parched
and begrimed desert, without a sign of the river, until at length
turning the base of a higher ridge we came suddenly upon the brink of a
tremendous chasm, and there, 1,200 feet below our feet, was the river
which we had journeyed so far to view. Long before reaching this
objective point, we had heard a deep, rumbling noise that seemed to
emanate from the earth’s internals, but now, with astounded sense of the
awful, we beheld the cause. There before us was the vexed waters of a
large river pouring over two precipices, the first 82 feet and the
second 210 feet high, producing by the final plunge a colossal caldron,
from which the mists rose up in boiling clouds that ever and anon hid
the falls from sight.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  PULPIT ROCK, ECHO CAÑON, UTAH.—This singular overhanging rock, with
    the reading stand in front, has been known as Pulpit Rock since the
    early days of Mormonism in Utah, owing to the fact that it was used
    by Brigham Young as a pulpit in the delivery of his first sermon
    within the present limits of that territory. But it is not for this
    reason that we include it in GLIMPSES OF AMERICA, for we have no
    sympathy whatever with Mormonism or its doctrines. The rock is one
    of the prominent curiosities of Utah, and as such it is here
    represented. The surrounding scenery is very beautiful, with
    glimpses of the winding river and the rolling hills as a background.
    It is a favorite resort for tourists, both on account of the scenic
    beauties and the healthfulness of the pure western air.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: MAIDEN OF THE BAD LANDS.]

A glance at this tremendous waterfall more than compensated for all the
annoyances and discomforts that we had endured. It was a scene of
positively bewildering majesty; a vision of the incomparably grand; an
object lesson teaching the mightiness and mysterious ways of God. In the
deep diapason of its voice we recognized nature’s hallelujah, and the
thunderous boom of its plungings was like a chorus of invocation welling
from a million throats. Its lovely grandeur, bursting out of the heart
of desolation, is the personification of powerful, awe-inspiring
sublimity, an exaltation of deity, an inspiration to the soul, a very
glorification and apotheosis of nature.

[Illustration: WITCH ROCK, BAD LANDS OF WYOMING.]

Pausing on the bank to contemplate and measure the colossal wonder of
the falls, we saw the emerald stream gliding along as placidly as though
its mission was one of peace; nor was there any appearance of danger to
the ferryman, who operated his boat by an over-head wire cable stretched
from bank to bank, only 200 yards above. The quiet flow, however, was
better understood when we learned that the river here is 200 feet deep;
a very ocean filling a mighty chasm; an inundated cañon whose volume of
water equals that of a dozen Niagaras, for this tremendous gorge extends
a distance of eighteen miles, and its bottom lies under the river 1,400
feet below the brink.

Shoshone Falls proper are 950 feet wide at the point of precipitation,
but only a few yards to the rear of it are Bridal Veil Falls, whose
width is 125 feet, and which constitute the first plunge or precipice,
which in turn is broken into a series of minor cascades, known as Bridal
Train and Natural Mill Race Falls, the divisions being produced by the
interposition of Eagle Rock and Bell’s Island. One mile and a half below
the cataract are Cascade Falls, while three miles above are Twin Falls,
which leap down a height of 180 feet, thus showing that there is a space
of nearly five miles in which the tremendous chasm has been torn by
convulsions which most probably occurred after the river was turned into
its bed. An exquisite word-painting by the journalistic pen of Hon. C.
C. Goodwin is here reproduced:

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: MONUMENT ROCK, ECHO CAÑON.]

[Illustration: GIANT’S CLUB, GREEN RIVER.]

These two natural curiosities, the one in Echo Cañon and the other near
Green River, have been well named, for a glance at either immediately
suggests its proper use. Their immensity can be estimated by the size of
the man who stands at the foot of the Club, who, although he is taller
than the average of his race, is hardly able to reach to the first
wrinkle on the giant’s weapon.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: BANKS OF SNAKE RIVER.]

“The lava beds of Idaho are a marked feature of that Territory. Starting
near the eastern boundary, they extend southwesterly for a long
distance, and are from 300 feet to 900 feet in depth. This mass was once
a river of molten fire, the making of which must have succeeded a
convulsion of nature more terrible than any ever witnessed by mortals,
and long years must have passed before the awful fiery mass was cooled.
To the east of the source of the lava flow, the Snake River bursts out
of the hills, becoming almost at once a sovereign river, and flowing at
first southwesterly and then bending westerly, cuts through the lava
fields nearly in the center of the Territory, reckoned from east to
west, and about forty miles north of its southern border, and thence
flowing with great curves, merges finally with the Columbia. The two
rivers combined make one of the chief waterways of the continent, and
here and there take on pictures of great beauty. Never anywhere else was
there such a scene; never anywhere else was so beautiful a picture hung
in so rude a frame; never anywhere else, on a background so forbidding
and weird, were so many glories clustered. Around and beyond, there is
nothing but the desert—sere, silent, lifeless—as though Desolation had
builded there everlasting thrones to Sorrow and Despair.

[Illustration: BAD LANDS OF WYOMING.]

“Away back in remote ages, over the withered breast of the desert, a
river of fire, 100 miles wide and 400 miles long, was turned. As the
fiery mass cooled, its red waves became transfixed, and turned black,
giving to the double-desert an indescribably blasted and forbidding
face.

“But while this river of fire was in flow, a river of water was fighting
its way across it, or has since made war and forged out for itself a
channel through the mass. This channel looks like the grave of a volcano
that had been robbed of its dead. But right between its crumbling and
repellent walls, transfiguration appears. And such a picture! A river as
lordly as the Hudson or Ohio, springing from the distant snow-crested
Tetons, with waters transparent as glass, but green as emerald, with
majestic flow and ever-increasing volume, sweeps on until it reaches
this point where the display begins.

“Suddenly, in different places in the river-bed, jagged rocky reefs are
upheaved, dividing the current into four rivers, and these, in a mighty
plunge of eighty feet downward, dash on their way. Of course the waters
are churned into foam, and roll over the precipice white as are the
garments of the morning when no cloud obscures the sun. The loveliest of
these falls is called “The Bridal Veil,” because it is made of the lace
which is woven with a warp of falling waters and a woof of sunlight.
Above this and near the right bank, is a long trail of foam, and this is
called “The Bridal Trail.” The other channels are not so fair as the one
called “The Bridal Veil,” but they are more fierce and wild, and carry
in their ferocious sweep more power.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  WEBER VALLEY, AND TUNNEL THROUGH GRANITE WALLS, UTAH.—We have a
    beautiful landscape and a grand mountain view combined in this fine
    photograph. The rugged wall of granite, through which the railroad
    tunnel has been cut, forms an appropriate frame for the picture of
    the peaceful valley and the winding river. The place has a restful
    look, inviting to the weary worker who seeks rest and health away
    from the noise and hustle of city life. Here, shut in by the
    surrounding walls, and with rod in hand, one could sit upon the
    banks of the mirror-like stream and imagine himself out of the world
    and away from all its cares and worries. It seems almost a pity that
    the demands of modern commerce should require the cutting of the
    hill and the breaking of the solitude by the screaming of the
    rushing locomotive.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: PETRIFIED TREES OF THE BAD LANDS.]

“One of the reefs which divides the river in mid-channel runs up to a
peak, and on this a family of eagles have, through the years, may be
through centuries, made their home and reared their young, on the very
verge of the abyss and amid the full echoes of the resounding roar of
the falls. Surely the eagle is a fitting symbol of perfect fearlessness,
and of that exultation which comes with battle clamors.

“But these first falls are but a beginning. The greater splendor
succeeds. With swifter flow, the startled waters dash on, and within a
few feet take their second plunge into a solid crescent, over a sheer
precipice, 210 feet to the abyss below. On the brink there is a rolling
crest of white, dotted here and there, in sharp contrast, with shining
eddies of green, as might a necklace of emeralds shimmer on a throat of
snow, and then the leap and fall.

[Illustration: BEAUTIES OF THE BAD LANDS.]

“Here more than foam is made. Here the waters are shivered into fleecy
spray, whiter and finer than any miracle that ever fell from an India
loom; while from the depths below, an everlasting vapor rises—the
incense of the waters to the waters’ God. Finally, through the long,
unclouded days, the sun sends down his beams, and to give the startling
scene its growing splendor, wreathes the terror and the glory in a
rainbow halo. On either sullen bank the extremities of its arc are
anchored, and there in its many-colored robes of light it lies
outstretched above the abyss like wreaths of flowers above a sepulchre.
Up through the glory and terror an everlasting roar ascends, deep-toned
as is the voice of fate, a diapason like that the rolling ocean chants
when his eager surges come rushing in to greet and fiercely woo an
irresponsive promontory.

[Illustration: CEDAR CAÑON, BAD LANDS OF DAKOTA.]

“But to feel all the awe and to mark all the splendor and power that
comes of the mighty display, one must climb down the deep descent to the
river’s brink below, and pressing up as nearly as possible to the falls,
contemplate the tremendous picture. There, something of the energy that
creates that endless panorama is comprehended; all the deep throbbings
of the mighty river’s pulses are felt, all the magnificence is seen. In
the reverberations that come of the war of waters, one hears something
like God’s voice; something like the splendor of God is before his eyes;
something akin to God’s power is manifesting itself before him, and his
soul shrinks within itself, conscious, as never before, of its own
littleness and helplessness in the presence of the workings of Nature’s
immeasurable forces.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  THE BLUFFS OF GREEN RIVER, UTAH.—If the traveler should come suddenly
    in front of the towering bluff to the right, with its striped and
    pillared front, it would require no great stretch of the imagination
    for him to conclude that he was sailing up the ancient Nile and
    viewing the ruins of Thebes or some other of the great cities that
    flourished with life and commerce many centuries ago, but now sit in
    solemn silence contemplating the glory of the dead past. This scene
    is a very striking one, and the splendid photograph does it full
    justice. It stands on the printed page just as nature made it,
    solemn, grand and silent. There is something really sphinxlike in
    the wrinkled front of the large bluff in the foreground.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: MOYEA FALLS, IDAHO.]

“Not quite so massive is the picture as is Niagara, but it has more
lights and shades and loveliness, as though a hand more divinely skilled
had mixed the tints, and with more delicate art had transfixed them upon
that picture suspended there in its rugged and somber frame. As one
watches, it is not difficult to fancy that, away back in the immemorial
and unrecorded past, the angel of love bewailed the fact that mortals
were to be given existence in a spot so forbidding, a spot that,
apparently, was never to be warmed with God’s smile, which was never to
make a sign through which God’s mercy was to be discerned; that then
omnipotence was touched, that with His hand He smote the hills and
started the great river in its flow; that with His finger He traced out
the channel across the corpse of that other river that had been fire,
mingled the sunbeams with the raging waters, and made it possible in
that fire-blasted frame of _scoria_ to swing a picture which should be,
first to the red man and later to the pale races, a certain sign of the
existence, the power, and the unapproachable splendor of Jehovah.

“And as the red man, through the centuries, watched the spectacle,
comprehending nothing except that an infinite voice was smiting his
ears, and insufferable glories were blazing before his eyes; so, through
the centuries to come, the pale races will stand upon the shuddering
shore and watch, experiencing a mighty impulse to put off the sandals
from their feet, under an overmastering consciousness that the spot on
which they are standing is holy ground.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  SHOSHONE FALLS, IDAHO.—Shoshone Falls are in Snake River, in the
    southern part of Idaho, and they constitute one of the greatest
    curiosities of our western country. In some respects they resemble
    Niagara, and have accordingly been designated as the Niagara of the
    west. The place is rapidly becoming a popular resort for tourists,
    and this popularity will greatly increase as it becomes better
    known. The surrounding scenery is beautiful, consisting of prairie
    valleys fringed with distant mountains. A splendid description of
    the Falls is given on page 110 of GLIMPSES OF AMERICA.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: THE FERRY AT SHOSHONE FALLS.]

[Illustration: NATURAL BRIDGE, SHOSHONE FALLS.]

“There is nothing elsewhere like it, nothing half so weird, so
beautiful, so clothed in majesty, so draped with terror; nothing else
that awakens impressions at once so startling, so winsome, so profound.
While journeying through the desert, to come suddenly upon it, the
spectacle gives one something of the emotions that would be experienced
in beholding a resurrection from the dead. In the midst of what seems
like a dead world, suddenly there springs into irrepressible life
something so marvelous, so grand, so caparisoned with loveliness and
irresistible might, that the head is bowed, the strained heart throbs
tumultuously, and the awed soul sinks to its knees.” The time is fast
approaching when the sublime glories of Shoshone Falls will be
appreciated by tourists, and by that large class of summer vacationists
who are always searching for sights and places that will drive away the
_ennui_ from which they chiefly suffer. The beat of ocean billow, the
roar of waterfall, the stretch of landscape from lofty mountain peak,
the lonely quietude of glen and wilderness, each have their votaries;
but about Shoshone’s chasm there is more to charm than all of these, for
the very desolation of its environments adds fascination to the wild and
tameless scenery of the falls. The poet and the painter find here an
inspiration for their genius; while the most prosaic spectator is
thrilled by the matchless grandeur, the majestic awfulness of a mad-
cantering river plunging through a gigantic rent, and over a precipice
so high that the waters are scattered into mist and dissolve in rainbows
when they meet the seething caldron below. It is a strange exhibition of
nature’s power and freakishness, a manifestation of mysterious force, a
blending of results precipitated by vomiting volcano and an irresistible
flood of waters, the joining of rivers of fire with streams breaking
over the barriers of mountains and pouring down upon the plains.
Considering the surroundings, the bleak sterility of what appears to be
a boundless extent of lava fields, and the mighty, awe-compelling
avalanche of waters that cleaves it, Shoshone Falls is perhaps the most
remarkable waterfall to be found anywhere on either continent, a wonder
in which Snake River has an almost equal part. Indeed, this
extraordinary river exhibits many equally astonishing features along its
extreme length, for while a greater part of the stream flows through a
belt of scoria, the lower portion is a succession of waterfalls, second
only to those of Shoshone.

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                               CHAPTER V.
           OVER THE HEIGHTS AND INTO THE DEEPS OF WONDERLAND.


[Illustration: UNAWEEP CAÑON.]

Having satisfied our curiosity and embalmed the views of Shoshone Falls,
as here presented, our party of photographers and historiographer
returned to Colorado over the same route that we had come, but at Grand
Junction we proceeded southward over the Denver & Rio Grande Railroad to
Gunnison, Ouray and Tulleride. At Grand Junction, Grand River divides,
the southern branch of which is called Gunnison River, and takes its
rise in the Sagauche and Elk ranges; and it was along the valley of this
south branch that our route lay. It is characteristic of Colorado rivers
that all of them flow through large fissures, and a majority have cleft
the mountains into mighty chasms, thus producing the matchless scenery
which has helped so much to make the State famous. It fortunately
happens that the most picturesque places in the west are either directly
upon the lines or in the near vicinity of railroads, for necessity has
compelled their construction along the river valleys, since there are
few other passes in the mountains, and no other routes so feasible.

[Illustration: TOADSTOOL ROCK, NEAR GUNNISON.]

The scenery along the south branch of Grand River is very similar to
that which we have described on the main stream, and leaving Grand
Junction we almost immediately entered the Unaweep Cañon, thence in
succession Puniweep and Escalante. The road leaves the valley of the
main stream at Delta, and follows a smaller branch (Cedar River) a
distance of fifty or sixty miles, until Cimarron is reached, below the
southern terminus of the Mesa Verde. In this interval, and running along
the north side of the Mesa Verde—Green Plateau—is the Grand Cañon of the
Gunnison, a cleft in the earth that is magnificently imposing,
possessing as it does many of the characteristics of Grand River, though
the walls are of limestone and hence not so precipitous, as being more
easily eroded than granite, the base of the walls are cut until in many
places they shelve far over the stream, while at frequent intervals the
river is broken by cascades and waterfalls, those of Chippeta being
particularly beautiful.

[Illustration: BOX CAÑON FALLS, NEAR GUNNISON.]

Black Cañon, which begins near the town of Cimarron, is another wild
gorge, through which the river glides with stately and uninterrupted
majesty, a deep crystalline stream, until it passes Currecanti Needle,
when the smooth flow is interrupted by bowlders which convert it into a
rapid. Currecanti Needle is an object which excites the almost reverent
wonder of every beholder. It is a symmetrical cone of red basalt,
resting its feet in the Gunnison River and shooting up to an amazing
height, its summit terminating in a spire that pierces the clouds, while
its body is as variegated with bright colors as was Joseph’s coat. On
each side of the stream the bluffs reach up 2,000 feet, but the needle
soars very much more loftily, a great sachem among the stone giants that
stand in colossal files along the river. Near Sapinero, which is at the
eastern end of the cañon, the walls draw so near together that the light
of day is almost entirely excluded, but at places where the sun is
admitted they sparkle with dazzling lustre, caused by reflections from
the mica of which they are largely composed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  EAGLE ROCK, SHOSHONE FALLS.—The photograph on page 111 gives us a fine
    front view of Shoshone Falls, while on this page we see them from
    the side and just above the final plunge. The principal attraction
    in this picture is Eagle Rock, which occupies a prominent position
    in the foreground. On the top of the rock there is an eagle’s nest,
    from which many a young brood has taken its flight, for from all the
    indications the nest has been in existence for centuries. It is a
    fitting place for the fearless bird of freedom to rear its young,
    safe from the raids of wild animals and on the very brink of the
    dashing and roaring waters. Nothing but an eagle would dare approach
    such a place.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: PROFILE ROCK, NEAR OURAY.]

From Gunnison the road follows Tomachi Creek eastward, passing over a
country devoid of particular interest, except as views are afforded of
high mountains in the Fossil Ridge, Sagauche and Sangre de Cristo ranges
far away, until the ascent of Marshall’s Pass is begun. The road now
rises rapidly until it crosses the Rocky Mountains, at an elevation of
11,000 feet. But the ascent is indirect, in a serpentine course close to
the cone of Mount Ouray, which penetrates the depths of heaven, to a
height of 14,000 feet; so lofty that the sun shines brightly upon its
snow-covered summit, while the earth below is wrapped in the sable
garments of deepest night. Round and round, but in an ascending circle,
the laboring train makes its toilsome way, until we see the tracks below
us looking like a succession of terraces. At the apex we run through a
long tunnel of snow-sheds, through openings in which a view may be had
of the extinct crater of Ouray, while a hundred miles away towards the
south, and across a wide expanse of plain, the frosted ridge of Sangre
de Cristo is clearly visible through the tenuous air. The ride over this
great mountain is one of the most delightful and picturesque in all the
world, and leaves an impression which is as charming and fadeless as the
memory of a boy’s first triumph. After passing down the mountain side, a
short run brings us to Poncha Junction, at the entrance of the Valley of
the Arkansas, and a few miles further Salida is reached, a splendid
little town that is begirt with mountains, but reposes like a jewel in a
green sea of amazing fertility and beauty. As we rush eastward down this
lovely valley, some wondrous sights are viewable from our car. On the
right the Arkansas River bowls along close by the track, while far
beyond the horizon is belted with the Sangre de Cristo range. On our
left our eyes are gladdened with the sight of three bristling peaks,
known as Harvard, Princeton and Yale, which rise above their more humble
brothers in the Park range. The scene now undergoes a quick change, for
the valley becomes rapidly narrowed by the mountains drawing together,
as if to bar our passage; but as their seared sides and snowy crests
become more distinct by a closer approach, the scenery increases in
interest until soon it develops into positive grandeur. At Parkdale we
observe that the sloping sides of the mountains are becoming more abrupt
and rocky, until five miles beyond, the gigantic, the marvelous and the
terror-inspiring Royal Gorge bursts full upon our amazed and startled
senses. The colossal peak has been cut in twain; sliced by the
persistent waters of the Arkansas, that with remorseless jaws have eaten
through the heart of the giant mountain that lay down in its way; and
there the great gash breaks before us, into which the ravening river
rushes, with a growling voice and imperious dash, as reckless as a
bandit, and impetuous as a fiery youth. Pines and aspens struggle up the
mountain sides, but where the waters have split a way there is nothing
save vertical walls of stone that soar up, up, so high that it wearies
the sight to travel to their summits. There are seams and depressions in
their awful cliffs, and projections and cavities that show imprints of
the teeth of frost, and away up on these eagles have found resting
places, and built their eyries where only the storm-god can reach them.
Distance, as expressed in feet on paper, conveys scarcely an idea of
mountain height or cañon depth, for the awesome presence is lacking. But
the height of the walls of the Royal Gorge, or, as it is sometimes
called, the Grand Cañon of the Arkansas, is 3,000 feet, or more than
half a mile, while the chasm is only fifty feet wide where the river
rushes through, and but seventy feet at the summit. Three Eiffel towers,
set upon top of each other, would hardly reach the crown of these
tremendous cliffs, around the crests of which flying eagles look like
flies lazily swimming in a haze of distance. In order to avoid cutting a
road-bed through the base of the perpendicular cliffs, which come very
close together, an iron bridge has been thrown around the defile and
suspended by anchoring its sides in the granite walls, so that it has no
pillared supports, for none are needed. Upon this suspended bridge,
which runs parallel with and over the stream, every passenger train
stops for the space of several minutes to give opportunity for an
inspection of the Royal Gorge, which is most appalling and wonderful at
this point.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  MOUTH OF GRAND RIVER CAÑON.—In this photograph we see the beginning of
    the magnificent scenery of Grand River Cañon in Colorado and Utah.
    It is the doorway or portal to a series of the most splendid views
    to be found anywhere in the world. No one can realize the true
    grandeur of this western scenery without beholding it, and the next
    best thing to seeing it in reality is its reflected image in this
    series of matchless photographs, taken specially for this work. The
    camera is a mirror in which the objects are reflected true to
    nature, and this reflection is caught by the rays of the sun and
    printed indelibly and beautifully upon the pages of the book.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: CASCADE AT OURAY.]

[Illustration: LEANING TOWER, PERRY PARK.]

The eastern end of the gorge is at Cañon City, and after leaving this
place the valley widens rapidly and spreads out into an arid plain that
joins the prairies of Kansas. The change from a weirdly wild and
savagely astounding cañon, to the pale landscape of a verdureless
desert, is very sudden, and there is no variation in the passionless
monotony of alkaline plain that lies between the mountain and Pueblo, a
distance of forty miles. The Arkansas loses much of its volume and
activity in struggling through the parched lands, becoming a listless
stream, and murky with sediment that is gathered from its fast-washing
banks.

We had to double upon our route very often in order to reach the
numerous points of interest and charming scenery which is accessible by
railroad, but in many cases much time was saved by dividing our party,
though we refrain from wearying the reader with the uninteresting
particulars of these movements. In the present instance, however, two of
our photographers, with the camera car, proceeded southwest from Pueblo,
over the Denver & Rio Grande R. R., to Wagon-Wheel Gap, while the others
of our party returned, by way of the same route we had just traversed,
to Montrose, thence to Ouray, and from that terminus, by stage, to
Ironton, a distance of seven miles. From this latter point they followed
the sweep of the same road, called the Rainbow route, around to Alamoso,
where a junction was made with the two photographers on their return
journey from Wagon-Wheel Gap.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  THE TRAIL ALONG THE BREAST OF SAN JUAN MOUNTAIN.—It appeared to many
    impossible to connect the towns Ouray and Silverton by stage road,
    on account of the tumultuous mountains, riven by mighty chasms, and
    scarred by eroding streams, that lay between; but skill, patience
    and great expenditure of money accomplished what was undertaken with
    misgivings. A roadway was blasted and carved along the rocky breast
    of the peaks; chasms were bridged, rents were filled, and our
    photograph shows a portion of the result, a wildly picturesque stage
    road, over which it is a delightful experience to travel.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: TWIN FALLS, NEAR AMES, COLORADO.]

The journey south from Montrose is along Uncompaghre River—every little
stream is called a river in the far west—which, like many other streams
we have described, has worn a deep bed, in which it is now confined by
high walls of polychromatic colors, very beautiful to see. From the
occasional rises over which the road passes, very lovely views are to be
had of Horse-Fly Peak on the west, and the rather gentle elevation of
Tongue Mesa on the east. At Dallas the scenery becomes much more rugged,
and thence to Ouray, and Silverton, which is twenty miles from Ironton,
the landscape is tumultuous; for nature is here in strange derangement,
not to say chaotic dismemberment. It appeared an impossible feat to
connect Ouray and Ironton by a stage-road, so tempestuously craggy is
the interval, rent as it is by mighty chasm and spurred by amazing peaks
of stones piled up into vast pyramids of confusion. But engineering
skill dominated even here, and not only was a wagon-road cut through
this chain of obstacles, but a narrow-gauge railroad was successfully
constructed between Ironton and Silverton.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  MOUNT ABRAM.—The hoary head of Mount Abram rises high above its
    Titanic, yet less lofty, brothers that compose the mountainous
    battalion of the San Juan Range, in Southern California. This sky-
    assailing peak lies near the splendid toll-road between Ouray and
    Silverton, and attains an elevation of 14,235 feet; high enough to
    receive the first assault of every storm; where the cold is so great
    that the apex is perpetually wrapped in a thick mantle of snow. A
    part of the toll-road is shown in the photograph, creeping around
    the steep slope, where a false step might result in a plunge over a
    precipice hundreds of feet high.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: JAWS OF DEATH, ANIMAS CAÑON.]

The approach to Ouray is by a way impressively magnificent, through
rifts in castellated walls that are rich with the primary colors, and
lofty enough to bathe their crests in the clouds. There goes the river,
like a belated business man trying to overtake time, roaring, fretting,
panting, with hardly enough space between the escarpments to admit its
passage. Along, and over and around this mad-dashing stream the road
winds, up and down, in and out, until the points of the compass lose
their bearings, and swing around in distraction.

Ouray lies at peace with the world, in a basin whose sides are like a
giant’s punch-bowl, only that the confinement is by a succession of
mountain ranges piling up behind each other until the highest attain an
altitude of 14,235 feet, and hold perpetual carnival with the snow-
storm. That little basin seems to be the paint-pot of the Titans, and
the mountains their mixing-boards. Letting our sight travel slowly up
the soaring slopes, every step of the way is one of beauty. Clothed with
a luxurious growth of yellow aspen, the brown of oak, the deep green of
spruce, and the silver sheen of mountain pine, the picture needs only a
frame to make it perfect. And there above is the thing desired; for
where the timber line ends, the flaming colors of red, orange, purple,
gray and brown stone begins, rising ever higher until they fade away
behind the mists that gather about the peaks.

As we proceed on the way to Silverton the road inclines through forests
whose autumn tints keep the eye dancing with admiration, and having
descended two thousand feet, the mouth of Bear Creek is reached, where
it rolls along a terrible cataract, known as Bear Creek Cascade. A
little further on, we dash out upon a bridge which spans a dizzy height,
for, there below us, the raging creek plunges over a precipice 275 feet
high, and is dashed into vapor upon the rocks. It is a startling sight
to behold the surging waters, and watch the mad plunge that falls into a
caldron as angry as ever witches stretched hands about.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  MOUNT OURAY, COLORADO.—Mount Ouray, like Pike’s Peak, holds the
    honorable distinction of lifting its head so high as to be always
    covered with a sheet of snow. Its peak is more than 14,000 feet
    above the level of the sea, and there it rests in lofty grandeur,
    looking down like a white-robed priest upon the little valleys
    nestling at its feet. It is a beautiful sight to stand at the foot
    of this mountain and watch a railroad train dashing back and forth,
    here and there, and zigzagging hither and yonder with no apparent
    purpose, but always climbing higher and higher, until it goes out of
    sight behind a ridge or through a tunnel, sending back a white flake
    of steam as it whistles good-bye. When you go to Colorado don’t fail
    to visit Ouray.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: EXCAVATIONS in the CLIFFS, MANCOS CAÑON.]

[Illustration: RUINS OF CLIFF DWELLINGS IN MANCOS CAÑON.]

Thence onward we pursue our exciting ride, with mountains on either
side, by the Needles, Sultan Peak, silver cascades, until soon we reach
the Valley of the Animas, and are presently hurled into the wildly weird
and awfully sublime Animas Cañon. A very suggestive name was given by
the early Spaniards to this stream: Rio de los Animas, signifying the
_river of lost souls_, for nothing could be more gruesomely somber. The
cañon proper is about fifteen miles long, and lies between Rockwood and
Durango, and is a cleavage that separates the San Juan and San Miguel
ranges. The walls are perpendicular, and the passage so narrow that the
sunlight can hardly get through. The railroad runs along the breast of
the solid rock walls, on a ledge or balcony that had to be cut in the
sheer escarpment, 1,500 feet above the river, but the top of the
frowning enclosure is still 500 feet higher. Sitting at the car window,
the traveler looks down into what appears to be an almost bottomless
gulch, and sees the beating waters swirling in pools, and tossing in a
terrific tumult that fills the cañon with deafening roar. While the
river here is a succession of cataracts, there are waterfalls on either
side, leaping down from bordering cliffs and joining hands with the
impetuous river.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  WEST SIDE OF MARSHALL PASS.—The summit of Marshall Pass has an
    altitude of 10,852 feet. From this point a magnificent view can be
    had of the Sangre de Cristo range extending to the southeast. The
    pass itself is a scenic and scientific wonder; grades of 211 feet to
    the mile are frequent, and the ascent and descent are made by a
    series of the most remarkable curves. The streams from the summit
    flow eastward into the Atlantic and westward into the Pacific. The
    tracks are so winding that passengers on ascending trains frequently
    become puzzled, and imagine that they are moving in a circle without
    a definite purpose, but when the train reaches the top and dashes
    over the divide, the object of its devious course is revealed, and a
    feeling of exhilaration succeeds that of doubt and uncertainty as it
    darts down the opposite side with the swiftness of an eagle.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: CALCAREOUS CLIFFS OF GRAND RIVER.]

A few miles from Los Pinos Cañon and Toltec Gorge is the bustling town
of Durango, which is the supply depot for the San Juan mining district.
This place received a great impetus by the reported discovery of rich
placer gold mines in southeastern Utah, in November of 1892, and at this
time its future appears to be very promising. The region is altogether
one of extraordinary interest alike for the miner, tourist and relic-
hunter, for thirty miles west of the town are the picturesque ruins of
very ancient cliff-dwellers, who, in the early centuries, excavated deep
recesses in the perpendicular walls along the Rio Mancos, and there made
their homes. Evidently they were of the same race, and no doubt were
contemporary with those who fled from the Spanish persecutors and took
refuge in artificial caves in the Grand Cañon of the Colorado.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  ROYAL GORGE, CAÑON OF THE ARKANSAS RIVER.—Mighty cleavage, wondrous
    chasm, tremendous gash, is that marvelous rent in the Park Range
    known as Royal Gorge, through which the Arkansas has cut its way,
    leaving precipitous walls 3000 feet high, upon the upper breasts of
    which eagles make their secure eyries. This amazing fissure is less
    than 100 feet wide at the top, and so narrow at the base that to
    avoid tunneling the engineers of the Denver and Rio Grande Railway
    built a hanging bridge, with fastenings in the walls, for a roadway
    through this awful pass, under which the confined river flows with
    dreadful roar. A view of this astounding cañon is one of terrific
    grandeur, of sublime mightiness, of inspiring yet awesome wonder.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: PHANTOM CURVE.]

Southwest of these now vacant cave dwellings, in the northeast corner of
Arizona, is a short branch of the San Juan River, known as the Rio de
Chelly, which runs through a cañon celebrated in the history of Indian
warfare as presenting the most serious obstacles encountered by
expeditions under Colonel Sumner and General Canby. The region, and
particularly De Chelly Cañon, was the stronghold of the Navajoe Indians,
who rendered the defile almost impregnable. Time and again efforts were
made by large bodies of troops to force a passage, but as often they
were driven back by the Indians hurling stones down the thousand feet of
perpendicular height. The rear was likewise protected by remarkable
ruggedness of the approach, and an army sent against them was thus held
at bay by the Indians for several months. Kit Carson was finally given a
commission as colonel and sent against the defiant marauders with a
force of five hundred men. Understanding all the difficulties of the
situation, he so disposed his army as to hold the Indians within their
lines of refuge, and choosing winter as the best time for action, laid a
siege that effectually cut off all communication. Aid from the outside
being thus prevented, and all supplies shut off, the Navajoes were
presently reduced to such straits that after three desperate but futile
efforts to escape, the entire band surrendered.

After passing through Animas Cañon, on the eastern journey, the scenery
continues impressively beautiful, for several pellucid streams are
crossed at points where they have cut deep furrows in the earth, and
eaten their way through opposing mountains. At Ignacio we met with the
first considerable number of Indians seen thus far during our trip. This
place is the headquarters of the Southern Utes’ reservation, and was
named after their chief. Twenty miles beyond we cross the Rio Piedra and
enter the valley of the San Juan, which is followed for nearly sixty
miles, and until Navajo is reached, where another small band of
miserable-looking Indians have their quarters, and besiege incoming
passenger trains with importunities that travelers almost invariably
generously respond to. Now we are running along the borders of New
Mexico, a line of demarkation indicated by the San Juan range that lies
north of us, while southward stretches away the undulating and arid
plains. At Amargo we are met by another band of Indians, whose sullen
countenances and bedraggled appearance plainly show them to be Apaches,
whose numbers, however, are now so reduced that the murderous raids
which made the tribe celebrated in the early annals of the far west, are
not likely to be repeated again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: TRAIL OVER THE SAN JUAN MOUNTAINS.]

[Illustration: CREVICE CAÑON, NEAR OURAY.]

Many persons have read of mountain trails, but comparatively few have
seen them or realized the dangers that attend a passage over them. The
splendid photograph of the trail over San Juan Mountains, on this page,
will therefore be a subject of interest to all. This is a picture of the
real thing, as it exists in nature.

Crevice Cañon, near Ouray, Colo., the companion picture, is another of
nature’s wonders that will arouse the curiosity of every reader. It
seems impossible that so small a stream could have carved its way
through such an obstacle, but it has left the marks of its power in the
granite walls of the opposing mountain.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: ANTELOPE PARK, NEAR TOLTEC GORGE.]

We cross the Conejos range at Cumbres, at an elevation of 10,000 feet,
and after traversing a lower range of the San Juan we again strike the
Los Pinos River, and, taking a turn around Prospect Peak, come in view
of Toltec Gorge, one of the most fearfully grand cañons in the world.
The mountain is pierced by a tunnel near its summit, which is approached
by a balcony trestle, on which the east-bound train stops several
minutes to permit the passengers to gaze into the dreadful depths of the
chasm over which they hang. For it must be understood that the road-bed
is built here upon a trestle that has all its fastenings in the
perpendicular walls, and without any support beneath, so that to one
looking from the car window the train appears to be suspended in mid-
air, 1,000 feet above the rolling waters below.

The gorge is 1,200 feet deep, and besides being narrow, the walls are
perpendicular, so that daylight tarries but a short while in its
profound recesses. As we pass the Toltec Gorge, Phantom Curve is
approached, and from the grandeur and awesomeness with which the great
abyss impressed us, our interest is quickened and spell-bound by objects
that at once excite wonder and curious amazement. We are suddenly
introduced to forms more strange than monstrous, more remarkable for
their incongruity than significant for their grandeur. The chisels of
nature’s sculptors, frost, water, storms, ice and decay have wrought
many astounding things in stone, which rival in grotesque eccentricity
the queer figures that render famous the Garden of the Gods. Passing
this parade-ground of nature’s idols, we strike the Big Horn Curve, and
twist like a contortionist in making a devious descent, that winds and
winds until at last we reach the feet of the Sangre de Cristo range, at
Antonito. Thence our direction was due north, over a level country,
until we reached Alamosa, where, as per arrangement, we met the others
of our party on their return from Wagon-Wheel Gap. Here we received
reports of the trip from Pueblo, and tarried a while to write up our
journals, pack our negatives, and prepare for the journey that by a long
sweep was to take us to the lands of the Pacific.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: DEER PARK CASCADE, ANIMAS CAÑON.]

[Illustration: OURAY AND SILVERTON STAGE-ROAD.]

All over the central and western portion of Colorado we find a
succession of beautiful and magnificent scenery, mountains, waterfalls,
cañons, landscapes of surpassing loveliness, and everything to charm the
eye and please the most diversified taste. The region about Ouray is one
of the most picturesque in the entire State. The mines are among the
richest in Colorado; and the hot springs, added to its other
attractions, make this locality a famous resort. A good idea of the
grandeur of the scenery is conveyed in the photograph of the stage road
from Ouray to Silverton, which occurs on this page.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: LAKE BRENNAN, IN SOUTH PARK, NEAR PLATTE CAÑON.]

The trip southward from Pueblo possesses comparatively little interest
until Cuchara Junction is reached, where one branch of the Denver and
Rio Grande Railroad starts directly west, while the other continues
south to Trinidad, and there forms a junction with the Atchison, Topeka
and Santa Fe Railroad.

At Cuchara the scenery changes from waste plains to a tumultuary
landscape similar to sections which we have just described. The road
follows the valley of Cuchara for a distance of twenty miles, and then
begins a rapid ascent towards Veta Pass, which is, in some respects,
more wonderful than even Marshall Pass. In one place the grade is 216
feet to the mile, so steep that two locomotives are required to haul
even light trains, and so serpentine that to passengers the cars appear
to be moving in a circle. When the summit is reached, an altitude of
9,400 feet above sea level has been gained, and there is a panorama
presented that it seems almost sacrilegious to attempt to describe. Away
to the south rises up, like monsters plucking stars from the sky, the
Spanish Peaks, whose frosted heads are often hidden by clouds that
gather about them; towards the west, dim with distance, is seen the
commanding form of Sierra Blanca, whose crown is the very heavens; and
northward, La Veta Mountain, stupendous and sublime, stands like a
grizzly sentinel, surveying the lesser wonders of nature and protecting
them against the fierce storms that beat the bronzed breasts of the
Rockies. Muleshoe Curve, over which we made the approach up Dump
Mountain, is plainly visible, as are the numerous tracks that gridiron
the slopes, and the waterfalls that play hide and seek along the
mountain sides. Looking down we see the fast-receding banks and almost
perpendicular cliffs, and the giant bowlders that have been hurled from
the summit into the abyssmal depths a mile below, gathered into dams to
impede the flow of waters. The view towards the east is unbroken, and
there, spreading out like the lap of bounty, we watch the green prairie
running away from the mountain base to meet the horizon.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  CITY OF OURAY, AND OURAY MOUNTAINS, COL.—If one should search the
    world over he could hardly find a more picturesque location for a
    city than this. It is a perfect picture, with framework of snow-
    covered mountains, and the music of dashing streams and laughing
    waterfalls. The city of Ouray has a population of about 3000, and
    was an active business centre previous to the depressing times in
    mining interests. It is still a resort for health seekers and
    tourists, and must always remain so on account of the excellent
    medicinal properties of its hot springs and the splendor and beauty
    of its surrounding scenery. The city nestles in a cozy valley at the
    foot of the mountain, down the sides of which races the little
    stream that breaks into such a splendid waterfall near the base, as
    seen in the background of the photograph.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: MAIDEN HAIR FALLS, NEAR DUMP MOUNTAIN.]

Crossing La Veta’s lofty pass, the descent is rapid and tortuous, until
a level is reached in the San Luis Park, which is abloom with the
glories of cultivated fields, and animate with grazing herds. This great
park, that covers an area equal to the State of Connecticut, was, in the
early years of the world’s life, a vast inland sea, though its elevation
is now more than 7,000 feet. The earth has absorbed nearly all its
waters, though San Luis Lake still lies near its center, shining like a
sheet of silver, and is fed by thirty mountain streams. All around this
lake, whose length is sixty miles, is a waving savanna of luxuriant
grasses, which form the frame of as pretty a picture as the eye of man
ever wandered over.

As we proceed westward from La Veta Pass, the landscape becomes somewhat
tame, though when we reach Fort Garland the grandest view is obtainable
of Sierra Blanca Mountain, whose peak is at an elevation of 14,500 feet,
the second highest in America. We cross San Luis Park, and having again
reached Alamosa, continue on towards Wagon-Wheel Gap, by way of the
picturesque valley of the Rio Grande del Norte. Though while en route we
pass through no wonderful cañons, the way is full of interest and
beautiful scenery. The river, in places, spreads out into a noiseless
and sluggish stream, while again it is contracted by narrow walls into
cascades and roaring waterfalls of exceeding magnificence. Especially is
this true when we draw near to Wagon-Wheel Gap, where the walls are not
only narrow, but rise into palisades of great height and beauty, and at
one place, for the distance of half a mile, there are cliffs that soar
skyward and lean towards the river, making a rocky canopy above the
roadway that hugs the rushing stream.

We are now in the famous Creede mining region, where, besides silver to
lure the avaricious seeker of riches, there is much to excite the
admiration of the tourist and lover of nature. La Gorita Mountains lie
towards the north in vast banks of haze, and the southern horizon is
broken by the San Juan range. Here, also, is a region of surprising
springs, where boiling-hot and ice-cold waters gush out of neighboring
hills, and in places actually strike hands to neutralize each other.
Creede, which is ten miles from Wagon-Wheel Gap, is a typical mining
camp, full of excitement and all the concomitants of a new and rich
discovery, though it is rapidly acquiring civilized ways. Willow Gulch
is the scene of greatest activity, and there is now to be obtained, for
a fair equivalent, everything from bad fighting whiskey to a spring bed,
though the latter is still a scarce luxury, particularly in the
immediate vicinity of Willow Gulch.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  ANIMAS CAÑON.—Animas Cañon is on the Silverton branch of the Denver
    and Rio Grande Railway, just beyond the station of Rockwood and
    about 470 miles from Denver. The gorge is formed by the breaking
    through the mountains of the Rio de las Animas Perdidas, or River of
    Lost Souls, as it is appropriately termed in musical Spanish. The
    railroad tracks are laid along a shelf cut in the solid rock wall of
    the cañon, 500 feet below the top of the mountain and 1000 above its
    foot. The grandeur of the scene may be inferred from this
    description. It requires a steady nerve or long practice in
    traveling over such places to enable one to look down this frightful
    precipice from the car windows, and it is no unusual thing to
    observe timid tourists hugging the inner side of the coaches as they
    dash by this dangerous spot.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: CLIFF DWELLINGS IN THE RIO MANCOS CAÑON.]

After our meeting and short stay at Alamosa, our party again divided,
two of our photographers going south from that point, over the New
Mexico extension of the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad, to Santa Fe,
while the other proceeded east to Cuchara Junction, thence south to
Trinidad, and from that place he went by way of the Atchison, Topeka and
Santa Fe Railroad, to Santa Fe, where our party again united.

The route directly south from Alamosa is across a well-watered country,
but there is nothing of particular interest in the way of scenery until
the town of Barranca is reached, where the road strikes the Rio Grande.
Out of a level plain the train now dashes into deep gorges, and winds
along the banks of a stream that is justly celebrated for the wild and
rugged pageantry of mountains which it pierces. Comanche Cañon bursts
into view, a glorious revelation of chaos, whose cliffs of marl and
basaltic rock have tried in vain to arrest the energy and daunt the
skill of civil engineers. As a consequence, their sides are rent and
bored into cuts and tunnels, until the mountains of stone are made to
acknowledge man’s sovereignty.

Fifteen miles south of Barranca is Espanola, a quaint old Spanish town,
whose chief interest, however, lies in the fact that it is the nearest
railroad point to some of the most interesting pueblos and cliff ruins
that are to be found in New Mexico. The Indian adobes in this vicinity,
which claim the largest attention of the anthropologist, are those of
San Juan, Santa Clara and San Idelfonso, all situated within three or
four miles of Espanola. At Santa Clara are also the ruins of cliff
dwellings, relics of the habitations of a race that exists no longer,
save in uncertain traditions.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  THROUGH THE BLACK CAÑON OF GUNNISON RIVER.—A deep and majestic gorge
    is Black Cañon, a vast rift in the mountain range where a mad river
    goes cantering through, here mild flowing where the cañon spreads,
    there tumultuous and impetuous where the great bluffs push their
    rugged feet against the stream and narrow the channel. Black Cañon
    is so called because at places the walls run up vertically and
    almost touch their heads, so nearly excluding the sunlight that the
    gorge is quite dark even at noonday, inexpressibly sombre when the
    sky is overcast, and weirdly awful when storms break, or night
    shrouds it with a pall. Photographs cannot be satisfactorily made of
    the dark places in the cañon, and the view herewith accordingly
    pictures the end near Cimmaron Station.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: WEAPONS AND UTENSILS OF THE CLIFF-DWELLERS.]

The little knowledge that we have respecting these ancient people is
derived from the investigations of the late James Stevenson, chief of
the Hayden Survey, who explored the cliff and cave dwellings of Arizona
and New Mexico. His labors were rewarded also by the discovery of two
perfect skeletons, in the Cañon de Chelly, which proved to be those of
prehistoric inhabitants. He also, by patient study, obtained a very
thorough knowledge of the religious mythology of the Zunis, and secured
a complete collection of their fetich-gods, besides familiarizing
himself with the manners and beliefs of the Navajoes and Moquis. We hold
him in remembrance for his pioneer as well as scientific services. It
was Stevenson that made the first survey of Yellowstone Park, who traced
the Columbia and Snake Rivers to their sources, and who was the first
white man to climb the Great Tetons, in Wyoming, and reach the Indians’
sacred altar, which has been kept inviolate for centuries.

The six ancient pueblos, which are still inhabited by Indians, were
discovered by the Spaniards only forty-eight years after Columbus first
landed on San Salvador, and they are thus entitled to rank among the
earliest discoveries of this character ever made. In the neighboring
cliffs are numerous cave dwellings equally prehistoric in their origin,
but which Mr. Stevenson explored with the most valuable results,
enabling him to determine the habits and peculiarities of these archaic
people. On the west side of the road, and bounded by Caliente Creek, is
the black Mesa, a curious elevation that might once have been an island
in the ocean that covered this region when the world was young. Towards
the east, and in bold view, is the Taos range, which merges into the
Culebra range further north, and thence into the Sangre de Cristo.
Between the railroad and the Taos Mountain, lies the town of Taos, in a
beautiful valley, watered by branches of the Rio Grande. It is a quaint
old place, composed chiefly of two great adobe buildings five stories
high, surrounded by prosperous ranches and crumbling pueblos, and is
celebrated as having been the home of Kit Carson, and the place where
his body reposes. His grave is marked by an imposing monument erected to
his memory, as a mark of gratitude for his intrepid services, by
citizens of New Mexico. The place is accordingly something of a shrine,
but is not much visited, because it is about twenty-five miles from the
railroad, except on the 30th of September of each year, when it is the
scene of a great festival, at which thousands of people gather. A more
beautiful and fertile spot, however, is not to be found anywhere in the
west.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  LAKE SAN CHRISTOVAL IN THE LAP OF OURAY MOUNTAINS, COL.—This lake is a
    basin of pellucid water formed by the drainage of the surrounding
    mountains. It is transparent as crystal, and being well filled with
    mountain trout and other species of game fish, is a favorite resort
    for lovers of the piscatorial sport. The tourist will find it one of
    the chief attractions of this delightful region, rich in scenic
    wonders and charming landscapes.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Comanche Cañon is entered just above Embudo, by way of which the Denver
and Rio Grande Railroad enters the Rio Grande Valley. The gorge is so
rugged that it was necessary to make a great many deep cuts in the walls
of marl and basalt, so that the way through the cañon is more
picturesque by reason of the engineer’s work than nature designed it.

[Illustration: THE GRAVE OF KIT CARSON, AT TAOS.]

Nearly midway between the pueblo ruins just mentioned and the city of
Santa Fe, along the Rio Grande, is the Cañon Diabolo, a chasm that is
not strikingly deep, but sufficiently weird to justify the Satanic
appellation. High up in the walls, particularly near Espanola, are
relics of a vanished race, in the form of excavations which once served
as habitations, though evidently they were difficult of access. The
appearance of these rock perforations are very similar to those on the
Rio Mancos, and in the cañon cliffs of the Colorado; so nearly
identical, in fact, that Stevenson expresses the belief that they were
made by members of the same race, who took refuge in these caves when
driven from their pueblos. At Santa Fe, a short stop was made to await
the photographer who had passed around by Trinidad. The trip which he
had made was in every respect as interesting as that which we had taken
over the direct southern route. Upon passing beyond the Sangre de Cristo
range eastward, the scenery grows tamely monotonous for a time, for the
landscape is tiresomely level. But before reaching Trinidad, another
agreeably surprising change occurs, as the Raton range breaks into view,
and presents a kaleidoscopic variety of beautiful scenes. Trinidad lies
at the foot of this range, and though it may not be described as a city
of great architectural magnificence, certain it is that few places can
boast of greater interest to the tourist. It was, long ago, the most
important point on the old Santa Fe trail, and its ancient adobe houses
were objects of endearment to the hearts of freighters, because they
offered both refuge and refreshment after the perils of a dangerous
journey. Though a great change has taken place since the railroad
reached the town, it is still a typical Mexican city, which even the
electric light cannot convert. Passing over the border into New Mexico,
the scenery is varied and pleasing, but never grand. Instead of an arid
region, however, the country is diversified, for all of the northeastern
region is abundantly watered by creeks flowing towards the southeast,
with occasional rivers, like the Canadian, Cimarron and Pecos,
intersecting the railroad. On both sides of the road there are numerous
knolls, called mesas, and craters long since burned out. The ascent of
Raton Pass, sometimes called the “Devil’s Way,” affords many exquisite
views, of which the Spanish Peaks, one hundred miles to the north, are
chief, for the atmosphere is so clear and rare that they appear as
distinct as though the distance were scarcely one-fourth so great. Upon
gaining an altitude of 7,700 feet, the road enters a tunnel on the Raton
Crest, and after a half-mile run emerges on the New Mexico side, where
the sunlight appears to be intensified and the warmth of perpetual
summer holds sway. The next considerable town reached after leaving
Trinidad is Las Vegas, which reposes on a branch of the Pecos, the
center of a great many sheep ranches, and it is wool that gives it chief
importance. Six miles north of the place is Las Vegas Hot Springs, a
sanitarium of much note, located in a region of considerable beauty.
They are at the mouth of a small cañon which leads up to the Spanish
Range, and thence joins the Rocky Mountains; the waters range in
temperature from boiling hot to almost freezing cold.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  TOLTEC GORGE OF THE LOS PINOS, COL.—This is one of the most inspiring
    views in all Colorado. It is on the Silverton branch of the Denver
    and Rio Grande Railway, 309 miles from Denver City. The road
    traverses the verge of the great chasm, the bottom of which is 1500
    feet below. The photograph was taken at the bottom of the cañon, and
    away up near the top may be seen a passing train, which at so great
    a height looks like a child’s toy. A little mountain stream meanders
    through the chasm, gently murmuring and singing as it makes its way
    over the rocks, but when the snows melt and the rains fall it
    becomes a mad, roaring, rushing torrent, tearing the sides of the
    mountain and tossing great boulders about as if they were made of
    straw.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: CAVE DWELLINGS in the CAÑON DE CHELLY.]

[Illustration: A RELIC OF THE CAVE-DWELLERS.]

At a station called Lamy, there is a branch of the Atchison, Topeka and
Santa Fe Railroad, leading north eighteen miles, to the ancient and
interesting city of Santa Fe, celebrated in American history as being
the second oldest town in the United States. The place contains much to
entertain searchers after relics of the past, and here we find the links
that bind the old Spanish invaders with the civilization of to-day.
Settled by Catholics, it still retains the characteristics impressed
upon it by the Franciscan fathers, and remains true to the faith in
which it was first baptized. It is the seat of the archiepiscopal
diocese, and the Cathedral of San Francisco is the largest church
edifice in the territory, as well as the oldest, the original part,
which still remains, having been built as early as 1622.

Old as the town is, Santa Fe is the Phœnix that rose from one that was
very much more ancient, for the site was, in the ages that are very
remote, occupied by an Indian pueblo, the ruins of which are still to be
seen in what is known as the “Old Home.” But the most curious and
attractive object within the city is the Governor’s Palace, a long, low
building erected in 1598, a summary history of which is thus presented
by Governor Prince:

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  LA VETA PASS, COL.—Over this famous pass the railroad makes its way
    into San Luis Valley, and we have here a combination of the wonders
    of engineering skill with a grandeur of view unequaled in any other
    part of the world. The maximum grade is 237 feet to the mile, and
    the altitude at the summit is 9393 feet. Two of the largest
    locomotives are required to draw an ordinary train over the steep
    grades, and even with these the ascent is labored and tedious. From
    the top of the pass a view is obtained of such surpassing grandeur
    that no language can picture it.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: ABANDONED CAVE HABITATIONS OF THE CLIFF-DWELLERS, NEAR
ESPANOLA.]

“Without disparaging the importance of any of the cherished historical
localities of the East, it may be truthfully said that this ancient
palace surpasses, in historic interest and value, any other place or
object in the United States. It antedates the settlement of Jamestown by
nine years, and that of Plymouth by twenty-two, and has stood during the
292 years since its erection, not as a cold rock or monument, with no
claim upon the interest of humanity except the bare fact of its
continued existence, but as the living center of everything of historic
importance in the Southwest. Through all that long period, whether under
Spanish, Pueblo, Mexican, or American control, it has been the seat of
power and authority. Whether the ruler was called viceroy, captain-
general, political chief, department commander, or governor, and whether
he presided over a kingdom, a province, a department, or a territory,
this has been his official residence. From here Oñate started, in 1599,
on his adventurous expedition to the Eastern plains; here, seven years
later, 800 Indians came from far-off Quivira to ask aid in their war
with the Axtaos; from here, in 1618, Vincente de Salivar set forth to
the Moqui country, only to be turned back by rumors of the giants to be
encountered; and from here Peñalosa and his brilliant troop started, on
the 6th of March, 1662, on their marvelous expedition to the Missouri;
in one of its strong-rooms the commissary-general of the Inquisition was
imprisoned a few years later by the same Peñalosa; within its walls,
fortified as for a siege, the bravest of the Spaniards were massed in
the revolution of 1680; here, on the 19th of August of that year, was
given the order to execute forty-seven Pueblo prisoners, in the plaza
which faces the building; here, but a day later, was the sad war-council
held which determined on the evacuation of the city; here was the scene
of triumph of the Pueblo chieftains as they ordered the destruction of
the Spanish archives and the church ornaments in one grand
conflagration; here De Vargas, on September 14, 1692, after the eleven
hours’ combat of the preceding day, gave thanks to the Virgin Mary, to
whose aid he attributed his triumphant capture of the city; here, more
than a century later, on March 3, 1807, Lieutenant Pike was brought
before Governor Alencaster as an invader of Spanish soil; here, in 1822,
the Mexican standard, with its eagle and cactus, was raised in token
that New Mexico was no longer a dependency of Spain; from here, on the
6th of August, 1837, Governor Perez started to subdue the insurrection
in the north, only to return two days later and to meet his death on the
9th, near Agua Fria; here, on the succeeding day, Jose Gonzales, a
Pueblo Indian of Taos, was installed as Governor of New Mexico, soon
after to be executed by order of Armijo; here, in the principal
reception-room, on August 12, 1846, Captain Cooke, the American envoy,
was received by Governor Armijo and sent back with a message of
defiance; and here, five days later, General Kearney formally took
possession of the city, and slept, after his long and weary march, on
the carpeted earthen floor of the palace.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  WAGON-WHEEL GAP.—Wagon-Wheel Gap is in Rio Grande County, Col., in the
    southern part of the State and near the head of the Rio Grande
    River. Hot Springs, famous for their curative qualities, are located
    here. The scenery is exceedingly picturesque, and the place has
    become a favorite resort for health and pleasure seekers. It is said
    to be the best place for trout fishing in the West, and this fact
    largely increases its popularity with tourists. It is 310 miles
    south of Denver, and is reached by the Creede branch of the Denver
    and Rio Grande road. The elevation is 8448 feet.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: SPANISH PEAKS, FROM LAS VEGAS, NEW MEXICO.]

Santa Fe now has many things that belong to the present age: street
cars, electric lights, etc., but she is, nevertheless, still a place of
adobe houses, before which there is ever a varied commingling of
Americans, Mexicans and Indians. She is also the center of archæological
interest, for besides the ancient objects which are to be found within
her urban limits, there are villages near-by which present all the
aspects of the aborigines, practically as they appeared to Cortes and
Coronado. These adobe places and their inhabitants are called pueblos,
because that is the old Indian name signifying _town_. The pueblos in
New Mexico are nineteen in number, and while varying in size, they are
very similar in appearance, showing, as they do, no variation of
architecture. The houses were built to accommodate from one hundred to
several hundred persons, as the Pueblo Indians were communistic in their
manner of living. Instead of being one or two-story structures, like the
present style of Mexican and the old Spanish adobes, the houses were
built one upon another, in a succession of terraces, sometimes five or
more in number, the upper stories being accessible only by means of
ladders. The most noted of these pueblos are Taos, Laguna, Acoma, Santa
Clara, Zuni and Santo Domingo. Albuquerque was also originally an Indian
pueblo, built upon a slight elevation of rock, and the place still
contains several clusters of square, flat-roofed adobe houses, arranged
in terraces, as before described. The walls of these strange dwellings
are very thick, and the interior is gained, not through doors, but by
entrance-ways cut in the roof, which is reached only by ladders. The
Pueblo Indians have been pronounced by many ethnologists to be the
oldest race now living on the continent, though many others regard them
as being the descendants of the Aztecs, whose ancient kingdom of Cibola
extended from Colorado and Utah on the north, to Central America on the
south. The capital of this extinct empire is supposed to have been
situated in Penal county, Arizona, the ruins of which are traceable
along the Gila River, in what is known as the Casas Grandes. Remarkable
stories have been told of the relics of this ruined city, enthusiasts
often describing them as equal in grandeur to the prostrate columns and
mighty archways that speak in imperishable stone of the magnificence of
ancient Egyptian cities. The Montezumas were supposed to have held their
court in the splendid stone palaces whose relics lie scattered through
the Casas Grandes, and whose carvings and hieroglyphics seem to attest
the departed glory of a once mighty people. These famous ruins are
twelve miles north of Florence, a station on the Southern Pacific, and
are in a region of great picturesqueness, which is traversed by a good
wagon-road running along the Gila River. The route is through an arid
plain, in which the only vegetation is mesquite and cactus, but the
parched desert is gracefully confined by a beautiful and opalescent
range of mountains, while overhead is a sapphirine sky more brilliant
than ever hung over Italy. The river margin is like a blue wave, colored
as it is by the tossing heads of wild lilac flowers, which find
protection from the beating sun under the waving branches of banks of
willows that stoop low to drink from the river. There, under the shadows
of the Tucson Mountains and the Sierra Catarina range, are the colossal
ruins of the Casas Grandes. The buildings, of which confused heaps are
all that now remain, were of irregular style, but of some architectural
pretension, for the walls were constructed of concrete, moulded into
blocks nearly three feet square. The principal structure, which has long
been called Montezuma’s Palace, was about sixty feet long by fifty
broad, and stood five stories, or forty feet high. For windows there was
a square aperture over each door, wholly insufficient for either light
or ventilation, though the ancient Indians were not partial to either,
apparently preferring darkness; and living in the closest communal
state, they appreciated fresh air like they did the storm and cold, only
when it was on the outside.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  LOS PINOS VALLEY, LOOKING WEST.—This beautiful photograph gives us a
    splendid view of cañon, table-land and mountain scenery. It is
    rugged and picturesque, with a fringe of distant snow-covered
    mountains as a central background. From the high table-lands to the
    right, a view of surpassing grandeur and beauty bursts upon the
    enraptured vision, repaying the tourist for all his pains in
    climbing to the exalted heights. Here the atmosphere is always cool
    and invigorating, and the weariness and lassitude of a warmer and
    more humid climate are not experienced.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: MEXICAN OVENS, USED PRINCIPALLY BY THE PUEBLO INDIANS.]

Occasional pieces of copper are found in the Casas Grandes ruins, but no
iron, and the cutting instruments of the original occupants were made of
obsidian, as were their arrows. Pottery still strews the ground about,
but there are no evidences to support the old legends of magnificence
with which early travelers invested the so-called palace. But there are
plainly to be seen ruins of a great wall that once enclosed the city, on
which were sentinel towers rising several feet above the main wall, thus
proving that this was not entirely a land of peace, nor do appearances
indicate that it was one of plenty. The Apaches, no doubt, harried the
less war-like Moqui, who were at last driven southward, and left ruins
of similar cities along their gradual retreat from Utah to Mexico.
Professor A. L. Heister, the antiquarian, who has made a long and
patient investigation of the pueblo ruins in southwest New Mexico, thus
writes of his discoveries:

“Within a radius of five miles of St. Joseph, New Mexico, I have
discovered several hundred ruins of the habitations of prehistoric man.
In these ruins—the walls of which are built of undressed stone and
cement—are found the remains of huge cisterns; walls of fortification;
queer implements of bone and stone; beautifully designed, carved or
painted pottery, together with odd and artistic pictures, characters and
symbols cut upon large rocks in cañons near, and with such nicety of
taste as serve to strike the beholder with wonder and admiration.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  ADOBE VILLAGE OF PUEBLO INDIANS, NEW MEXICO.—The word pueblo in
    Spanish means village, and this term was applied by the early
    Spanish explorers to several powerful tribes of Indians whom they
    found living in adobe villages like the one so beautifully
    photographed on this page. They had evidently occupied such abodes
    for centuries before the Spaniards came, and they have not departed
    from the custom up to the present time. As the increase of a family
    requires more room, additions are made at the top of the house, and
    thus we find their homes built in tiers, one above the other, the
    upper stories being reached by rude ladders, as shown in the
    illustration. The baking oven, seen at the left of the photograph,
    is a village institution, and it has been adopted almost universally
    by the present rural population of Mexico. The Pueblo Indians are
    rapidly disappearing, their entire number being now less than 1000.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

“The ruins are generally found on high ground, and are composed of from
two to several hundred rooms, averaging about eight by ten feet, and six
to eight feet in height. In some cases the buildings have been two
stories high. There has been a side entrance to all of these rooms, but
these openings, from some cause, have been carefully walled up.

[Illustration: SCENE ON THE GREAT AMERICAN DESERT.]

“These people were larger than those of to-day, some of them being fully
eight feet high. I am led to believe their average height was not less
than seven feet. They buried their dead in the ground floors of their
rooms, with the heads towards the east, and, as a rule, their pottery,
trinkets and personal ornaments with them. In excavating these ruins,
one is constantly impressed with one paramount wonder—their great age.
Huge pine trees, three and four feet in diameter and 100 feet high,
flourish upon the walls and in the rooms of these habitations of
forgotten man. The infilling of drift and the increase of surface,
caused by vegetable growth and decay, is very slow, and has been
estimated by some geologists to average about one foot in eighty years.
Admitting this to be near the truth, our surprise knows no bounds when,
on sinking directly under these giant trees, we pass through from six to
ten feet of vegetable mold, then encounter from one to three feet of
clean-washed sand and gravel, then a solid earthen floor covered with
ashes, charcoal, bones and fragments of broken pottery. Yet still below
this are the skeletons of human beings, surrounded by their pottery,
weapons and ornaments of stone, bone and copper. My own opinion is that
these people were either Aztecs or Toltecs. They were sun-worshipers and
well advanced in carving, painting, building, weaving and agriculture.
They flourished many centuries in Colorado, Arizona, New Mexico, Mexico,
Central and South America, and were exterminated either by famine,
flood, disease or volcanic action at least 1,000 years ago.

“In the eastern part of this (Socorro) county are the ruins of an
immense city known as the Grande Quivero, covering two by two and one-
half miles square. Its walls are, in some places, eight feet thick,
forty feet high, and 700 feet long. A great aqueduct carried water to
the city, but to-day there is no water within forty miles of this
ancient wonder. It stands silent and alone in the sunlight and
moonlight, and where once the love, industry and skill of an unknown
race made thousands of beautiful and happy homes, the coyote, bat and
snake now hold sway. When and by whom it was built was a mystery to the
Mexican people more than 300 years ago.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  THE PUEBLO VILLAGE OF LA GUNA.—This is one of the most important of
    the Pueblo settlements in New Mexico. It is situated in the midst of
    a rich valley, which, by means of irrigation and rude methods of
    cultivation, produces abundant food for the unaspiring inhabitants.
    The reader is referred to page 150 of this work for a very full,
    graphic and interesting description of the Pueblos and their
    customs, together with a history of their probable origin and
    descent.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  INNER COURT OF A PUEBLO TOWN, ARIZONA.—In two preceding photographs we
    have had very fine general views of Pueblo villages, and in this one
    we are shown the interior or court, formed by the surrounding
    houses, where much of the domestic work is performed. It is a
    dreary, desolate-looking place, but decidedly better than the
    average of the homes of savage or uncivilized peoples. The sun-baked
    mud houses are certainly preferable to an ordinary Indian wigwam,
    and we are sure the baking ovens would produce sweeter and more
    wholesome bread than the roving Apaches or Sioux are accustomed to.
    In fact, the houses, the ovens, and even the dress of the forlorn-
    looking woman indicate the beginnings of civilization.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                              CHAPTER VI.
        ACROSS THE CACTUS DESERT INTO CALIFORNIA’S GOLDEN LAND.


[Illustration: NAVAJO CHURCH, NEAR FORT WINGATE.]

Leaving Santa Fe, we continued our journey westward over the Atchison,
Topeka and Santa Fe Railroad, and striking the Rio Grande a short
distance south of White Rock Cañon, followed the bank of that stream
through some very handsome scenery until we reached Atlantic and Pacific
Junction. Thence for a while the route was through an arid section,
where alkali and musquite abounded; an unchangeable waste of black
sterility; a country so level that the laying of a railroad track was
attended by no difficulties, but keeping it clear of sand is a work of
great perverseness. We were now on the line of the Atlantic and Pacific,
which crosses a branch of the Rio Grande at Rio Puerco, and soon after
follows the valley of that stream for about sixty miles. Laguna is on
the way, and north and south are mesas, dry lakes and lava beds, but
there is no picturesqueness of landscape. South of Fort Wingate, just
east of the Arizona border, is the Zuni Plateau, in which several old
ruins are still to be seen; but if we except the Indians, who exist in
the most miserable condition, and old ruins and craters of extinct
volcanoes, the region is without interest, and has few features worthy
of the photographer’s art.

After reaching Arizona, the road passes through a corner of the Perco
and Zuni reservations, and follows the old trail leading to Prescott.
Immediately south of Flagstaff, and in sight of that place, are more
ruins of cliff dwellings, built in the banks of Walnut Creek, but so
faded as to be scarcely distinguishable now. We are now in the Cactus
plain, where immense stalks of that curious vegetable growth rise to the
dignity of branchless trees, prickly and often grotesque.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  THE NEEDLES ALONG THE RIO GRANDE.—The Needles are a part of the Rocky
    Mountain chain, and they derive the name from their sharp-pointed
    and splintered pinnacles, in which respect they differ from all
    other mountains in America. Their peaks tower into the regions of
    perpetual snow, which cools and tempers what would otherwise be an
    almost intolerable climate. The Needles first come into view after
    emerging from the western extremity of Animas Cañon, and their white
    turrets are then visible for many leagues as the train glides along
    parallel with them.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: THE OLD SPANISH PALACE, SANTA FE, NEW MEXICO.]

[Illustration: OLD CHURCH OF SAN MIGUEL, SANTA FE, N. M., BUILT OF ADOBE
IN 1550.]

These are two interesting buildings photographed on this page. The
Palace, so called, has no very palatial appearance, but it has a record
as a government building which many a palace might well be proud of. It
has domiciled a long line of governors, both under Spanish and American
rule, and is still occupied for this purpose. It fronts the plaza or
public park, a portion of which is shown in the picture, and a brilliant
scene is witnessed here on a summer’s afternoon when the officers of the
garrison stationed here, with their families and visiting friends,
gather under the shade of the trees to listen to the excellent music of
the military band. The old adobe church is probably older by at least
two centuries than any other church house in America, and a few years
ago, when the writer was there, it was still used for religious
purposes.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: NATURAL BRIDGE, NEAR MONTEREY, CALIFORNIA.]

At a little station called Peach Springs, the road draws very near the
Hualpai reservation, and is within less than a score of miles of the
Grand Cañon of the Colorado; but, though short, the way is a difficult
one, over parched sands and an eye-wearying desolation, until within
four or five miles of the cañon, when the approach to water is indicated
by a gradual increase of vegetation, which, however, never becomes rank,
even along the river-shore. A stage-line is now running from Flagstaff,
which, though not so near as Peach Springs, offers a much easier route
to the cañon. The trip from Flagstaff is made in twelve hours, and, by
comfortable stages, the traveler is taken to one of the most imposing
points in the cañon (Marble Cañon), where the descent is sheer 6,000
feet, and a panorama is afforded of frightful chasm, curiously chaotic
walls, strange formations, and mountains breaking one behind the other,
like waves on the ocean, until sight fades into the perspective of
distance. Here terror and sublimity, in a marvel of natural extremes,
have formed perpetual alliance to excite amazement in the mind of every
visitor.

We cross the Colorado at Powell, where, to the south, are Red Rock
buttes, and to the north are the Needles, the latter being hills that
run up into sharp peaks, and then fall away to join a long stretch of
plain. Black Mountains run parallel with the river on the north, near
the foot of which, but on the river-shore, is a Mohave village, a
settlement of that miserable remnant, who from a powerful people have
degenerated, through oppression and decimation, until they are scarcely
a degree removed from the Digger Indians. The reservation proper of this
tribe is, however, near the Navajoes, in the northeastern part of the
territory.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: A CENTURY PLANT IN BLOOM, CALIFORNIA.]

[Illustration: A CACTUS FENCE IN ARIZONA.]

Immediately before blooming, the century plant puts out a long stem or
shoot, as seen in the photograph, upon which the flowers appear in due
course of time. The event is such a rare one as to be quite a curiosity,
and as comparatively few of the readers of this book will probably ever
be so fortunate as to see the real plant in bloom, they will all the
more appreciate this beautiful photograph.—In many parts of Arizona, New
Mexico and Mexico the cactus plant is made to do service as a fence
around gardens and small fields. The variety generally used for this
purpose has a broad, thin blade, resembling an ancient broadsword, and
these grow so close together, with sharp needle-pointed thorns shooting
out in every direction, that no living thing can pass through or between
them.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: THE GREAT TELESCOPE, IN LICK OBSERVATORY.]

Crossing the Colorado, we strike the desert district of California,
which extends through the counties of San Bernardino and Kern, a
distance of nearly three hundred miles. Adjoining these two counties on
the north is Inyo county, into which the Carson and Colorado Railroad
extends southward as far as Owen’s Lake. This county is remarkable for
embracing a region of extraordinary wonders, greater, indeed, in several
respects, than any other district in the world. In the northern part is
a marvelous depression, 159 feet below sea level, and nearly 150 miles
in circumference, known as Death Valley. It is distinctly a volcanic
region, in which, however, the fires are long since burned out, leaving
the desert a vast field of cinders, so parched that no drop of water
exists within its borders, though rivers of lava ramify it in every
direction. Many have perished in an effort to cross this fiery plain;
and looking across it from the margin, the observer sees a shimmer in
the air, as if a furnace were in active blast beneath. Here the
temperature rises to 122 degrees, and the air hangs in a hot envelope,
lazily swinging to and fro, rising and falling in waves of heat, and
making the sands blaze with an almost blinding light. Scorched, burned-
out and furnace-like though the region be, it is, nevertheless, the
abode of life, but no less curious than is the valley itself. The
centipede, scorpion and horned-toad find here a congenial habitation;
and, strange to say, a species of kangaroo-rat is peculiar to this
cursed spot, burrowing in the hot sand and feeding on insects.

Thunder-storms beat around the valley, but no drop of rain ever moistens
its burning lips. The dryness of the air is such a preserver of dead
bodies that decay is impossible, and the animals that die within its
borders are mummified until they become like parchment. This cursed
spot, sown as it is with dragon’s teeth, is not entirely without its
attractions, though they are as dangerous as were the soft, lute-like
voices of the Sirens. It is the field of wonderful illusion, from which
spring into the quivering air the most astounding and alluring mirages:
rippling brooks, waving palms, floral meadows, ships under sail, banks
of thyme, and travelers moving in procession across a landscape more
beautiful than an oriental vision.

Continuing our journey westward, we passed through a large arid
district, in which dry lakes with beds white with soda, and shining in
the blazing sun, were plentiful on both sides, but seeing no more
interesting features until we arrived at Los Angeles. Here we found much
to amuse, and often to instruct. It is an old town, settled by the
Spaniards, in 1780, and although now a beautiful city, it has not
entirely put aside the garments of antiquity with which the ancient
church fathers invested it. Many old adobe buildings still remain, and
there are not wanting the ruins of quaint and curious monasteries, moss-
covered, and with broken walls and dilapidated belfries, in which the
ghosts of long ago seem to have their haunt.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  WITHIN THE JAWS OF GRAND CAÑON OF THE COLORADO.—The Grand Cañon of the
    Colorado is such a stupendous wonder that we never grow tired of
    contemplating it. From every point of view we see some new marvel to
    admire. The variegated and many-hued cliffs are as remarkable for
    their bewildering beauty as for the grandeur of their lofty heights.
    Everything is on the most colossal scale, except the little river
    itself, which goes dashing along in playfulness and glee with no
    intimation that it is the master workman by whose hands this
    stupendous wonder was wrought.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: OUR STAGE-COACH CROSSING THE SANTA INEZ.]

The river, which washes the eastern limits of the city, is a sluggish
stream, but it imparts refreshment to one of the most fertile valleys to
be found anywhere in California. Here we find a succession of orange-
groves and vineyards, bending low with golden and purple fruitage, while
beyond the city’s skirts are orchards of walnut, olive and almond, from
which profitable crops are annually gathered.

San Diego, 147 miles south of Los Angeles, is another beautiful place,
the center of a delightful region, but its interest lies very largely in
the fact that it was at this place the first white settler in California
pitched his tent, as early as 1769. This great Spanish pioneer, Father
Junipero Serra by name, became the founder of twenty-one missions in
California, some of which still remain in a fair state of preservation,
but a majority exist as mere reminders of the olden time when the
Franciscan friars dominated that portion of the Spanish territory. In
this southern region the landscape is monotonous, and the air is usually
hot, from which fact, no doubt, came the name “California,” which, in
the Spanish, signifies “hot furnace,” and was bestowed by the
discoverer, in 1534.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  MAGNOLIA AVENUE, RIVERSIDE, CAL.—The climate in Southern California is
    almost tropical, and the fruits, flowers and general vegetation are
    similar to those found in equatorial regions. In the Spanish
    language “California” signifies “hot furnace,” and this name was
    bestowed upon that country by the discoverer in 1534. It is
    therefore no matter of surprise that we should see reproduced in
    this photograph a scene that carries us in imagination to the
    central regions of Florida. Here the palm and the magnolia, the
    orange and the lemon, grow and bloom side by side.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: THE GRIZZLY GIANT, MARIPOSA GROVE OF BIG TREES.]

Proceeding northward, the scenery becomes more varied and pleasing, for
above Los Angeles a mountainous district is passed, with the San
Bernardino and Sierra de San Rafael ranges on the right, and the Monica
and Santa Inez ranges on the left. Still further north are the San
Benito Mountains, paralleling the San Juan River, along whose
magnificent valley the railroad runs until it reaches Castroville on the
coast, just above Monterey. This latter place is one of very great
attractiveness, not only for its historical associations, as the seat of
Spanish Government in California until 1847, but also because it is the
best specimen of the old-time adobe cities which now remains, as well as
the location of one of the most exquisite gardens and charming hotels
that is to be found either in or out of America. The Hotel del Monte is
a building of much beauty in itself, but the very large grounds which
surround it have been cultivated until they are a veritable paradise of
noble oaks, rich green lawns, and bewildering flower-beds, dimpled with
every hue that nature is capable of painting. The old town is a ghost of
antiquity, the skeleton of a remote past, whose bony fingers point
backward, as if beckoning beseechingly to the long ago. There is the
mission house, rickety and tattered, raising its palsied head barely
above the adobe walls which once served so well to defend it against
enemies. But the wall, very thick though it was, has been badly breached
by the catapults of time, and having done faithful guard-duty in the
early days, it is now like the grave of a hero, which has become a
shrine, to which many are drawn by curiosity as well as by respect.

From Monterey northward the road runs through the incomparably beautiful
and fertile Santa Clara Valley, a region where nature is always in good
humor, and so fat that every time she laughs she shakes out a harvest.
Towards the left spreads away a waving plain in richest cultivation,
while on the right towers the Coast range of mountains, whose summits,
bathed perpetually in a clear atmosphere, look in the distance like a
vast ridge of sapphires supporting the sky.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  AN OLD MISSION HOUSE IN CALIFORNIA.—The great Spanish pioneer and
    priest, Father Junipero Serra, went to California in 1769, and
    pitched his tent near the modern city of San Diego. He was the first
    white man to settle within the limits of the territory now embraced
    by the great State of the Pacific coast. His object in going there
    was to serve as a missionary among the Indians, and so earnest and
    faithful was he that he lived to become the founder of twenty-one
    missions. Some of these still remain in a fair state of
    preservation, like the one photographed on this page, but most of
    them have fallen into decay.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: BRIDAL VEIL FALL, YOSEMITE.]

At San Jose, a lovely city embowered with oaks, vines, roses and palms,
the stage is taken for Mount Hamilton, upon the peak of which is located
the Lick Observatory, enclosing the great Lick telescope. The road cost
$80,000 to make; and though the ascent, which is begun fifteen miles
from San Jose, is great, yet so admirably constructed is the way that
two horses easily drag the stage to the summit. I never had a more
delightful ride than this trip afforded, for while the air was bracing,
the view was at all times indescribably picturesque. At places where
sharp turns are made, passengers can look out of the coach windows down
into abysses which seem to be bottomless, and which never fail to elicit
the question: “If a wheel should run off the edge, where would the
passengers land?”

The altitude of the observatory is 4,250 feet above the valley, and from
this lofty point, it is claimed, with an appearance of truth, that a
greater area is visible than from any other in the world. Not only is
the whole of Santa Clara Valley viewable, but on very clear days the
highest peaks of the Yosemite are discernible, and even Mount Shasta,
200 miles distant, can be distinguished. The telescope is a 36-inch
reflector, the largest ever made, and so massive that it is controlled
by hydraulic power, which is most ingeniously applied, the adjustment
being so perfect that its many tons of weight can be moved by a single
finger. The public have free access to the observatory, but
unfortunately, and very unwisely, visitors are not permitted to use the
telescope except on Saturday nights. As favorable evenings are
comparatively few, this rule prevents a very great majority of persons
from realizing what they have traveled thousands of miles to see, and
much complaint against the astronomers in charge is accordingly made.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  LICK OBSERVATORY, ON THE SUMMIT OF MOUNT HAMILTON, CAL.—The
    observatory buildings occupy the summit of the mountains, at an
    altitude of 4250 feet above the valley. The place is reached by
    stage from San Jose, over a road which is said to have cost $80,000
    in its construction. The scenery along the road is wonderfully
    picturesque and beautiful, embracing a number and variety of views
    that are unsurpassed anywhere in the world. From the observatory
    nearly the whole of Santa Clara Valley can be seen, and on clear
    days the peaks of Yosemite, and even the hoary head of Mount Shasta,
    200 miles distant, are discernible.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: EL CAPITAN, 3,300 FEET HIGH, YOSEMITE.]

From San Jose to San Francisco the distance is about fifty miles,
through forests of redwood, past charming villas skirting San Francisco
Bay, and many beauties peculiar to this perpetual summer land. The city
is one of exceedingly great interest, possessing as it does features of
a unique as well as of a magnificent character. Some of its best streets
are reclamations from the bay, where, in 1849, the largest ships rode at
anchor; and what were once bare mountains of sand were made accessible
by the adoption of a cable system of street railroads, and on these
peaks are now several of the finest residences in America.

The Palace Hotel is the largest in the world, nine stories high,
occupying 275 by 350 feet of ground, and cost, with furnishings, the
enormous sum of $7,000,000. The public buildings, and many of the
business blocks as well, attest the great wealth of the place, which
flowed in with the gold discoveries. Lone Mountain, distinguished by a
large wooden cross on its summit, affords a view which embraces not only
the entire city and bay, but likewise of the ocean, Mount Diabolo and
the long Coast Range that shimmers in the sun like polished metal.

But the most delightful point of interest is the Cliff House, near the
entrance to the Golden Gate, reached by a beautiful drive through Golden
Gate Park, and also by cable and steam cars. The prospect from the hotel
piazza, reaching far above and over the ocean, is both grand and
charming. Immediately in front, and only three or four hundred yards
away, three rocks rise out of the sea to a height of one hundred feet,
and on these hundreds of sea-lions gather of sunny days to bask and
display themselves before amused spectators. At times, their barking is
almost distracting, especially when some ugly-dispositioned pater
familias of the great herd sets about clearing the rocks, when there
follows a noise like ten thousand big dogs in conflict, and a
scrambling, sprawling and tumbling that is wonderful as well as amusing.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  GARDEN OF PALMS AT INDIO, NEAR SAN DIEGO, CAL.—No wonder the people of
    California love their State and its “glorious climate” when they are
    able to produce such ideal homes as the one reproduced in this
    superb photograph. It is one of many others like it in the same
    region, and shows what may be accomplished in a short time with a
    combination of natural advantages and industry. The picture is so
    perfect that we can almost imagine we see the waving of the palm
    leaves and smell the perfume of the flowers.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: VERNAL FALLS AND LADY FRANKLIN ROCK, YOSEMITE.]

San Francisco is a center from which many interesting itineraries may be
conveniently made, several of which we performed, with the particular
view of photographing the most attractive features. Chief of these
excursions is to the Yosemite Valley, which is 267 miles from San
Francisco, the last sixty-seven miles being journeyed by stage. Leaving
that city at 4 P. M., we reached Raymond at 6 A. M. the following day,
at which point the stage is taken to Wawona, which is only six miles
from the Mariposa Grove of Big Trees. These giants of the primeval
forest are in a Government reservation two miles square, and compose two
distinct groves some half a mile apart. In the upper grove there are
365—one for each day in the year—trees, 154 of which exceed fifteen feet
in diameter, and several are more than 300 feet in height. The largest,
known as the Grizzly Giant, in the lower grove, is thirty-one feet in
diameter, and the first limb which makes out from the trunk, 200 feet
above the earth, is six feet in diameter. There is a prostrate tree in
this grove which originally measured forty feet in diameter, and was 400
feet in height. The body is hollow, and is large enough to admit three
horsemen abreast a distance of seventy feet.

A few miles beyond Wawona is a stage-station called Fresno, which is
within the limits of another grove of mammoth trees, the largest of
which is thirty-two feet in diameter at the butt, and there are probably
100 or more that measure as much as twenty feet through. Just beyond
Fresno, we enter the far-famed and truly marvelous region of the
Yosemite (which, in the Indian tongue, signifies a “grizzly bear”), that
great heart of the Sierras which beats in mountain and breaks in
waterfall. This wondrous valley, running along the western base of the
Sierra Nevada range, is a comparatively level area, but it lies fully
4,000 feet above sea level, and is nine miles long, by an average of one
mile wide. The remarkable feature of this valley, aside from its special
curiosities and mammoth configurations, is the fact that it is enclosed
by granite walls of almost unbroken continuity, which present
perpendicular faces ranging from 3,000 to 6,000 feet in height. The
valley was discovered May 6, 1851, by the Mariposa battalion, in command
of Major James D. Savage, which had been sent against the Yosemite
Indians, to punish them for outrages perpetrated against the miners in
the counties of Mariposa, Fresno, Tuolumne and Inyo. Up to this time the
valley was known to whites only through Indian traditions, which
represented the region as one of great beauty, but the abode of witches
and evil spirits. Upon the discovery, however, it was found to be a
place of refuge for the Indians; and within its boundaries, therefore,
some desperate fighting took place between the California rangers and
the Yosemite Indian marauders, in which there were heavy losses on both
sides, and many acts of shocking cruelty.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  SEAL ROCKS AND CLIFF HOUSE AT THE GOLDEN GATE, SAN FRANCISCO.—This is
    one of the many popular resorts near the city of San Francisco. It
    affords a fine view of the Golden Gate entrance to the harbor, and
    the coming and going of the ships. The rocks in front of the hotel
    are nearly always covered with seals, or sea-lions, whose barking
    and plunging in the water add variety and interest to the scene.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: GLACIER POINT, YOSEMITE.]

The stage-road leading from Wawona is particularly romantic and
delightfully picturesque, with views of mountains, laughing streams and
beflowered valleys, that break in pleasing variety upon the expectant
vision of the visitor, and give intimation of the grander glories that
lie beyond. After crossing Alder Creek, a beautiful stream that washes a
pebbled bed, the route mounts Alder Hill, and rises rapidly until from
its apex there is afforded an amazing sight, which never fails to throw
the beholder into raptures. Northward, like a thread of silver running
through a labyrinth of mountains, is the South Fork, while southward the
same stream speeds away to join the Merced River, which dashes through a
stupendous gorge aflame with colors. Descending Alder Hill on the east,
by way of a tortuous route, we at last reach Merced Valley, beautiful as
a poet’s inspiration, and crossing this low-lying strip of meadow land,
climb another hill, where wonder compels us to pause upon its crest.
Away yonder in the misty west, where the horizon drops down like a
curtain on the world to hide the mysteries behind, are the dim outlines
of the Coast Range, nearly 200 miles distant. But more bewildering
sights are near at hand, for there to the left a little way are noisy
cascades playing leap-frog over giant stones; Table Rock is close by,
and El Capitan, that grizzled old captain of the Yosemite, exposes his
shoulder, which seems to be a prop for the clouds. A few miles further
and we reach Inspiration Point, where a glorious vision of Yosemite
Valley and its Titanic walls break upon us with a startling suddenness,
revealing a section of nature that is incomparably grand and awesomely
magnificent. El Capitan forges upward 3,300 feet; the Three Brothers
keep him company to a yet greater altitude, while in the background,
frowzled, yet sublime, loom up against the cerulean sky the gray
Cathedral Rocks, lying within the deep shadows of Sentinel Rock. Look
around, for on every side appear evidences of mightiness, the awfulness
of those powers which sometimes escape from internal reservoirs, or
break away from the fastnesses where they were born; the bursting of
lava beds, the tearing down of glacier, the down-sweeping of avalanche,
and the steady flow of gnawing waters.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  BIG TREES IN MARIPOSA FOREST, CAL.—The big trees of California are
    celebrated all over the world, and visitors to the World’s Fair at
    Chicago had the pleasure of beholding a number of very fine samples,
    the largest having been exhibited in the Government department. In
    this photograph the picturesque cabin, standing near the roots of
    the gigantic tree, affords a good object of comparison, by which one
    may readily determine the enormous size of the forest giant.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: VERNAL FALLS, YOSEMITE.]

A trip through the Yosemite Valley is one of profound amazement, a
succession of astounding surprises, where the most amazing prodigies of
nature stand before you in review. Why, throw a glance up yonder, so far
that though the atmosphere is wondrously clear, yet the trees on the
crest are not distinguishable, only a white ribbon that appears to have
been flung down over the narrow edge of that appalling summit to attract
attention. What we see is the first leap of Yosemite Falls, dashing
through a notch that is nearly half a mile wide, and which has a fall
from three ledges of 2,548 feet, or sixteen times greater than that of
Niagara. There, not far away, is Glacier Point, which is 3,000 feet
high, and from which a view of the entire valley can be had. Standing on
that pinnacle, we gather in a glorious panorama of extraordinary
splendor. The great domes of the Yosemite are plainly discernible; so is
Liberty Cap, Clouds’ Rest, Vernal Falls, Nevada Falls, placid lakes, and
the swift-rolling Merced River, that collects and bears away the waters
that plunge down from a dozen dizzy heights.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  MIRROR LAKE, REFLECTING EL CAPITAN, IN YOSEMITE PARK, CAL.—Among the
    myriad attractions of Yosemite Park, none are more popular than
    Mirror Lake. The water is so transparent as to give a perfect and
    beautiful reflection of all surrounding objects. The photograph on
    this page is a fine example of this attractive feature, the
    reflection being so perfect that it is difficult to determine which
    is the right side of the picture. If this lake had been located in
    the Garden of Eden, we could not blame our grandmother Eve for
    admiring her counterpart in its pellucid depths.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: ILLILLOUETTE FALLS AND SOUTH DOME.]

But besides these, as we turn to sweep the other points, we catch views
no less grand, of Ribbon Fall, with its leap of 3,350 feet, Indian
Cañon, Royal Arches, Bridal Veil Fall, Washington’s Tower, Columbia
Rock, and pearl-gray granite walls that rise in places to a vertical
height of 6,000 feet. More beautiful, in some respects, than any of
these, as many believe, are Mirror Lake, which seems to reflect nearly
the whole valley, and Cascade Falls, which are indescribably lovely. The
meadows draw our admiration likewise, for they are so covered with
flowers as to appear like a carpet of the most gorgeous patterns, done
in the liveliest combination of brilliant colors. Other points of great
interest are the Giant’s Thumb, Eagle Peak, Valley Ford, the Gnome of
the Yosemite, Mount Watkins, 4,000 feet high, and Tis-sa-ack (Half
Dome), 5,000 feet in height, which was regarded by the Indians as the
Guardian Angel of the valley, for upon the south side of it are the
distinct outlines of a human face, declared in a legend to be those of
Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah, ancient father of the Yosemites. And there are the
Three Brothers, called by the Indians Pom-pom-pa-sa, which signifies
“three mountains playing leap-frog,” a name no doubt bestowed because of
the popularity of that game with the original natives, and also because
the mountains, from a distance, bear a strong resemblance to three giant
frogs sitting side by side, upon the point of leaping into the valley,
nearly 4,000 feet below.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: UPPER CASCADE OF BRIDAL VEIL FALLS IN WINTER.]

[Illustration: SENTINEL ROCK WRAPPED IN A CLOUD.]

Both of the illustrations on this page belong to Yosemite Park scenery.
The one on the right, representing Sentinel Rock wrapped in a cloud, is
specially beautiful and interesting. Our photographers were fortunate in
having so good an opportunity for reproducing a scene that occurs only
at rare intervals, and they have done the work so well that every one
will be delighted with the results.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: THE TURN, IN CHILNUALNU FALLS, YOSEMITE.]

There are several great falls in this wonderful reservation, which, in
point of beauty, exceed those in any other part of the world. Yosemite
Falls is incomparably the greatest in height, and in the months of May,
June and July, the volume of water which it pours down is second only to
Niagara and Shoshone. Its first vertical leap is 1,500 feet, where it
strikes a series of ledges which break the water into cascades for
another fall of 626 feet, after which it takes a sheer plunge of 400
feet, and flows away into the Merced, making a roaring noise in its
impetuous descent that can be heard for miles.

Bridal Veil Fall is the termination of a creek bearing the same name,
where it plunges over a precipice 900 feet high, and the stream is so
thin that it becomes a very mist before reaching the valley. Directly
opposite is Virgin Tears Creek, which likewise dashes over a lofty ledge
through a notch in El Capitan, 1,000 feet high, and falls in a spray,
though during a greater part of the year the creek is nearly dry.

The first fall reached in ascending the cañon of the Merced is Vernal
Fall, which has a vertical height of 400 feet and a very considerable
volume. But as we proceed further up the cañon, passing a number of
cascades, the eye suddenly catches what the ear has anticipated, and
rapture succeeds expectation, for there bursts into view Nevada Falls,
which, as Professor Whitney says, “is in every respect one of the
grandest waterfalls in the world, whether we consider its vertical
height, the purity and volume of the river which forms it, or the
stupendous scenery by which it is environed. The fall is not quite
perpendicular, as there is near the summit a ledge of rock which
receives a portion of the water and throws it off with a peculiar twist,
adding considerably to the general picturesque effect.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  YOSEMITE VALLEY AS SEEN FROM ARTIST’S POINT.—This is an exceedingly
    fine view of Yosemite Valley with its surrounding mountains and a
    glimpse of the falls on the right. The photograph was taken at
    Artist’s Point, so named for its favorable location in viewing the
    valley and the majestic scenery by which it is surrounded. No
    painter could imagine a grander scene, and nothing but the camera
    could transfer it so accurately to the printed page.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: INDIAN CAMP ON THE NEVADA PLAINS.]

The fall is about 600 feet, the stream being clearly defined throughout
its descent, and the volume of water is very great, giving to the falls
the very ideal of beauty, power and truly extraordinary grandeur. In the
Cañon of the South Fork, there is another fall of equal height, and it
is one, too, of much attractiveness, but brought into comparison with
that of Nevada, of which it is a close brother, though difficult to
reach, it appears so inconsequential as to scarcely deserve a name,
though it is occasionally known as Illillouette Falls.

But everywhere, up and down that magic valley, whether viewed from the
gorges that have their bottoms in dark and mystic abysses, or from
amazing heights of walls thrust far into the skies, there is wonder
piled upon wonder, grandeur overtopping rapture, dumfounded admiration
riding at furious pace in the lead of inspiration, glorious realization
gilding the visions of imagination. As the gifted Benjamin F. Taylor
wrote of his visit to this wonderland: “Yosemite awaited us without
warning. Spectral white in the glancing of the sun, the first thought
was that the granite ledges of all the mountains had come to
resurrection, and were standing pale and dumb before the Lord. I turned
to it again, and began to see the towers, the domes, the spires, the
battlements, the arches and the white clouds of solid granite, surging
up into the air and come to everlasting anchor until the mountains shall
be moved! You hasten on; you hear the winds intoning in the choral
galleries a mile above your head; you hear the crash of waters as of
cataracts in the sky; you trample upon broad shadows that have fallen
thousands of feet down, like the cast-off garments of descending night.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  HALF DOME AND CLOUD’S REST, YOSEMITE VALLEY.—This is equally as grand
    a view of portions of the Yosemite scenery as the one given on page
    177, though perhaps less beautiful from an artistic standard. The
    half dome on the left is one of the most striking features of this
    photograph. It is so smooth and regular in its outlines that we can
    hardly regard it as an accident of nature, but rather a work of
    design. But, after all, do we not find design, and law, and
    regularity of purpose in all the works of nature?
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: CAVE ROCK, LAKE TAHOE.]

Instead of returning direct to San Francisco, by way of the route we had
taken to the Yosemite, we went northward, over a very good road, through
Tuolumne and into Calaveras county, near the eastern edge of which is
the very celebrated grove of giant trees. The grove is confined within a
valley some 3,000 feet long by 800 feet wide, and embraces ninety-three
mammoth trees, some of which are prostrate. The tallest now standing is
325 feet high, and measures fifteen feet in diameter. There are others
which, though less lofty, exceed the tallest in girth measurement by as
much as twenty feet in circumference, while the thickness of the bark on
these grizzly giants is as much as eighteen inches. Five miles southeast
of the Calaveras forest is the Stanislaus Grove, of about 800 trees,
which in any other country than California would be considered as
veritable monsters for size; but they do not equal the better specimens
in either the Calaveras or Mariposa Groves, though several have a height
of 250 feet, and a trunk circumference of thirty feet.

Having inspected and photographed the groves, we proceeded to Murphy’s
Hotel, sixteen miles from the Calaveras Grove, thence twenty-five miles
by stage to Valley Springs, a station on a narrow-gauge railroad that
runs to Lodi, where connection is made for San Francisco.

It was not possible, without occupying years of time, to make trips over
all the picturesque rail-routes of America, and the transportation of
our material in a photograph car, which was in almost constant use, made
it necessary that our three photographers travel together, except when
it was desirable to cover in quick time short detours from main lines.
For this reason the overland trip from Denver was made by way of the
southern route, without dividing our party; but to provide against what
would otherwise have been a serious omission, the photographer of the
Southern Pacific Railroad was brought into service to supply views of
scenery along that road between Ogden and San Francisco, over which the
writer has traveled so frequently as to be thoroughly familiar with all
the points of interest. It was this route, formerly known as the Central
Pacific, joining the Union Pacific at Ogden, that constituted the first
all-rail overland road from Omaha to San Francisco, and it continues to
hold rank as the most picturesque, though the scenery alternates with
many dreary patches.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  THE SENTINEL IN YOSEMITE PARK.—Every one who visits Yosemite is amazed
    at the grandeur and magnitude of the scenery. In the language of the
    author of this work, “Everywhere, up and down that magic valley,
    whether viewed from the gorges that have their bottoms in dark and
    mystic abysses, or from amazing heights of walls thrust far into the
    skies, there is wonder piled upon wonder.” Each advancing step
    brings a new revelation, until the vision is lost in a maze of
    marvelous views. One of the most striking features of this
    photograph is the outline of the falls in Merced River, as seen to
    the right of the grizzly Sentinel.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: CASCADE BRIDGE AND SNOW-SHEDS ON THE SIERRAS.]

After leaving Ogden, the Southern Pacific passes in a half-circle around
the northern shores of Salt Lake, and then darts into the Nevada, or
Great American Desert, a vast sea of alkali rippled with dry sage-brush;
a furnace in summer and a Siberian tundra in winter. Nature has denied
to this wretched region any compensation of flower, stream, bird, or
even curiosity. It is the very nakedness of bleak desolation, and
stretches its cursed length through a distance of 600 miles. The
Humboldt River has tried to force a way through this parched waste; but
however great its volume of water, gathered from the mountains in spring
freshets, the desert drinks it up at a place known as the Humboldt Sink,
where the thirst of the sands is so great that the river is arrested and
stands still in a shallow lake, the resort of myriads of water-fowls.

But though the land is a wind-swept waste of alkali, scorched, denuded
and cursed, yet men have planted their hopes even there, and are
wrestling with the harshest and most unpromising disadvantages. Indian
camps are frequent, and villages are occasional, where a few brave men,
inured to all difficulties, scratch the parched earth and seek a
precarious sustenance, though nearly all are traders, furnishing
supplies to miners in the mountains miles away.

The dreary, lifeless monotony is relieved, however, just before reaching
Humboldt Lake, by the bold but rugged contour of sky-piercing pinnacles,
which rise to the south of the road in curious forms and extraordinary
magnitude, marking the line of Humboldt River. These interesting
formations are known as the Humboldt Palisades, in which the Devil’s
Peak is conspicuous, viewed from the car window. After so many hours
passed in crossing a wretched desert, the scenery of meandering river
and lofty bluffs is extremely invigorating, and preparation to enjoy the
sight is complete. But the palisades are singularly beautiful, viewed
under any conditions, and situated near the edge of an alkali
wilderness, as they are, they break upon the vision of a west-bound
passenger with a delight that arouses rapture.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  CATHEDRAL ROCKS, 2300 FEET HIGH, IN YOSEMITE PARK, CAL.—These majestic
    and towering rocks are so striking a feature of Yosemite scenery
    that they have attracted great attention from artists and
    photographers, and many copies have been made both in paintings and
    photographs. But we have seen none that are so beautiful or accurate
    as the one on this page. It is a perfect picture in all respects,
    even to the reflection in the lake.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: HEATHER LAKE AND MOUNTAIN SCENERY ABOUT LAKE TAHOE.]

At Wadsworth, Truckee Valley is entered, green with the joy of exuberant
nature, which we follow until Truckee City, a gem of the Sierras, is
gained, and realize that we have now to climb over the second ridge of
the continent, the ragged ribs that flank the great water-shed of the
three Americas. Truckee is not only a pretty village, nestling on the
snowy bosom of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, but it is the center of a
lake region, wherein abound some of the most remarkable bodies of water
to be found on the globe. Fourteen miles towards the south is
California’s favorite resort, Lake Tahoe, a really marvelous sheet of
crystalline water that, from the mountain peaks which enclose it, looks
like a colossal beryl that through some disturbment has been rolled out
of the sky and found lodgment in the great lap of the Sierras. The
environs of the lake are wondrously grand, and the air a very
enchantment, so great is its exhilaration. The lake is twenty-two miles
long, ten miles wide, and 1,700 feet deep, while the surface is 6,247
feet above sea level, and it is, as Mark Twain eloquently describes it,
“a sea in the clouds; a sea that has character, and asserts it at times
in solemn calms, and again in savage storms; a sea whose royal seclusion
is guarded by a cordon of sentinel peaks that lift their frosty fronts
9,000 feet above the level world; a sea whose every aspect is
impressive, whose belongings are beautiful, whose lonely majesty types
the Deity.” Tahoe’s waters abound with trout and other fish, whose
bodies flash the sunlight from a depth of thirty feet. The waters are so
cold that decomposition is arrested below the surface. Many persons have
been drowned in the lake, but not one has ever been recovered, when the
accident occurred in deep water. So pellucid are its waters that a boat
gliding along the surface appears to be passing through the air, and
from the prows of swift-moving crafts, sheets of clearest glass seem to
be rolling away. Many beautiful cottages are built along the shore, the
summer homes of wealthy Californians, and in season the lake is animate
with boats and the beach alive with pleasure parties.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  THE BROW OF EL CAPITAN GIRDLED WITH CLOUDS.—This is one of the
    grandest and most beautiful views of Yosemite scenery that we have
    ever had the pleasure of beholding. El Capitan, or, as we should say
    in plain English, and certainly much more expressively, “The
    Captain,” lifts his haughty head 3300 feet above the valley, and
    calmly surveys the surrounding landscape as if he had a right to
    command it. Our photographers were fortunate in being able to
    procure such a splendid representation of cloud effects as are shown
    along the brow of the mountain in this picture.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  CARRIAGE ROAD THROUGH THE HEART OF MARIPOSA’S BIG TREE.—This splendid
    photograph will give a better idea of the immense size of
    California’s big trees than any other comparison or illustration
    could. After cutting a roadway through the tree large enough to
    admit of the passage of a carriage or an omnibus, it still has left
    sufficient strength of root to support its trunk and branches and
    stand firm against the assaults of the storms and earthquakes which
    frequently bring down other monarchs of the forest less firmly
    anchored in the heart of the earth.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: ICE FORMATION AT FOOT OF BRIDAL VEIL FALLS.]

[Illustration: NEVADA FALLS, YOSEMITE.]

Yosemite is beautiful and grand in all seasons of the year, in winter as
well as in the summer-time. But it is not often visited by tourists
except in the balmy season of summer, and thus some of its greatest
wonders would go unobserved except for the efforts of the energetic
photographer. On this page we have a combination of winter and summer
views, and are thereby enabled to enjoy both seasons at the same time.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: DONNER LAKE, NEAR TRUCKEE, CALIFORNIA.]

A little way west of Truckee, and three miles from the road, is Donner
Lake, a beautiful body, but chiefly famous for the tragic history which
is connected with it. The story, in brief, is this: In the winter of
1846-47, a party of eighty-two emigrants, while on their way to
California, were overtaken by a snow-storm while encamped on the shore
of the lake, and of the number thirty-six perished of starvation. A
ghastly tale of cannibalism is told of the survivors, and the whole
tragedy is embalmed in Bret Harte’s novel of “Gabriel Conroy.” Besides
these two more celebrated bodies of water near Truckee, there are
Pyramid, Angeline, Silver, and Palisade lakes, all near by, and are more
or less popular resorts, particularly with fishing parties.

As we proceed up the Sierras the cold increases, until when the town of
Summit is reached snow lies upon the ground throughout the year, and it
is perpetual winter there, 7,000 feet above the sea. The route is for
many miles enclosed by snow-sheds, but the snow-plow has plenty of work
to do in keeping the intervals clear. Formerly this work was performed
by three or four engines pushing a big machine, somewhat resembling a
shovel-board plow, through the heavy banks of snow, but it is now more
speedily and effectively accomplished by a rotary snow-plow, as shown in
one of our illustrations. The machine is, in fact, a giant auger, which
is run by steam supplied by the engines behind it, and being set in
motion, rapidly bores its way through the drifts, throwing the snow at
an angle of forty-five degrees, and with a force sufficient to deposit
it fifty feet from the track.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: AGASSIZ COLUMN, YOSEMITE.]

[Illustration: THE PASSAGE-WAY AROUND CAPE HORN.]

The cliffs at Cape Horn, so beautifully represented on this page, are
over 2000 feet high, and so precipitous that, when work was commenced in
making a bed for the railroad tracks, men had to be lowered by ropes
from the top and held in position until, with picks and crowbars, they
could cut for themselves a footing in the rock walls. As the cars roll
round the jagged point they are on a level with the clouds, while below
for nearly 2000 feet appear the forests of pine trees, so reduced in
size by distance that they appear like ordinary whisk brooms.—Agassiz
Column is one of the prominent features of Yosemite scenery, and it is
splendidly reproduced in the fine photograph on this page.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: SNOW SHOVELERS CUTTING A BLOCKADE ON THE SIERRA NEVADAS.]

The road begins to descend rapidly after leaving Summit, but the most
wonderful scenery in all California is passed in the next 150 miles.
Donner’s Peak comes into view as the first suggestion of a dreadfully
tumultuous condition of nature, wrought by the great glaciers that in
the early centuries came grinding their way over the mountains. There is
Emigrant Gap, through which the first gold-seekers found their way into
the Golden Valley, and American Cañon, along the dizzy edge of which the
train runs at a free and almost reckless pace. The way is broken with
quarreling cascades, fast-dashing creeks and beautiful blue cañons, in
which an autumn haze perpetually lingers. Giant’s Gap, in the American
Cañon, is a vast rent in an opposing mountain, that looks like it might
have been torn out by the hand of the Thunder God to make a way for the
trolls. Chasm after chasm comes into view with grandeur and awfulness as
a background until presently the train runs out on a ledge that appears
to passengers inside the coaches to have no more substantial support
than a bank of clouds. We are away up high on the breast of a mountain
that shoots upward 2,000 feet perpendicularly, and looking out of the
car windows there is nothing but clouds bowling along on the same level,
and below forests of pine, stunted by distance, until the trees are no
bigger than whisk-brooms, and American River is a white thread not too
large to run through the eye of a darning-needle. This is Cape Horn,
where the ledge is so precipitous that in making the road-bed it was
necessary to lower the first workmen by means of ropes, which were held
fast at the summit while the suspended men plied their picks and crow-
bars until a footing was made.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: “FLOWER BEDS IN FRONT OF HOTEL DEL MONTE, MONTEREY.”]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: UPPER YOSEMITE FALLS IN WINTER.]

[Illustration: VIEW OF AMERICAN RIVER CAÑON, IN THE SIERRAS.]

Yosemite Falls in winter, with the lace-like sheet of water gently
pouring down between the columns of ice on either side, present a scene
of indescribable loveliness. It is a scene, also, not often witnessed,
for Yosemite has a dearth of visitors during the winter.—The companion
photograph affords a fine view of scenery in the Sierra Nevada Mountains
of California, made famous by Mark Twain in one of his jokes, wherein he
stated that the changes of climate in that region were so sudden and
extreme that, while hunting in the mountains one day, his dog’s head was
sun-struck by the intense heat, while at the same time his tail was
frozen by the severe cold prevailing at his other extremity. The point
of the joke will be appreciated after reading the splendid description
of this locality by the author of GLIMPSES OF AMERICA on page 192.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: A ROTARY SNOW PLOW CUTTING THROUGH A BLOCKADE ON THE
SIERRAS.]

After leaving Cape Horn, and passing many relics of early mining days:
holes in the ground, decaying sluice-boxes, long flumes, tumble-down
shanties, and a few hydraulic works, the road gains the Sacramento
Valley, where the passengers are met by a burst of sunshine that makes
the land laugh with plenty, and fills every heart with gladness. The air
is fragrant with the almond and orange, and where husbandry has not
covered the broad-spreading acres with grain or vineyards, there are
flowers of a thousand hues, and butterflies of corresponding colors. The
early emigrants from the East, who sought fortune on the Pacific slope
after the gold discoveries of 1848-49, found a paradise in the fragrant
and prolific valley of the Sacramento, which, beautiful at all times,
was to them, after a journey of almost unbearable hardships across the
burning sands of the American Desert, a region of incomparable delight.
There is, indeed, no contrast in all nature so sudden and so great as
that afforded between Nevada and California, the line of separation
being the Sierras. Out of the arid plains, a very ocean of verdureless
desolation, the road rises rapidly to altitudes of perpetual snow and
into forests of pine that cover the sides of fearful precipices, the
peaks of towering mountains and the jaws of yawning chasms; then it
swoops down again into a land of perennial bloom, the antithesis of that
of the eastern desert, where, instead of parching, the sun revivifies
and forces into fruitage orchards, vineyards, groves, gardens, and
fields, making the land one of teeming plenty, and joyful with song of
bird, flash of stream, gleam of golden grain, and resonant with the
laughing chorus of exuberant nature. More fortunes have been won by aid
of the hoe and sickle wielded in this charming valley than were ever
gained by means of pick, flame and rocker on the harsh mountain sides,
where the gold-seekers have toiled so hopefully for forty years, and in
a great majority of cases spent their strength without reward.

The first time that I crossed the Sierras was in early autumn, before
the crisp air had begun to clip the leaves, and when Nevada appeared to
be swept with a stifling atmosphere; hot, dusty and dreary was the pale
sands, and the gray sage-brush was withered as by a simoom’s breath; I
wondered why tourists, on pleasure bent, should make such a journey.
Then out of the plain of dearth, and up the mountains we sped; suddenly,
as it were, the atmosphere grew chill, flakes of snow began to descend;
the way led out of hot summer into severe winter, and the landscape
became a picture of tumult, mighty, wonderful and picturesque. Then we
rolled down the Sierras into a land of indescribable beauty, into a
garden as lovely as that of Hesperides—and the answer was plain.

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                              CHAPTER VII.
       OUR JOURNEY THROUGH PICTURESQUE REGIONS OF THE NORTHWEST.


[Illustration: HIGH SIERRAS AND SUSIE LAKE, AN ARM OF LAKE TAHOE.]

Winter had been spent in the vernal climate of New Mexico, Arizona and
California, and we had so nicely calculated our work that when April
arrived we were ready for explorations in northern fields. Accordingly,
early in that month, we took our departure from San Francisco, over the
California and Oregon Railroad (property of the Southern Pacific), to
photograph the natural wonders of the extreme northwest. The road which
we had thus selected is one of the most charmingly picturesque in
America, abounding as it does with an infinite variety of beautiful
valleys, leaping cascades, roaring waterfalls, snow-capped mountains,
and abysmal cañons that are wrapped in eternal darkness.

After leaving Sacramento, the route follows the Sacramento Valley,
through a marvelously fertile district, cleft by an exquisite stream
that bellows, gushes, gurgles and rambles in a devious way from
summerless peaks, through blossoming vales, and down mellow meadows,
until it drops into the arms of the sea.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  UPPER CASCADE OF CHILNUALNU FALLS, YOSEMITE.—It has been said by a
    distinguished writer that “either the domes or the waterfalls of
    Yosemite, or any single one of them, would be sufficient in any
    European country to attract travelers from far and wide. Waterfalls
    in the vicinity of Yosemite, surpassing in beauty many of the best
    known and most visited in Europe, are actually left unnoticed by
    travelers, because there are so many other objects to be visited
    that it is impossible to find time for them all.” This will
    doubtless explain why the beautiful cascade photographed on this
    page is so little known that it is not even described in the leading
    guide-books. It is one of the most attractive waterfalls in
    Yosemite, but it has so many neighbors equally beautiful and grander
    that it is passed by almost unnoticed.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  NAJAQUI FALLS, GAVIOTA PASS, CAL.—Gaviota Pass is located in Santa
    Barbara County, and possesses some of the finest scenery to be found
    anywhere in the State. The photograph on this page will afford a
    good idea of the delightful visions to be seen in this region. The
    falls are neither grand nor majestic, but they are exceedingly
    beautiful, and the secluded retreat, fringed with ferns and mosses,
    where but few sounds are heard except the gentle splashing of the
    constantly falling water, is a place to be sought and loved on a
    warm summer day.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: INTERIOR OF SNOW SHED, SIERRA NEVADA MOUNTAINS.]

Beyond Chico, northward, the scenery becomes rapidly more rugged, until
we plunge into the Siskiyou range, and apparently become tangled up, so
tortuous is the way. Time and again the road overlaps itself in winding
up the steeps, leaps across yawning chasms on lofty steel bridges, and
dashes into tunnels that for a while appear to lead directly to the
center of the under-world. But on every side, where daylight reveals the
turbulent landscape, there is much to excite wonder and to lend
surprise. A hundred miles before we come abreast of Mount Shasta, the
sunlighted head of that mammoth peak glints and glistens with a weirdly
grand effect upon the admiring eyes of approaching travelers. There it
stands, apparently shifting from one side of the track to the other as
we wind around among the gorges and creep up the slopes, but always a
chief among mountains and commander among the clouds. Sissons is the
nearest station to the giant peak, and here we stopped to make some
photographs and gather information. The base of Shasta is exceedingly
broad, covering as it does a circumference of seventy-five miles, and
its hoary head is lifted up 11,000 feet above the surface, and 14,450
above the sea. The greatest wonder, however, is not in the mountain’s
height or size, but in the fact that it is an extinct volcano, whose
crater is nearly one mile in diameter and 1,500 feet deep. On one side
there is a rift, resembling a broken piece from the rim of a bowl,
through which the sea of lava that boiled and seethed in this devil’s
caldron many centuries ago, evidently broke and poured a burning flood
into the valley, and overflowed a large district of country. This may
have been done in one of its expiring throes, for certainly there are no
evidences that the volcano has been in activity within the past five
hundred years.

“There is a cold gray light upon this mountain in winter mornings, that
even to look upon, sends a chill to the very marrow, especially if the
snow-banner be flying; yet perhaps at evening tide, when twilight
shadows have darkened the valley below, this vast pyramid of hoar frost
and storm-swept ridges is transformed into a great beacon light of
glory, where the warm mellow light loves to linger; where the richest
halos of gold and crimson encircle it with their loving bands; where the
last and best treasures of the declining sun are poured out in a
wondrous profusion, until it is driven by the night lavenders and grays
beyond the horizon; then, the tranquil light of the stars sends shining
avenues of silver down its furrowed, hoary slopes; soon there comes out
from behind the night, first a faint flash of radiant silver that gleams
across the sky and dims the light of the stars, the higher peaks are
aflame with St. Elmo fire, and slowly from spire to spire, and from
ridge to ridge, this incandescent flood sweeps on until the whole
mountain glows and gleams with a light supernatural.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  VIEW OF MOUNT SHASTA FROM SISSONS, CAL.—This view from Sissons is said
    to be the best obtainable of Mount Shasta. From this point it
    presents the appearance of a broad triple mountain, the central
    summit being flanked on the west by a large crater, whose rim is
    12,000 feet high. The highest point in the centre is 14,442 feet.
    Shasta, as a whole, is the cone of an immense extinct volcano,
    rising with a single sweep from the base to a height of 11,000 feet.
    It is 338 miles north of San Francisco, and is visible for more than
    one hundred miles.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: SACRAMENTO CAÑON, CALIFORNIA.]

Another particularly wonderful natural attraction on the line of this
road are the Chalybeate Soda Springs, which furnish an unfailing supply
of mineral water, equal to the best that is bottled for the bar and
picnic trade. When taken fresh from the spring, it has the appearance of
champagne, which, indeed, it resembles in taste; and so strongly charged
is the water with carbonic acid gas, that it will hold its flavor as
long as any extra-dry wine.

Near these remarkable springs are the Mossbrae Falls, which come sliding
over the lofty banks of the Sacramento in sheets of limpid water that
look like glass, and have a spread of nearly half a mile. The fall
varies in height from fifty to one hundred feet, but is surprisingly
beautiful at every point.

After crossing Siskiyou Mountains, the road descends by a spiral way
until it strikes Rogue Valley, thence through Grant’s Pass and gains the
Willamette Valley, which is a level expanse of exceedingly great
fertility. The ride to Portland over the rest of the way is interesting,
not so much for the diversity of scenery, as for the scenes of thrift
and prosperity which lie on both sides, for the country is a very Eden
of productiveness.

Portland, which lies near the junction of the Columbia with the
Willamette River, is one of the handsomest cities on earth, situated in
one of the most attractive regions that the eye of the traveler ever
gazed upon. From a high point in the western suburbs, gained by a cable-
road, a view may be had greater than that which Quarantaria offers. To
the west broadens the united waters of the two rivers, floating the
commerce of this vigorous city to and from the sea. And in the clear
atmosphere to the east rise like giants out of a plain the lofty peaks
of Hood, St. Helen’s, Adam’s and Ranier, upon whose brows eternal snows
beat with fury, and where clouds often settle to rest themselves for a
fresh flight. Still beyond are the whitened crests of the Cascade range,
reveling in a mad confusion of effort to gain the skies; and wandering
through a maze of forest, mountain and gorge, are the Columbia and
Willamette, like two long ribbons of burnished silver flung down by the
gods to mark a way to wealth.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  MOSSBRAE FALLS ALONG THE SACRAMENTO.—These falls are in the Sacramento
    River, not far from Upper Soda Springs in northern California. They
    vary in height from fifty to one hundred feet, and have a spread of
    nearly half a mile up and down the river. The water is so clear and
    limpid that it resembles great sheets of glass as it pours over the
    banks, producing a scene of indescribable beauty. The river at this
    point is very small, as shown by the photograph, but the scenery is
    of the most delightful character.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: SODA SPRINGS, SACRAMENTO CAÑON.]

The Willamette River is particularly beautiful in its upper course,
where the scenery is almost a counterpart of that along the Rhine,
whereas the Columbia becomes charmingly interesting almost from its
mouth, and increases in grandeur as the ascent is made. Indeed, it may
with truth be declared that scenically considered, the Columbia is the
most delightful river that is known to modern geographers. The shores
are mountainous, at times shooting up perpendicularly to amazing
heights, and composing miles of solid walls; then again dropping away in
level stretches covered with forests of pine, spruce and fir-trees; or
revealing cañons down which plunge turbulent tributaries, and giddy
waterfalls dancing out of the sky and falling in fleecy sheets so far as
to dissolve its vapor. Some of the shore walls are of basalt, of
fantastic shapes and brilliant with coloring; and not infrequently
solitary columns of very great height are seen standing like sentinels
along the water edge, such as Castle Rock, Rooster Rock, and the
columnar cliffs of Cape Horn.

The Dalles of the Columbia are as famous as the palisades of the Hudson,
while in fact they are much more wonderful, and well worth a trip of
thousands of miles to see. They occupy about fifteen miles of the river
between Celilo and Dalles Station, and are only 130 feet wide, whereas
above and below, the bed of the stream is from 2,000 to 2,500 feet wide.
As the river is swollen to extraordinary proportions by rain freshets
and the melting of snow in the spring-time, it is not a remarkable thing
that during such flood periods the water rises suddenly in this narrow
cleft as much as sixty, and even seventy feet. The river itself very
commonly rises as much as twenty-five feet, even at its widest places,
and hence we may imagine what a raging torrent it becomes; but at low-
water the Dalles are a succession of cascades of the most beautiful
proportions, rolling in sheets of clearest water, over terraces of stone
as regular as though they had been laid by the hand of a mason.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: STRAWNAHAN’S FALLS, ON SIDE OF MOUNT HOOD.]

[Illustration: MULTINOMAH FALLS, OREGON.]

The region of Oregon near Portland, and along the Columbia, is rich in
scenery of the most beautiful and picturesque character. Far in the
distance loom snowy peaks, and the clouds, trees and mountains are
reflected in the clear water as in a mirror. Among the most picturesque
of all the scenes of this locality are Multinomah Falls, near the
railway station of the same name. The water plunges down the astonishing
distance of 700 feet, breaking into a ribbon of glittering spray as it
falls. A little to the right of the main falls, as seen in the
photograph, is another tiny little one, so modest as scarcely to be
observed, but loved and admired by tourists equally with its larger
sister.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: WILLAMETTE FALLS, OREGON.]

From the Dalles down, the river plows its way through the Cascade
Mountains, which on either side appear like towered battlements, while
waterfall after waterfall pour their tribute down the mountain sides to
swell the on-flowing stream. Twelve miles below is Memaloose Island,
which is the ancient burial place of the Chinook Indians, who held it as
a sacred spot, guarded, as they maintained, by spirits of the river. The
gorge proper begins twenty miles below the Dalles, and thirty miles
further are the cascades, but between these there is an incomparable
panorama of grandeur and beauty, for the river is broken by many giant
bowlders, around which the swift-rushing water is lashed into fury.
Still further below, and around the next interval of six miles, where
portage by rail is necessary, the scenery becomes even more exquisite,
with islands that are so wind-swept as to be entirely devoid of
vegetation, while scores of lovely falls line the river, such as Horse-
Tail, a clearly defined stream that pours down a height of 200 feet, and
Multinomah, a strip, or veil, of spray, that falls 850 feet
perpendicularly. There are, besides these, others almost equally
surprising and beautiful, such as Bridal Veil and Oneonta, both of which
dash down over cliffs brilliantly green with mosses, and are reflected
in their full length in the crystalline river into which they fall,
while the soft coloring of bluest sky and blending tints of emerald
pines give to the scene an intimation of fairy-land. Just below these,
in stately procession, are Castle Rock, that shoots up 1,000 feet;
Rooster Rock, a dizzy pinnacle of stone amid-stream; Cape Horn, frowning
from shore, and lifting its brow 500 feet above the river, while the
Pillars of Hercules, twin shafts of basalt, grand, massive and sublime,
act as guardians before this watery realm of wonderland.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  DALLES OF THE COLUMBIA, AND MOUNT HOOD IN THE DISTANCE.—The scenery
    between Portland and Dalles City, along the Columbia, is grand and
    beautiful in the extreme. Here the river passes through the heart of
    the Cascade Mountains, and the turbulent waves roar through the
    narrow channel, confined on either side by cliff-like walls of rock,
    often rising to the height of 1200 feet or more. At Cascade Locks
    there are fierce and whirling rapids, with a fall of forty feet, the
    entire river dashing down twenty feet at a single bound. For a
    distance of five miles the river is a seething caldron of foam, too
    dangerous for any kind of navigation to be attempted. The photograph
    gives a splendid bird’s-eye view of a portion of the Dalles.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: NATURAL PILLARS, COLUMBIA RIVER.]

Twenty-five miles from the palisades, and reached by means of
comfortable stages over a good road, is Mount Hood, one of the loftiest,
as well as the most impressive, dead volcanoes to be found anywhere in
the world, of which it has been written: “The view from the summit of
Hood is one of unsurpassed grandeur, and probably includes in its range
a greater number of high peaks and vast mountain chains, grand forests
and mighty rivers, than any other mountain in North America. Looking
across the Columbia, the ghostly pyramids of Adams and St. Helens, with
their connecting ridges of eternal snow, first catch the eye; then comes
the silent, lofty Ranier, with the blue waters of Puget Sound and the
rugged Olympia Mountains for a background; and away to the extreme north
(nearly to H. B. M.’s dominions), veiled in earth mists and scarcely
discernible from the towering cumuli that inswathe it, lies Mount Baker.
Looking south over Oregon, the view embraces the Three Sisters (all at
one time), Jefferson, Diamond Peak, Scott, Pit, and, if it be a
favorable day, and you have a good glass, you may see Shasta, 250 miles
away. The westward view is down over the lower coast range, the Umpqua,
Calapooya, and Rogue River Mountains, with their sunny upland valleys,
and away out over the restless ocean. In the opposite direction, across
the illimitable plains of Eastern Oregon, to the Azure Blue Mountains;
down, almost to the foot of this mountain, ‘rolls the Columbia,’ through
the narrow, rugged gorge of ‘The Dalles,’ 250 miles of its winding
course being visible. The entire length of the great Willamette Valley,
with its pleasant, prosperous towns and gently-flowing river, its broad,
fertile farms, like rich mosaics, with borders of dark-green woodlands,
is spread out in great beauty under the western slope of Mount Hood.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: THE CRATER OF MOUNT HOOD.]

[Illustration: ON THE ROUTE TO CRATER LAKE.]

Tourists need not cross the ocean and travel to Switzerland to see wild
and grand and splendid mountain scenery, because it can be found in a
thousand places in America on a much grander scale than anywhere in the
Alps. An evidence of this is seen in the photograph of the crater of
Mount Hood, on this page; and all along the Cascade, Rocky and other
mountain ranges of our country, similar, and even grander, views can be
observed by the thousands. We also present on this page an interesting
portrait of our “mountain helper,” in obtaining views for GLIMPSES OF
AMERICA.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: ONEONTA GORGE, COLUMBIA RIVER.]

The Columbia is not only famed for its peerless scenery, and as being a
main artery in Pacific coast commerce, but it is equally noted as
affording the most profitable salmon fishing in the world. Hundreds of
people are engaged in this industry, and vast wealth has been amassed by
some of the large companies who run immense canneries in connection with
the fisheries. At certain seasons the fish appear in such prodigious
numbers, on their way up stream to the spawning grounds, that they
almost crowd each other out of the water. The most successful way of
taking the fish at such times is by the use of wheels attached to the
end of a scow, which, being set in motion, scoop them up and deposit
them in the boat, and so rapidly that thousands are thus taken in an
hour. The fish continue their run up-stream as far as the water will
allow, and so determined are they that they perform many amazing feats
to gain the headwaters, crossing shoals, darting through the swiftest
cascades, and even leaping up and over falls of considerable height. The
Indians, familiar with the instincts of the salmon, in the season take
great numbers by means of spears, which they cast with astonishing
accuracy. A chief fishing place is Salmon Falls, where the river is a
mile wide and plunges over a wall fully twenty feet high, extending from
shore to shore. Notwithstanding this height, the salmon gather in the
whirlpool below and suddenly dart up the falls like a flash of light,
their tails waving with such rapidity that they are carried up and over
the falls. It is while making these leaps that the Indians spear the
fish, killing immense numbers, not only for food, but through sheer
wantonness, at times fairly filling the river with the dead beauties.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  ROOSTER ROCK, COLUMBIA RIVER.—This grotesque rock, occupying a
    prominent point in one of the bends of the Columbia River, received
    its rather inappropriate name from a fancied resemblance to a male
    chicken. It requires a considerable stretch of the imagination to
    see where the resemblance comes in, and it is to be hoped the time
    may come when a more appropriate and picturesque title will be
    bestowed upon this celebrated curiosity of nature’s creation. Why
    not call it the Castle of the Columbia? for it certainly looks more
    like a castle than a rooster.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: CASCADES OF THE COLUMBIA.]


                      A SIDE-TRIP TO CRATER LAKE.

Before leaving San Francisco, one of our photographers expressed a very
great desire to visit Crater Lake, one of the most remarkable bodies of
water on the face of the earth, and so urgent were his pleadings, that
it was decided he should make the trip, while the rest of the party
continued on to Portland, to perform the work of photographing points of
interest thereabouts, and on the Columbia River. In pursuance of this
arrangement, he left us at a station called Medford, on the Southern
Pacific Railroad, and from that place rode over to Jacksonville, capital
of Jackson county, Oregon, a distance of five miles, to make his
preparations for a journey to the lake. Jacksonville is a town of about
1,000 inhabitants, off the railroad, but on the military road that leads
to Crater Lake, some seventy miles distant northeast, and thence to Fort
Klamath. It was not difficult to procure necessary conveyance, but for
safety it was deemed advisable to pack the cameras on a donkey, probably
the surest-footed and most reliable animal that ever submitted back to a
burden. Three men accompanied our photographer, with one road-wagon and
a light buggy, hauling the necessary camping outfit, and being well
prepared, the party started from Jacksonville on the 15th of April,
1891. The road follows Rogue River the entire distance, along which is
some very beautiful scenery, and not a few wild gorges, which were
photographed. There are a number of post-offices on the way, Deskins
being the most northern, beyond which, and for nearly thirty miles, to
the lake, there is a wilderness of mountain and cañon, unrelieved by any
signs of human habitation. Crater Lake is in the western part of Klamath
county, and is in the Klamath Indian reservation, a region that is
distinctively volcanic, diversified by lakes, marshes and mountains,
with the soil so mixed with scoriæ that it is harsh and unproductive. It
was not until noon of the second day that the vicinity of the lake was
reached, approach to it being indicated by a bank of clouds that hung
over one spot, like a fog gradually lifting, beneath which was
manifestly a large body of water. A suitable camping place was soon
found, and the tent being set up and dinner disposed of, the work of
exploring and photographing the lake was energetically begun.
Fortunately, the weather was propitious and the season favorable, for
otherwise clambering over so rough a region with the precious burden of
delicate cameras would have been next to impossible. The snow falls to
very great depths on the high ridge which surrounds the lake, and spring
rains are at times so heavy here that the precipitous sides are gashed
deeply by the cataracts thus produced.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  VIEW OF CRATER LAKE AND WIZARD ISLAND.—This stupendous and marvelous
    curiosity is located in Klamath County, Ore., and may now be reached
    by stage from Medford Station on the Oregon branch of the Southern
    Pacific Railway, a distance of about eighty miles. But when it was
    visited by the author of GLIMPSES OF AMERICA and his photographing
    party there were no public conveyances, and they were forced to rely
    upon their own resources. Crater Lake is probably the greatest
    natural curiosity in the world, as every one will doubtless admit
    after reading the descriptions in these pages.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: AMONG THE CLOUDS ON MOUNT HOOD.]

The Klamath Indians have many traditions about the lake, one of which is
to the effect that in earlier years it was the haunt of great numbers of
water-devils, who watched its shores and drew into its mysterious depths
all luckless persons who ventured near its banks. For this reason it was
not until recently that any Indian could be prevailed upon, by the
promise of however great a reward, to approach near the lake, though
they were glad to guide travelers to its vicinity.

The first sight of this marvelous body of water excites unbounded awe
and immeasurable wonder. The surface is 6,250 feet above sea level, but
notwithstanding this great elevation, it is enclosed by cliffs that rise
from 1,000 to 2,000 feet, and the greater part are vertical. At times,
viewed from the summit of the walls, both the skies and mountainous
surroundings are mirrored in the unrippled surface of the lake, until it
is really difficult to distinguish the line of separation between the
real and the reflection.

Crater Lake is egg-shaped, being seven miles in length by six in
breadth, and in the southwest portion there is an island which rises out
of the water to the amazing height of 850 feet. But this is not its only
remarkable feature, for the island is circular in shape, with a scant
vegetation on its sides, and in the center is a crater known as the
Witch’s Caldron, which is 100 feet deep and nearly 500 feet in
circumference. Here, then, we have the now smokeless chimney of what was
once an active volcano, out of which poured a fiery mass that ran down
the steeps and became congealed in the lake, for the base of the island
is of ashes and vitrified rocks, evidencing the intense heat which once
prevailed within and around it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: SCENE ON COLUMBIA RIVER.]

[Illustration: CLIFFS AROUND CRATER LAKE.]

The salmon fisheries of the Columbia River constitute one of our most
important northwestern industries, and the fish-wheels used in catching
the salmon are to be seen at many points, lending a degree of life and
activity to what would otherwise, in many instances, be an uninspiring
view.—The surface of Crater Lake is 6250 feet above the level of the
sea, and yet it is enclosed by cliffs that rise from 1000 to 2000 feet
higher still. This will give some idea of the imposing grandeur of the
scene. Many of these cliffs are perpendicular from the water’s edge to
their summits, so that a stone dropping from the top will fall of its
own weight into the lake more than a thousand feet below.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: GROTTO IN CRATER LAKE.]

On the shore, north of Wizard Island, is a rock that juts up 2,000 feet,
and its side is so perpendicular that one standing upon its summit can
drop a stone into the lake, nearly half a mile beneath. It is not at all
surprising that this wonderful lake should be the subject of much
superstitious dread among the Klamaths, and among the traditions and
tales which these simple Indians tell is the following: A long time ago,
a band of Klamaths, while hunting deer, which have always been abundant
in this region, came suddenly upon the lake. They had often traveled
over the same district, without discovering either lake or depression,
and now, suddenly beholding so large a body of water, surrounded by
towering walls, they perceived in it the work of the Great Spirit, but
were not able to interpret its significance. All but one of the Indians
fled in terror from the place, but the bravest determined, if possible,
to ascertain the wishes of the Great Spirit, and, accordingly, he
proceeded to the very brink of the lofty walls, and there built a camp-
fire, to wait the Spirit’s call. Long he waited, until weary at last he
lay down and slept; while he was thus sleeping he had a vision and heard
mysterious voices, but he was not able to understand what was said, or
to clearly discern the shape or appearance of his unearthly visitors.
But as often as he slept he perceived, in his dreams, the indistinct
forms of what half-appeared to resemble human bodies, and plainly heard
voices, but they were strange tongues. Charmed by these visions, the
Indian remained, day after day, and week after week, upon the precipice
of the lake, leaving his camp-fire only to slay a deer for subsistence,
until at length he descended to the surface of the lake and bathed in
its crystal and mysterious waters. Instantly he felt his strength
marvelously increased, and thereafter saw that the weird visions of his
dreams were inhabitants of the lake, having human forms, but whether
they were spirits of good, or devils of evil, he knew not. Familiarity,
however, at length made him careless, and on one occasion he caught a
fish in the lake, with the intention of using its flesh for food, but no
sooner had he killed the fish than a thousand water-devils rose up out
of the depths of the lake, and, seizing the unfortunate brave carried
him through the air to the top of the cliffs. Here they cut his throat
and cast his body headlong into the water, 2,000 feet below, where it
was devoured by the angered devils.

[Illustration: PALISADES OF THE COLUMBIA.]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  THE GREAT GLACIER, CANADIAN PACIFIC RAILWAY.—This fine photograph
    shows the front wall of the glacier as it plows its way down the
    mountain side, grinding the rocks into powder and cutting seams and
    cañons that will stand for centuries as records of its resistless
    powers. Those who have never seen one of these immense rivers of
    ice, ever moving and never failing, can hardly appreciate the
    feeling of awe that is aroused by a near approach to them. There is
    no other force of nature that so distinctively manifests its
    irresistible powers.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: A FISH-WHEEL ON COLUMBIA RIVER.]

The Klamath Indians believed that the water-spirits had not fully
satisfied their revenge by this one bloody act, but would similarly
destroy any Indian who had the temerity to approach the lake.

Near the base of a cliff on the south side of the lake stands a solitary
rock, probably 100 feet high by 200 in length, and nearly the same in
breadth, that, while not seen by the present generation of Indians, it
is nevertheless known to them, and is a special object of superstitious
dread. They consider it as a peculiarly ferocious monster, but are
unable to describe its characteristics. It stands in the lake, entirely
alone, and about fifty yards from shore. Standing on the cliffs, about
five miles to the west and looking across the lake, this strange rock is
plainly visible in the sunlight, its rugged peaks reaching aloft, giving
it the appearance of a full-rigged ship at anchor. Should a cloud pass
before the sun as the shadow strikes the rock it will recede from view
as effectually as though it had ceased to exist. This illusion has
prompted some one to call the rock the Phantom Ship.

Another equally interesting optical illusion is thus described by W. G.
Steel, F.A.G.S., who made an exploration of the lake with a corps of
United States surveyors: “One day while at work on the lake, my
attention was called to what seemed to be a tall, full-bearded man
standing on the southern portion of Llao Rock’s summit. One foot was
placed a little forward of the other and the knee slightly, but
naturally bent, while before him stood a gun. His hands were clasped
over the muzzle as he gazed intently to the north. Just behind him stood
a boy, apparently about fifteen years of age. They seemed entirely too
natural not to be flesh and blood, and yet persons at that distance
would not be visible to the naked eye, as we were two miles out on the
lake. Day after day, as our work progressed, their position remained the
same, and in the absence of a better excuse, we decided them to be
trees.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  GREEK CHURCH AT JUNEAU, ALASKA.—The prevailing religion among the
    natives of Alaska is a mixture of the doctrines of the Greek Church,
    inculcated by missionaries from Russia, and the ancient totemism of
    the aborigines. The missionaries wisely concluded that it was better
    to convert the natives to Christianity, and bring them up to
    civilization by a gradual process, rather than attempt a sudden
    transformation; hence the singular combination of the rites of a
    ludicrous superstition with the beneficent teachings of the Man of
    Galilee. Mission churches exist at several points in the territory,
    one of which, a very picturesque building, is finely photographed on
    this page.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: SUMMIT OF MOUNT SAINT HELENS, ABOVE THE CLOUDS.]

“It is hard to comprehend what an immense affair it is. To those living
in New York City I would say, Crater Lake is large enough to have
Manhattan, Randell’s, Ward’s and Blackwell’s Islands dropped into it
side by side, without touching the walls, or Chicago or Washington City
might do the same. Our own fair city of Portland, with all her suburbs,
from City Park to Mount Tabor, and from Albina to Sellwood inclusive,
could find ample room on the bottom of the lake. On the other hand, if
it were possible to place the lake, at its present elevation, above
either of these cities, it would be over a mile up to the surface of the
water, and a mile and three-quarters to the top of Llao Rock. Of this
distance, the ascent would be through water for 2,000 feet. To those
living in New Hampshire, it might be said the surface of the water is
twenty-three feet higher than the summit of Mount Washington.”

The shore of Crater Lake has many remarkable indentations of slender
arms and beautifully formed bays, and on one side there is a grotto
running back some thirty feet and twenty feet inside, spanned by a
graceful arch about eight feet high, forming an admirable shelter as
well as a curious alcove in the rock, where the water is some twelve
feet deep. The lake itself measures a little more than 2,000 feet in
depth in places, but soundings show that there are peaks below the
surface representing cinder cones, and which once evidently stood high
above the surface. The whole lake is thus a reminder of mighty forces
and the relic of terrible convulsions. What an immense affair it must
have been ages upon ages ago, when, long before the hot breath of a
volcano soiled its hoary head, standing as a proud monarch, with its
feet upon the earth and its head in the heavens, it towered far, far
above the mountain ranges, aye, looked far down upon the snowy peaks of
Hood and Shasta, and snuffed the air beyond the reach of Everest. Then
streams of fire began to shoot forth, great seas of lava were hurled
upon the earth beneath. The elements seemed bent upon establishing hell
upon earth and fixing its throne upon this great mountain. At last its
foundation gave away and it sank forever from sight. Down, down, down
deep into the bowels of the earth, leaving a great, black, smoking
chasm, which succeeding ages filled with pure, fresh water, giving to
our day and generation one of the most beautiful lakes within the
knowledge of man.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: TOP OF MUIR GLACIER, ALASKA.]

[Illustration: CREVASSE IN MUIR GLACIER, ALASKA.]

The Muir is the most celebrated of all the glaciers in the world. It is
located in southeastern Alaska, about one hundred miles north of Sitka,
and is easily accessible by the California coast line steamers. The two
excellent photographs on this page will give a good idea of the
wonderful formation and diversified beauties of this immense ice-river,
which has been moving steadily down the mountain side for ages past, and
will doubtless continue to do so for ages to come.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

It may in truth be declared that Crater Lake is one of the grandest
points of interest on earth. Here all the ingenuity of nature seems to
have been exerted to the fullest capacity to build one grand, awe-
inspiring temple within which to live and from which to gaze upon the
surrounding world and say: “Here would I dwell and live forever. Here
would I make my home from choice; the universe is my kingdom, and this
my throne.”

[Illustration: CATHEDRAL ROCK, ON COLUMBIA RIVER.]


                AWAY TO THE NORTH, AND THENCE TO ALASKA.

Our trip up the Columbia, and along the Willamette as far as Willamette
Falls, was delightful beyond any one’s ability to describe; but though
wonder succeeded wonder, and kept us as under a spell of enchantment,
there were other surprises in store which were to hold our interest and
even add something to our astonishment. Returning to Portland, we might
have carried out our original resolution to take the steamer at that
point direct for Alaska, but we very wisely made a change in our plans,
by which we proceeded by rail to Vancouver, stopping en route, however,
to continue our work of photographing mountains, valleys and glaciers.

Tacoma was our first stop after leaving Portland, and a very beautiful
city it is, admirably and commercially situated at the head of
navigation in Puget’s Sound. Mount Tacoma appears to be in the very
front-yard of the city, so wonderfully clear is the air, though in fact
it is forty miles away. The Sound is astir with the white wings of
sailing vessels, and streaked with the black trails of ocean-going
steamers, while the blue waters are begirt with the dark green of heavy
forests, making a picture of almost incomparable beauty. There is
romance in the very air, a kind of dreamy vision of the long ago, when
this was the happy land of the Siwashes, who come before us again in the
pretty legends which linger still upon the lips of this almost extinct
tribe. They tell us of a Saviour who once came to them, riding in a
copper canoe, out of the bleak desolation of the icy north, and who,
first calling all the tribes together, preached to them the gospel of
unselfish service and righteousness. He taught them the beatitudes, and
was first to declare that man was possessed of an undying spirit, which
lived forever, in pleasure or pain, according to the measure of his
deserving. The Indians listened with reverent attention until this
Saviour exhorted them to live in brotherly unity, one with another, and
to avoid all strife, for he who shed human blood would feel the
vengeance of the Great Spirit. This teaching so incensed the war-like
tribes that they seized the Saviour and nailed his body to a tree, where
it remained nine days. Then behold, there came a great storm of hail,
accompanied by thunders that rent the earth and leveled the forests. In
the midst of this mighty cataclysm of natural forces the Saviour
appeared again, resurrected unto full life, and speaking to the winds
and the thunders, in an instant the storm was hushed, and a great peace
and burst of sunshine bathed the earth. After this the reincarnated
Saviour renewed his preaching and continued to teach immortality for
many weeks, until at last he ascended to the skies in a cloud.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  INDIAN BURIAL HOUSES, NEAR THE TOWN OF JUNEAU, ALASKA.—It is a
    religious custom among the Indians of Alaska to build houses, more
    or less pretentious according to the means of the surviving
    relatives, over the graves of their deceased friends. These houses
    are then suffered to fall into decay with the lapse of time, like
    family cemeteries in our own land, until in many instances the
    ghastly remains are exposed to view. The cemetery photographed on
    this page is evidently a new one, judging by the neat appearance of
    the little houses. There is really a beautiful sentiment in this
    custom, notwithstanding its origin among a heathenish and
    superstitious people.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: BRINK OF SNOQUALMIE FALLS, WASHINGTON.]

These same Indians have also a tradition of the deluge, which bears a
striking similarity to the Genetic account. They assert that many
thousands of years ago a great rain fell upon the earth, such as was
never before or since known; that such torrents of water were poured out
of the sky that the world became a universal sea, with no spot of dry
land anywhere visible. In this all-prevailing flood every human being
perished except one man who took refuge on Mount Tacoma. As the water
rose, he was driven higher and higher, until at last he reached the
summit; but still the sea advanced; it covered the loftiest point of the
mountain, then rose above his feet, his knees, and finally reached to
his waist, when, to prevent him from being swept away, the Great Spirit
turned his feet to stone, and he thus became anchored on the peak. Then
the rain ceased, and the waters were gradually assuaged, but the man
could not yet move from his position. At last the waters were again
within their beds, the fields bloomed, the forests put forth with new
life, and the world became musical with song of bird and the lullabies
of flowing streams. Then a profound sleep fell upon the man, and while
he slept the Great Spirit took a rib from his side, and from it made a
beautiful woman. When he woke his feet were no longer stone, but strong
with vigor, and at once he started down the mountain; but scarcely had
he taken the first step when he saw before him the lovely woman who was
given to him for wife. The Great Spirit now directed the couple to the
foot of Tacoma, where he had planted a garden, and in this paradise he
commanded them to abide and replenish the world.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  THE GREAT GLACIER, SIDE VIEW, SHOWING GRINDING OF THE FACE OF THE
    MOUNTAINS.—The grinding force of a glacier, as it moves down the
    side of a mountain, is strikingly illustrated in this splendid
    photograph. At the point of the glacier will be observed an
    accumulation of stones and débris wrenched from their places higher
    up by the resistless grinding force of the immense body of ice,
    moving steadily and irresistibly into the valleys below, cutting its
    way like an immense plow as it goes. The numerous photographs and
    printed descriptions of these wonders of the northern latitudes, in
    GLIMPSES OF AMERICA, add a large degree of interest and value to
    this work.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: LATOURELLE FALLS, WASHINGTON.]

It is probable that these legends are the relics of the teachings of
mission fathers who came to this region more than two hundred years ago.

From Tacoma we went to Seattle, another exquisite city of marvelous
growth and immense possibilities, which occupies a strip of land between
Puget Sound and Lake Washington; it has a very large water front, and
exhibits a harbor as active with shipping as San Francisco. From
Seattle, where we left our photograph car, we went to Port Townsend, and
thence across the Straits of Juan de Fuca to Victoria, on Vancouver
Island, where we first touched the soil of British Columbia. This city
is also a very beautiful one, and from the summit of Beacon Hill a
magnificent view is obtained, commanding a very great expanse of water,
Mount Baker, and the Olympic Range, in which latter are numerous
glaciers large enough to swallow up the Alps.

[Illustration: A VIEW OF MOUNT HOOD.]

On the 2d of May we took passage at Victoria, on the Pacific Coast
Steamship Company’s vessel _Queen_, and started upon a delightful voyage
to Alaska, that opalescent gem in the frosted coronet of the far
northwest. The trip is a revelation, a day-dream of indescribable
transports, a luxury of blissful surprises. It is a strange combination
of ocean and inland water travel, and just enough of each to provide all
the pleasures of both, with none of the monotonies or discomforts of
either. The route is almost entirely land-locked through channels of
varying width, among islands which appear numberless, and as green with
prolific vegetation as the shores of Killarney’s lakes.

[Illustration: UMATILLA INDIAN CAMP, OREGON.]

At places the channel narrows and passes through walls of very great
height, and again widens to many miles, but all the while there are
emerald shores, and high-rising banks over which tumble many beautiful
waterfalls, and still above these, in the hazy backgrounds, are snow-
capped mountains. Two hundred miles north of Victoria is Nanaimo, the
last town with telegraphic connections, and six hundred miles beyond the
steamer touches at Fort Wrangel, where the first contact with Alaska
Indians is made, and interest at once centers in the curious appearance
and habits which they display. Passing thence through Wrangel Narrows
the region of ice is reached, indicated by a few straggling bergs that
have become detached from the glacier that forms in a fiord called
Thunder Bay, near the mouth of Stikeen River. Then follows a view of the
Coast Range, which is rent with icy cañons that glow and gleam with
refractions of clear sunlight, until in places they suggest the palace
of Iris. Through this maze of mighty wonders the steamer plows her way
to the town of Juneau, famous not so much for its latitude as being the
location of the largest quartz-mill in the world. Thence we proceeded
through a labyrinth of islands into Lynn Canal, which is considered to
be the “most sublimely beautiful and spacious of all the mountain-walled
channels of the Alaska route.” The Auk and Eagle Glaciers are displayed
on the right as you enter the canal, coming with grand effect from their
far-reaching fountains and down through the forests. But it is on the
west side of the canal, near the head, that the most striking feature of
the landscape is seen—the Davidson Glacier. It first appears as an
immense ridge of ice thrust forward into the channel, but when you have
gained a position directly in front, it is shown as a broad flood
issuing from a noble granite gate-way, and spreading out to right and
left in a beautiful fan-shaped mass, three or four miles in width, the
front of which is separated from the water by its terminal moraine. This
is one of the most notable of the large glaciers that are in the first
stage of decadence, reaching nearly to tide-water, but failing to enter
it, send off icebergs. Davidson Glacier is on the left shore of Chilcat
River, and very near the Indian village of Chilcat, the northernmost
point reached by the regular line of steamers. The place is of very
little interest except for its salmon canneries and other fisheries.
Cod, herring and halibut are very plentiful, but all the streams
thereabout abound with salmon. Indeed, during certain seasons they are
so numerous as to fairly choke the shallow rivers, and in places they
may be scooped up with shovels. From this point the steamer turns south
to Icy Strait, then proceeds north again by that channel into Glacier
Bay, whence beyond to Mount St. Elias is the real ice-land of Alaska.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: INDIAN RIVER, ALASKA.]

[Illustration: THE MOUNTAIN NEAR MUIR GLACIER.]

According to general opinion Alaska is a cold and forbidding region, fit
for habitation only by Esquimau Indians and fur traders. But this
opinion is very much overdrawn, for in the valleys and along the islands
of the coast, where the influence of the warm currents of the Pacific
Ocean is felt, the climate is mild, and a vegetation almost semi-
tropical is produced. This is shown to a considerable extent in the
photograph of Indian River on this page.—The companion picture, with our
photographer in the foreground, represents a front view of a portion of
Muir Glacier, where the ice accumulation of centuries has piled up until
it is mountain high.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: CAVE IN THE GREAT GLACIER, BRITISH AMERICA.]

Glancing for a moment at the results of a general exploration, we find
that there are between sixty and seventy small residual glaciers in the
California Sierras. Through Oregon and Washington, glaciers, some of
them of considerable size, still exist on the highest volcanic cones of
the Cascade Mountains—the Three Sisters, Mounts Jefferson, Hood, St.
Helens, Adams, Tacoma, Baker, and others, though none of them approach
the sea. Through British Columbia and Southeastern Alaska the broad,
sustained chain of mountains extending along the coast is generally
glacier-bearing. The upper branches of nearly every cañon are occupied
by glaciers, which gradually increase in size to the northward until the
lofty region between Glacier Bay and Mount St. Elias is reached.

The largest of the glaciers that discharge into Glacier Bay is the Muir,
and being also the most accessible is the one to which tourists are
taken and allowed to go ashore and climb about its ice-cliffs and watch
the huge blue bergs as with tremendous thundering roar and surge they
emerge and plunge from the majestic vertical ice-wall in which the
glacier terminates.

The front of the glacier is about three miles wide, but the central
berg-producing portion, that stretches across from side to side of the
inlet, like a huge jagged barrier, is only about half as wide. The
height of the ice-wall above the water is from 250 to 300 feet, but
soundings made by Captain Carroll show that about 720 feet of the wall
is below the surface, while still a third portion is buried beneath
moraine material. Therefore, were the water and rocky detritus cleared
away, a sheer wall of blue ice would be presented a mile and a half wide
and more than a thousand feet high.

[Illustration: SCUZZIE FALLS, NEAR NORTH BEND, BRITISH AMERICA.]

The number of bergs that become detached from the glacier every twelve
hours varies with tide and weather, but generally a new one is thus
fresh born every six or seven minutes, and so massive that the discharge
may be heard like thunder or cannonading two or more miles away. When
one of the fissured masses falls there is first a heavy, plunging crash,
then a deep, deliberate, long-drawn-out thundering roar, followed by
clashing, grating sounds from the agitated bergs set in motion by the
new arrival, and the swash of waves along the beach. All the very large
bergs rise from the bottom with a still grander commotion, rearing aloft
in the air nearly to the top of the wall, with tons of water pouring
down their sides, heaving and plunging again and again ere they settle
and sail away as blue crystal islands; free at last after being held
rigid as part of the slow-crawling glacier for centuries. And strange it
seems that ice formed from snow on the mountains two and three hundred
years ago, should after all its toil and travel in grinding down and
fashioning the face of the landscape still remain so lovely in color and
so pure.

The rate of motion of the glacier as has been determined by Professor
Reid is, near the front, about from five to ten feet per day. This one
glacier is made up of about 200 tributary glaciers, which drain an area
of about a thousand square miles, and contains more ice than all the
eleven hundred glaciers of the Alps combined. The distance from the
front back to the head of the farthest tributary is about fifty miles,
and the width of the trunk below the confluence of the main tributaries
is twenty miles or more.

Next to the Muir, the largest of the glaciers enters the bay at its
extreme northwestern extension. Its broad, majestic current, fed by
unnumbered tributaries, is divided at the front by an island, and from
its long, blue wall the icebergs plunge and roar in one eternal storm,
sounding on day and night, winter and summer, and from century to
century. Five or six glaciers of the first class discharge into the bay,
the number varying as the several outlets of the ice-fields are regarded
as distinct glaciers, or one. About an equal number of the second class
descend with broad, imposing currents to the level of the bay without
entering it to discharge bergs; while the tributaries of these and the
smaller glaciers are innumerable.

[Illustration: FACE OF MUIR GLACIER, ALASKA.]

Mr. John Muir, the explorer of Muir Glacier, thus describes his visit to
that wonderful ice-swept region: “The clouds cleared away on the morning
of the 27th, and we had glorious views of the ice-rivers pouring down
from their spacious fountains on either hand, and of the grand
assemblage of mountains, immaculate in their robes of new snow, and
bathed and transfigured in the most impressively lovely sunrise light I
ever beheld. Memorable, too, was the starry splendor of a night spent on
the east side of the bay, in front of two large glaciers north of the
Muir. Venus seemed half as big as the Moon, while the berg-covered bay,
glowing and sparkling with responsive light, seemed another sky of equal
glory. Shortly after three o’clock in the morning, I climbed the
dividing ridge between the two glaciers, 2,000 feet above camp, for the
sake of the night views; and how great was the enjoyment in the solemn
silence between those two radiant skies no words may tell.”

The destructive effects of glaciers and the extent of their ravages have
been made the subject of many interesting essays by distinguished
scientists, but nowhere has it been so interestingly and understandingly
treated as by Dr. Wright in the _Edinburgh Review_, on the “Ice Age of
North America.” The monograph, much abbreviated, is as follows:

“It is not more than 10,000 years ago since the whole of North America
and Northern Europe emerged from beneath a deluge of ice which seems to
have destroyed the aboriginal inhabitants as remorselessly as Noah’s
flood.

“The chipped flint implement-makers perished with their contemporaries,
the mammoth, the woolly rhinoceros, and the sabre-toothed tiger, and
left the globe to be repeopled by the polished stone-working or
Neolithic progenitors of its actual inhabitants. The gap between the two
races is conspicuous, and has not yet been archæologically bridged. A
catastrophe is indicated; and a catastrophe by water. This is the
conclusion of science; how singularly it harmonizes with the biblical
narrative is almost superfluous to point out.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  VILLAGE OF KASA-AN, ALASKA.—It will doubtless be a surprise to many
    persons not familiar with the conditions of the Alaskan Indians to
    observe that their houses are usually quite substantially built of
    frame or wood. We generally think of Indians as living in wigwams or
    huts, but in the case of the Alaskans they were for many years
    previous to the purchase of that country by our government under the
    influence of Russia, and are therefore partly civilized and somewhat
    advanced in the modern ways of living. But they still retain their
    old superstition, as shown by the totem poles in front of their
    houses. These poles are carved and mounted with rude representations
    of birds, beasts and reptiles, which are intended to give notice to
    the public that the spirits of the deceased ancestors of the
    occupants of the houses have entered into the living counterparts of
    these rude carvings, and that any indignities offered to them will
    be vigorously and promptly resented.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: CHRISTINE FALLS, ALICE BAY, ALASKA.]

The destruction of the Antediluvians who lived before the Ice Age set in
was accomplished much further back; the date 6,000 B. C. represents the
end of the Ice Age, not its beginning. How it was that ice submerged the
world no one seems to be exactly able to say, but a great deal of
valuable information has been obtained by the geological research of the
present century. Before this devastating deluge of ice set in—

“Trees reigned without interruption, in north temperate and Polar
regions, throughout the vast expanse of tertiary time. Palms and cycads
then sprang up in the room of oaks and beeches in England; turtles and
crocodiles haunted English rivers and estuaries; lions, elephants, and
hyenas roamed at large over English dry land. Anthropoid apes lived in
Germany and France, fig and cinnamon trees flourished in Dantzic; in
Greenland, up to seventy degrees of latitude, magnolias bloomed, and
vines ripened their fruit; while in Spitzbergen, and even in Grinnell
Land, within little more than eight degrees of the pole, swamp-cypresses
and walnuts, cedars, limes, planes and poplars grew freely.”

For some reason or other the temperature gradually fell, and great
glaciers forming in the northern regions, the highlands of Canada and
the Arctic Circles, submerged Northern Europe and reduced Canada and
half of the United States to the present condition of Greenland. Those
who see glaciers to-day can form little idea of the enormous
possibilities of semi-fluid ice. Only in Alaska, where the Muir Glacier
empties itself into the Muir inlet at the rate of seventy feet a day,
can we form any idea of the glacier as a destructive agency. This
glacier empties two hundred million cubic feet of ice into the sea every
day; that is to say, 45,000 tons of ice fall into the water every minute
in avalanches with detonations which sound like the booming of a
cannonnade. The very earth seems to tremble, and the sea boils and foams
with the continual discharge of fresh icebergs. “From observations upon
living glaciers,” says Dr. Wright, “and from the known nature of ice, we
may learn to recognize the track of a glacier as readily and
unmistakably as we would the familiar foot-prints of an animal.” By the
effects of ice-grinding, rocks are smoothed and polished, rounded and
mammillated. They are, moreover, striated. “These may be called glacial
hieroglyphics; glacial deposits are equally distinctive. They are of
three different kinds—ground moraine, terminal moraine, and erratic
bowlders. The heights to which the ice-flood rose are frequently self-
registered on the mountains which once breasted its flow. They serve, in
Dr. Wright’s phrase, as ‘glaciometers.’ Thus it has been learned that
the ice was a mile thick in New England and a couple of thousand feet
thick in Pennsylvania. The date of the close of the Glacial Epoch in the
United States can scarcely, then, be placed earlier than 6,000 B. C. For
it was, we repeat, the withdrawal of the ice that set the chronometer of
the Falls going. The Falls of Niagara, indeed, constitute in themselves,
in Dr. Wright’s apt phrase, ‘a glacial chronometer.’”

[Illustration: TAKU GLACIER, ALASKA.]

It was this tremendous agency of glacial action that gave us Northwest
America as we have it at present. “The inexhaustible fertility of the
Far West is an endowment from vanished glaciers.”

The world to-day is very different from what it was in the old times.
The mountains stood higher and the glaciers forming on their slopes
crumpled the earth in beneath their weight. The earth-crust was not
strong enough to bear the weight of its ice-armor. About six million
square miles were covered with ice, varying in thickness of half a mile
to a mile. Taking it only at half a mile in height, the weight per
square mile was no less than two thousand million of tons. “And the
whole of this enormous mass being extracted from the ocean, its
differential effect in producing change of level was doubled. The ice-
cumbered land accordingly went down, like an overladen ship, until it
was awash with the waves, and sea-shells were deposited along coast-
fringes above the drift. Then, as the ice melted, recovery ensued.” The
whole article is full of interesting and suggestive reading, and is an
excellent example of a popular presentation of the results of scientific
research.

[Illustration: DAWSON’S GLACIER, BRITISH AMERICA.]

The return trip was made down Chatham and Peril Straits to Sitka, the
capital city of Alaska, situated on the Pacific shore of Baranoff
Island. The place has grown very much in importance in the past few
years, though it has not increased correspondingly in size. It is a
considerable harbor for whaling and sealing vessels, that touch there
for supplies, and accordingly supports a population that is largely
American. The natives, however, still continue in considerable numbers,
but contact with English-speaking people is rapidly civilizing them, and
their old-time characteristics are fast disappearing. But in one
particular they exhibit small change, viz.: religion. Long under the
domination of Russian influence and missionaries of the Greek Church, it
is not surprising that the natives should continue in the faith which
was thus first established among them. There are three Greek churches in
the city, all fairly well supported, though the communicants are content
to worship in rather humble edifices. But while adopting the Greek
faith, the native Indians generally retain their ancient mortuary
customs; and among the interior tribes particularly, witchcraft, or
Shamanism, and exorcism, still prevail. Burial of bodies is very seldom
practiced among any of the Indians, as preservation of their dead is a
universal desire. It is, therefore, a common thing to see their
cemeteries, instead of earth-mounds and tombstones, a collection of
mortuary houses, in which the dead are laid with great care, concealed
only by the skins or blankets in which they are wrapped, something after
the manner of the Sioux Indians. Thus disposed of, the dead are long
preserved in that cold climate, the houses themselves often decaying
before dissolution of the bodies is far advanced. This, however, applies
to what may be called the better class of natives. Among the interior
and poor people, it is the custom to remove the body to some secluded
spot, usually on a bluff overlooking a river, and lay it upon the
ground. A shelter is made by building over it a small conical-shaped
structure of spruce logs, and a tree near-by is stripped of its branches
and small pieces of cloth are tied to it to mark the spot. The household
utensils, sled, and some of the weapons of the deceased are left with
him, should he be the head of a family, and the place is tabooed
thenceforth.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  THE POOL AT BANFF HOT SPRINGS, BRITISH AMERICA.—These celebrated
    springs are in the Rocky Mountain region of British Columbia, on the
    line of the Canadian Pacific Railway. They are celebrated for their
    healing qualities, and have become a favorite resort for invalids
    and tourists. The photograph represents the pool or principal
    spring, at the foot of a great mountain. The rocks thereabout show
    volcanic origin, and several of the springs flow with water of a
    high temperature, and possess remedial qualities equal to those of
    the hot springs of Arkansas. The scenery of that region is sublime
    in the highest degree, and possesses even a greater attraction for
    tourists than the springs do.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: DEVIL’S GATE, BEAVER CAÑON, BRITISH AMERICA.]

Our return journey was devoid of the surprises which made the northward
trip so delightful, yet the charm which possessed us after leaving
Victoria continued throughout, for the magnificent scenery along the
route cannot be exhausted by a single glance, but rather grows in beauty
when lingeringly watched. It was impossible to feel that the voyage was
being made on any part of the ocean, so still was the water, so green
the near-by shores, so clear the sky, dropping down all around upon
frosted peaks and island forests. And the nights were so gloriously
grand, sprinkled with jewels of light from moon and stars that made the
world as beautiful as the lawn in front of paradise, and brought to mind
the poet’s tribute to nature’s solitude:

             “The waves were dead;
             The tides were in their graves;
             The moon, their mistress, had expired before;
             The winds were withered in the stagnant air.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                             CHAPTER VIII.
               ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS TO YELLOWSTONE PARK.


[Illustration: SPOKANE FALLS, WASHINGTON.]

It was the 15th of May when we returned to Victoria, and without any
waste of time we proceeded to Seattle, and there made hasty preparation
to continue our work along the northern lines of road towards the east.
A little change was made in our original plans, by a brief diversion
from the routes we had marked out, in order to view and take some
pictures of the marvelous scenery along Fraser River, on the line of the
Canadian Pacific Railroad. This stream is as wide as the Ohio, but
generally of great depth, and being confined within perpendicular walls,
often rising to a height of 500 feet, it is a rushing flood, too swift
in places for the most powerful steamer to make head against. The road
follows the bed of this torrential stream for a distance of 150 miles,
through the Cascade Mountains, and in sight at times of the Okinagan
Range. Beyond these eastward are the Gold, Selkirk and Rocky Mountains,
and in between and about these are glaciers of extraordinary
proportions, which in summer feed tearing cataracts and plunging
waterfalls, and furnish nature pictures that thrill the heart with
wonder. Beyond the valley of Thompson River, where the Golden Range
begins, the scenery is quite as grand, though scarcely so sublime as
that in the cañon of the Fraser; but the mountains are surprisingly
beautiful, and variegated with patches of snow, clumps of evergreen, and
sheets of soft blue water that invite the angler. Louise, Agnes and
Mirror lakes lie one above the other, high up upon the mountain sides,
where they are often hidden by clouds, and are accordingly called the
“Three Sisters of the Sky.” Castle Mountain may be seen from this point,
which is only a few miles from Banff, famous for its hot springs, and
for being the chief resort in the Canadian National Park, with a hotel
capable of accommodating 800 guests.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  NATIVE GIRLS OF HAWAII, SANDWICH ISLANDS.—It is hard to believe that
    the ancestors of these beautiful and intelligent girls, only a few
    generations back, were savages and cannibals, but it is a fact
    nevertheless. They are living exponents of the benefits of modern
    Christian civilization. There is hardly a trace of savage ancestry
    to be seen in their countenances or general appearance. Their faces,
    in fact, are pleasant, indicating confidence and gentle disposition.
    There is a trace of savagery in their dress, however, and in their
    domestic implements, but in other respects they might be taken for a
    group of merry school girls out on a lark.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  KANFOHE PARK, HONOLULU, HAWAII.—The climate of the Sandwich Islands is
    delightful in the extreme. It is tropical, but tempered by the
    mountains which tower into the regions of perpetual snow, and cool
    the hot air of the valleys. Tropical trees, fruits and plants, grow
    in profusion, and yield abundant food for the natives even before
    the advent of white civilization. The advantages of climate and soil
    in these islands are attracting many enterprising Americans and
    Europeans thither, and the time is probably not far distant when the
    native population will be entirely supplanted.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: KAKABEKA FALLS, NEAR FORT WILLIAMS, THUNDER BAY, LAKE
SUPERIOR.]

The side-trip which we took on the Canadian Pacific occupied only one
week, and though not originally contemplated in our plan of
photographing American scenery, more than compensated for the change,
for we are thus enabled to present some British American scenery equal
to the most magnificent, imposing and attractive that our own country
possesses.

Had the time been at our disposal, we would have made our scenic journey
extend to the Sandwich Islands, after our return to Victoria,
particularly as there was some political agitation in the government at
Hawaii at the time. Indeed, while in San Francisco, we were earnestly
urged to visit the islands with our cameras, so as to include them in
our Wonderland book; and to the other inducements offered, we were
presented with some views of the Hawaiian palace, the palmetto embowered
walks, cocoanut groves, and pictures of the charming native girls, which
latter was a particularly powerful persuasive. But the islands, charming
though they are, do not belong as yet to the American domain, and cannot
therefore be properly included, though on account of the annexation
sentiment, and President Harrison’s message urging their acquisition,
the views given to us are here reproduced.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  THE ROYAL PALACE, HONOLULU, HAWAII.—A special interest has been given
    to this building and its surroundings by the events of the recent
    revolution, which are still fresh in the minds of all. Our
    photograph herewith presents not only a very a fine picture of the
    palace, but also a large portion of the city, with the outlying
    mountains for a background. It is a representative view, and gives a
    good idea of the general appearance of these islands. The mountains
    seem barren and uninviting, but the valleys are rich with verdure
    and scented by a profusion of fruits and flowers.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: SNOW-SHEDS ON THE CANADIAN PACIFIC.]

Returning to Seattle, we proceeded directly eastward again, by the
Northern Pacific Railroad, crossing for a third time the Cascade Range
and viewing again the white and sunlighted crests of Mounts Hood, St.
Helens, Adams and Ranier. The route is along the Yakima River, through
charming scenery all the way to Spokane Falls, where the beauty of the
landscape, as well as the might and awfulness of the falls, arrested us
for a time. Palouse Falls is within nine miles of the junction of the
Snake with Columbia River, and are a part of Palouse River, which, after
flowing through a deep cañon thirty feet wide, pours over a precipice
that is a sheer height of 125 feet. The surrounding rocks exhibit many
unique forms, ranging in terraces to a height of 2,000 feet, and then
assuming the shape of pinnacles, chimneys, columns and needles, as if
the region had one time been the work-grounds of giant sculptors.

Snake River is interrupted by enormous falls, the most important of
which are American and Island Falls, the former having a drop of thirty
feet; being very wide before taking the final leap, the river flows over
a series of ledges that break the water into cataracts. Further up the
stream, about fifty miles from Shoshone Falls, are Lost Falls, which
leap down from a height of two hundred feet, and then the river, of
which they are a part, disappears under the lava-covered earth, but
reappears again several miles beyond and resumes its impetuous and
erratic course.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  MISSOURI RIVER, ALONG THE GREAT NORTHERN RAILROAD.—There are many
    picturesque localities on the Upper Missouri River, a rich scenic
    region which has been neglected or overlooked by tourists. A finer
    scene of bold and rugged bluffs, carved into fantastic shapes by the
    water’s action, could hardly be found than the one so beautifully
    photographed on this page. One of our photographing party has
    stationed himself on top of the great rock for the double purpose of
    viewing the country and having his picture taken, the latter being
    intended by comparison to show the height and size of the rock.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: KANANASKE’S FALLS, BRITISH AMERICA.]

Some fifty miles east of Spokane, on the line of the Northern Pacific,
is Hauser Junction, where the road branches southward, through the Cœur
d’Alene Indian Reservation and a great mining region, while the main
line runs around the north shore of Lake Pend d’Oreille, the most
beautiful sheet of water in the northwest, and destined sometime to
become a popular resort. Beyond the lake is the Flathead Indian
Reservation, and at Missoula the two lines of road unite again. This
city is a place of much importance, and admirably situated near the
Junction of Hell Gate and Bitter Root River, a district of great scenic
beauty. Flathead Lake lies sixty miles to the north, an emerald sheet of
crystal water reposing within a bed of lofty cliffs, and belted in the
center by a chain of wooded islands, while its waters are discharged
into the Pend d’Oreille River, that dashes away through deep gorges in
tumultuous flow. Forty miles from this picturesque lake are the Two
Sisters’ Cascades, which pour over the opposite walls of a colossal
amphitheater 2,000 feet high, and then unite to journey through gorge,
over waterfall and across lovely meadows, catching perfume and
inspiration on their way to the Pacific.

The way thence from Missoula is over a comparatively level stretch of
country, until just west of Helena the road strikes the Main Divide of
the Rocky Mountains, and to cross this broken region it is compelled to
pursue a winding way.

Helena is reputed to be the richest city of its size in all the world, a
claim well supported by appearances, for while having probably 15,000
inhabitants, it has all the conveniences of our largest cities, and in
no other place of equal population are the public buildings and
residences so magnificent and palatial. But aside from its wealth and
beauty, the place is the center of a region as remarkable for its scenic
attractions as for its silver mines. Eighteen miles north of Helena is
the cañon of Little Prickly Pear, where precipitous walls rise to a
varying height of 500 to 1,000 feet, and are gorgeously colored by
strata of different formations, blending with hues of trees, shrubs, and
vines that tenderly cling to their faces. Near-by is the portal through
which the headwaters of the Missouri go madly careening, making a deep
roaring sound as they dash between walls 1,000 feet high. Atlantic Cañon
is only three miles further down the river, and next in quick succession
appears the Bear’s Tooth, two monoliths that may be distinctly seen from
Helena, twenty miles away.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  FRONT VIEW OF MAMMOTH HOT SPRINGS—CLEOPATRA AND JUPITER TERRACES.—The
    chief wonders in Yellowstone National Park are the geysers, and the
    limestone formations such as are shown above. These terraces are
    formed by exuding water carrying a heavy solution of travertine,
    which is deposited in the most remarkable shapes when coming in
    contact with the air. This deposit is semi-crystalline, often
    resembling snow-banks, and as the process of hardening goes on in
    circular rims, basins are left which hold the water, and reflect in
    a myriad of hues the sky and surroundings.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: CAÑON OF MISSOURI RIVER, NEAR GREAT FALLS.]

The Montana Central and Great Northern Railroad convey travelers over a
good road eighty miles further, to the Falls of the Missouri, three in
number, which are scattered over a distance of twelve miles, where the
river flows through a cañon with vertical walls 200 to 500 feet high. We
first meet a cascade called Black Eagle Falls, where the entire river
drops over a ledge twenty-six feet high, a precursor of the more
terrible waterfalls that are to come. The next one to appear in view is
Rainbow Falls, where the river, 1,200 feet wide, hurls itself down a
perpendicular descent of fifty feet. Six miles further down are the
Great Falls, that have a leap of ninety feet, and whose terrible roaring
can be heard a dozen miles away. At this point the river has a volume
greater than the Mississippi, but is narrowed to 300 feet by walls 200
feet high. An island divides the rushing waters, the half next to the
right bank dashing down with such tremendous effect that clouds of spray
are sent 200 feet high, which, struck by bright sunbeams, are converted
into rainbows, or at times glow with prismatic hues like giant soap-
bubbles. That part of the stream flowing to the left passes over a
succession of ledges, forming a magnificent cataract of fleecy foam, 200
feet in width and 90 feet in perpendicular elevation. But though these
are the principal falls, there are twelve others within a distance of
ten miles, having a total descent of 400 feet, and these interruptions
in the channel continue, though in a lesser degree, as far down as Fort
Benton, which is the head of navigation.

The country east of Helena, along the line of the Northern Pacific,
presents no variation of apparently boundless prairie land, until the
Bad Lands of Northern Dakota are reached, which will be hereafter
described. One hundred and fifty miles east of the city, however, is the
town of Livingston, at which point Yellowstone Park visitors change cars
to a branch line that runs fifty miles due south to Cinnabar, which is
within a mile of the Wyoming State line, and three miles from the
northern boundary of the National Park. We are now upon the borders of
the most wondrous region of the earth, the curiosities of which we will
now attempt to briefly describe, though words seem to lose their
significance when they are used to portray the marvels that exist in
this real wonderland.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  PULPIT TERRACE, MAMMOTH HOT SPRINGS.—The photograph above admirably
    represents this beautiful and surprising example of Nature’s wonder-
    working. The projecting terrace in front was on one occasion used as
    a pulpit, which it greatly resembles, from which fact the name is
    derived. These remarkable formations are beautiful beyond all the
    efforts of imagination to picture. Even a fine photograph like the
    above cannot do them full justice, as the exquisite coloring is
    wanting. They must be seen in all the glory of sunlight reflection
    to be fully appreciated.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: RAINBOW FALLS, GRAND FALLS, MONTANA.]

At Cinnabar, tourists take the stage for a seven miles’ ride to Mammoth
Hot Springs Hotel, which is the first and principal hostelry within the
park. This ride prepares the visitor for remarkable surprises, for it is
through an erratic district of soaring pinnacles, dizzy walls and
chaotic formations, stranger and more weird than the gate-way that
Cerberus guarded. Away up on the apex of the first tall spire of stone
that has broken away from the cañon walls of Gardiner River, is seen an
eagle’s nest, an aerie so lofty that the clouds play about it; so far-
reaching skyward that it is tipped with the waking beams of sunlight
before day, and is bright with lingering rays when evening shades have
descended. By aid of glass the eagle may be seen demurely surveying the
world, or in her absence the straining necks of her ambitious brood,
watching the neighboring crags for their royal parent’s return. Nothing
that I saw in Yellowstone Park impressed me more than this nest of
eagles in the azure depths of that perilous peak.

This great National Park is a volcanic plateau some 10,000 feet above
sea level, and embraces a territory fifty-five by sixty-five miles, or
3,575 square miles. It was first visited by John Colter, an attaché of
the Lewis and Clarke exploring expedition in 1806, but it was not until
nearly fifty years later that stories told of the region by old trappers
and hunters were verified by a visit of members of the Geologic Survey.
In 1880 it was made a National Park, since which time it has been under
the immediate control of the Secretary of the Interior, who appoints a
superintendent with headquarters at the Mammoth Hot Springs, and polices
the park with a company of cavalry, whose principal care is the
protection of game. So faithfully has this duty been executed that the
park now abounds with deer, buffalo, elk, bear, and a few mountain
lions, besides a great abundance of small game and water-fowl. Upon
alighting from the stage at Mammoth Hot Springs Hotel, the first objects
that attract the interest of visitors are the pink terraced springs and
Cap of Liberty, which are in the front-yard, so to speak. The springs,
fifty in number, cover an area of 170 acres and by a constant deposition
of carbonate of lime have built up, terrace upon terrace, a mound fully
200 feet high.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  LITTLE JUPITER TERRACE.—The different terraces of the Yellowstone Park
    cover an area about two miles square. They have the appearance of a
    frozen cascade, so beautifully scalloped and adorned with a kind of
    bead work, that the beholder stands amazed and filled with
    inexpressible admiration. The water flowing over these terraces is
    so transparent that it is like glass, and the pools below hold the
    reflection of the sky while mirroring the white crystalline
    formations, surpassing all art, and more beautiful than anything
    which can be conceived.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: SLUICE-BOX CAÑON, NEAR GREAT FALLS, MONTANA.]

The springs have their source somewhere within an active volcanic belt,
and thus heated by internal fires they pour out their waters at a
temperature of 112° to 163° Fahrenheit, which, acting upon the soft
limestone, dissolves and converts it into what geologists call
_travertine_, a semi-crystalline deposit that quickly hardens upon
coming in contact with the air. When first observed, the terraces
resemble a snow-bank, but by other writers they have been compared to
the terminal front of a glacier, and again like a foaming cascade
suddenly turned into stone. Streaks and patches of red, yellow and green
seen upon the white slopes mark the course of overflowing water, while
clouds of steam float lightly upward from the many springs, but only to
quickly disappear.

There are in all eight well-defined benches, each with a more or less
level surface, and terminating with vertical fronts to the next terrace
below. Near the terraces, though on a bench of ground by itself, is
Liberty Cap, a pillar forty-three feet high and twenty feet in diameter,
with sphinx-like profile, the cone of a hot spring long since extinct.
Close-by is a similar monolith, not so tall, called the Devil’s Thumb, a
name readily suggested by the proximity of the springs to Pluto’s
dominion, as some will have it, and the gossip that Satan’s hand is in
all the region thereabout.

In wandering around the terraces the visitor is sure to have his
surprise quickened by the brightly-tinted basins, and the red and orange
slopes overflowed by the hot waters. These colors are due to the
presence of minute algæ, or water-plants, whose life is strangely enough
supported by the hot water and the lime held in solution; for
investigation has disclosed the astonishing fact that the chief work of
these microscopic plants is the separation from the water of the
carbonate of lime, which they cause by abstracting the carbonic acid.

The view from these mammoth terraces is picturesque beyond comparison:
The dark and lofty summit of Sepulchre Mountain shows its drowsy head
near-by on the north; while the upper valley of the Yellowstone, and the
jagged peaks of Snowy Range, are seen to the northeast, between
Sepulchre and the long face of Mount Evarts. In the southeast the eye
dwells pleasantly upon the distant view of Lava Creek and Undine Falls,
with many snow-white peaks, standing like sentinels around this wizard
realm; while Bunsen Peak keeps watch towards the south, its dark slopes
making an effective background to the white hills of hot spring deposit.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  COATING SPRING TERRACE.—This terrace affords perhaps a better example
    of the formation of these beautiful monuments of Nature than any of
    the others. The water is seen flowing gently over the succession of
    steps, and depositing the calcareous substances of which they are
    composed. The ground-work is snow-white, but reflected from this is
    every shade of scarlet, green and yellow, as brilliant as the
    brightest of our aniline dyes. The spectacle is dazzlingly
    beautiful, producing a scene that cannot perhaps be equaled
    elsewhere in the whole world.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: ECHO CAÑON FALLS, IN ROCKY MOUNTAINS, NEAR MIDVALE,
MONTANA.]

When we turn from viewing the surrounding scenery and begin to examine
particularly each separate formation, we find near the center of this
sublimated field a blue spring, brilliant as a sapphire, and clear as a
diamond, with a deep and irregular rim all around it, as if nature had
made an effort to retain its beautiful waters. This spring is fifteen by
twenty feet in area, and is in a state of constant agitation. The sides
and bottom of the basin are formed of pure white travertine, while the
varying depths cause the water to appear all shades between a deep
peacock-blue and a light nile-green. Issuing at a temperature of 165°,
the water contains a considerable amount of gas, which escapes at the
surface of the pool, thus causing the flow to rise in the form of a
little dome, while a pulsating movement is imparted which sends out
waves that ripple across the water and curl over the shallow rim of the
bowl, filling other basins along its course. These terraced overflow
basins, thus formed, are a most striking feature of the springs. No
description can do justice to their beauty, for neither the delicate
fretwork of their walls, the frosted surface of the glistening deposit,
nor the brilliant colors of the pools and rivers can be adequately
described.

In many places the overflow is in thin sheets and little cascades, while
yellow, sulphur-coated threads of algæ are abundant, though they do not
impart their color to the water, for the exquisite blues and greens of
the hottest basins are due solely to the varying depths of water. On the
other hand, the bright lemon, red and green shades of the cooler pools
are entirely vegetable in their nature, and due to the presence of algæ
lining the basins and striping their outer walls.

The upper basins are generally shallow, because of the rapid deposit of
lime, but this deposition occurs after the overflow, thus forming what
is called the Marble Basins, after which, the water being somewhat
cooled, the deposit is slower. Accordingly, we find that the lower
slopes are exquisitely fringed with slender stalactites and pillars,
forming the beautiful Pulpit Basins as shown in the illustration.

The Government has expended large sums of money in making roads through
the most interesting sections of the park, and over these we pursued a
greater part of our way in reaching the places which we desired to
photograph. A stage runs through the park, in which visitors may make
the tour in six days, but for manifest reasons we traveled by private
conveyances, camping out as often as we took quarters at the several
hotels located at convenient distances along the route.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  LIMESTONE HOODOOS IN YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK.—If one should come
    suddenly upon these Hoodoos, or Ghost Rocks, alone on a moonlight
    night, he would instantly recognize the appropriateness of the title
    which has been bestowed upon them. It was winter when our
    photographers were there, and they had the advantages of a winding
    sheet of snow reflected in a bright winter sun to heighten the
    effects, and were thus enabled to secure a picture which is in every
    sense in perfect keeping with the gruesome surroundings.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: NATURAL CASTLE, SLUICE-BOX CAÑON.]

Leaving the Mammoth Hot Springs terraces, whose incomparable beauties
must ever remain as a delightful remembrance, we traveled southward by
the Hoodoos, and entered the Golden Gate, where a part of the road is
built over a cañon and another part is carved out of the cliffs, along
which there is a charm following every footstep. On the one side rise
precipitous walls, while on the other is a gorge of almost infinite
depth, through which plunges Gardiner River, broken and foaming with
cascade and waterfall. Beyond the gates there is a brief level, then
down again among fresh curiosities the route leads by the Devil’s Paint-
Pots, Crystal Spring, pretty Beaver Lake, and along a mountain base
covered with blasted pines. Then another ascent, until the altitude is
so great that we found snow in considerable patches as late as July 1st.
But besides the bubbling springs and sputtering sulphur vats, whose
locations were marked here and there in the distance by their streams of
vapor, our interest was chained by the obsidian cliffs on our left, a
black mountain of mineral glass that sparkled with unnatural lustre
because of the dusky background, while strewed about were broken bits
that made the spot resemble the remains of a glass factory.

At every few paces we startled a woodchuck which, satisfying his
curiosity with a glance, quickly disappeared among the stones. Deer were
occasionally seen scampering through the dead pine forest, and as we
reached Beaver Lake two solemn blue cranes crossed our road and tried to
hide their brood in a patch of tall grass. The hoarse “konks” of the
cock, the thin “peeps” of the young, and the peculiar motions of the hen
in her great agitation, were extremely amusing.

Twenty miles from Mammoth Hot Springs Hotel is the Norris Geyser Basin,
where we were entertained with our first view of the spouting volcanoes
throwing up streams of hot water and great volumes of vapor. This is
indeed the Devil’s Kitchen, for besides the hellish aspect of boiling
caldrons, the air is charged with those sulphurous fumes that are said
to certainly indicate his activity and immediate presence. There is no
sign of soil thereabout, for the surface is incrusted with a deep
deposit of lime, in which vents occur to allow the escape of gases and
to give intimation of the fiery furnace which is raging beneath our
feet. We counted eighteen geysers from the insecure position which we
took; the most of them, however, were infantile and irregular in their
action, sending up a shower of mud at occasional intervals, and then
subsiding to gather fresh force; but steam poured out continually, and
when we moved a little further south, the roar of Steamboat Geyser fell
on our ears. It, too, acted spasmodically; but every few minutes there
was a deep rumbling, followed quickly by a respiration, deep, powerful
and awful as the rush of a hurricane, then a regurgitation, as if the
earth were swallowing up again the gas and steam which she had poured
out.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  HYMEN TERRACES, MAMMOTH HOT SPRINGS.—A description of one of these
    marvelous formations fits them all, for there is much similarity
    between them, while each alike is so beautiful that neither language
    nor the camera can do them justice. One can spend weeks in their
    presence, and find new beauties to admire every day, in the varying
    reflections and prismatic colors that dance and sparkle upon their
    crystalline sides and surfaces. It is a region of wonders unequaled
    by any other spot on the face of the earth.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  CLEOPATRA AND JUPITER TERRACES.—This photograph represents a portion
    of two of the most popular and beautiful of the Yellowstone
    terraces, and also presents a general view of the side of the hill
    on which they are located and the valley into which the waters flow.
    It is also one of the most recent and superb photographs of this
    scene, reproducing it as it would appear in its natural condition at
    the present time.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: SITKA BAY, ALASKA.]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  JUPITER TERRACE, MAMMOTH HOT SPRINGS.—This is a particularly fine view
    of this celebrated curiosity. The reflection of light and shade is
    admirable, and affords a good idea of the dazzling splendor of the
    formation when viewed in the light of the sun. We can but stand mute
    and dumb with admiration in the presence of such marvelous creations
    of Nature. No art can paint or imitate them. They are Nature’s own
    product, and stand unsurpassed even in human imagination.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: IN THE BELT VALLEY, NEAR GREAT FALLS.]

On the brink of this infernal pit, distributed over a considerable
space, were transparent pools of water of the most brilliant hues,
indigo, orange, carmine and emerald, down in whose depths are queer
formations of petrifying algæ, and bubbles that look like pearls. Near
this beautifully colored and transparent spring is Mud Geyser, a basin
full of mush, that lazily sputters as though it were hung over a slow
fire, awaiting the spoon of a tardy diner. There is another mud volcano
near Sulphur Mountain, the crater of which is thirty feet deep and
twenty-five feet in diameter, and which is in a state of constant
ebullition, throwing up great quantities of mud and steam to a height of
200 feet, and at times shaking the mountain with its terrible
convulsions. Great as were the wonders which we saw in Norris Basin, it
proved to be only the threshold of the colossal, the overpowering, the
awful sights which we were yet to behold.

The well-constructed roadway leading south from the Norris Geyser Basin
is along the Gibbon River, by Johnson Peak and Hot Springs, into Gibbon
Cañon, which, however, is distinguished for its gracefully sloping sides
rather than for its cliffs and depths. A little way to the west the
cañon becomes wilder, and just below Beryl Spring is a high shelf in the
river, over which the rushing waters plunge in a fall of ninety feet.
But the descent is gradual, so that instead of torrential dash the
waters, after breaking on the sharp projections of the rock face, slide
into the river below and then speed away to join Madison River, into
which is drained the overflow of the many active geysers. Though not
precipitous, Gibbon Falls is a beautiful sheet of liquid crystals,
rolling down terraces and ledges exquisitely colored by the presence of
different minerals, and in the sunlight exhibiting a sheen and
brilliance almost equal to that of Yellowstone Falls. The charm is
enhanced by deep coverts of pine that are reflected in the placidly-
flowing stream above and below the falls, and by the castellated bluffs
that confine the waters. The prospect from the cañon walls is also
delightful, for towards every point there is a lovely panorama of
remarkable diversity, including mountains, valleys, parks, rivers, and
geysers, the latter showing themselves many miles north and south, while
steam from boiling caldrons rolls skywards and gathers in volume until
immense cumulus clouds are formed that hang ominously above the valley,
or are drifted away to break upon the sides of the surrounding
mountains.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  THE GOLDEN GATE, YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK.—The Golden Gate is the
    favorite entrance to the park, and it has been photographed and
    pictured in many ways and from every point of view. The glimpse of
    the park caught through its portals is an entrancingly lovely one,
    and quickens the imagination with the expectation of greater things
    to be seen on the inside. Every person who can afford the expense
    should visit the National Park and see its wonders for himself, for
    there is no place on earth like it. Those who cannot afford the
    expense will find the splendid photographs and descriptions in
    GLIMPSES OF AMERICA the best possible substitute.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: LIBERTY CAP AND MAMMOTH HOT SPRINGS HOTEL.]

Continuing our trip southward through Gibbon Cañon and by Gibbon Falls,
whence the landscape is more level, we came at length to Fire-Hole Creek
and the Lower Geyser Basin. We were now in the region of giant geysers,
in the visible presence of the most terrible manifestations of nature.
In this pit of Acheron, this purgatory of ferment and explosion,
covering an area of forty square miles, are almost countless geysers,
distributed in seven groups, as if banded in rivalry. One of these
groups is near the center of the basin and has one hundred orifices that
spout steam and water, resembling from a distance an extensive
manufactory. The most interesting feature of the Lower Basin is Fountain
Geyser, which throws a column of water twenty feet in diameter to a
height of fifty feet, though it plays only at intervals of many days.
Near-by is Monument Basin, so called from the formations of every
conceivable shape which distinguish it. Evangeline Geyser is another
eruptive volcano that throbs and thumps violently when in action, but
never casts up water more than a few feet above the surface; it has a
beautifully scalloped rim, with small bowls of exquisite incrustations,
resembling some of the basins in Mammoth Terraces. It is in the Upper
Basin, eight miles further south, however, that the greatest of geysers
are to be seen, though the area covered is scarcely three square miles,
and the springs are less numerous. In this region, very near to Fire-
Hole River, is a spot called Hell’s Half-Acre, a designation peculiarly
appropriate by reason of the purgatorial wonders which exist therein,
and the activity with which old Nick’s stokers stir the subterranean
furnaces. The largest geyser in this fiery-haunted district, and indeed
much the largest in the world, is Excelsior Geyser, which has a mouth
two hundred feet wide and has been known to cast up a flood of water two
hundred feet high, carrying with it large stones rent from the walls of
its Plutonian caverns. Excelsior displays its power at very rare
intervals, sometimes remaining quiet for years; but to our surprise and
joy it was in a state of violent eruption during our visit, and thus
gave us an opportunity not only to see but to photograph its immensity
and awfulness.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  EXCELSIOR GEYSER IN ACTION.—Excelsior is the largest geyser, not only
    in Yellowstone Park, but in the whole world. Its mouth is 200 feet
    wide, and it has been known to spout a volume of hot water 200 feet
    high and filling the entire space of its cavity, carrying with it
    large stones rent from the interior of the earth. Such displays of
    its power occur only at rare intervals, but fortunately it was in a
    state of violent eruption at the time of the visit of our
    photographing party, and they thus had an opportunity not only to
    see but to photograph this wonder of nature in its immensity and
    awfulness.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: CUPID’S CAVE, MAMMOTH HOT SPRINGS.]

The most interesting, because always reliable, is Old Faithful Geyser,
which throws up a stream of hot water six feet in diameter 130 feet high
every fifty-seven minutes, and sustains the flow for a period of five
minutes. The amount of water thus discharged every hour is 100,000
gallons, or enough to supply a small river. The Bee-hive, located on the
opposite side of the river, blows up a column of water three feet in
diameter to a height of 250 feet, and plays, generally, for fifteen
minutes, but at intervals of twenty-four hours. The Giantess is, for
several reasons, the most interesting of all the 700 geysers within
National Park. One may approach to the very brink of her crater, which
is twenty feet across, and look down one hundred feet into her hot
throat and hear the fierce gurgling of water, but none is visible until
an eruption is about to occur. Then the sputtering increases, deep
groans are audible, and a burst of steam is followed by a discharge of
water that shoots upward in a succession of jets. The first main column
sent up reaches a height of sixty feet, through which there are
projected small streams a foot in diameter to a height of 250 feet, thus
making a magnificent display for twenty minutes which nothing artificial
can ever rival.

Giant Geyser is less pretentious than the Giantess, having a ragged cone
that is broken on one side, and through a vent eight feet in diameter a
discharge is made at irregular intervals, when a stream of water is
tossed to a height varying from 90 to 200 feet, and the activity
sometimes continues for two or three hours. Other geysers that make fine
displays are the Sawmill, Turban, Grotto, Punch-Bowl, Soda, Grand, Fan,
and Riverside, some of which are never quiet, while others play only
occasionally. It has been found by experiment that foreign substances
thrown into some of these craters create an agitation that frequently
results in eruptions; the introduction of soap or lye is invariably
attended by some manifestation even in the quiet geysers, while the
active ones are by this means made to flow again almost immediately
after an eruption has taken place.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  OLD FAITHFUL, LOWER GEYSER BASIN.—Old Faithful is the most interesting
    and popular of the many geysers in National Park, because it can be
    relied upon to give an exhibition regularly every fifty-seven
    minutes. At these intervals, with the regularity of the beating of a
    healthy pulse, it emits a stream of hot water six feet in diameter
    to a height of 130 feet, and lasting five minutes. The amount of
    water thus discharged every hour is estimated to be about 100,000
    gallons, or enough to supply a small river. This has been going
    perhaps for centuries, and will doubtless continue for centuries to
    come.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: RUSTIC FALLS, GOLDEN GATE ROAD.]

After two days spent among the Upper and Lower Basin Geysers, with our
cameras in constant service, for the sun shone brightly, we went a few
miles further down to Lone Star Geyser, Hot Springs, and to the high
lands above Grant’s Pass. From this latter point of observation a
magnificent view was had and photographs obtained of the Great Teton
Mountains and Snake River Valley, which fill the distance with lines of
hazy grandeur. Turning then towards the east we crossed Norris Pass
(8,350 feet altitude), and after twenty miles of travel emerged from the
forest and reached the Thumb of Yellowstone Lake, as it is called. This
magnificent body of water is fifteen miles wide by twenty-five in
length, and is a basin of wonderful beauty, thus described by Mr.
Langford:

“Secluded amid the loftiest peaks of the Rocky Mountains, possessing
strange peculiarities of form and beauty, this watery solitude is one of
the most attractive objects in the world. Its southern shore, indented
with long, narrow islets, not unlike the frequent fiords of Iceland,
bears testimony to the awful upheaval and tremendous force of the
elements which resulted in its creation. Islands of emerald hue dot its
surface, and a margin of sparkling sands forms its setting. The winds,
compressed in their passage through the mountain gorges, lash it into a
sea as terrible as the fretted ocean, covering it with foam.”

In several places along the shore, and even projecting from the lake,
are several boiling hot springs, which flowing with clear water holding
lime in solution, pyramidal cones are thus built around their outlets,
giving to them the appearance of ant-mounds when seen at a distance.
Professor Hayden startles us with the statement that he has caught fish
from the ice-cold lake while standing on these mounds, and dropping them
into the craters of hot water, had the novel experience of cooking the
fish without removing them from the hook.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  FISHING FROM YELLOWSTONE LAKE, AND COOKING FISH IN THE CONE OF AN
    ACTIVE GEYSER.—The cruelty of this scene detracts very much from its
    interest, and it is only for its scientific interest that it can be
    tolerated. There are several hot springs cones in the lake,
    containing water that is constantly at the boiling point. This water
    is separated from the lake by the solid walls of the cone, so that a
    person feeling so disposed may catch fish from the lake, as shown in
    the photograph, and boil them in the hot spring without removing
    them from the hook or changing his position. We are glad to say that
    the man in the picture who is performing this cruel feat did not
    belong to our photographing party.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: BEAUTY SPRING FORMATION.]

Traveling along the shores of Yellowstone Lake for a distance of
something more than thirty miles, we came to Lake Hotel, and beyond that
the cliffs, which, however, are scarcely deserving of notice when
brought into comparison with the Columnar Cliffs of the Yellowstone
Cañon, soon to be described. Continuing our circuit of the park, we
followed the main road, running along Yellowstone River, past Mud Geyser
and Sulphur Mountain, until we found accommodations at Cañon Hotel, the
center of another district of wonders, where we tarried for three days,
to employ our energies in taking views of the extraordinarily grand and
awfully imposing natural objects which cluster hereabout in the Cañon of
the Yellowstone.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  GENERAL VIEW OF THE NORRIS BASIN GEYSERS.—This beautiful photograph
    will give a good idea of the vast number of geysers in this
    locality, all of which emit boiling water and mud. Special attention
    is called to the accuracy and beauty of this superb photograph. Not
    only does it show the steam and water of the geysers as naturally as
    they would appear in reality, but all the other minutiæ of the scene
    are perfect, even to the shadow of the trees on the roadway in the
    foreground.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: CRYSTAL CASCADE, 129 FEET HIGH.]

A short distance from the hotel is Mount Washington, whose massive head
is raised to a height of 10,500 feet above the sea; but so gradually
sloping are its sides that an easy roadway has been made to the summit,
which we ascended and from that lofty peak surveyed the vast landscape
that was in the field of vision; and what a glorious panorama was there
presented! We were indeed upon the topmost ridge of the Great
Continental Divide, with the whole world apparently at our feet. Towards
the far west and the distant south, as the range makes a sharp curve,
were the high and snow-crested peaks of the Rocky Mountains, among which
we readily distinguished the majestic Tetons, upon which the sacred
fires lighted by very ancient tribes of Indians are said to be still
burning. To the northwest are the Madison and Gallatin Mountains,
dropping gracefully towards the east until they form what appears to be
the western walls of Yellowstone Valley, speckled with its hundreds of
steam-vomiting springs. The mountainous aspect of the western view has
its counterpart in the tumultuous landscape which greets us on the east,
for the horizon is broken, and the blue sky pierced by the Shoshone
Range, which we follow towards the north as far as Emigrant Peak, as it
thrusts its brazen front out of the Snowy Range. Still further west we
perceive the outlines of the Stinking and Big Horn River Valleys,
running in a northwesterly direction, past Fort Custer and the tragic
Custer battle-field, until they merge into the Yellowstone Valley, two
hundred miles from the park. In the clear depths of the far southwest we
perceive a glitter in the tenuous atmosphere, which our glasses discover
to us to be caused by snow on the Wind River Mountain peaks reflecting
the brilliant sunlight. This magnificent range, that leaps out of the
plains of Wyoming, and after running one hundred miles disappears again
in the prairie, attains such a lofty altitude that the Wind River
Shoshone tribe regard it as the crest of the world. And they have a
legend, borrowed from the Blackfeet, that only one warrior ever reached
the summits, from which he was permitted to look directly into the happy
hunting grounds and survey all the entrancing beauties of that
delectable land of happy spirits. But if the distant prospect is
pleasing, how much more delightful is the wonder valley that lies at our
feet! Looking down from our exceeding high eminence, we behold with
amazement the Grand Cañon of the Yellowstone, a gigantic gash in the
mountains twenty miles in length, and watch the play of enormous
waterfalls that swell the mighty chorus of nature.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  THE CRATER OF CASTLE GEYSER, YELLOWSTONE PARK.—This photograph
    presents a splendid and accurate view of the crater of one of the
    most noted geysers of this celebrated locality. The light and
    conditions were particularly favorable when our party was there, and
    they thus succeeded in getting one of the finest negatives of their
    entire series. The formation of the cone appears as clear, distinct
    and beautiful as if it were standing before us in its natural
    condition. No painting or engraving can equal such a photograph, in
    the qualities that make an illustration perfect.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: GIBBON FALLS, YELLOWSTONE PARK.]

Descending from Mount Washington, we proceeded by the roadway through a
deep forest of pines until presently we gained the brink of a frightful
chasm nearly 2,000 feet deep, over which the river poured in tremendous
force and had a sheer drop of 140 feet. This is the Upper Falls, and a
grand nature-picture they compose. But the magnificence of the scene is
mightily increased less than half a mile below, where the cañon walls
rapidly contract and another greater precipice has been formed. Here the
mad waters take a violent tumble of 350 feet, at Lower Falls, and are
tossed up again in a mist that sometimes beclouds the valley. But
recovering its force, the river plunges on with renewed energy, as the
descent increases, until out of the gloomy depths it again emerges for
one more final leap of 150 feet, at Tower Falls.

While the falls are of extraordinary interest, they are not more than
the worthy accessories of a cañon which, though not the greatest, is in
some respects the most sublime of any on the American continent. Mr.
Archibald Geikie, an English scientist, has given the following
admirable description of Yellowstone Cañon, admirable not only for its
graphic picturing, but also because it is an Englishman’s confession
that there is something really grand in America:

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  GRAND CAÑON OF THE YELLOWSTONE.—The Grand Cañon is immediately north
    of the lake, with Tower Falls at its north end and Yellowstone Falls
    at the south. The photograph presents a fine view from one of the
    most desirable points, but even a photograph, let it be ever so
    accurate, cannot give a true idea of the real grandeur of a scene
    like this. The width of the cañon varies from 200 to 500 yards, and
    the walls on either side rise to a height of 1200 to 1500 feet, the
    river winding its tortuous way and plunging over numerous waterfalls
    at the bottom of this tremendous crevice. The river is transparent
    as crystal, and reaches a depth of 300 feet at one point.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: YELLOWSTONE RIVER, NEAR MUD GEYSER.]

“Scrambling to the edge of one of the bastions and looking down, we
could see the river far below, dwarfed to a mere silver thread. From
this abyss the crags and slopes towered up in endless variety of form,
and with the weirdest mingling of colors. Much of the rock, especially
of the more crumbling slopes, was of a pale sulphur-yellow. Through this
groundwork harder masses of dull scarlet, merging into purple and
crimson, rose into craggy knobs and pinnacles, or shot up in sheer
vertical walls. In the sunlight of the morning the place is a blaze of
strange color, such as one can hardly see anywhere save in the crater of
an active volcano. But as the day wanes, the shades of evening, sinking
gently into the depths, blend their livid tints into a strange,
mysterious gloom, through which one can still see the white gleam of the
rushing river and hear the distant murmur of its flow. Now is the time
to see the full majesty of the cañon. Perched on an outstanding crag,
one can look down the ravine and mark headland behind headland mounting
out of the gathering shadows and catching upon their scarred fronts of
red and yellow the mellower tints of the sinking sun. And above all lie
the dark folds of pine sweeping along the crests of the precipices,
which they crown with a rim of green. There are gorges of far more
imposing magnitude in the Colorado Basin, but for dimensions large
enough to be profoundly striking, yet not too vast to be taken in by the
eye at once, for infinite changes of picturesque detail, and for
brilliancy and endless variety of coloring, there are probably few
scenes in the world more impressive than the Grand Cañon of the
Yellowstone.” Along the twenty miles of cañon where the walls are
highest they have been carved by glacial agencies and weather-worn into
many curious forms, generally columnar, but sometimes presenting the
appearance of spires, domes, turrets and crenelated battlements, and
everywhere the matchless colors of yellow, red, green, and many tints
are present. After passing down the extreme length of the cañon, we took
the less traveled road running east from Yancy’s Camp and visited the
petrified forests; and here we began to comprehend more thoroughly than
before the mysteries of the Yellowstone Park Basin. The evidence is here
abundant that in the remote past this entire region of 375 square miles
was a pleasant vale, where a luxuriant forest abounded, and many monster
animals, long since extinct, found a pleasant abode. Following this
period of delightful natural conditions, there succeeded a flood of ice
that came sweeping with almost unimaginable force from the north,
grinding, tearing and destroying until the region was denuded and the
very earth furrowed and torn into the wonderful disfigurements which we
now behold. In this terrific flood the mountains were precipitated and
folded upon the forests and buried with the monster animals that had
sought refuge in the spots which became their cemeteries. In the rents
thus made the grinding ice flowed until it reached the internal furnace
of the world, which generating gases and steam, explosions followed that
tore wider the earth’s womb and made the region a fiery cave. Into the
devious caverns thus formed water from underground rivers continues to
flow, over subterranean fires that convert it into steam, and thus at
the many vents we observe the ever active, though constantly waning,
energies of the volcano.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  TOWER FALLS, IN THE GRAND CAÑON.—At this point the waters of
    Yellowstone River spring at one bound over a precipice 156 feet
    high, forming one of the most beautiful and picturesque falls to be
    found in any country. The castellated rocks surrounding the falls
    stand like grim sentinels guarding their beautiful treasure, and
    have been well and appropriately named, for their resemblance to
    ancient towers and battlements is so striking as to be recognized at
    a glance. This is one of the most attractive points along the entire
    length of Yellowstone Cañon.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  A PETRIFIED TREE IN THE BAD LANDS OF DAKOTA.—In many parts of the
    Northwest, particularly in the Bad Lands of Dakota and Yellowstone
    National Park, there are whole forests of petrified trees, partly
    standing or lying about in promiscuous profusion. A fine photograph
    of a portion of one of these trees is given on this page. According
    to the scientific theory, these forests were overwhelmed by the ice-
    flood many centuries ago, and each tree became, through chemical
    action, a thousand years or more thereafter, a gem-like pillar of
    the most exquisite beauty. Petrified remains of gigantic animals
    that roamed these ancient forests are found in abundance in the same
    regions.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  BISCUIT BASIN.—This is one of the most singular as well as beautiful
    formations in Yellowstone National Park. Terraced overflow basins
    like this are a most striking feature of the hot springs, and no
    description can do justice to their beauty, for neither the delicate
    fretwork of their walls, the frosted surface of the glistening
    deposit, nor the brilliant colors of the pools can be adequately
    described. The sides and bottom of the basin are formed of pure
    white travertine, while the varying depths cause the water to appear
    all shades between a peacock-blue and a light nile-green. Those who
    have seen Biscuit Basin will never lose the memory of the vision of
    beauty that it impresses upon the mind.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: CRATER OF OBLONG GEYSER.]

But there have been two glacial drifts over a great part of North
America, and the second ice-flood scoured the earth in such manner as to
frequently uncover the forests and animal remains that were buried by
the first great deluge. It is in the region of the Petrified and Fossil
Forests that we note the evidence of the truth of this theory; not only
in Yellowstone Park, but in the Bad Lands of Dakota, the dry lake basins
of the Southwest and, in fact, in nearly every State of the Union. But
in Yellowstone Park the remains of petrified trees are particularly
numerous, and it is here that we observe the most beautiful specimens of
chalcedony lying about in promiscuous profusion, like the ruins of some
magnificent palace. Every tree here, overwhelmed by the ice-flood,
became, in a thousand years thereafter, a pillar of the most exquisite
beauty, and we now examine them with wondering curiosity, then convert
them into articles of use and adornment.

The same chemical action which changed the forests of this region into
gem-like stone, also preserved the bones of many huge creatures which
met their death suddenly in this volcanic basin. Here and there specimen
relics of gigantic animals may be found in the fossil district east of
Yellowstone River, though they are becoming scarce because of the
immense quantity that has been carried away by scientific bone
collectors and the admirers of curious things during the several years
that the park has been a popular resort.

In this same district there is a depression or basin, about three
hundred yards in diameter, which has received the title of Death Valley,
a designation that is appropriately applied because it is not only an
ossuary, where the bones of many animals lie about in promiscuous
profusion, but such noxious gases emanate from the basin that it is
represented as a place where no creature can survive the exhalations for
more than a few minutes.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  BASALTIC CAÑON OF THE YELLOWSTONE.—The Basaltic Cañon of the
    Yellowstone is similar in formation to the Giant’s Causeway of
    Ireland and Fingal’s Cave of Scotland, but not so pronounced in the
    columnar outlines. It is much more extensive, however, and equally
    as interesting and remarkable as either of the above-named natural
    wonders. The erosion of the rocks and the settling of the debris at
    the foot of the cliffs have shortened the pillars to a very
    considerable extent, and made them much less imposing than they were
    originally, but they are still among the most remarkable natural
    wonders of the world.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  LIMESTONE PINNACLES IN BIG HORN RIVER CAÑON.—The Big Horn River, in
    its course through Wyoming, passes through as fine a scenic region
    as can be found in America, or, indeed, in any other country. A fine
    example of the wild picturesqueness of this scenery is given on this
    page, where we see turrets and towers and battlements piled one upon
    the other until they present a view unlike anything else in
    existence, unless it may be some of the most rugged portions of the
    famous scenery along the Rhine River, in Germany.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  A RANCH ON THE LITTLE MISSOURI RIVER.—Scenes like this are not
    uncommon in the rich valleys of the Far Northwest, where stock-
    raising and farming have proved to be even more profitable than
    mining for the precious metals. Enterprising pioneers, who were
    attracted to that region by the discovery of gold and silver, have
    turned their attention to the more certain and desirable pursuit of
    agriculture, and the green valleys are now dotted with modest homes
    and thrifty farms, where peace and plenty go hand in hand with
    happiness and contentment.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: GROTTO GEYSER.]

Examination of the remains found therein reveals the fact that bears,
deer, wolves, a mountain lion, and numerous small animals have died of
asphyxiation in trying to pass over the accursed ground. But as these
sulphurous gases have the power to kill, they have also, to a certain
extent, the virtue to preserve, the bodies of creatures thus destroyed
exhibiting slight evidences of decay for a month or more after death. On
account of the danger attending a critical investigation of this noxious
plague-spot, those who have visited the place have been compelled to
exercise great caution, and to use field-glasses in making their
examinations. One rash person is known to have attempted a passage of
the basin, but he was unable to advance more than twenty yards, and had
he not retained the presence of mind to hold his breath, when he found
himself affected by the gas, escape from certain death would hardly have
been possible. No scientific investigator has ever visited the spot, so
far as I have been able to learn, and reports of the deadly exhalations
which characterize it therefore come from the few persons who have
approached the place out of curiosity. It is also, and fortunately, no
doubt, very difficult to reach, that portion of the Park being almost
inaccessible by reason of the rugged topography, the jagged stones and
almost impassable crevices which surround it. No roads have been
surveyed in the locality, and only the intrepid, venturous and agile can
reach the malignant basin, at the expense of great effort and endurance;
for it is easier to climb the Tetons than to surmount the grim barriers
which guard Death Valley. Assuming that the reports made by several
persons who claim to have visited the spot are true, and which there is
not lacking reason to believe, an explanation of its deadly character is
not difficult to give, because similar conditions, though in much lesser
degree, are found in many localities within the Park.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  HARVEST SCENE ON DALRYMPLE’S FARM, NORTH DAKOTA.—During the prosperous
    era of wheat-raising, this was one of the most celebrated farms in
    the world. It covered an area of 50,000 acres, and both steam and
    horse-power were employed, not only in plowing the soil, but in
    harvesting and threshing the grain as well. Fifteen riding plows are
    to be seen in this photograph, busily at work preparing the ground
    for the seed.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: LONE STAR GEYSER CONE.]

The geysers, such as are now active, are confined within a district
whose radius does not exceed twenty-five miles, but there are
unquestionable evidences that they were distributed over a much greater
area before the last glacial epoch. Indeed, appearances indicate that at
one time, in the very remote past, the whole present extent of the Park
was occupied by either a sea of fire or a tremendous cluster of
volcanoes. When the glacial catastrophe occurred the mountains on the
north, whence the ice-flood descended, were pushed forward and deposited
in the fiery basin. By this action the formerly mountainous lands to the
north were leveled and became vast plains, as we now find them. The
caldron of fiery activity was filled up by the material thus deposited,
but confinement of the gases, which were being constantly generated,
caused repeated explosions, the results of which we find in the cañons
that ramify the district. It will not fail to escape the notice of the
geologist that of the many rivers and streams that penetrate the Park,
not one of them flows from the north, though immediately south of the
Park the Snake River takes its rise, and has cut a way through the Teton
Range that must have once opposed its passage. These mountains, as well
as other ranges in the vicinity, are a part of the residue carried down
by the glacial flood, and thus changed the slope, which was formerly
towards the south, to a contrary direction. Several new basins were
created by this enormous deposition, for it was impossible, by reason of
the eruptions caused by escaping gases, that the deposit should show
equal distribution. One of these basins is Death Valley, which,
originally a geyser or volcano, was suppressed by the glacial deposit,
though the furnace which fed it was not extinguished. The condition is
therefore like that of a charcoal kiln, which, burning beneath a
covering of earth, still allows the smoke and gases to escape. But since
the geysers are not produced by the consumption of combustible material,
but by chemical decomposition, though the action of fire and water, no
smoke is created and thus none is seen escaping from the valley; but the
deadly gases, all the more poisonous because of their temporary
confinement, are constantly exuding through the earth-covering, having
no connection with any active geyser through whose vent they might
escape.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  A HARVEST FIELD IN DAKOTA.—Such a harvest scene as this can be seen
    nowhere else in the world except upon the broad and rich prairies of
    the Northwest, and in a few localities in California. Eight self-
    binding reapers are at work in the field so accurately photographed
    before us, requiring an army of workmen in the proper handling of
    the golden grain. In California, where the climate is dry and the
    rain falls only at certain seasons, the harvesting is done with
    heading machines, and the grain is cut, threshed and sacked all at
    the same time. But more care is required in the Dakotas, where the
    rainfall is more frequent and uncertain.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: THE BLACK GROWLER GEYSER.]

Yellowstone Park has many natural curiosities which entitle it to rank
as the greatest museum of wonders in the world; but it is to be doubted
if the geysers, formations of silica, and awe-compelling cañons can
equal the marvel of Death Valley and the evidence which it supports of
the glacial deluge that converted a sea of fire into a charmingly
diversified wonderland. There is a grim connection between the fossil
district in which the bones of so many extinct animals have been found
so plentifully, and Death Valley, in which the remains of existent
creatures attest the continued destructive result of the ice-flood.
Truly, the ways of Providence are ways of mystery; and the more we
contemplate them to satisfy the ambition of curiosity, the more we
realize the incomprehensibility of the infinite, and that every advance
step is an interrogation point in our lives.

[Illustration: LITTLE FIRE-HOLE FALLS.]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  AN ENCAMPMENT OF SIOUX INDIANS, DAKOTA.—This is a war-camp of Sioux
    Indians, photographed during the hostile era of Sitting Bull and his
    band of desperadoes. It shows the camp deserted by the warriors, and
    left in charge of the women, children and old men. Photographic
    reproductions of such scenes become more interesting and valuable as
    time goes by, for they will never again exist in reality. The
    hostiles have been driven to the Government reservations, and the
    places once occupied by their villages, and the prairies over which
    they roamed in quest of game or the trophies of war, are now covered
    with homes, farms and cities.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: KEPLER’S CASCADE, FIRE-HOLE RIVER.]

After making an examination of the petrified and fossil forests, we
retraced our way and returned to Mammoth Hot Springs Hotel by the road
that leads to Clark’s Fork Mines, a route which I cannot recommend to
dyspeptics, for it is worse than a jolting stool. A few hours’ stop at
the hotel to arrange our baggage, and we resumed our journey eastward
over the Northern Pacific, which thereafter runs through the apparently
boundless plains of North Dakota. The road follows the Yellowstone from
Livingstone to Glendine, a distance of 175 miles, but there is little
diversity in the landscape on the immediate line. Big Horn River
intersects the road at Custer City, below which town, twenty miles, on
the river, is Fort Custer; and the tragic field upon which Custer and
his entire command were slaughtered by the Sioux Indians is only twenty-
five miles southeast of the fort. Everything hereabout appears to be a
rueful reminder of that terrible 15th of July, 1876, for the name of
Custer greets us everywhere we turn until we get beyond Miles City.
Between this latter point and the Missouri River are the Bad Lands,
extending over a large tract of country that includes both Montana and
Dakota, but the formations, while curious, are not nearly so wonderful
as those in Wyoming, described in an earlier chapter. Although the
mounds, monuments and pillars of earth are less lofty, the district
acquires a particular interest from the fact that interspersed among the
earthen columns are the erect bodies of petrified trees, scarcely
distinguishable, at a little distance, however, from the fantastically
eroded monoliths that are disposed like skirmishers over the otherwise
level plain. These so-called Bad Lands, which reappear also in South
Dakota, are not what the term would seem to signify for the land is not
lacking in fertility, being frequently rich with loam, though more often
extremely sandy or covered with soft sandstones that have been worn
until they are round as cannon-balls. Indeed, Cannon-Ball River, which
flows into the Missouri sixty miles south of Bismark, takes its name
from the numerous round sandstones that are scattered along its banks.
Five miles below is Standing Rock Agency of the Sioux, so called from a
sandstone which stands some three feet tall, and by the Sioux is
believed to be a petrified squaw. Thus for a considerable distance north
and south, as well as east and west, peculiar formations characteristic
of the Bad Lands are met with, furnishing proof that this area was once
a forest, later a great salt sea, and then a plain, each representing a
long period of time.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  BLACKFEET INDIAN CAMP.—The Blackfeet were at one time the most
    powerful rivals and antagonists of the Sioux, even surpassing them
    in cunning, bravery and the slight advances which they had made in
    the art of constructing their villages. The wigwams in this
    photograph are more artistically erected than those of the Sioux on
    page 283; they are also arranged with more order and regularity, and
    seem to possess a larger degree of comfort, all of which are to be
    accepted as evidences of advancement along the lines of civilization
    and superiority in manhood. But the Blackfeet, as well as the Sioux,
    have been driven to their reservations, and they will never again
    appear as a powerful and independent tribe.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: GIANT, CATFISH, AND YOUNG FAITHFUL CONES.]

When we pass Jamestown, coming east, we enter the wheat belt of Dakota
and pass fields of growing grain like that of Dalrymple’s, which is
fifty thousand acres in extent. Here we come in contact with farming on
a gigantic scale, and see the application of steam, not only for
threshing, but for plowing, hauling and various other uses in which
horses are generally employed.

Thence on to Minneapolis the route is through a level country, crossing
the Red River of the North at Fargo, and by many pretty lakes to
Brainard, where the road branches, one division leading to Duluth, and
the other taking a southwest course to St. Paul.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  PRAIRIE HOME OF A CREE INDIAN, NORTHERN MINNESOTA.—The Cree Indians
    are a small and constantly decreasing tribe. They have no record as
    great warriors, like the Blackfeet and the Sioux, but they seem to
    have held a secondary position throughout their entire history, so
    far as we have any information concerning them. Their villages were
    never so large and populous as those of other tribes, and their
    existence seems to be a dreary and unprofitable one. A more desolate
    home than the one photographed on this page could hardly be
    imagined. Even the dogs seem to regret that they were born.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  FERRY ACROSS RED RIVER OF THE NORTH AT FARGO.—Red River of the North
    is a remarkable stream, because of its extreme narrowness, tortuous
    course and great depth. A few years ago there was a line of packets
    running on this river between Fargo, and Winnipeg, Manitoba. They
    did a very large business during the summer season, and assisted
    materially in settling up a large section of country rich in soil
    and mineral tributary thereto. The stream is so narrow, however,
    that two boats were unable to pass each other except at particular
    points where the banks were cut out for that purpose. It was like a
    single track line of street railway with turnouts. The ferry scene
    indicates the river’s width at Fargo, which was the southern
    terminus of navigation.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                              CHAPTER IX.
                 AMONG THE WONDERS OF THE BLACK HILLS.


[Illustration: DELLS OF SIOUX RIVER.]

Soon after reaching St. Paul our party divided, two of our photographers
being instructed to take views of the falls, lakes and river-scenery
thereabouts, while the other set out with the camera car, over the
Chicago, St. Paul and Omaha Railroad, to Sioux City, and thence by the
Fremont, Elkhorn and Missouri Valley Railroad to Deadwood. There is
nothing of particular interest to entertain the traveler in search of
scenic wonders until Iowa is crossed and we reach the Big Sioux River;
nor is the immediate district about Sioux City one affording scenery of
much importance. But at Dell Rapids, something more than one hundred
miles north, we come in contact with some surprises which are without
example, save in the Wisconsin River, hereafter to be described. The
town derives its name from the remarkable freaks of nature displayed
along the river-banks, and known as the Dells, and which are recognized
as the safety-valves of the immense water-power at Dell Rapids. This
picturesque stretch of fantastic bluffs and eccentric stream is thus
described by a writer who recently made the passage in a canoe from Dell
Rapids to Sioux Falls.

[Illustration: LOVER’S LEAP, DELLS OF THE SIOUX.]

[Illustration: THE DEVIL’S NOTCH, DELLS OF THE SIOUX.]

[Illustration: DANGER ROCK, DELLS OF THE SIOUX.]

“Beginning at a break in the Big Sioux River, on the south bank,
opposite the town, at first the Dells present the appearance of a
rivulet flowing out of the main body of water, taking a circuitous
direction to re-unite with the parent stream some two and one-half miles
further along its eccentric course. Yet only in the highest stages of
its waters does the Sioux overflow the dam across the aperture between
itself and the Dells, and it becomes instantly apparent that it is not
from the river that this peculiar branch, which is not a branch, obtains
its water supply. Investigation determines that the Dells are fed by
invisible springs, indefinite in number and indefinable in volume, which
maintain in the bed of this curious stream an average depth of about
eleven feet, although a much greater depth is found in various places.
As you progress along the banks of the Dells, you notice increasing
accumulations of the well-known Big Sioux quartzite, in its dull red and
leaden colors; the banks grow more and more precipitous; the rocks are
heaped strata upon strata in immeasurable quantities, and take on
fantastic shapes and unusual formations; the Dells deepen into a gorge,
far down into the bottom of which the waters taking their hues from the
sky above them, creep along in almost imperceptible ripples. Overhead,
pile on pile, hangs the rugged quartzite, shelving out over the liquid
blue beneath; in the sides of the rocky banks innumerable swallows build
their nests, while above them shrubbery clings and cacti grow, seemingly
nurtured in a soil of adamant. Perhaps the highest perpendicular point,
from the summits of the overhanging rocks to the waters below, is very
nearly forty-five feet; but so precipitous is the descent, and so
grotesquely wild the aspect, that it is no wonder the majority of
tourists report the height much greater. Descending a fissure, gazing
down which descent seemed impossible, the writer pushed off in a rude
canoe and paddled for some distance under the overshadowing banks. Here,
indeed, looking upward, the impression was intensified, for upheavals
had torn these banks apart and given to them, with whimsical violence,
their strangely weird formations.” Beyond Sioux City the country is
monotonously level until, far in Nebraska, the road rushes into Elkhorn
Cañon and passes for a considerable distance between walls sometimes
vertical, but never very high, and which lack the grandeur and coloring
that characterize those of mountain streams. Emerging from Elkhorn
Cañon, the road runs for a long distance through the Niobrara Valley,
though never close to that stream, until it crosses the river at
Valentine. The southern line of South Dakota lies only a few miles
north, and from Valentine west the road approaches to within twenty-five
miles of the Rose-Bud and Pine Ridge Reservations, and of Wounded Knee,
the scene of the last Indian insurrection, and of Pine Ridge Agency,
where Sitting Bull was killed. Crossing White River at Dakota Junction,
the road turns due north, and passing out of the plains of Nebraska
enters the mountainous country known as the Black Hills, at Buffalo Gap.
On the east are the _Mauvais Terres_, or Bad Lands of South Dakota,
which extend west to the South Fork of Cheyenne River, while towards the
west is the rugous, rough and riotous district known as the Black Hills.
At Buffalo Gap connection is made with a narrow-gauge spur of the main
line of road, which runs southwesterly a distance of fifteen miles and
terminates at the Minnekahta, or Hot Springs. In making this run we pass
through a mighty gorge whose age-swept and vertical walls climb up,
stratum upon stratum, to a height of several hundred feet, and then
break into spear-pointed peaks, called the “Needles.” This is Fall River
Cañon, noted for its spires, parti-colored walls, and beautiful
waterfalls that leap from a hundred brinks into the arms of the rushing
river. That this is a land of gold is not better proved by the fact that
the Black Hills were purchased of the Sioux by the Government in 1876,
at the enormous price of $70,000,000 and support of the Indians for
seven generations, than that the output of the several gold and silver
mines of the district exceeds $100,000,000; verily, a richer land than
Ophir.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  SIGNAL ROCK, ELKHORN CAÑON.—The wild turbulence of nature that
    distinguishes the scenery in the Black Hills district of Dakota is
    handsomely represented in this photograph. In Elkhorn Cañon the
    walls are some distance apart and only occasionally vertical, but
    there is rugged, tumultuous chaos in the cañon that interposed great
    difficulties to the engineers who built the railroad through it. The
    bluff on the left of the picture rises to so great a height that
    from its summit Indians could signal, by means of fire, a distance
    of nearly one hundred miles, whence its name.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: CABINET GORGE, DELLS OF THE SIOUX RIVER.]

Turning back, we resumed our journey northward over the Elkhorn road,
and passed through many miles of the most magnificent scenery to be
found anywhere on the American Continent. The entire region is mountain
infested, and to penetrate it by rail the road is compelled to follow
the almost interminable sinuosities of creeks and broken valleys, with
tunnels every few miles, and bridges quite as frequent. Through Fan-Tail
Gulch the road winds in tortuous ways that sometimes draw grotesque
figures, and in one place the road-bed is of the exact shape of a
horseshoe, while on both sides of Elk Creek Cañon there are butting and
pinnacled walls that suggest ruins of gigantic cathedrals, or monuments
in a graveyard of Titans. Everywhere we turn there is the carving and
hieroglyphic writing of the glacier and the volcano that in some age
wrestled with the rocks and left them in a confusion of whimsical forms.
Particularly is this true of Elk Creek Cañon, which presents many
curious bluffs and isolated shafts of stone, worn into monoliths of
oddity by wind and water.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  NEEDLE POINTS, NEAR HARNEY’S PEAK, BLACK HILLS.—These remarkable
    formations are prominent among the scenic wonders of the world, and
    if they were located in some older country and connected with
    legendary or historical incidents, would attract crowds of admiring
    tourists from the four quarters of the earth. These whimsical
    creations of the centuries, exhibiting as they do the severest
    contortions of nature, are remarkable, even to the point of being
    almost startling, but they are surrounded by, and are in the midst
    of, so many other tremendous upheavals, that they do not attract the
    attention which they deserve.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: CATHEDRAL ROCK, IN ELK CREEK CAÑON, BLACK HILLS.]

After passing Piedmont the region is less rugged and gradually falls
away into a plain, dotted here and there with buttes of clay, some of
them reaching a height of fifty feet, and in the distance resembling
large buildings. Fort Meade and Bear Butte are on the right as we make a
turn towards the west, then run south, until we enter Deadwood, which
lies at the gnarled and bunioned feet of the Hills. We have scarcely
been out of a cañon since leaving Hot Springs, but at Deadwood the
granite walls that have become so familiar slope away until they become
hills of slate and red clay, which have been denuded of their vestures
of pine to supply fuel for the reduction mills. Through one of the last
rifts in the walls that confine the track of the railroad a glimpse of
Central City is obtained, several miles away, and a few minutes later we
roll into the great mining town that is celebrated for its wealth,
energy, golden prospects, and as being the place where Wild Bill was
killed, and Calamity Jane broke the biggest faro bank in the settlement.
Though Deadwood is only sixteen years old, few cities have passed
through so many terrible vicissitudes. In 1876 the gold prospectors in
the Hills were harried by Indians; then when the district was purchased
and active settlement began, gamblers and shady women flocked to the
place, considering that every honest person was legitimate prey, until
the vigilantes restored order. Building was rapid, so that three years
after the miners staked their first claims in the Hills, Deadwood had
become a place of 5,000 inhabitants and was rapidly flowering into a
great city. Then a dreadful fire broke out, which ravaged and swept the
town, leaving scarcely a house uninjured, and nearly every citizen
homeless. The loss was estimated at $1,500,000, but in its effects the
loss was probably twice that amount. But with that courageous energy
which characterizes western settlements, the people went to work to
rebuild before even the embers had turned to ashes, and by 1883,
Deadwood was a second time showing a metropolitan bud. She had emerged
from the crucible, but fate had resolved that she should be subjected to
another ordeal. Accordingly, the elements gathered their forces all
around upon the mountains and in the gulches. For weeks unprecedented
snow-storms bombarded the country and covered it to an extraordinary
depth. Then the windows of heaven were opened and the rain descended.
Day and night a terrific down-pour continued, followed directly by a
flood that struck the town from every direction, and with irresistible
might washed nearly every building from its foundation, leaving even
small opportunity for the unhappy people to escape to the hills. But
though the town was twice destroyed, the citizens lost none of their
pluck, and before the cruel waters were fully assuaged they resumed the
work of building again on the same twice stricken site, and have so
continued until Deadwood is fortified against calamity and is moving on
at the head of the procession, with colors flying and drums beating, the
capital city of a capital country.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  THE SUMMIT OF HARNEY’S PEAK, BLACK HILLS.—This famous and picturesque
    mountain peak derives its name from the gallant old hero, Gen. W. S.
    Harney, who won fame and glory in the battles of his country with
    Mexico and the red warriors of the West. It was principally through
    his firmness, bravery and wisdom, aided by the confidence which the
    Indians reposed in his integrity, that the hidden treasures and
    scenic wonders of the Black Hills were delivered up to the white
    people. It is said that the Indians who formerly occupied this
    region frequently exchanged gold nuggets and gold bullets for leaden
    ones of the same weight, so abundant was the yellow metal in some
    portions of their country—a statement, however, which lacks
    confirmation.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: VIEW OF BEAR BUTTE, AT A DISTANCE OF FORTY-SIX MILES FROM
THE ROAD, IN FAN-TAIL GULCH.]

There are many interesting points within a few miles of Deadwood; for
aside from the rugged character of the scenery, in the near vicinity are
several of the largest wealth-producing mines in the world. The trip to
Bald Mountain over the Fremont, Elkhorn and Missouri Valley narrow-gauge
Road is one filled with pleasure and surprise. The way is almost
incomparably winding, and exhibits remarkable examples of engineering
skill and enormous investment. In several places the grade is four
hundred and thirty feet to the mile, while the curves are said to be of
one hundred and fifty feet radius. Passing up such grades and around
such sharp turns, it is not so surprising that the train should in one
minute be running along lofty benches, apparently in mid-air, over dizzy
trestles, and in the next few moments be scurrying through a valley so
deep that sunlight rarely ever visits it. North of Bald Mountain, and
reached by a stage-line, are Crow Peak, Round-Top Mountain, and the town
of Spearfish. This latter place is located on a creek of the same name
that goes tumbling through a deep cañon with vertical, serrated walls,
and diversified by roaring cascades and far-leaping waterfalls.
Returning to Deadwood, we took the Burlington and Missouri River
Railroad south through another long stretch of turbulent scenery, of
rushing creeks, darksome gorges, under the shadows of lofty mountains,
and by curious formations. Custer Peak is only two or three miles east
of the road, and it is the center of a riotous region of broken stone,
each one a very mountain of itself. Below, we strike Spring Creek, and
go bowling along the valley cut out of the bills by that stream, until
Harney’s Peak breaks into view, five miles to the east, and lifts its
piney crest into the azure depths 8,000 feet. Hereabout are not only
waterfalls, cañons, creeks, and huge bowlders dashed down from frost-
riven peaks, for besides gold and silver, the region is said to abound
with tin, that peculiarly elusive mineral which, though often found,
seems to always dematerialize after the campaign is over; and though
millions have been spent in developing the tin mines near Harney, the
product has not yet paid the expense of mining. Three miles south of the
peak are the Needles, bold-jutting pinnacles of sandstone that stand
high above the bed of Squaw Creek and point their fingers toward the
sky. Buckhorn Mountain stands very near the west side of the road, and
close to its base reposes the town of Custer, the center of a broken
district called Custer Park, famous for its scenery of river, tumultuary
and distorted rocks over which a weasel can hardly make its way. A
little further south we enter Red Cañon Creek, where the same general
character of eroded and disrupted rocks continues, with occasional
exhibitions of oddity exceeding those previously seen in the Hills.
Evidently some terrific force has been at work in this uncanny region,
for here and there our wonder is excited by extraordinary instances of
displacement. Beecher Rocks are comicalities done in stone, but Wedge
Rock must wear the garland as the most astounding example of natural
tumult in this wonder-region, and which can be better understood by the
accompanying illustration, than explained by the bare use of words.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  HARNEY’S PEAK, BLACK HILLS.—A general view of this famous mountain
    from the valley where this photograph was taken does not show the
    wonderful formations of the rocks on its summit and sides so well as
    closer special views do; but it is sufficiently picturesque to be
    entitled to a place in this representative work on American scenery.
    The picture, however, exhibits the extent and magnitude of the
    mountain, whose head is raised high above the timber line, in the
    region of perpetual snow.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  WEDGE ROCK, NEAR CUSTER CITY.—This immense rock, weighing thousands of
    tons, found a lodgment, where it is photographed, after a terrific
    plunging descent from near the top of the mountain, whence it was
    riven by some mighty convulsion. The path of its terrible fall is
    still discernible, in seams and abrasions on the face of the
    mountain, and in contemplating it one cannot refrain from regretting
    that he was not present to witness such an awe-inspiring and
    dreadful exhibition. It was a scene which might have frightened even
    the imperturbable gods of the hills.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: THE HORSESHOE IN ELK CREEK CAÑON.]

But the country is not only rugged and mountain-spurred; it possesses
curiosities even greater beneath the surface than those which diversify
the sun-kissed landscape over which we have just passed. On Elk Creek,
and entered from the cañon wall, is Keith’s Crystal Cave, a colossal
rent in the mountain bowels, with passages fifteen miles in length. It
is beautifully chambered, from which depend the most exquisite
crystallizations in the form of stalactites and stalagmites that reflect
the torchlight in glorious colors, dancing from column of onyx to pools
of pellucid water.

But a more remarkable cave than Keith’s is found a little way west of
Custer, and twelve miles north of Hot Springs. This marvelous natural
excavation is ramified by many passages which have been explored for a
distance of sixty-five miles, and the end is not yet. On account of the
peculiar respiration of the cave, the air at one time rushing in with
great velocity and again being expelled with equal force, it is called
the Wind Cave; and no better name can be bestowed, for the cause of this
inrushing and regurgitation of air seems to be beyond ascertainment.
Like its more northerly cousin, Wind Cave is chambered and adorned with
beautiful crystals that shimmer under the glances of the torch and are
set aflame with color, with here and there such graceful formations as
to suggest studios of monster sculptors.

[Illustration: BEECHER ROCKS, NEAR CUSTER CITY.]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  A CHAMBER IN CRYSTAL CAVE, BLACK HILLS.—This wonderful subterraneous
    chamber is becoming more celebrated in many respects than the famous
    Mammoth Cave of Kentucky, beautifully photographed and described in
    later numbers of this work. Crystal Cave has been explored for a
    distance of sixty-five miles, and the end is not yet discovered. It
    has a marked peculiarity in its regular respiration or breathing,
    like a living thing; the air at stated intervals rushes in with
    great velocity, and is again expelled with equal force. Its chambers
    are halls of stalactitic splendors, almost rivaling those of the
    Luray Caverns.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: THE CHANCEL, CRYSTAL CAVE, BLACK HILLS.]

Continuing our way southward to the junction of the Wyoming Division, in
Fall River county, we turned north on that small branch whose temporary
terminus is Merino, at which point a team was engaged to take us to what
is truly one of the seven wonders of the world. In our trip of several
thousand miles through the mountainous regions of the great West, we had
seen and photographed many extraordinary and startling prodigies of
nature, so that all sentiment of awe, surprise and admiration had been
aroused, but we were now to be confronted by a miracle in stone that
confounded and mingled all feelings of wonderment and fascination into
stupefaction of bewildered senses.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  DEVIL’S THUMB, CUSTER PARK, NEAR CUSTER CITY.—This grotesque formation
    is weird enough to be in fact the thumb, or the toe, or any other
    member of his Satanic majesty’s supposably ugly and immeasurably
    immense body. Suggestive of evil power as it may be, the Thumb is
    surrounded by other petrified imps of darkness, scarcely less
    uncanny and frightful in appearance, indicative of nature in her
    wildest mood.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: THE DEVIL’S CHAIR, ST. CROIX RIVER.]

We had to travel about twenty-five miles across a fairly level stretch
of country before reaching the Belle Fourche River, a main branch of the
Cheyenne, on the west bank of which is located this marvelous monument
of the ages, which for its astounding size and unaccountable formation
is called the Devil’s Tower. Among the Sioux Indians, who have always
regarded it with superstitious dread, it is known as the Mateo’s Tepee,
signifying the Bear’s Lodge, and was by them supposed to be the haunt of
a were-animal, who possessed the power of becoming a bear or man at
pleasure. The country within a radius of fifty miles is slightly broken
by high table-lands, but there is nothing to indicate any special spasm
of nature by which so great a freak might have been formed; yet out of
this undulating expanse of landscape suddenly rises a stupendous obelisk
of vitrified stone, to the amazing height of eight hundred feet. The
base, which measures 326 feet at its longest diameter, is 400 feet above
the river-bed, which in turn is 500 feet above sea level. Thus measured,
the peak of this amazing tower is 1,700 feet above the sea; no surprise
therefore that it is visible for a distance of forty miles. But the
wonder which such a colossal shaft naturally excites is immensely
increased by the fact that the Devil’s Tower is a composition of huge
crystals of basalt, or volcanic rock, which lie in columns some three
feet in diameter, and continue unbroken from the base to the peak,
giving to it a fibrous appearance. The walls are almost vertical, with a
slightly vertical slope, to give it a more graceful contour, and though
there are occasional rifts in the sides, no human being, however skilful
as a spire-climber, can ever accomplish its ascent.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  THE DEVIL’S TOWER OF VITRIFIED ROCK, 800 FEET HIGH.—This unparalleled
    curiosity, the most wonderful formation of the kind in the world, is
    situated on the bank of Belle Fourche River, in Northeastern
    Wyoming. It has a base of only 326 feet, and towers to the amazing
    height of 800 feet above the level plain on which it stands. A full
    description of this marvelous wonder is given in preceding pages,
    also an account of the author’s visit to it, when it was specially
    photographed for GLIMPSES OF AMERICA.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: TEA-TABLE ROCK, WISCONSIN RIVER.]

The enquiry is irresistible: “What wondrous force created this petrified
monster of the Wyoming table-lands?” One plausible answer may be built
upon the theory that here, at one time, was the bed of an ocean, a
supposition supported by such evidences as the finding of sea-shells and
bones of extinct sea-creatures all about over the ground, and deeply
embedded in the earth throughout the section. When the waters receded,
this inequality, which might have existed as an island, was left as the
product of volcanic action. But a yet more reasonable cause may be found
in the supposition that along the Belle Fourche was the center of
intense volcanic energy sometime during the very remote past, during
which period the spot occupied by the tower was a volcano-vent out of
which poured lava in such a slow and steady flow that it deposited in
basaltic columnar crystals at the apex. Thus gradually it grew in size
and height, like many of the formations in Yellowstone Park, until the
volcano had expended its force and left this vast monument as an
everlasting evidence of its persistence through centuries of activity.
But however it was formed, the Devil’s Tower takes a place in the first
list of the world’s greatest natural wonders, and it deserves to be much
better known than it is.

Returning from a long and very wearying ride to the Tower, we again took
the Burlington Road, retracing much of the way we had come, and
proceeded to Crawford, Nebraska, in order to view two famous curiosities
known as Crow Butte and Signal Rock, which are near that town. Fort
Robinson post and military reservation are a mile west, on White River,
and the country is picturesque with buttes, which rise out of the
prairie lands in singular impertinence and unseemliness, while
considerable bluffs confine the river. The territory was for many years
the scene of bitter strifes between the Sioux and Crow Indians, who
reddened nearly every acre of the ground with their blood, and left
remembrances of their occupancy and incidents of their adventures in
names which they gave to a hundred points in the near vicinity of
Crawford. South of the town, about five miles, a conspicuous object in a
wide range is Crow Butte, a titanic elevation of stone, nearly two
hundred feet in height and several hundred yards in circumference, with
vertical walls on all sides except one, in which there is a winding-way
by which a horseman may ride to the top. The legend is told that on one
occasion a party of Crow Indians were so savagely pursued by their old
enemies that they took refuge on the top of Crow Butte, where, though
much fewer in number, they so valorously defended the narrow roadway
that the Sioux were driven back each time they attempted to gain the
summit. Being unable to dislodge them, the Sioux resolved to besiege the
Crows until starvation compelled them to surrender. For several days and
nights the siege continued, until at length hunger drove the Crows to a
desperate expedient. Watching their time, when the night was darkest,
they killed some of their ponies, and converting their hides into
lariats, lowered one after another of their number to the ground below
on the opposite side of the butte, until all but one old Indian had been
safely delivered, who was left a while to keep the camp-fire burning. On
the following day the old man came down and surrendered himself to the
Sioux, and related to them the wonderful means by which his comrades had
escaped. Instead of killing him, as might have been expected, on this
one occasion the Sioux magnanimously gave him his liberty as a
recompense for the loyalty and bravery which he had exhibited.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  DOME ROCKS IN CUSTER PARK, SOUTH DAKOTA.—In this photograph we have
    another striking example of the curious and wonderful natural
    formations of this locality, one of the most remarkable scenic
    regions in all the world. These rocks seem to have been built by
    human hands and fashioned with a purpose into all sorts and shapes
    of grotesque and gruesome figures, and yet it would be impossible
    for human hands to mold such wonders. Nature, in one of her spasms,
    brought them forth, and imprinted upon their face the agony of her
    travail.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: SQUAW’S CHAMBER, DELLS of the WISCONSIN.]

Signal Rock is only a short distance from Crow Butte, and is a similar
formation, though not nearly so large; and while the summit is nearly as
high, it is peaked and not difficult to reach. It derives its name from
the use to which it was frequently put by the Indians in previous years,
who by means of fire at night were able to signal to their friends as
far away as the Bad Lands of South Dakota.

The Fremont, Elkhorn and Missouri River Road crosses the Burlington at
Crawford, and our work of photographing the Black Hills district being
completed, the trip back to St. Paul was made, and a junction with other
members of the expedition was formed, whose artist labors have already
been described.

[Illustration: THE NARROWS, DELLS of the WISCONSIN.]

[Illustration: CASTLE TOWER, DELLS of the WISCONSIN.]

The twin cities of St. Paul and Minneapolis represent the intrusion of
civilization upon the primeval lands of romance, and thus while we
admire the imposing wealth and architectural beauties of these great
metropoli, we cannot avoid a feeling of semi-regret that they have grown
at the expense and sacrifice of some of the most charming natural
wonders that first attracted public interest to the vast Northwest. The
head of navigation on the Mississippi is unalterably fixed at St. Paul,
for above that point the river is a brawling stream, flowing over ledges
and rushing through contracted passages lined with bluffs. At
Minneapolis are the Falls of St. Anthony, but no longer do these present
the furious aspect which once characterized them, for the wild riot of
turbulent waters that formerly went dashing over a high brink with a
roar that made the shore to tremble, have been harnessed, and are now
driven over sloping tables so as to glide softly into the bed below. The
channel, too, has been cut and buttressed with masonry, so that the
strong right arm of the falls is made a servant of commerce in supplying
the motive-power for many immense flouring mills.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  CROW BUTTE AND SIGNAL ROCK, DAWES COUNTY, NEB.—Crow Butte is a titanic
    elevation of stone, nearly 200 feet in height and several hundred
    yards in circumference, located about five miles south of the town
    of Crawford, in Nebraska. The walls are vertical on all sides except
    one, where there is a winding way by which a horseman may reach the
    top. The summit is a natural fortress, where a few well-armed and
    determined men could hold thousands at bay. A very interesting
    Indian legend connected with this rock-fortress is related in
    GLIMPSES OF AMERICA, the story no doubt having a good foundation in
    historical fact.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: SKYLIGHT CAVE, DELLS OF THE WISCONSIN.]

The sight-seer turns with feelings of disappointment at the artificial
appearance of St. Anthony’s Falls, and seeking the wonders of nature
unadorned, drives over to Minnehaha’s sylvan solitudes, but upon which,
alas, the encroachments of sacrilegious improvements characteristic of
city extension are now apparent. But the voice of its falling waters is
still attuned to the rhythm of the poet that sang it into fame. Down
through flower-sprinkled meadows purls and gambols a silver stream,
slaking the thirst of the linnet and bathing the feet of the dove, until
weary of the sunshine it spreads itself over a ledge like a veil of
gossamer and drops into the cool shades that welcome its embraces. The
Falls of Minnehaha are an example of that coy and quiet comportment
which sometimes blushes into notoriety, for no one with less imagery
than a poet would discover the sublimity of its aspect, or the
artfulness of its graces. It is to Longfellow, therefore, that we owe
the immortality with which these laughing waters are invested, and the
imperishable fame of Hiawatha, who, while in quest of better weapons

[Illustration: CLIFF NEAR MOUTH OF WITCHES’ GULCH.]

                  “Paused to purchase heads of arrows
                  Of the ancient Arrow-maker,
                  In the land of the Dacotahs,
                  Where the Falls of Minnehaha
                  Flash and gleam among the oak-trees,
                  Laugh and leap into the valley.
                  There the ancient Arrow-maker
                  Made his arrow-heads of sandstone,
                  Arrow-heads of chalcedony,
                  Arrow-heads of flint and jasper,
                  Smoothed and sharpened at the edges,
                  Hard and polished, keen and costly.”

[Illustration: HAWK’S BILL, DELLS OF THE WISCONSIN.]

But no one with a love for the picturesque can close an eye to the
fairy-like beauty of Minnehaha, as it pours over a crescent brink in a
sheet of gauze, so thin that the wall behind loses little of its
distinctness, and the rocks upon which the water breaks are refreshed
like the head of a babe at its christening. A lace curtain is not more
delicate, and thistle-down is scarcely more dainty, as the illustration
shows.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  FALLS OF ST. ANTHONY.—The principal historical interest attaching to
    the Falls of St. Anthony is the fact that they were discovered by
    the famous priest-explorer, Father Hennepin, in 1680. They no longer
    present the furious aspect that originally characterized them, for
    the turbulent waters that once dashed over the precipice with a roar
    that made the earth tremble have been harnessed and made a part of
    the requirements of modern invention, until they now glide smoothly
    down sloping tables to the bed of the river below. The channel has
    also been cut and buttressed until the banks no longer present the
    features of scenic interest which a score of years ago they
    possessed.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: THE FAIRIES’ RETREAT, Dells of the Wisconsin.]

The eroding fingers of percolating waters have worn the soft rock behind
the fall, until a shelf is formed that extends three or four feet beyond
the face of the wall. Visitors may therefore pass under this shelf and
look outward through the transparent liquid sheet as it pours in a broad
but tenuous stream, not unlike valencienne drapery gently agitated. A
pathway leads from the falls down a gracefully embowered ravine to spots
so temptingly secluded that maidens never wander there that love does
not follow; and so many darts have been hurled at wooing swains in this
romantic dell that I am almost persuaded to believe that it was not
Hiawatha, but Cupid, who came here to get his arrows.

[Illustration: WITCHES’ GULCH, Dells of the Wisconsin.]

But if Minnehaha is beautiful in spring-time, it is sublime when folded
in the crystal arms of winter, a frozen cascade of puffs and snow-balls,
hibernating after its season of sporting, awaiting the return of bird,
flower and lover. Not far away are lakes of various sizes, like
Minnetonka and Great Bear, to which thousands resort when sultry winds
blow and the blazing sun of summer-time drives sweltering humanity to
such cool retreats. But the beauties of this northern region are not
exhausted by lake and waterfall, which though charming, cannot compete
for interest with some of the natural marvels that exist in the neighbor
State of Wisconsin.

[Illustration: WHIRLPOOL CHAMBER, Dells of the Wisconsin.]

St. Croix River separates the two States and is a stream that exhibits
both curious and exquisite formations along many miles of its banks, and
but for the vast logging interests which it so admirably serves,
penetrating as it does the great pine region, the river would be filled
with pleasure-crafts throughout the summer, carrying tourists in and out
among its dells and fairy-like grottos.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: MINNEHAHA FALLS IN SUMMER.]

[Illustration: ROMANCE CLIFF, DELLS OF THE ST. CROIX RIVER.]

Minnehaha is one of the smallest of the many beautiful and celebrated
waterfalls of America, but it is also the most lovely and poetic. It is
like a drapery of lace-work as it pours smoothly and gently over the
cliff, keeping time to the merry music of its own laughing waters.—The
accompanying photograph of Romance Cliff, on the St. Croix River, is as
beautiful in its way as its twin sister of poetic renown, and the two
together make pleasant company.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: SIGNAL ROCK, NEAR CAMP DOUGLAS, WISCONSIN.]

The bluffs of sandstone are a source of unending surprise, rising out of
the water so nearly perpendicular that they defy all effort to scale
them, and present a front like the walled cities of ancient times.
Nature has not left them undisturbed, either, for their toussled brinks
and seared sides show the finger-marks of frost in deep fissures and
eccentric cleavages, while here and there fantastic images of stone
stand like grim sentinels on commanding ledges, keeping unwearied watch
upon the industrious river. Most curious of these erratic formations is
the Devil’s Chair, which the Chippewa Indians verily believe was one
time the resting-place of his sable majesty, probably when he went
fishing. Anyhow, the rock bears the autographs of many adventurous
persons who have been there to see. The fishing certainly was very good
in this spot before Wisconsin lumbermen filled the stream so full of
pine-logs that not even the devil himself could keep his line from
fouling.

East of the St. Croix is Chippewa River, flowing in the same general
direction, but aside from being a pretty stream it has nothing to
specially interest tourists, for the banks gently shelve, and where
stone appears it is in thin layers, and the shore-line never rises to
the dignity of bluffs. But the Chippewa Indians, though now small in
numbers, still retain their ancient homes in the vicinity of the stream,
which, because of its shallowness, is not used as extensively as the St.
Croix for shooting logs to the Mississippi. Though surrounded by a
vigorous civilization, these Indians, if we except their clothing,
exhibit little change from their original customs and manners of living,
subsisting by hunting, fishing, and gathering berries for the
neighboring markets. They still make birch-bark canoes, like their
forefathers, and in a way, too, that white men do not appear to be able
to imitate. Specimens of their deft work are on sale in all the towns of
Wisconsin, from which source they derive no little profit.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  MINNEHAHA FALLS IN WINTER.—If Minnehaha is beautiful in the spring and
    summer, dressed in its flowing drapery of white, it is sublime when
    folded in the crystal arms of winter, a frozen cascade of puffs and
    snowballs, hibernating after its season of festivity, awaiting the
    return of bird, flower and lover. Not many visitors go there in
    winter-time, for the north wind is biting cold; but those who do go
    are rewarded with a vision of loveliness unsurpassed in the realms
    of romance or fact. Beneath the winter sun it becomes a fairy
    palace, turreted with columns of alabaster, studded with diamonds
    and pearls, that sparkle and glow with the iridescent hues of the
    rainbow.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: CLEOPATRA’S NEEDLE, DEVIL’S LAKE.]

In the eastern part of the State, in Howano county, lives a small tribe
called the Menomines, who are in what may be called the transition
period, for their manner of living is a composite of modern ways and
ancient usage and belief. Some of the Menomines appear to be thoroughly
civilized, at least so far as outward indications show, while the
patriarchs of the tribe remain steadfast in the faith of their fathers.
They have lost none of their confidence in the Medicine Man, whose
counsel in political affairs is as important as their influence over
diseases of the body is pronounced.

[Illustration: HORNET’S NEST, DELLS OF THE WISCONSIN.]

A Medicine Man being questioned as to how the power which he claimed was
conferred, answered thus:

“My heart told me that I should be a Medicine Man, and I went out upon a
mountain and fasted and prayed for two days, awaiting a sign from the
Great Spirit. At the end of the second day, as the sun was going to
sleep, I saw a great light which blinded my eyes, and heard a noise as
of the rushing of many waters. I looked around again, and about me were
four animals—a black-tailed deer, a white-tailed deer, a wolf and a
buffalo. They all spoke the speech of men. They said that the Great
Spirit had heard my prayer and had sent them to me. The animals then
took me over the prairies and told me what plants were hurtful and what
were good for my people. They told me what diseases of men the good herb
would cure, and then they vanished as suddenly as they came. I returned
to my people, told the chiefs what I had seen, was made and have since
been a Medicine Man.”

[Illustration: CLEFT ROCK, DEVIL’S LAKE, WISCONSIN.]

But the transition from savage superstition to civilized modes is
apparent among the Menomines, not only in the adoption of modern
clothing, houses, household utensils and Christian ideas; it appears
also in the change of their superstitions. They still believe in
Medicine Men, and indulge in what is known as the Medicine Dance, but
only at the time of the initiation of new candidates for such honors;
and their doctors must now be the possessors of more or less medical
knowledge, and be able to read and write. The ceremony is too long and
tedious to describe, but the most superficial observer cannot fail to
detect through it all the influence of contact with civilization.

The Ojibways are another remnant of the great Indian tribes of the
Northwest, whose homes are in Polk county, in the vicinity of Balsam
Lake, a pretty sheet of water in a wild district, where fishing is good
and game still fairly abundant. One peculiarity of these Indians is the
sacredness with which they regard their dead, and the care they take to
preserve the bodies of relatives from violation. They are content to
house themselves, even through the severest winters, in the flimsiest
structures, which afford very little shelter from the cold, but their
dead they carefully wrap in blankets and deposit them in small oblong
houses that are made to perfectly exclude rain, snow and cold, except
such as may enter by a square little door in one end. These miniature
mortuary houses are placed close to the homes of the living, that a
better watch may be kept upon them; but what superstitious motive
prompts this custom, I have not been able to learn.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  FOOT AND WAGON BRIDGE OVER THE ST. CROIX RIVER.—This bridge unites the
    States of Wisconsin and Minnesota, and spans one of the most
    beautiful views in the celebrated scenic region of the Northwest.
    The clear water of the river reflects the bluffs and surrounding
    objects as perfectly as the most costly mirror could, producing a
    double picture of exquisite loveliness, the reflection being even
    more beautiful in its softened outlines than the original. The
    region of the St. Croix is famous the world over, and is justly
    entitled to the honorable distinction which it holds.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  CHIPPEWA INDIANS, OF WISCONSIN, BUILDING A BIRCH-BARK CANOE.—Although
    the Chippewa Indians are now practically civilized, and differ but
    little in their appearance, dress and manners from the whites, yet
    they cling with remarkable tenacity to some of their ancient
    customs, one of which is the building of light bark canoes which
    glide like zephyrs over the surface of the water. They are very
    expert in this line of work, some of their little crafts being so
    artistically finished and ornamented as to arouse the sincere
    admiration of even the most critical observers. But lightness and
    speed are their main considerations, mere beauty being held as
    unimportant and suited only to holiday occasions.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: WINTER AT NIAGARA.]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  A CANDIDATE FOR MEDICINE MAN BEFORE A COUNCIL OF MENOMINE INDIANS.—The
    Menomines are a small tribe, living in the eastern part of
    Wisconsin, who are in what may be called the transition period from
    savagery to civilization. Some of the younger ones appear to be
    thoroughly civilized, so far as outward indications go, while the
    old patriarchs remain steadfast in the faith of their fathers and
    their confidence in the wisdom and saving powers of the medicine
    man. But even these have so far advanced, perhaps unconsciously to
    themselves, that all candidates for this important office are
    required to be able to read and write, and to possess more or less
    knowledge of medicines. The ceremony of initiation is an important
    event in the life of the candidate, and is regarded with a degree of
    superstition and reverential awe by his friends and relatives.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: THE SUGAR-BOWL, DELLS OF THE WISCONSIN.]

Wisconsin is very justly famous for many things: its semi-civilized
Indian tribes, its lakes, dense pine forests, and above all for its
wondrous scenery, particularly along the Wisconsin River, where wonders
the equal of those to be seen in Watkins’ Glen, New York, are met with
in rapid succession some six miles north and south of Kilbourn City. It
was to Kilbourn City, therefore, that we proceeded, by way of the
Chicago, Milwaukee and St. Paul Railroad, to view and photograph the
truly marvelous scenery and whimsically erratic formations that
characterize that section of the river known as the Dells. The river is
deep, but at places so tortuously narrow between projecting elbows of
the limestone walls that only such a dimity and fairy-like steamboat as
the _Dell Queen_ can thread a passage, and we accordingly committed
ourselves to this frail little craft for the trip which is made by
tourists first to the Upper Dells, eight miles above the city, and then
to the Lower Dells, which are three miles below. For many, many
centuries the Wisconsin, probably always a rapid stream, has rasped its
soft Potsdam sandstone-bed, and constantly wearing its shore, has
finally carved out a way that is fantastically curious. Now the stream
rolls laughing along under vertical walls sometimes a hundred feet high,
and wrought into the most weirdly grotesque forms imaginable. All along,
its capricious course is marked by caves, caverns, grottos, glens, and
eccentric pillars of stone that are as humorously dressed as a zany in
caps and bells. In making the ascent from Kilbourn City one of the first
objects to arrest attention is “Angel Rock,” whose broad stretch of
petrified wing is said to guard against intrusion into the spectral
haunts that lie beyond. “Swallow’s Fortress” next appears, a
perpendicular wall of very great height, and unbroken length of two
hundred feet, garrisoned by myriads of swallows that have perforated the
face until it looks like the lid of a huge pepper-box. Having passed
this castle of many loop-holes, we enter a section where “Romance
Cliffs” pays eternal greetings to “High Rock,” with their strange
configurations and picturesque statuary; a spot that is favored by
speckled trout as it is by lovers. “Chimney Rock” next bursts into view,
built up of as many strata as a tower of pan-cakes, which from a
distance the chimney somewhat resembles. From the “Gate’s Ravine” there
is a splendid sight of “Sturgeon Rock,” which is so perfectly reflected
as to appear twice its natural size. Why it is called Sturgeon Rock not
even tradition tells us; but it is manifest in many cases that those who
bestowed names upon these pictorial surprises were so arbitrary as to be
indifferent to appropriateness, like the colored woman who called her
first-born Beelzebub, because she heard that some prince bore that name.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  WINTER CAMP AND BURIAL HOUSE OF OJIBWAY INDIANS.—The Ojibways are a
    remnant of the great Indian tribes of the Northwest, who live
    chiefly by fishing and hunting. One of their peculiarities is the
    sacredness with which they regard their dead, and the care they take
    to preserve the bodies of friends and relatives from violation. They
    are content to house themselves, even through the severest winters,
    in the flimsiest structures, but their dead they carefully wrap in
    blankets and deposit in small oblong houses so perfectly built as to
    exclude rain, snow and cold, except such as may enter by a little
    square door in the end. These miniature mortuary houses are placed
    close to the abodes of the living, where they may receive loving
    care and attention. The origin of this really commendable custom is
    not known, but it is like a similar one in vogue among the Indians
    of Alaska, which has been described elsewhere in these pages.
]

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[Illustration: OCONOMONOC FALLS, WISCONSIN.]

At a place where the river broadens, and the left shore spreads into a
long level covered with willows, while the right bank continues its
precipitous career, there is a wide extension-table projecting from the
wall which is called “Visor Ledge, of Stand Rock.” This jutting point is
admirably designed for a jumping-off place, and it is a matter for
surprise that it was not christened Lover’s Leap, like all other similar
ledges and shelves that I have seen. Beyond this the river again
narrows, and singular efflorescences of stone, like a garden of
flowering curios, wrap our attention with questioning surprise. “The
Hawk’s Bill” is certain to catch our notice, and equally sure to excite
our wonder that it was not called the “Toothless Old Man,” for it does
seem that he might make a nut-cracker of his nose and chin. “Black
Hawk’s Leap” must be accepted as a poor substitute for the “Lover’s
Jump,” but as the latter has no place on Wisconsin River the former name
has been applied to a section of pictured wall that is excavated at the
base, and in which the gurgle of water is accentuated by echo into
ominous noises. This natural excavation is called Black Hawk’s Cave, and
is said to have been the place of retreat of a vanquished party of
Indians, who were murderously pursued by a large number of their
enemies, but memory fails to recall the particulars. A little further
beyond is another grotto of still more remarkable formation, called
“Cave of the Dark Waters,” and rightly it is named, for the entrance is
by a small portal into a commodious chamber whose first most noticeable
characteristic is its darkness. The water is deep throughout, and
continually suggests the advantages of the cave as a place in which to
commit crime, or to kiss your girl while passing through a dark tunnel.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  BELEAGUERED CASTLE, CAMP DOUGLAS, WISCONSIN.—The scenery about Camp
    Douglas is weird, sublime and curious. There are formations of odd
    and fantastic shapes, like the conjurings of a disordered brain,
    while others lift their rugged sides and castellated peaks into the
    air with all the grandeur and picturesqueness of “castles on the
    Rhine.” To this latter class belongs “Beleaguered Castle,” so boldly
    photographed on this page. Its resemblance to the ruins of some
    ancient fortification is so striking as to arouse the wonder and
    admiration of all beholders. The trees that have planted their roots
    in its sides and along the top of its mimic battlements serve to
    heighten the resemblance, so that one standing in its presence can
    hardly divest himself of the belief that he is really viewing the
    walls of some frowning relic of the warlike past.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: CAVE OF THE DARK WATERS, LAKE SUPERIOR.]

It is a positive relief from the oppression which entrance to the Dark
Waters Cave produces to be hailed, after emerging, by a sturdy little
stone island with a tossing crest of pine, which some Sweet William has
named the “Sugar-Bowl.” It is all the more refreshing because islands in
the river are exceedingly scarce, and this diversity of landscape is
accordingly doubly appreciated.

Still further beyond is the “Mouth of Witches’ Gulch,” commanded by
picturesque cliffs that show the teeth-marks and lacerations of the
gnawing waters. So romantic is the spot, and so inviting the little
saucer-shaped beach of white sand, that all the pleasure-boats that ply
in the Dells make a landing here and give their passengers opportunity
to go on shore and carve their names on the terraced walls. So many
persons had been there before us, however, that barely space was found
to write a pencil autograph.

Another stop is made at “Cold Water Cañon,” usually dry, but through
which the river pours in an impetuous torrent during high water.
Hereabout are also glens and other curious excavations, among which is a
hollow formation seventy feet high and fifty broad, called the “Devil’s
Jug.” Another run of less than a mile brings us to “Steamboat Rock,” an
oval island covered with hemlock and mountain cedars, opposite to which
a third landing is made, and ascending three flights of stairs to gain
the summit of the cliffs, across a stretch of woods, and descending a
steep, rocky ledge, we find ourselves at the superlative wonder of the
Dells—Witches’ Gulch. Abruptly arriving at the entrance of the gulch,
above which 189 feet, in a projecting rock, may be seen the wry,
unmistakable features of a tousled old hag, the queen of the witches, so
ominously frowning on forms and faces below. Without the slightest
exaggeration it certainly is one of the most wonderful, weird and
peculiar places on this continent.

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[Illustration: MINER’S FALLS, LAKE SUPERIOR.]

[Illustration: WHITE ROCK, LAKE SUPERIOR.]

The Pictured Rocks of Lake Superior and the scenery adjacent to them are
celebrated in art and romance. The former derive their name from the
great diversity of colors which they display. They have been worn into
strange shapes by frost and storm, and stained by the thousand dyes of
nature in every possible variety of arrangement, far beyond the power of
words to describe; and this profusion of color and shape is repeated
mile after mile, until the tourist is lost in wondering admiration.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: THE OLD GUARD, NEAR DEVIL’S LAKE, WIS.]

Entering the gulch, we look up—far up—and catch glimpses of sunlight and
see huge pines prostrate and lying from one ledge to another,
admonishing us to look well to our going. After many, many windings, we
come into “Phantom Chamber,” and in the side of a rocky ledge, scooped
out, as if by hand, find a natural basin, and take a drink of the cool
spring water gurgling out of the great rock into this hidden Pool of
Siloam. In this rocky apartment we ascend a pair of stairs, from under
which the stream that meanders through the entire gulch leaps in
majestic fall, its roar almost deafening, and spray dashing over us. For
thousands of years this little stream—at first, probably, a switch of
rainfall on the earth’s surface—has been engaged in wearing this chasm
in the sandstone, until now the gorge is seventy-five feet deep, nearly
a mile long, and in some places so narrow that a large person can only
pass through with difficulty, especially at Fat Man’s (or Woman’s)
Misery-point. In several places vast chambers have been formed, at the
door-way of one of which a beautiful fall of water leaps down into a
deep-cut basin.

[Illustration: SPLIT ROCK, DEVIL’S LAKE, WISCONSIN.]

There are several deep crevasses in the river leading to places of
extraordinary beauty and wonder, and which on account of the narrow
passage cannot be reached by the little steamboat. Row-boats are
therefore provided, by the aid of which we visited a number of these
side-attractions. “Skylight Cave” is one of these which, though having a
small mouth, widens inside and receives light through a little crevice
at the top. It is a cosy little retreat that well repays a visit.

[Illustration: FALLS OF ST. LOUIS RIVER.]

Returning to Kilbourn City, on the following day a trip was made to
Taylor’s Glen, which is thus well described by a correspondent: “At the
handsome school building on the east side of the village, a rugged path
struggles down into an ordinary ‘hollow,’ which farther down and
followed, opens into a grand gorge. Every step now reveals scenes and
formations beside which all the boasted charms of ‘Watkin’s Glen’ become
commonplace. Being neither cave nor valley, but combining all the
attractions of both, it winds and twists through immense rocks in a
serpentine path. At one point, far overhead, a sheet of daylight slants
through a mere rift the rocks. The roof and high-arching walls are
frescoed with diamond dew and dripping, drooping mosses and lichens.
Groups of strange figures, carved by cataracts, washed by whirlpools
ages on ages ago, ape Egyptian gods and mummies of the ancient Orient.
Here a crystal spring bursts from a wall of solid stone and goes dancing
down over pebbles and ferns. On through an ever-varying pathway filled
with kaleidoscope-like enchantment we wandered with awe and admiration,
our journey ending at a long, dark tunnel, which looks out, through a
wide, cavernous window, upon the river beyond. The Lower Dells, like
their companions above the village, have rocky banks, covered with
vegetation, and curiously shaped formations no less interesting than the
aggregation, a description of which I have but faintly accomplished. One
cannot see this truly remarkable, weird, romantic and beautiful section
of our land and suppress admiration. Nor will a week suffice for a
thorough exploration of the caves, grottos, rocks and ravines
hereabouts. Above Witches’ Gulch is a beautiful view of the river, its
bluffs and many islands, a fairly comparable Lake George view. A fine
drive is had north from Kilbourn to ‘Hornet’s Nest,’ ‘Squaw’s Chamber,’
‘Luncheon Hall,’ ‘Stand Rock,’ ‘Devil’s Lake,’ and many points of
interest farther up the river and in the country in this and adjoining
counties.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  RAPIDS OF MONTREAL RIVER, NORTH OF LAKE SUPERIOR.—These picturesque
    rapids are located in the midst of a wooded dell, hemmed in and
    secluded by surrounding hills from the busy haunts of men. In peace
    and quiet they laugh and frolic and sing their merry song of
    rippling waters and dashing fountains through the summer days, and
    when winter comes they put on a dress of foamy puffs of white that
    sparkles and glows like a bed of diamonds in the dull rays of the
    northern sun.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: GIANT’S CASTLE, NEAR CAMP DOUGLAS.]

The whole region within a radius of thirty or more miles of Kilbourn
City, particularly on the west, is full of natural curiosities, for the
district was evidently at one time, in the remote past, the bed of a
lake whose swirling waters carved the soft sandstones into many
astounding forms, and then were assuaged by some force which geologists
fail to explain, leaving these rare monuments of their work behind them.
Devil’s Lake, nearby, is the relic of that vast inland sea, which no
doubt was a part of the great lakes, on the shores of which are many
images of wondrous shapes and size, with many of which interesting
legends are connected. Thus “Sacrifice Stone,” in “Wonder Notch,” is
popularly believed to be the rock on which an Indian maiden was
immolated at an unknown time to propitiate the anger of the Great
Spirit, while “Cleft Rock” represents the fury of the devil who, while
in a passion over some act of the tribe, rose out of the lake and hurled
one of his fiery darts with such poor aim that it did no other damage
than split the largest stone on the shore.

Cleopatra’s Needle is likewise reputed to be the transformed and
geologic remains of a very ancient Indian chief who was punished by the
devil for the audacity of attempting to penetrate the mysteries of the
lake; while another broken and distorted stone on the front of East
Mountain is connected with a similar and indistinct tradition respecting
the invidious curiosity of a squaw. But though there is no lack of
superstitious beliefs among the few Indians of the district, who respect
these queer formations as the relics of their forefathers, there is no
more foundation for them than the mere claim that “so it has been told,”
for no one has ever heard the particulars. It is a forgotten story.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  SUGAR-LOAF, MACINAC ISLAND.—Macinac Island is a delightful and
    picturesque summer resort, located in the Strait of Macinac, which
    connects Lakes Michigan and Huron. It is only about three miles long
    by two wide, and is rough and rocky. The natural scenery is
    charming. The geologist finds mysteries in the calcareous rocks
    dripping at unexpected angles; the antiquarian feasts his eyes on
    the Druidical circles of the ancient stones; the invalid sits on the
    cliff’s edge in the vivid sunshine, and breathes in the buoyant air
    with delight. The haunted birches abound, and on the crags grow the
    wild larches beckoning with their long fingers, the most human tree
    of all. There are many natural curiosities on the island, the most
    noted being Sugar-Loaf, so beautifully photographed on this page. It
    is conical in shape, and rises to a height of 134 feet.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: CHIMNEY AND BEE ROCKS, CAMP DOUGLAS, WISCONSIN.]

Near the west center of Juneau county, fifteen miles east of the
Wisconsin River, is a cross-roads railroad town called Camp Douglas,
which is in the midst of a region remarkable for natural curiosities,
rivaling those found in the Bad Lands in Wyoming. It is a country of
sandstone that exhibits the astonishing results of centuries of water
and wind erosions upon what was manifestly once a vast bed of
argillaceous clay, that in the process of time was converted into soft
stone as the lake dried up. The receding waters gradually wore deep
ravines in the sandstone, thus giving birth to rivulets which aided a
more rapid change in the bed until it became traversed by numerous
streams that in time completely drained the lake. Then the winds began
their work of eroding, helped by the sand which they carried, and the
result became finally, as we behold it in the Bad Lands, and in Monument
Park, Colorado, a large number of towers, domes, pinnacles and other
architectural forms. To the more strikingly curious shapes names have
been given, as the “Old Guard,” “Giant’s Castle,” “Castle Rock,”
“Chimney Rock,” “Signal Rock,” “Beleaguered Castle,” etc., as shown by
the illustrations.

From Kilbourn City we went to Milwaukee, and thence by the Chicago and
Northwestern, and the Minneapolis, St. Paul and Sault Ste. Marie
Railroad to St. Ignace, where we took boat for Mackinac Island, a very
noted resort in the Straits of Mackinaw. This island is celebrated for
its splendid scenery, some of which we photographed, after which we
proceeded to Sault Ste. Marie, the seat of government of Chippewa
county, Michigan, and noted for having one of the largest and finest
ship canals in the world, through which, surprising as the statement
appears, a larger daily tonnage passes than the Suez Canal accommodates.
One of the sights that are apt to claim the particular attention of
visitors now are the new grain-carrying vessels called Whale-backs,
which have within the last three years become a feature of our lake
commerce.

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[Illustration: FALLS OF MINER’S RIVER IN WINTER.]

[Illustration: THE CASCADE IN WINTER, LAKE SUPERIOR.]

In order to fully realize and appreciate the splendor and marvelous
beauty of the Pictured Rocks and the scenery adjacent thereto, they must
be seen in winter, when they are dressed in their frosty sheets of ice
and snow and ornamented with a thousand pillars of pearly white. It is
then that they appear like scenes from fairy-land, as pictured in the
fantastic creations of poets and painters.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: SIGNAL ROCK, CAMP DOUGLAS.]

In order to observe the shores more clearly, we took one of the Lake
Superior Transit Company’s steamers at Sault Ste. Marie for Duluth, a
route which gives opportunity for taking photographs of the incomparable
pictured cliffs of Superior. But at Marquette, where the steamer lands,
a yacht was engaged in which we were able to approach much of the finest
scenery that would otherwise have escaped our attention.

The range of cliffs to which the name of Pictured Rocks has been given,
may be regarded as among the most striking and beautiful features of the
scenery of the Northwest, and is well worthy the attention of the artist
and the observer of geological phenomena. They may be described, in
general terms, as a series of sandstone bluffs extending along the shore
of Lake Superior for about five miles, and derive their name from the
great diversity of colors they display. They are worn into strange
shapes by frost and storm, and stained by a thousand dyes in every
possible variety of arrangement, far beyond the power of words to
describe, and all this profusion is repeated mile after mile, keeping up
the interest by some new prospect of sweeping curve, or abrupt angle, or
fantastic form. “The ‘Castle,’ the first of the more striking features
of the rocks, bears at a distance a great resemblance to an ancient
castle, with walls, towers, and battlements. Further on, a mass of
detached rock called the ‘Sail Rock’ comes into view, and so striking is
its resemblance to a sloop with the jib and mainsail spread, that a
short distance out on the lake any one would suppose it a real boat
sailing near the beach. But the principal feature of the rocks is the
magnificent cave known as the ‘Grand Portal.’ Let the reader imagine
himself in a room 400 feet long by 18 feet wide, and 150 to 200 feet
high to the arched roof, bulk of yellow sandstone, seamed with decay,
and dripping with water. Shout, and the voice is multiplied a hundred-
fold by echoes that reverberate several seconds, sharp, metallic. Here
the stratum of gravel rises about fifty feet, while at the castle it is
nearly down to the water’s level. The waters are undermining the
foundations, and wearing holes everywhere in the support of the walls
and the roof. The water in the cave increases in depth as you go out
towards the lake, from the bare rocks of the back end to about fifty
feet at the opening, and a few rods from the shore it is a hundred feet,
or more. The cliff on the west, next to the Grand Portal, is hollowing
out, forming an immense cave, increasing every year.”

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[Illustration:

  NIPIGON RIVER, FLOWING INTO LAKE SUPERIOR.—Nipigon River and Lake are
    famous fishing and hunting resorts in the British possessions north
    of Lake Superior. They are also celebrated for their fine scenery,
    which attracts many tourists to that region during the summer
    months. There are numerous rapids in the river, where salmon and
    trout of a superior quality abound in such quantities as to fully
    satisfy all lovers of the piscatorial sport who visit this region.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: SAND ISLAND ARCH, LAKE SUPERIOR.]

“It is beyond the power of the pencil,” says a recent traveler, “to
represent the effect of the reflected light in the roof as seen from the
rear. Especially when the sun is toward the west the bright light is
reflected from the waves into the cavern, and undulates like a sea of
light overhead; a picture in living colors, so tender, so quiet—
luminous, pearly grays, bright flashes, cool, high lights, all warmed by
the yellow sandstone, dripping with water, on which the effect is
thrown.”

“At the mouth of Miner’s River the coast makes an abrupt turn to the
eastward, and just at the point where the rocks break off and the sand
beach begins, is seen one of the grandest works of nature in her rock-
built architecture, which is known as ‘Miners’ Castle,’ from its
singular resemblance to the turreted entrance and arched portal of some
old castle. The height of the advancing mass, in which the form of the
gothic gateway may be recognized, is about seventy feet, while that of
the main wall forming the background is about one hundred and forty. The
appearance of the opening at the base changes rapidly with each change
in the position of the spectator, and on taking a position a little to
the right of that occupied by the sketcher, the central opening appears
more distinctly, flanked on either side by two lateral passages, making
the resemblance to an artificial work still more striking. The chapel,
if not the grandest, is among the most grotesque of nature’s
architecture here displayed. Unlike the excavations before described,
which occur at the water’s edge, this has been made in the rock at a
height of thirty or forty feet above the lake. The interior consists of
a vaulted apartment, which has not inaptly received the name it bears.
An arched roof of sandstone, from ten to twenty feet in thickness, rests
on four gigantic columns of rock, so as to leave a vaulted apartment of
irregular shape, about forty feet in diameter, and about the same in
height. The columns consist of finely stratified rock, and have been
worn into curious shapes. At the base of one of them an arched cavity,
or niche, has been cut, to which access is had by a flight of steps,
formed by the projecting strata. The disposition of the whole is such as
to resemble, very much, the pulpit of a church; since there is,
overhead, an arched canopy, and in front an opening out towards the
vaulted interior or the chapel, with a flat tubular mass in front,
rising to a convenient height for a desk, while on the right is an
isolated block, which not inaptly represents an altar; so that, if the
whole had been adapted expressly for a place of worship, and fashioned
by the hands of men, it could hardly have been arranged more
appropriately. It is scarcely possible to describe the singular and
unique effect of this extraordinary structure; it is truly a temple of
nature—‘an house not made with hands.’”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  THE CHAPEL, PICTURED ROCKS, LAKE SUPERIOR.—This curiously carved rock,
    painted in many colors by the chemicals of Nature’s laboratory,
    forms a bold and picturesque point on the north shore of Lake
    Superior. It consists of a vaulted apartment in the rock, thirty or
    forty feet above the level of the lake. An arched roof of sandstone
    rests on four natural columns, forming an apartment about forty feet
    in diameter and the same in height. Within are a pulpit and altar,
    perfect as if fashioned by the hand of man. It is one of the most
    curious formations in this celebrated scenic region, and has been
    often pictured and described.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: ABODE OF THE GENII, LAKE SUPERIOR.]

The Pictured Rocks are beautiful and fantastic at all times, but it is
in winter that they are sublimely lovely, bewilderingly grand, as
photographs taken by Mr. Childs, to whom we are indebted for their use
here, will show. The falls of Miners’ River are exquisite when pouring
over a brink fringed with greenest foliage, but when held in the vise-
like grip of winter they are magnificent almost beyond conception. They
are a fitting prelude to the spectatorium of cave wonders near-by, such
as the “Abode of the Genii,” which might better be called the “Throne-
room of Fairy Stalacta.” The water percolating through the roof of the
caverns is frozen into the rarest, daintiest and most exquisite
incrustations imaginable, some having the appearance of snow balls,
chrysanthemums and lilies, while others reach down their immense crystal
points, as if trying to rest their ponderous weight upon the opalescent
floor. The “Cave-of-the-Winds” has a splendid entrance, and being
shallow in depth is well lighted, so that the ice-covered walls reflect
the most gorgeous colors; but the congealed formations, while very
beautiful, cannot compare with those that the Genii of the neighbor
grotto have appropriated. The splendors of these shores, however, are by
no means confined to the caverns, for almost equally curious and
charming views are presented by the vertical faces of the snowy cliffs,
upon which winter hangs the most magnificent draperies. “The Cascade” is
formed by the water flowing over a low bench along the shore, but at
many points more curious effects are produced by the fierce lashings of
the lake that toss showers of spray high up on the cliffs, where it
freezes into shapes peculiarly wonderful and often radiantly beautiful.
“Peter’s Pillar” is a curious ice monument formed by a little waterfall
that drops through a hole it has worn in the bluff, but about the base
are pretty ice terraces and graceful corrugations, the frozen spray cast
from the shore-beating waves of the angry lake.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: CAVE-OF-THE-WINDS, LAKE SUPERIOR.]

[Illustration: EXTERIOR VIEW OF CAVE-OF-THE-WINDS.]

The Cave-of-the-Winds presents a royal view of sky and lake, through an
archway covered with stalactites, when the observation is taken from
within; but its outward appearance is not particularly striking. The
cave is shallow in depth and well lighted, so that the ice-covered walls
give forth the most gorgeous colors as the reflected rays from the lake
fall upon them.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: BAY OF ISLES, LAKE SUPERIOR.]

[Illustration: PAD-LOCK ISLAND, LAKE SUPERIOR.]

“The Grand Portal” is a perforation through an elbow of the palisades,
and of such magnitude as to appear like a vast cave, when viewed from an
angle. Inside, however, it is seen to be a great tunnel, sufficiently
curved to barely admit the sight of a small opening at each end. At this
point the cliffs jut into the lake, and in winter they are festooned and
royally embellished with lovely ice-forms of every imaginable shape. A
formation somewhat similar is seen on “Sand Island” of the Apostle
Group, where the beating waves have made an excavation through an arm of
the palisades sufficiently large to admit the passage of a row-boat.

[Illustration: PRINCESS BAY, LAKE SUPERIOR.]

[Illustration: THE SEA-ELEPHANT, LAKE SUPERIOR.]

But for miles the vertical and gleaming white bluffs of sandstone,
sometimes resembling the chalk banks of Albion, distinguish the shore
line, and exhibit surprising perforations that are frequently large
enough to permit a boat to venture out of sight; and naturally they
attract large numbers of summer tourists, who find in these caves, like
the “Bay of Isles” and “Cave of the Dark Waters,” excellent trout
fishing.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: THE GRAND PORTAL, LAKE SUPERIOR.]

[Illustration: GRAND PORTALS, FROM THE LAKE.]

The Grand Portal is the doorway or entrance to a splendid cave in the
cliff of the Pictured Rocks. It is in the form of an immense vaulted
chamber, with a ceiling nearly one hundred feet high, which has been
carved out of the yellow limestone by the restless waves as they are
driven in and out by the force of the winds. The sides of the cave are
fretted and worn into all sorts of fantastic shapes, presenting a
remarkable and exceedingly interesting spectacle. The view from the
portal, embracing the adjacent cliffs and a vast expanse of rolling
waters, is grand and sublime.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  THE ICE PALACE AT ST. PAUL IN 1888.—It is hard to believe that this
    majestic structure, with its frowning battlements, massive walls and
    wrinkled visage of war, is composed wholly of transparent blocks of
    ice. It has more the appearance of an impregnable castle, which,
    outliving the scars and bruises of mediæval battles and the ravages
    of time, has come on down into our modern and better era as an
    example of the architectural ability and requirements of the dark
    and bloody days of former ages. But it is a castle which requires no
    resounding thump of the battering-ram or crash of cannon-ball to
    shatter its walls and break its turrets, for they vanish and melt
    away into imperceptible vapors under the warm kisses of the virgin
    spring sun.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  STORMING THE ST. PAUL ICE PALACE, 1888.—This photograph represents a
    scene of the grandest and most imposing character. The interior of
    the palace was brilliantly illuminated, until it shone and sparkled
    like an immense diamond, while from every tower, turret and
    battlement many-colored lights blazed and flashed and shot up into
    the sky until the very heavens seemed to be on fire. On the outside
    there were batteries of rockets and Roman candles, and flashing
    meteors that hurled their fiery messengers against the walls of ice,
    bursting into a thousand brilliant and glowing fragments whose
    reflection bathed the face of the dark sky in a flood of iridescent
    light. It was a scene of splendor long to be remembered by those who
    saw it.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: PETER’S PILLAR, LAKE SUPERIOR.]

The wonders of Lake Superior’s shores do not terminate at Duluth, for
the walls rise to even a greater height on the north line and are of
green sandstone and porphyry, occasionally twelve hundred feet high. The
St. Louis River enters the lake from the northwest at Duluth; and though
this stream is barely deep enough to float a raft of logs, it runs
between lofty banks of the same general character as those which confine
the Great Lake. Enormous palisades line the north shore of Superior,
whose columns are so symmetrical as to equal the best productions of the
sculptor’s art. Pigeon River forms part of the boundary line between
Canada and the United States, and is a stream in great repute with
sportsmen, and also offers attractions to those who delight in natural
scenery of a sublime character. Pigeon Falls is but one of many
interruptions in its course towards the lake, the pool formed by the
dropping water being a favorite haunt for trout and salmon, while in the
numerous lakes near-by are myriads of water-fowls that have their
nesting-places on the shores. A few miles toward the east is Nipigon
River, another beautiful stream that connects a lake of the same name
with Superior. It is somewhat wider than Pigeon River, and its shores
are less bluffy; thus the current being less rapid, the stream is
diversified by many little islands that are so green with pines,
hemlocks and other trees as to look like emerald gems. But all along the
north shore are scenes of great beauty, and vast stores of mineral
wealth in iron and copper lie only a few feet beneath the surface; yet
notwithstanding all these attractions, the region is rarely visited save
by Indians and sportsmen.

We reached St. Paul, after an absence of nearly one month, and there met
our photographer who had gone into the Black Hills in quest of views.
Being thus reunited, we started down the Mississippi, but by rail, as
the Chicago, Milwaukee and St. Paul Railroad follows the bank as far as
La Crosse. Several stops were made, however, in order to catch pictures
of Fort Snelling, and the grand bluffs above and below Winona, which for
towering magnificence far exceed the hills that render the Hudson
famous. Indeed, considering the river from St. Paul to Pepin Lake, the
Mississippi’s shores present finer scenery than is to be found along any
other navigable stream on either continent. But south of that point the
views are rather monotonous until Grafton is reached, where the Piasa
Bluffs begin and run along the river for twenty miles, exhibiting not
only great vertical height, but curious shapes, and at one point some
very ancient Indian picture writings.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  PIGEON RIVER FALLS, NORTH SHORE OF LAKE SUPERIOR.—The north shore of
    Lake Superior, and the little rivers which run to its waters,
    present many surprising and beautiful scenes. One of these is
    pictured on this page. It is a small sequestered stream, modestly
    winding its way through shading woods and green meadows, and along
    by quiet, restful farm-houses, until in a spirit of reckless fun,
    wholly unexpected of such a demure little rivulet, it suddenly
    plunges down a precipice with many a laughing leap and merry roar,
    breaking into a thousand shining sprays that enrapture the senses
    with their marvelous beauty and evanescent colors.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  OLD FORT SNELLING, ON THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER.—This grim and grizzled
    relic of the past is named in honor of a brave soldier, Colonel
    Josiah Snelling, who served his country faithfully and bravely in
    many well-fought battles with the Indians in the early part of the
    present century. When the fort was first erected it was on the
    uttermost borders of civilization, in the midst of many surrounding
    dangers, and it served its purpose as a nucleus and protection for
    the gathering settlements of a later period.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                               CHAPTER X.
                 SCENIC MARVELS OF THE GREAT NORTHEAST.


[Illustration: STARVED ROCK, ON ILLINOIS RIVER, NEAR OTTAWA, ILLINOIS.]

Our circuit of the West had now been completed, and having surrendered
the camera car which we had chartered, we made hasty preparations for a
grand tour of all that section lying east of the Mississippi. Before
departing for the East, however, we made a flying trip over the St.
Louis & San Francisco Railroad to Eureka Springs, a popular health
resort in Northern Arkansas, surrounded by some very beautiful scenery
that spreads away through the Ozark and Boston Mountains in picturesque
grandeur, diversified by swift-flowing streams, deep gorges, terrible
bluffs and immense caves that are gorgeously embellished with gigantic
stalactite and stalagmite formations. If these magnificent scenes were
not so conveniently near a large city, they would be a hundred-fold more
famous, for it is human nature to yearn for the least accessible and the
most difficult of attainment. In short, we rarely appreciate the things
that we have, and exaggerate the importance and attractiveness of places
which are remote. It is this peculiarity of the human mind that makes
heaven a necessity and immortality a natural deduction, the irresistible
conclusion of human reason.

We tarried one week in St. Louis before departing for the East, and then
again divided our party, one of our photographers proceeding to
Pittsburgh, and thence through Pennsylvania and Virginia, taking views
of the famous scenery of those States, while the other two whose travels
we will now describe, passed northward to Chicago, and thence east by
way of Niagara. Having heard much of a celebrated point known as Starved
Rock, on the Illinois River, a place of commanding interest in the
history of La Salle and his adventurous companions, we resolved to stop
at Ottawa, en route to Chicago, and make a photograph of the historic
rock. We reached Ottawa by the Chicago, Burlington and Quincy Road, and
thence by driving ten miles in a spring wagon we gained the spot made
celebrated through a tradition which is as romantic as it is tragic.

Starved Rock is now the property of a company, and is situated on the
left bank of the Illinois River, near the foot of the rapids. It is a
perpendicular bluff of limestone, one hundred and fifty feet high, and
is crowned with oaks and other forest trees. The water front presents a
precipitous wall, but there is a slope towards an adjoining bluff by
which it is alone accessible. The summit has an area of about one acre,
but is a natural stronghold; and perceiving its advantages, La Salle, on
his first return trip to Canada, ordered his Indian lieutenant, named
Tonti, to fortify himself upon the Rock, supplying him with one small
cannon for that purpose. Tonti carried out these orders, and, it is
said, died and was buried upon the Rock. Years afterward, the place
became conspicuous in the Indian wars; and it is related that after the
killing of Pontiac, chief of the Ottawas, in a drunken row at Cahokia,
some of his people charged the Illinois tribe with the crime and made
war upon them. Being feeble in numbers, they were driven before the
Ottawas so remorselessly that as a last resort they took refuge on
Starved Rock. Here they were able to hold their enemies at bay, but
their distress was none the less because of their ability to prevent a
scaling of their stronghold, for the Ottawas besieged the Rock and
effectually prevented the Illinois from securing any supplies. Water was
for a while procured by means of vessels attached to ropes of bark,
which were let down into the stream. But this device was presently
discovered and prevented by the Ottawas coming under the bluff in canoes
and cutting the ropes. Unwilling to surrender and run the risk of
torture, the unfortunate Illinois remained in the place of their retreat
until one by one they died of starvation. This is the tradition current
in La Salle county, and the finding of many Indian relics and bones on
the Rock tend to confirm its truthfulness.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  BASIN SPRINGS, EUREKA SPRINGS, ARKANSAS.—Arkansas is famous for her
    life-giving and health-supporting springs, and among these none are
    more celebrated than those at Eureka, in the northwestern part of
    the State. The location is picturesque and mountainous, the
    atmosphere clear and invigorating. A few years ago the place was a
    wilderness, and the waters wasted their treasures of good health in
    untrammeled mountain rivulets. By the merest accident their curative
    powers were discovered, and immediately the sick and the afflicted
    from all parts of the world began to flock thither, like pilgrims to
    a newly discovered Siloam. At present there is a thriving city of
    4000 inhabitants located on the mountain sides, with many thousands
    of invalid guests constantly coming and going.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: THE LOOKOUT, ON THE ROAD TO HOMER.]

From Chicago we went east over the Michigan Central to Niagara Falls,
that greatest of natural wonders, a sublime apotheosis of omnipotence, a
glorification of the immeasurable power that nature possesses, in whose
roar we distinguish the hallelujah chorus of centuries and peans of
praise to the mightiness of Deity.

Niagara Falls, the supreme natural marvel of both continents, is divided
into two cataracts, viz.: American Falls, flowing towards the American
or western side, and Horseshoe Falls, which discharges towards the
Canada side, the two being separated by Goat Island.

[Illustration: BARN BLUFF, NEAR RED WING, MINNESOTA.]

The height of the former is one hundred and four feet, and the latter,
owing to a limestone stratum not worn away, is one foot higher, by which
it is reasonably concluded that at one time nearly all the flow was
towards the American side, because the discharge over the western fall
is not now so great as that towards the Canada side. This tremendous
flood of waters is from Lake Erie through Niagara River into Lake
Ontario, and the retrogression of the cataract, caused by the wearing of
the limestone ledge, inclines geologists to the opinion that the flow
has continued for a period of not less than thirty-seven thousand years.
The width of Niagara River at the falls is forty-five hundred feet, of
which American Falls occupies eleven hundred feet, Goat Island fourteen
hundred feet, and Horseshoe Falls two thousand feet, though the deep
curve in the latter, whence its name is derived, makes the line of fall
more than three thousand feet. It has been estimated that the discharge
exceeds one billion gallons of water every twelve hours, and that the
force thus developed is equal to something more than one million horse-
power.

The landscape on either side of the falls has little of the picturesque
or tumultuous about it, being generally slightly rolling, and giving no
indication of eruptive disturbance; so that scientists are still
searching for a plausible theory upon which to base a conclusion as to
the cause that produced this sudden dip in the limestone formation.

The astounding power displayed by the river dropping over a wide and
lofty ledge is scarcely more bewildering than that exhibited by the
Rapids, which extend for half a mile from the point of descent, and
meeting a swift current, the flood is lashed into a fury that is
frightful to behold, rising in the center like huge beasts in combat,
and tossing wave-caps nearly fifty feet above the surface. At times the
spray rises in such clouds as to completely obscure the falls, and borne
some distance by the winds is condensed, and a long-continued rain
follows, which renders a considerable stay in the neighborhood somewhat
disagreeable.

[Illustration: VIEW OF FORT SNELLING FROM THE MISSISSIPPI.]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  HARDING SPRING AND ROCK, EUREKA SPRINGS, ARKANSAS.—The ruggedness and
    beauty of the scenery in and around Eureka Springs, and their
    pleasant influence upon the minds of invalids, causing them to dwell
    upon other things rather than their ailments, no doubt have
    something to do with the marvelous cures that have been wrought
    here. Nature, aided by the embellishments of art, has made the place
    an exceedingly attractive resort, which grows in favor with each
    passing year. No imaginary picture, be it ever so attractive, could
    surpass in picturesqueness the scene so beautifully photographed on
    this page.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: AMERICAN FALLS, VIEWED FROM GOAT ISLAND.]

While an admirable view of the falls may be obtained from many points of
observation on the bridge, or along both shores, the greatest interest
attaches to a visit to the noisy caverns that are behind the descending
flood. These may be reached by means of spiral stairways built for the
purpose, but the visitor must prepare for the trip by investing himself
in a suit of oil-skin, and for a while must assume the character of an
amphibian. At the bottom of the deep descent are stones in great
confusion, over which we must scramble to reach the Cave-of-the-Winds, a
watery grotto indeed, in which the air is agitated by the thundering
cataract that fairly envelopes you. The scene here is beyond the scope
of pen or brush, for these appeal only to sight and understanding, while
the awful presence conjures all the senses. Behind the giant curtain of
waterfall is a greenish reflection, weird in its intensity and
unnaturalness, and to the ears there comes a muffled roar which, while
not jarring, yet seems to pervade and penetrate like the dull rumble of
an earthquake. This uncertain disturbance, which confuses with strange
noise, is intensified by a wind that is here created by what appears to
be some mysterious agency; and other curious things are noted that
suggest to the imaginative mind a region of the supernatural, where
indistinct voices warn and then invite, but are always clamorous, like a
crowd of bedlamites.

Below the falls the river narrows to eight hundred feet, between
precipitous walls, which add swiftness to the current, and three miles
from Horseshoe Falls the impetuous stream strikes a point of projecting
land in such a manner that a terrible whirlpool is created, capable of
sucking down a large steamboat. By means of a car, which is controlled
by a cable, visitors may ride down the very steep incline to the edge of
Whirlpool Rapids and view in safety the awful, mad-lashing waters,
swirling with extraordinary rapidity and throwing high the tousled heads
of ravening waves, which appear to be lusting for victims and bellowing
for vengeance. It is gratifying to know that the almost incomputable
power of Niagara is soon to be transmitted, through the generation of
electricity, to mills and machinery, and thus utilized to the honor of
human genius as well as to the glory of God.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  NIAGARA FROZEN.—Niagara is grand at any and all times, but if you
    would appreciate the sublimity of its grandeur in the fullest
    degree, you should visit it in winter, when it is covered with icy
    fringes and stalactites, and you can approach close to the roaring
    fountain on the mound of ice formed by the spray which rises from
    the foot of the precipice. It is only on rare occasions, during very
    severe winters, that such opportunities are afforded; but when they
    do occur they attract thousands of visitors from many sections, who
    come in crowds to witness a scene that has no equal among all the
    wonders of the world. On such occasions the Falls themselves seem to
    be a mass of liquid ice, while the shores, the trees and the cliffs
    are clothed in sheets of white, and made ornate with columns that
    rival alabaster in their transparent beauty.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: BRIDAL VEIL FALLS, NIAGARA.]

Great changes occurring in Niagara Falls, which though slow and
remittent, are no less certain to destroy the grandeur of that
incomparable waterfall some time in the very remote future. It is a
well-demonstrated fact that Niagara River has excavated the gorge
through which it runs, and within recent years such immense masses of
the ledge-stone have been detached by the gnawing waters as to cause an
appreciable recession of the cataract, and a corresponding lengthening
of the gorge. It is recorded that in 1818 very large fragments of
limestone were wrenched from the surface-bed and cast over Horseshoe
Falls, and another similar result occurred in 1855. But each year, and
constantly, the erosion is marked, so that Table Rock, formerly a
striking feature of the river, has been worn away so completely that no
present sign of it now remains. It has been computed by Sir Charles
Lyell that the average rate of recession is about one foot annually,
counting for the past thousand years; but as before stated, the erosive
results are spasmodic. There is now eighty feet of hard limestone
composing the surface-rock, and it will probably require ten thousand
years for the rushing waters to eat this away; after that, however, the
wear will be rapid, and in course of centuries the falls will have
disappeared, and only a tremendous gorge will remain in their stead.
Many wonderful spectacles have taken place at the falls, the most
interesting of which was the sending adrift of a condemned lake vessel,
drawing eighteen feet of water, in 1829, which passed over the brink
without touching bottom, and was dashed in pieces on the rocks below.
This experiment was made to test the depth of water on the brink of the
precipice.

[Illustration: HECTOR FALLS, WATKIN’S GLEN, IN WINTER.]

There is a weary sameness to the generally level or prairie scenery
which lies between the Mississippi River and New York State, if we
except the rather pleasing diversity of well-cultivated farms,
prosperous towns, and evidences of thrift that are everywhere
noticeable. But there is more than the greatness of commercial and
industrial empire to recommend New York to the sight-seer, for some of
the most charming scenery to be found anywhere in the world is within
her borders, matching for sublimity even the most marvelous views which
we have described. And additional fascination attaches to many of her
noted places on account of the Indian names which have been jealously
preserved in her geography. The Mohawk Valley is at once a lovely vale
and a reminder of Cooper’s “Leather Stocking Stories;” and so are her
hundred rivers and lakes that bear the designations bestowed upon them,
either by some of the once-powerful tribes, or which perpetuate the fame
of their great chiefs, the shades of whom seem to linger about Seneca,
Cayuga, Oneida, Oswego, Canandaigua, Chautauqua, Keuka, Skaneateles,
over which they once skimmed in light canoes. The romance with which
these beautiful waters are invested would draw us irresistibly to their
shores were there no other attractions; but to these delightful
traditions of a vanished people are the added charms of sylvan glades,
exposing vistas of exquisite landscape, blue waters dimpled by soft
winds, swift-racing streams dashing under overarching shades, and wild
chasms that imprison echo and exhibit some of the most astounding
results of glacial action, abetted by upheaval, depression and erosion.
After picturing the wonders of Niagara, therefore, two of our party made
a trip over the New York Central Line and its connection, to Geneva, a
beautiful town on the north shore of Seneca Lake, which in many respects
is one of the most remarkable bodies of water in the world. The lake is
about forty miles in length, but it is a mere strip, rarely exceeding
two miles in width, yet has the extraordinary depth of six hundred feet,
so that it is evidently a basin created by the same convulsion that
wrought the surprising results which render the Glens at the south end
famous beyond comparison, as will be presently described. It is
particularly strange that such a tremendous cleft should be made without
showing a wider extent of disturbance, though the shores are a
succession of promontories, sweeping back in graceful undulations and
well-wooded slopes, save where industry has converted the hills into
fruitful fields.

[Illustration: CAVERN CASCADE, WATKIN’S GLEN, IN WINTER.]

The trip from Geneva to Watkins, which covers the extreme length of the
lake, is comfortably and enjoyably made by means of fine steamers, which
land at many intermediate points, and give summer tourists opportunity
for thoroughly examining the towns and beautiful banks along the way.
Watkins, which is the objective place of all pleasure travelers, has its
feet bathed by Seneca Lake, and its head shaded by the brow of Buck
Mountain, at whose base is the main street, running parallel therewith.
Following this street a short distance, the visitor reaches a bridge
that affords passage over a small stream, and proceeding along the banks
of this little water-course for less than half a mile, he is suddenly
confronted by a massive and lofty natural wall that prevents further
progress. Stairways, however, have been built, by which we mounted to
the summit of this wonderful masonry, and from that eminence surveyed
the matchless scenery of Watkin’s Glen. But the view is interrupted by
intervening precipices and densely wooded copses, so that to see the
amazing wonders and the bewildering beauties of this marvelously
diversified region a tour of its many attractions is necessary. To do
this requires a pair of strong legs and good breath, for the climbing is
severely taxing, though owing to the substantial and well protected
stairways is never dangerous.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  TERRACED FALLS, WATKINS GLEN, NEW YORK.—The most eloquent pen pauses
    in its futile efforts to depict the marvels, and the wonders, and
    the glories that are presented on every hand in Watkins Glen. In all
    the varied scenery of the world there is nothing to be compared to
    this, for here Nature seems to have done her utmost in fashioning
    something new and novel in the line of her handiwork for the
    admiration of mankind. At every footstep, for a distance of three
    miles along the gorge which cleaves the earth to a depth of 300
    feet, some new wonder or marvelous creation is presented, each
    seemingly more superb than its neighbors.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: WATKIN’S CASCADE FROZEN.]

Passing through Glen Alpha, where the awful sublimity of a tremendous
chasm oppresses the visitor on first view, we caught sight of Twin
Falls, where the waters pour down in two great sluices and become wedded
in a swirling pool that pours out the overflow through a cañon whose
walls have been scarified by the teeth of centuries. Below the falls is
Whirlpool Gorge, an amphitheater that is striated and terraced into
forms so variable as to please every conceit and yet arouse amazement.
The stream dashes into this capricious auditorium at a maddening pace,
but encounters resistance in the curving walls, and is thus thrown into
a rapid, whirling movement like a maelstrom; and this rotary action of
the waters has worn the half-encircling walls into many singular, though
usually symmetrical shapes.

Climbing out of Whirlpool Gorge and moving southward a short distance
along a railed ledge, we come in sight of Peek-a-boo Falls, a beautiful
sheet of water plunging over a precipice fifty feet high, and scattering
its spray along the walls that confine its descent, for the chasm is
very narrow here, and charming for its sylvan weirdness. The cliffs are
very pictures in stone, rising in tiers and carved into fantastic forms,
while the overhanging trees, graceful ferns and velvety mosses make the
place a bower in which fairies might delight to dwell.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: GIANT’S GORGE, IN CHATEAUGAY CHASM.]

[Illustration: WHIRLPOOL GORGE, WATKINS GLEN.]

These excellent photographs afford a splendid conception of the grandeur
of the scenery where these points are located. The winding chasm, the
rushing torrent, the glimmer of the sunlight above the tall cliffs, the
bold, serrated rocks—all these tell us of the splendors which Nature has
fashioned and deposited in this favored region.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: PORTLAND CASCADE, HAVANA GLEN.]

Though both Watkins and Havana Glens are gems of nature in summer-time,
their rarest robes of beauty are worn in winter, when the Ice King takes
them in his embrace and bejewels them with crystals more exquisite than
ever graced a royal bride. For the winter views which are here presented
we are indebted to other photographers, as we are also for the frost
pictures of the Lake Superior coast, as our visit was made in the
summer-time. Examples of the sublime magnificence, the divine-like
embellishment of Watkin’s Glen, when the lips of winter have kissed the
noisy waterfalls into frozen silence, are seen in the illustrations of
Cavern Cascade, and Hector Falls, and Watkin’s Cascade, where the frost-
sprites and the little children of the snow hide beneath opalescent
icicles and light the lamp of joy in grottoes that open toward the
voiceless gorge.

Further up the chasm, where the broken fronts of vertical walls begin,
is a quiet retreat known as the Council Chamber, spanned by a pretty
bridge that is hung upon opposite ledges and conducts to a passage that
runs along a shelf, then down a stairs to a path that leads from the
water’s edge to the town. The walls that enclose this strip of river are
exceedingly beautiful, built up as they are with thin layers, of a few
inches’ thickness, each strata being very distinct, and the face of the
cliffs wrought into lovely shapes, with a shelf here and there as if
inviting lovers to seek them for the delightful seclusion which they
offer. The glen is about three miles in length, and the walls frequently
three hundred feet in height, with enough variableness in the scenery to
make it a source of unwearying admiration.

Three miles south of Watkin’s Glen, and properly a continuation, for
there is really a very brief interruption in the rugged character of the
valley, is Havana Glen, quite as famous as its adjacent brother. The
cliffs here are scarcely so vertical, but the general formation is
practically the same, and similar means are provided for viewing its
wonders to advantage. Bridal Veil Falls is Havana’s most alluring
object, and well do they repay the tourist for his visit. The water at
this point falls thirty feet down a very steep slope in a great column
that, contracted at the plunge, spreads as it flows over a succession of
terraces and dashes into the deep stream below with sullen roar.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  PEEK-A-BOO FALLS AND PICTURED CLEFT, WATKINS GLEN.—This romantic scene
    is thus beautifully described: Climbing out of Whirlpool Gorge and
    moving northward a short distance along a railed ledge, we come in
    sight of Peek-a-Boo Falls, a beautiful sheet of water plunging over
    a precipice fifty feet high, and scattering its spray along the
    walls that confine its descent, for the chasm is very narrow here,
    and charming for its sylvan weirdness. The cliffs are picturesque in
    stone, rising in tiers and carved into fantastic forms, while the
    overhanging trees, graceful ferns and velvety mosses make the place
    a bower in which fairies might love to dwell.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: EAGLE FALLS, HAVANA GLEN.]

Portland Cascade is another charming fall, but the chasm being wider at
this point and broken by many shelves, the water flows with less
turbulence, though the cascades are made more beautiful by spreading
into thin, veil-like sheets, so transparent that the wall behind them is
visible. A bridge is thrown across the leaping stream, from which a
glorious view is had of the chasm as it winds away towards the south,
while the copse which fringes the western edge constitutes a bower of
extraordinary loveliness.

Eagle Falls, a hundred yards below the cascades, is, perhaps, the most
daintily exquisite object in all this vale of natural wonders, a very
poem of beauty and charming sequestration, where the brown cliffs sleep
to the lullaby of flowing waters, and the wild flowers listen to the
murmurs of the breeze. Stairs lead to the brink, under overarching trees
that provide a delightful nook, but a more entrancing view is obtainable
from the bottom of the charming dell into which the waters fall. There
is neither grandeur nor sublimity in the sight afforded, but a soft
witchery, a gentle soul-rapture that is kin to inspiration in the monody
of the stream as it pours over the ledge in a rhythm that is as musical
as April rain upon a cottager’s roof, and shimmers in its fall like a
lace curtain stirred by the wind. Eagle Falls is plainly a misnomer, for
the name suggests a thing of prey. The Nymphs’ Bath is more appropriate,
for here it would seem that all the little people of the water and the
wood might find what Titania and Diana longed for—a place of absolute
seclusion, “where the bright eyes of angels only might behold a paradise
so pure and lonely.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  COUNCIL CHAMBER, WATKINS GLEN, NEW YORK.—This is one of the most
    imposing and impressive points of the Glen, and has been well named
    the Council Chamber. The walls that enclose this strip of river are
    exceedingly beautiful, built up as they are with thin layers, of a
    few inches’ thickness, each stratum being very distinct, and the
    face of the cliffs wrought into lovely shapes with shelving spaces
    here and there as if inviting lovers to seek them for the delightful
    seclusion which they offer. The chamber is spanned by a rustic
    bridge that is hung upon opposite ledges, affording a safe passage-
    way and a desirable point of view.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: GIANT FALLS, AUSABLE CHASM.]

Having feasted our sight, and caught the spirit of inspiration that
haunts the romantic retreats of Havana Glen, we departed northward and
took a train on the Rome, Watertown and Ogdensburg Railroad for Clayton,
situated on the south bank of the St. Lawrence River, near where it
receives the flow from Ontario Lake. At this point steamer was taken for
a ride among the Thousand Islands to Ogdensburg, a trip more charming
than our remembrance of love’s first dream. This part of the river is
broken into many channels that meander through avenues worn in the
granite which confines its course. The Thousand Islands is no misnomer,
for they seem to be beyond number, scattered like a myriad of emeralds,
with deep water between, and yet so close together that they may almost
reach hands across the breach. Every islet is a dome of rock, ground
into symmetrical shape by glacial action long ago, then covered by a
sediment from the river sufficient to support a profuse vegetation. The
Canada pine is conspicuous, lifting its scraggy head to a great height,
and pointing its stout branches in every direction, a stately figure
among the brushwood that surrounds it.

Many of the islands are only little green dots scarcely large enough for
a fairy’s bower, while others are of considerable size, occupied by
lovely villas, the resort of those wealthy enough to own beautiful
summer houses where the air is fragrant with sweetest odors, and the
gamest fish invite the enthusiastic angler.

Departing from Ogdensburg, one of our party proceeded to Montreal, by
way of Ottawa, to photograph some Canada scenery in the vicinity of
those cities, while the other took train for Chateaugay, each mapping
out for himself the work to be done in the regions which he had chosen
to picture. Chateaugay is in the extreme northeastern part of New York
and about thirty miles from Lake Champlain. A river of the same name
flows by the place and through some scenery which is almost matchless in
marvelous grandeur, probably excelling in extraordinary cleavage that
found in Watkin’s and Havana Glens. Giant Gorge is one of the first
tremendous rents which we observe in the chasms of Chateaugay River, but
several other precipitously walled cañons occur between that point and
Chateaugay Lake, twenty miles below, where the Adirondack Mountain
region begins, with its wilderness of untamable savagery, as wild now as
when its rugged solitudes were first disturbed by an invading Indian
seeking the game that there abounded. This darksome haunt of nature is
cleft by the Saranac, Raquette, Boquet and Ausable Rivers, and in these
gloomy recesses whence the day is dispelled are the lake sources of the
noble Hudson.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  BRIDAL VEIL FALLS, HAVANA GLEN, NEW YORK.—Havana Glen is three miles
    south of Watkins, and is properly a continuation of the latter. The
    cliffs are scarcely so vertical, but the general formation is
    practically the same, and similar means are provided for viewing its
    wonders to advantage. Bridal Veil Falls are Havana’s chief
    attraction, and they merit the distinction. The water at this point
    falls thirty feet down a very steep slope, in a great column, which,
    contracted at the plunge, spreads as it flows over a succession of
    terraces until it dashes into the deep stream below with a sullen
    roar.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: ELBOW FALLS, AUSABLE CHASM.]

Crossing over to Lake Champlain, we took a Delaware and Hudson Railroad
train at Plattsburgh and rode down to Port Kent and thence visited
Ausable Chasm near-by. Indian Pass is also in the same vicinity. The
scenery is a repetition of that in Watkin’s Glen, with the added
interest of a more considerable stream, upon which boating is a royal
pleasure. The freshness which description by another writer may furnish
is my excuse for introducing the following from the pen of Alfred B.
Street:

“At North Elba we crossed a bridge where the Ausable comes winding down,
and then followed its banks to the northeast, with thick woods
continually around us, and the little river shooting darts of light at
us through the leaves. At length, a broad summit, rising to a taller
one, broke above the foliage at our right, and at the same time a
gigantic mass of rock and forest saluted us, and we stood before the
giant portals of the Notch. As we entered, the pass suddenly shrank,
pressing the river into a deep and narrow stream. It was a chasm cloven
boldly through White-Face, so that on each side towered the mountain
escarpment; on the left, the range rose in still sublimer altitude, with
grand precipices, like a majestic wall or a line of palisades, climbing
sheer from the half-way forest upward. The crowded rows of pines along
the broken and wavy crest were diminished to a mere fringe. As we rowed
slowly through the still narrowing gorge, the mountains soared higher
and higher, as if to scale the clouds, presenting truly a terrific
aspect. I shrank within myself, and appeared to dwindle beneath it.
Something akin to dread pervaded the scene. The mountains appeared to be
knitting their brows into threatening frowns at our daring intrusion
into the solitudes. Nothing seemed native to the awful landscape but the
plunge of the torrent and the scream of the eagle. Below, at our left,
the dark Ausable dashed onward with hoarse, foreboding murmurs, in
harmony with the loneliness and wildness of the spot.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  VIEW OF THE THOUSAND ISLANDS IN ST. LAWRENCE RIVER.—The Thousand
    Islands is no misnomer, for they seem to be beyond number, scattered
    like myriads of emeralds, with deep water between, and yet so close
    together that they almost clasp hands across the dashing channel.
    Every islet is a dome of rocks, ground into symmetrical shape by
    glacial action long ago, then covered by a sediment from the river
    sufficient to support a profuse vegetation. Many wealthy persons
    have purchased possessions in these picturesque islands, upon which
    they have erected stately and imposing summer residences, some of
    them rivaling in splendor the ancient palaces of Venice.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: THE SUMMIT OF WHITE-FACE MOUNTAIN.]

From the top of Mount Marcy, overlooking Indian Pass, the view is
inspiring in its expansive and tumultuous grandeur. Towards the
southeast gleams the white crest of Boreas Mountain, and rising beyond
is the leaning tower-like peak of the Dial, which pays its obeisance to
Dix’s Peak, that from afar exhibits the form of a crouching lion.
“Thence stagger the wild, savage and splintered tops of Gothic Mountain,
at the Lower Ausable Pond, linking themselves on the east with the Noon-
Mark and Roger’s Mountains, that watch over Keene’s Valley. To the
northeast rise the Edmonds Pond Summits—the mountain-picture closed by
the sharp crest of Old White-Face, the stately outpost of the
Adirondacks.”

A trip through Ausable Chasm is one of unspeakable delight and
enrapturing surprises. Just above the point where the chasm begins there
is an old mill, once run by a wheel driven by a sluice connected with
the river, but steam has superseded this natural power and detracted
somewhat from the interest which would otherwise invest the place. The
dam is still there, however, and over its brink the water flows in
softest measures, to strike the rocky shelves below, where it boils and
brawls in confused dismemberment until joined again in an unbroken
stream. The banks rise rapidly, while the river draws deeper into its
bed, until presently making a leap at Giant Falls it plunges into a
great gorge whose walls have been eaten by the floods and ice of
centuries. But it is by a succession of falls and cataracts that the
stream reaches its greatest depression, which is known as the Grand
Flume. Elbow Falls scarcely deserve to be dignified by so large a title,
as they are rapids rather than falls; but for beauty they are almost
incomparable, and afford an opportunity for the painter’s brush as great
as may be found anywhere in the Adirondacks.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  AUSABLE RIVER, NEAR THE HEAD OF THE CHASM.—The old mill reproduced in
    this photograph was at first supplied with motive power by one of
    those old-fashioned, picturesque water-wheels, which, however, has
    given place to the more energetic and less artistic steam engine.
    The dam, originally built upon the rapids, is still there, however,
    and over its brink the water flows in softest measures, falling upon
    the rocky shelves below, where it boils and broils in confused
    dismemberment until joined again in an unruffled stream a few yards
    below. This point is just above where the royal chasm begins.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: KAATERSKILL FALLS, CATSKILL MOUNTAINS.]

[Illustration: AUSABLE CHASM, BELOW THE OVEN.]

A trip through Ausable Chasm is one of enrapturing pleasures and
unspeakable delights. Every step and turn brings some new and surprising
wonder into view. The banks rise rapidly until they tower into immense
cliffs, between whose crenellated jaws the rays of the sun can penetrate
only when it is near the meridian. The stream reaches its greatest
depression by a succession of cataracts and falls of the most admirable
and diversified character, embracing nearly every phase of the
picturesque and beautiful in this class of scenery.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  GRAND FLUME IN AUSABLE CHASM.—It is difficult to describe so grand and
    splendid a scene as this. The Grand Flume is the most admirable part
    of Ausable Chasm, the most picturesque section of this wonderful
    river, sublime in its grandeur, yet idyllic in its poetic and dreamy
    beauty. Here the Oreads might have sported while Diana pursued the
    untamed deer that have for ages made their favorite pastures in
    these mountain fastnesses and green valleys, where the grasses grow
    with ever-increasing luxuriousness each succeeding summer. Lovers of
    the grandly beautiful in nature can find no more desirable resort
    than Ausable Chasm.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: BOGG’S RIVER FALLS, ADIRONDACKS.]

The chasm rapidly deepens and narrows below Elbow Falls, and becomes a
wild gorge of intricate mightiness at a point called the Oven. The walls
are lifted so high above the stream, with their crenated fronts
exhibiting so many quaintly distorted and terribly jagged projections
that the effect is most bewildering, while in places they are opposed
with only a few feet between, giving to the passage the oppression of a
prison. Hell Gate is not inappropriately named, because it is in a way
begirt with difficulties that render boating dangerous. The river is
here greatly compressed, but the channel is not sufficiently deep to
hide the sharp-pointed rocks that split the stream and convert it into a
rapid, but by means of stairs this interrupted water-way may be passed,
and below are boats in which the pleasant passage may be continued
through Grand Flume. This is the loveliest part of the chasm, the most
picturesque section of this wonderful river, sublime in its grandeur,
yet idyllic in its poetic and dreamy beauty, where the Oreads might have
sported while Diana pursued the deer that have for ages made these
mountain fastnesses their favorite haunts, for

             “Here were her orchards, walled on every side,
             To lawless sylvans all access denied.”

From Ausable station, which may be reached by rail, a road leads
southward through Ausable Forks, by White-Face Mountain, and thence into
the very heart of the Adirondacks. This remarkable tract lies
principally between Lakes Champlain and George, and covers an area of
nearly 5,000 square miles, with one arm reaching northward to the St.
Lawrence and another southward as far as Saratoga. Within this district
there are said to be no less than 500 mountain peaks, several of which
are 5,000 feet high, measured above the sea level, and as many as 1,000
lakes. Owing to the ruggedness of the country, its dense forests,
numerous water-ways and prodigious chasms, the region was a
comparatively unexplored wilderness forty years ago, and until its vast
lumber interest attracted the attention of capitalists.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: MOUNT MORRIS, FROM TUPPER LAKE, ADIRONDACKS.]

[Illustration: BUTTERMILK FALLS, ADIRONDACKS.]

Those who visit the Adirondacks in search of the wildest beauties of
nature will not make the trip in vain. Within this district there are
said to be no less than 1000 lakes, and 500 mountain peaks, several of
which rise to the height of 5000 feet. It is the Switzerland of America,
in the same degree that America is greater and grander in all respects
than any of the countries of the Old World.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: ADIRONDACK LODGE AND CLEAR LAKE.]

Some of the loftiest peaks are Mounts Morris, Marcy, White-Face, Seward,
Pharoah, Dix and Snowy Mountain, and of the lakes there are Tupper,
Saranac, Long, Avalanche, Clear, Henderson, Raquette, Newcomb, Pleasant,
and many others scarcely less in size and famous for the game-fish that
swarm in their transparent waters. As a hunting-ground the Great North
Wilderness, as it is often called, is probably the best now to be found
anywhere in the United States, abounding as it does in deer, bear,
panther, wolf, wolverene, and immense numbers of smaller game, so that
whether lost or found, a man with a loaded gun need never go hungry in
the Adirondacks.

It is not surprising that a region noted for its mountains, lakes and
dense forests, should abound with features magnificently picturesque;
and those who visit the Adirondacks in search of the wildest beauties of
nature will not make the trip in vain. It is the Switzerland of America,
equaling the best scenery of that country, and exceeding it in some
respects, notably its intricate chain of lakes, its flaming chasms, and
the solitudes of its deep wildernesses, so tangled and intricate that
more than two-thirds remain yet to be explored. Night in these
fastnesses is inexpressibly doleful and at times fearful. The Black
Forest of Germany is not nearly so lonely, nor is the Brocken so ominous
with its colossal specter as the mountain summits of the Adirondacks,
clothed with evergreens and groves of birch, maple, beech, ash and
cedar, in which the bear, wolf and wild-cat have their lairs. In these
wild seclusions, the recesses of dark valleys and the dreary isolation
of soaring peaks, darkness is enthroned and veiled by shadows, amid
which savage animals and dusky night-birds hold their carnivals. The
catamount sets up a chilling wail that brings response from the deep-
voiced loon that keeps his lonely watch on a lake far below; then across
a stretch of deep wood falls the hooting echo of a solemn owl, whose
complainings excite condolement of whip-poor-will and katydid, and the
chorus thus begun is taken up and joined in by a thousand whimpering,
screeching, strident and wailing things that make the lonesome forest
their assembling place.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  WEST POINT FROM EAGLE’S NEST.—This view of West Point, as all who are
    familiar with the scene will readily perceive, is taken from the
    opposite side of the Hudson River. It is historic ground, close to
    the place where Arnold lived and plotted his treason; where
    Washington passed so often to and fro during the times that sorely
    tried men’s souls; and in the immediate vicinity of many other
    incidents that brighten the pages of our country’s history with the
    glory of their renown. West Point and the picturesque region around
    it must forever hold a high place in the esteem and love of the
    American people, both for their historic associations and artistic
    beauty.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: RAINBOW FALLS IN WINTER, ADIRONDACKS.]

But when the sun is above the mountains and setting the landscape aglow
with cheerful beams, these same fastnesses are a realm of romantic
delight, for every peak is reflected in some lovely lake, while
waterfalls appear to be pouring out of the sky and go chasing down the
verdant slopes playing high-spy among the coverts and making the woods
musical with their laughter. Near Ausable Ponds, guarded by Mount Marcy,
are the beautiful Rainbow Falls, a very flood of opals, so iridescent
does it appear when its waters catch the sunbeams. And near Tupper Lake
are the Bogg’s River Falls, or cascades, that make the surrounding
forest resound with their roaring, for they discharge an immense flood
over a rock-infested course, and swell into a river a mile below.

Near the western margin of the Adirondacks is Long Lake, narrow as a
river and many miles in length, but so still and crystalline that the
lordly lake-trout may be seen sporting in its deepest water, as if
challenging an angler. Its outlet is by way of a stream that flows by
Owl’s Head and into Forked Lake. Between these points is Buttermilk
Falls, stately and impetuous, but symmetrical and rhythmic, as it
courses over gentle terraces and drops, step by step, into the rapids
which crowd from shore to shore and keep the stream in a state of
constant agitation.

Northeast of Buttermilk Falls is Adirondack station, on Henderson Lake,
which is the central point of this whole mountain region, and a place
where tourists are usually found in large numbers. Near the north end of
the lake is Wall-Face Mountain, commanding an extensive view, and midway
is Indian Pass, which is a tremendous chasm through what is known as the
Dismal Wilderness. Notwithstanding the large number of visitors who
annually summer in the vicinity, so dense is the forest and jungle-
growth that surrounds the Pass, and so inaccessible the deepest portions
of the gorge, that very few explorers have succeeded in making their way
through it, and no one is sufficiently familiar with the region to act
as a competent guide. It has been ascertained, however, that within the
Pass, which is intersected by several streams, are springs which are the
source of Ausable River, which, emptying into Champlain, finds an outlet
into the Atlantic by way of the St. Lawrence, and also of the Hudson,
whose drainage is in the opposite direction; and yet so close are these
springs that it is possible to drink from each without shifting one’s
position. In this vicinity is Gill Brook, which is picturesquely broken
by Surprise Falls, composed of a succession of sharp leaps over
limestone ledges, but so narrow that the forest trees form a perfect
canopy above, excluding a sight of both river and falls until the
visitor approaches within a few feet of the stream. But the entire
region so abounds with lakes, mountains, gorges, waterfalls and
cataracts that to describe all its attractions would be wearisome
iteration, for there is an unavoidable sameness in the pen-pictures of
scenery, however variable in character.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  THE HUDSON NARROWS, NEAR PEEKSKILL.—In the whole world we do not
    believe there is another river which shows such a diversity of
    splendid scenery as the Hudson. There is hardly a point or bend in
    the river that does not present a view worthy of an artist’s
    enthusiasm. Commencing high up near its source in the Adirondack
    Mountains, where it is broken into many beautiful rapids and
    waterfalls, and continuing on down past Troy, Albany, the Catskills,
    famous in legend, poem and story, to the celebrated Highlands, there
    is a constant succession of splendid and ever-varying scenery,
    unsurpassed by any other water-course in the world.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: SURPRISE FALLS AND GILL BROOK, IN THE ADIRONDACKS.]

[Illustration: BRIDGE OVER GLEN’S FALLS, NEW YORK.]

Having made a tour of the Adirondacks, and taken many photographs of the
superb scenery which distinguishes it, we took train at Saranac Lake
station, the southern terminus of the Chateaugay Railroad, and returned
to Plattsburgh. From that point we proceeded south by the Delaware and
Hudson Railroad, along the west shore of Champlain, by Ticonderoga, and
thence to Glen’s Falls, to obtain a picture of the Hudson where it pours
over rocky ledges in great volume and is converted into a terrible
cataract that is worth many miles of travel to see. Our way was then
continued southward to Albany, and thence into the Catskills, which
begin about one hundred miles south of the Adirondacks. These mountains
are unlike any others in America, in that while every other range
possesses peaks with jagged points, generally of stones tumbled in
confusion, the Catskills have gracefully rounded summits, which, though
sometimes rising to a height of four thousand feet, yet exhibit few
effects of aberrant forces; nor are they covered with huge rocks, such
as characterize all other ranges. The scenery, therefore, while grand,
is very tame as compared with the Adirondacks, and but for the fine
drive-ways through the valleys and over their crowns, would be
monotonous. But this sameness is occasionally diversified, and the
visitor is led on to expect more beauties than he really finds. The one
attractive and justly famous feature of this mountain region is
Kaaterskill Falls. These are reached by the Catskill Mountain Railroad
from Catskill, on the Hudson, stopping at Mountain House station, from
which eminence, 2,250 feet above the river, an extensive view may be
had, taking in Albany, the Hudson Highlands, Berkshire Hills and the
Green Mountains. It is even said that by means of a good glass on a
clear day portions of Massachusetts, Connecticut and New Jersey may be
descried, but during our visit the atmospheric conditions were
unfavorable. Two miles from the Mountain House, and reached by a
beautiful road, are the celebrated Kaaterskill Falls, at the head of
which is located the Laurel House, from which a fine view of Round Top
and High Peak may be had, as well as of the falls themselves. But the
best sight is obtained by descending a spiral stairway into the gorge
below and looking upward. The falls are formed by the overflow of North
and South Lake, which pours through a double cleft and descends in two
cascades, the first having a drop of 180 feet, and the second eighty
feet; but a short distance below there is another fall, known as the
Bastion, which has a further descent of forty feet. Beautiful as they
are, candor compels the statement, however disparaging it may appear,
that the falls are remittent, and that people may visit them without
seeing any such display of waters as we have described. The supply being
limited, a dam has been constructed across the verge of the cliff, and
is opened only on special and rare occasions, when the number of
incredulous summer visitors is great enough to make it necessary to turn
on the water, to show that the falls are still active. There is some
very pretty scenery in the region of Kaaterskill Clove, notably Hains’
Falls, Fawn-Leap Falls and High Rocks, but a fee is charged at every
point of interest, and the visitor is so harrowed by the showmen of
nature that he is in no disposition to appreciate the view which he pays
to see, and is almost certain to leave the Catskills with a bad
impression—even worse than the mountains deserve. It was with such
feelings that we set out by rail for Kingston, and there took boat down
the Hudson River for New York, but stopped for a while at West Point en
route.

[Illustration: LOOKING NORTH FROM WEST POINT, NEW YORK.]

The scenery about West Point is of almost matchless grandeur, and every
consideration is present to confirm the wisdom of the Congress of 1812
in establishing a military training-school at this point. The fort on
the river-shore is in a position to command the approaches north and
south, while at the foot of the highlands is a level stretch, as though
prepared by nature for a Champ des Mars, or parade-ground. The hills
rise abruptly from the rear of the training-plaza, and from their
summits an inspiring view is to be had. Sweeping the horizon, we clearly
discern the Break-Neck, Crow’s Nest, and Storm King Mountains, with blue
valleys stretching away between, and the majestic Hudson washing the
feet of these and many other noble hills. The academy, besides being
scenically and advantageously situated, is in a very realm of romance,
around which cluster many memories of the greatest writers of fiction
that our country has the honor of claiming. It was the Crow’s Nest that
gave the inspiration to Joseph Rodman Drake for his exquisite poem
entitled the “Culprit Fay,” so charmingly realistic that the fairies of
his verse still exist in fancy, just as the mountain spirits who tricked
Rip Van Winkle still haunt the deep forests of the Catskills and play at
nine-pins on the peak that overlooks the faded village of Falling Water.
Near Cold Spring, which is in this same historic land, was “Undercliff,”
the home of George P. Morris, and where he wrote that patriotic and
moving tribute to a sheltering tree, the figure of our American Union,
“Woodman, Spare that Tree.” So was “Idlewild,” the villa of N. P.
Willis, close-by, and hereabout also Washington Irving spent much of his
time gathering traditions from descendants of the old Dutch colonists
for his imperishable “Sketch Book” tales. But history as indelibly fixes
West Point in the minds of Americans as the stories of famous fiction-
writers, for the site of the training-school was, in Revolutionary
times, occupied by Fort Putnam, erected under the direction of
Kosciuszko; and it was at West Point that Benedict Arnold consummated
his traitorous deal with Major Andre, to deliver that post into the
hands of the British. On the opposite shore is the mouth of a pretty
stream called the Mooda, but which in earlier times was known as
Murderer’s Creek, on account of the slaughter by a band of lurking
savages of eight soldiers who were sent with buckets to fetch water for
the camp near-by. A little way below is Milton’s Ferry, a spot famous as
the place of residence of a patriot blacksmith who made the great chain
that stretched across the river at old Fort Montgomery, to prevent the
passage of British ships. For this service he was taken captive shortly
after and kept in close confinement on an English ship until his death.
Newburgh is also only a few miles away, smiling benignly from terraced
banks upon the river below; and conspicuous among its old houses is one
in which Washington had his headquarters in 1780, and which is changed
but little in appearance since he occupied it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  BREAK-NECK HILL, ON THE HUDSON RIVER, NEW YORK.—Break-Neck Hill is on
    the east side of the Hudson, north of West Point, and is a
    continuation of the Highlands. It is 1220 feet high, and one of the
    most commanding features of the splendid scenery of this region. Its
    rock-ribbed and serrated sides present a scene of imposing grandeur
    as they are observed from the decks of passing steamers; and in the
    summer season, when the sloping sides, from the water’s edge to the
    summit, are clothed in emerald green, with the gray rocks peeping
    out here and there, disclosing shaded nooks and sylvan glades where
    the birds sing and the squirrels play and frolic, the scene is
    inspiring enough to arouse the enthusiasm of a stoic.
]

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[Illustration: TROPHY GARDEN, WEST POINT.]

It is below West Point that the principal places of scenic and historic
interest occur, and these crowd rapidly upon one another until Yonkers
is reached. At the base of Sugar-Loaf Mountain is a bluffy projection
upon which Fort Independence, of Revolutionary times, was built, and
near-by is Buttermilk Falls, that runs down a succession of sharp ledges
one hundred feet. Anthony’s Nose is on the right, rising to a height of
nine hundred feet, and overlooking beautiful Ionia Island, that seems to
swim upon the glassy surface of the river, like the halcyon isle of
fable; but on close approach its three hundred acres are found to be
covered with vineyards and its shaded margins the favorite gathering-
place of merry picnickers.

The Highlands come next in view, of which Dunderberg Mountain, eleven
hundred feet high, is the most prominent object; and then appears
Peekskill, the prettiest town in eastern New York. Near this place is
Caldwell’s Landing, distinguished as being the immediate vicinity of
Captain Kidd’s buried treasure, which hundreds have searched for with
great energy and at immense expense, but without reward. Remains of
Revolutionary forts are seen at Verplanck and Stony Point, and below
these the Croton River discharges into the Hudson. Sing Sing and Nyack
are passed in order, between which the shores are occupied with charming
villas, and the landscape here is very picturesque. But it is at
Tarrytown that visitors find most to interest them, both for the scenic
beauty of the neighborhood and the historic prominence which attaches to
the place. Here it was that Major Andre was arrested, the identical spot
being marked by an inscription in the village records. The spirit of
Washington Irving seems to pervade the locality, for it was in this
vicinage that the creatures of his exquisite fancy held their lively
revels. Sleepy Hollow is near-by, and the old bridge over which Ichabod
Crane so furiously rode in his flight from a headless specter is still
shown to visitors as a proof of that legendary race. The Christ Church
which Irving attended in Tarrytown has not been suffered to lapse into
decay, and the cemetery adjoining the old Dutch church, in which his
remains find rest, shows the reverend respect with which his memory is
treasured by the villagers, for it is well tended.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  STORM-KING MOUNTAIN, HUDSON RIVER.—Storm-King is above West Point and
    on the same side of the river. It soars to a height of 1529 feet,
    commanding from its lofty summit a magnificent view of what is
    perhaps the finest scenic region of the world. At its feet reposes
    the lovely vale of Tempe, a modest stretch of green meadow-land
    covered with gardens and rustic homes, where the weary merchant and
    the harassed broker may find relief from the turmoil and the busy
    rush of city life. Since our photograph was taken an immense
    cantilever bridge has been thrown across the river at this point,
    which, while it is a splendid and beautiful example of modern
    engineering, is nevertheless an impediment to the artistic features
    of the scenery.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: LONG GALLERY, AUSABLE CHASM.]

“Wolfert’s Roost,” or Sunnyside, Irving’s villa, is a few miles below,
just within the edge of Irvington, on the river, but it is hidden from
view by the ivy that clambers in profusion over its walls, and the dense
shrubbery that has been allowed to occupy all the ground in the front-
yard.

The old town of Tappan is a short distance from Sunnyside, and is
memorable as being Washington’s headquarters and likewise as the place
of Major Andre’s imprisonment and execution. A monument erected by Cyrus
Field marks the spot where the gallows stood on which that English
officer perished. The Palisades next come into view, and on the west
side is Locust Hill, which was the place where the American encampment
was established in 1781, along the eminences of the Palisades which gave
a commanding position to the troops guarding against invasion of the
British up the river. Yonkers, Spuyten Duyvil, and Mount St. Vincent are
next passed, and the city of New York then looms up, with its wharves
lined with vessels, whose numerous masts make the shores look from a
distance like a forest of pines denuded of their branches. Here we
tarried to await the coming of our two photographers.

In the meantime, however, there were no idle moments, for the work of
developing the photographs which we had taken was now prosecuted with
great energy, and the finished pictures were sent on as fast as made to
our photo-engravers for reproduction. Fortunately, too, we had so
accurately timed the work which each had undertaken that there was only
a few days’ detention in New York; little more, in fact, than was
necessary to complete arrangements for our tour of the South, now to be
described.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: WINTER IN FLORIDA.]

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                              CHAPTER XI.
                A PICTORIAL TOUR OF THE EASTERN STATES.


[Illustration: WINOOSKI RIVER GORGE, VERMONT.]

As explained in the preceding chapter, one of our photographers was
despatched into Canada from Ogdensburg, and instructed to take views of
the most pleasing scenery of the Dominion, after which to make a tour of
the Eastern States and join the others at New York upon the completion
of his labors in that section. While Canada is not a part of the United
States, its contiguous scenery, some of which is very beautiful, and the
intimate relations subsisting between the two countries justify this
brief departure from our original design, particularly as the most
direct route from the West to Northern New Hampshire and Vermont, is
through the southern part of Canada, where the most interesting and
accessible scenery is found. Crossing the St. Lawrence at Ogdensburg to
Prescott, our artist proceeded to Ottawa, fifty-four miles distant, by
the Canadian Pacific Railroad, for the purpose of taking views of
Chaudiere Falls, which are famous alike for their size and grandeur. The
city of Ottawa extends for a distance of two miles along Ottawa River,
and is one of the most picturesque sites in Ontario, located as it is on
the banks of a beautiful stream, and in the center of a region that is
famous for its charming scenery. The Rideau River debouches into the
Ottawa at Chaudiere (Caldron) Falls, and its bluffy shores, 160 feet
high, are ornate with splendid buildings. The Rideau Canal, which skirts
the east side of Parliament Hill, separates the higher from the lower
town, and south of this point is the vast lumber interests, manifested
by the large number of saw-mills operated principally by power derived
from the falls. But it is about Chaudiere Falls that chief attraction
clusters, particularly of visitors, for a more entrancing sight can
hardly be found in any part of North America. Ottawa River is a stream
of considerable magnitude, both in width and depth, but at the point
where the falls appear it is contracted to a width of 200 feet and then
plunges over a precipice forty feet high, at the mouth of Rideau River.
But the verge of the ledge is so ragged and curved that the stream is
broken, and pours down in a swirling motion, which forms a very
charybdis below, into which it is dangerous for crafts to enter. The
volume discharged is almost as great as that of Niagara, and the power
displayed is wonderful to behold. Beautiful, grand and amazing as they
are in summer, it is during winter that the sublime magnificence of the
falls is impressed upon the visitor. Several views, from different
points of observation, were taken by our photographer, but these were
rejected to give place to the winter scene here presented, since it
affords a more perfect idea of the falls in their glory, when the Ice
King has frozen them into a vision of superlative splendor.

Three hundred miles northeast of Ottawa, Montreal River, a small but
noisy stream that is the outlet of a chain of lakes far up in the
British possessions, flows into the Ottawa River, and twenty miles above
its mouth are Montreal Rapids, a picture of which was obtained from a
local photographer at Ottawa, and is here reproduced as affording an
idea of the scenery in that great northern and almost unexplored region.

[Illustration: TOBOGGAN SLIDE AT MONTREAL.]

From Ottawa the trip was continued by boat one hundred miles to
Montreal. This route affords a view of Lake St. Louis, Nun’s Island, and
Lachine Rapids, the most dangerous part of St. Lawrence River, yet it is
every day traversed by pleasure steamers, of which a traveler has thus
graphically written: “In the descent of these rapids we are wrought to a
feverish degree of excitement, exceeding that produced in the passage of
the Long Sault. It is an intense sensation, and though perfectly safe,
is terrible to the faint-hearted, exhilarating to the brave. Opposite
Lachine is the quaint Indian village of Caughnawago, where still reside
descendants of the once-powerful Iroquois Nation. The immense steel
bridge spanning the St. Lawrence at this point is justly considered one
of the engineering triumphs of the century. It was built by the Canadian
Pacific Railway, is about a mile long, with two channel spans of 408
feet, and lofty enough to allow free passage to the largest steamers.
From this bridge a fine view is obtained of the rapids, villages on
either shore, loftiest structures in Montreal, and the distant
mountains.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  CHAUDIERE FALLS, NEAR OTTAWA, CANADA, IN WINTER.—These celebrated
    falls are at the junction of the Rideau and Ottawa Rivers, in the
    immediate vicinity of the city of Ottawa. The volume of water as it
    thunders over swirling precipice is almost as great as that of
    Niagara, and the power displayed is wonderful to behold. Beautiful,
    grand and amazing as these falls are in summer, it is during the
    winter that their sublimest magnificence is impressed upon the
    visitor, when the Ice King has frozen them into a vision of
    ravishing splendor.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: MONTMORENCI FALLS, NEAR QUEBEC.]

Montreal is the metropolis of Canada, having a population of about
220,000, and being at the head of ship navigation, has improved its
advantages and become the chief commercial port of the Dominion. The
name is derived from Mount Royal, which rises 700 feet above the river,
the eminence which Jacques Cartier ascended in 1535, and looked with
startled eyes upon the palisaded Indian town of Hochelaga, surrounded by
vast fields of grain, at the west base of the mountain. Sixty years
later, when Samuel de Champlain made his way up the St. Lawrence and
climbed to the summit of Mount Royal, he looked in vain for the town
which Cartier had discovered and described. Only two of the native
Indians of Hochelaga were found, from whom was learned the tragic
history of the place, the inhabitants of which had been exterminated and
the town destroyed by a rival tribe.

Montreal is situated on an island of the same name, and the eminences
about it were so important as vantage-places that during the French and
Indian wars (in 1665), the mount was fortified by the French, and in
1722 a citadel was erected on a height now laid out as Dalhousie Square.
In its early history, therefore, the city was the scene of many
incidents of Indian warfare, and was on disputed ground until the
surrender of Quebec, in 1759, when the English gained permanent
possession of the place.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  REPRESENTATIONS OF WINTER CARNIVAL SCENES AT MONTREAL.—Winter is the
    carnival season at Montreal, and for some years the city has been
    specially distinguished by the brilliant fêtes which her leading
    citizens have provided, notably that of 1888. On this occasion there
    were many scenes of extraordinary splendor, exceeding, in the
    magnificent sights afforded, the carnivals that take place on the
    frozen waters of the Neva River, before the Russian capital of St.
    Petersburg, famous alike in song and story. The great ice palace was
    a most exquisite imitation of mediæval architecture, rivaling in its
    imposing and charming appearance the finest castles of the Old
    World.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: ST. ANNE FALLS, NEAR QUEBEC.]

The scenery in the neighborhood of Montreal is pleasant, but not
particularly attractive; yet the severity of the weather and the long
reaches of graceful hills thereabout afford opportunity for the most
enjoyable winter sports. Tobogganing is a favorite pastime in season,
and the most charming scenes imaginable may be witnessed by a visit to
the west side slide when a heavy snow has prepared the ground for the
host of red-cheeked merry-makers, who flock there by thousands with
their toboggans, and fly down the hill in long lines of variegated
color. Winter is the carnival season, and for some years Montreal has
been specially distinguished by the brilliant fetes which her leading
citizens have provided notably that of 1888. On this occasion the city
was a scene of extraordinary splendor, exceeding, in the magnificent
sights afforded, the carnivals that take place on the frozen waters of
the Neva River, before the Russian capital of St. Petersburg, famous
alike in song and story. The great ice-palace, of which an illustration
is here given, was a most exquisite imitation of mediæval architecture,
rivaling in its imposing and charming appearance the finest castles of
the old world. When illuminated by thousands of lights, the palace
presented a scene which must ever remain fadeless in the memory of those
who witnessed it. But to increase the beautiful effect, the city’s
population turned out in the gayest of winter attire, filling the
spacious ball-room of the palace with a marvelous display of color in
graceful evolution, while outside the gay revelers sported as jolly
maskers and filled the air with songs of glee. A similar carnival was
held at St. Paul in 1889, and an ice-palace of equal proportions was
constructed in honor of the Frost King, with grand illuminations and
display of fire-works at night, as illustrated in a previous chapter,
but no fete ever given on the western continent is believed to have been
so magnificent as that of Montreal in 1888.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  SCENERY ALONG THE LINE OF THE CANADIAN PACIFIC RAILWAY.—The finest
    scenery along the line of this railway is to be found in the distant
    Northwest, where it passes over the Rocky Mountain range; but in
    many other places there are views both splendid and imposing. The
    lakes and the mountains photographed in this page belong to the
    Rocky Mountain region, and they are part of a series of views that
    would do credit to the most famous scenic regions of the world. They
    are in the midst of perpetual snow and vast glaciers, where all the
    wonders of the Swiss Alps are reproduced on a gigantic scale.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: WINOOSKI FALLS, VERMONT.]

From Montreal the journey was continued over the Canadian Pacific
Railroad to Quebec, distant one hundred and thirty-five miles, and along
the north shore of the St. Lawrence, in sight of that river most of the
way, so that the view is a very attractive one. Quebec, the third
largest city in the Dominion of Canada, with a population of 70,000, has
much to recommend it, both commercially and scenically, for it is the
center of vast lumber and mining interests, the head of navigation for
the largest steamers of the line, and is advantageously located on a
headland commanding the St. Lawrence. A large part of the city lies
under what is known as Cape Diamond Promontory, upon the summit, of
which, 350 feet above the river, is the Citadel, a fortification so
nearly impregnable that Quebec has been called the American Gibraltar, a
designation more deserved because of the many attacks which its
garrisons have repulsed. The Plains of Abraham are southwest of the
suburb of St. Louis, and from that eminence a wide and truly magnificent
view is obtained, extending to the Green Mountains on the south and the
Laurentian Range on the north, with glimpses of numerous rivers and
lakes between.

The entire province of Quebec is remarkably well watered and timbered,
with sections of forests so dense that much of it still remains to be
explored. Eight miles from the city are the famous Montmorenci Falls,
which have a leap over natural steps of 250 feet and pour down an
immense volume, whose roaring may be heard on calm days for a distance
of many miles. Near the falls is a hotel called the Haldimand House,
which was once the residence of Queen Victoria’s father, the Duke of
Kent. Sixty miles north, and reached by the Quebec and Lake St. John
Railroad, is Lake St. John, a large and pellucid body of water whose
outlet is the Saguenay River, and one of the most wonderful streams on
earth. Bayard Taylor says of it: “It is not properly a river, but a
tremendous chasm, like that of the Jordan Valley and the Dead Sea, cleft
for sixty miles through the heart of a mountainous wilderness.
Everything about it is hard, naked, stern, silent. Dark-grey cliffs of
granite gneiss rise from the pitch-black water; firs of gloomy green are
rooted in their crevices and fringe their summits; loftier ranges of a
dull indigo hue show themselves in the background, and over all bends a
pale, cold, northern sky.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  A SYLVAN STREAM IN VERMONT.—Vermont is rich in scenery as well as
    historic and classic associations. The Green Mountains, extending
    through the entire State from north to south, with their many spurs
    and outlying peaks, and the numerous lakes and small streams in the
    intervening valleys, afford a variety of scenery of the most
    pleasing and picturesque character. There is a wealth of splendid
    views along the Winooski River, whose source is in the spurs of the
    Green Mountains, whence it flows northwestwardly, cleaving the range
    near its junction with the Waterbury River, and then speeds through
    a wild gorge until it empties into Lake Champlain a few miles
    distant.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: PEACOCK FALLS, GREEN MOUNTAINS.]

The Saguenay is sometimes called the River of Death, on account of its
sombre waters and the deep gorge through which it sluggishly moves. Its
depth is also remarkable, ranging from 100 to 1000 feet, and along its
course are several pretty falls, where the stream suddenly contracts,
and rapids where it expands and the occasional shoals appear. The
country about Quebec is pleasingly diversified, and abounding with
forests and lakes is a very paradise for hunters and fishers, as well as
affording views worthy of the artist’s best efforts. Some ten miles
above the city, and forming an outlet for Lake Megantic, on the south
side of the St. Lawrence, is Chaudiere, or Boiling River, an impetuous,
but noble stream, whose erratic course is interrupted by Chaudiere
Falls, where the river takes a plunge over a precipice 125 feet high and
350 feet wide. Having expended its vigor in this violent exercise, the
river flows on thenceforth in a subdued and gentle manner, in remarkable
contrast with the character which it displays above the falls.

Other famous falls in the vicinity of Quebec are those of the Scuzzie,
near North Bend, and St. Anne Falls, on the north shore of the St.
Lawrence, twenty miles below the city, where the river St. Anne, a small
confluent of that stream, breaks over a brink one hundred feet high, and
pours through crevices worn in the Laurentian rocks in a succession of
cascades of great beauty. While the scenery of Southern Canada is very
charming, it is the boundary outposts of very much more magnificent
landscapes towards the south, and it was towards the mountainous
districts of Vermont and New Hampshire that our artist bent his way
after concluding a tour of the vicinity of Quebec. The journey was,
therefore, by way of the Grand Trunk and Vermont Central Railroad into
the heart of Green Mountains. This route took our photographer by the
Enosburgh Falls, St. Albans and Essex Junction, from which latter place
a detour was made down the famous Winooski River to embalm some of the
remarkable scenery along that stream. Its source is in the spurs of
Green Mountains, whence it flows northwestwardly, cleaving the range
near its junction with Waterbury River, and then speeds through a chasm
until it empties into Lake Champlain. This wild gorge is particularly
wonderful some four or five miles from the lake, the walls rising at
places fully one hundred feet and exhibiting the same cleavage and
jagged precipices that distinguish Ausable Chasm, on the opposite side
of the lake. At the town of Winooski, the river flows over a dam two
hundred feet wide and twenty-five feet high, but before the dam was
constructed, to afford power for several mills, the river here was a
long stretch of cascades and cataracts, a condition which is still
continued below the falls and to its place of outlet. From Essex
Junction the Vermont Central follows the Winooski to Montpelier, passing
the beautiful town of Waterbury, which is the pass of Green Mountains
and the center of some of the finest scenery in the State. From
Waterbury it is only ten miles by stage to Mount Mansfield, which is the
loftiest peak in the range (4,389 feet), and from the summit of which a
splendid view is had of lovely valleys, gushing streams and battalions
of graceful mountains. In this same vicinity, checkered by many mountain
streams, are Peacock Falls, Bingham Falls, Moss-Glen Falls, Morrisville
Falls, and others of lesser note but equal beauty. At the base of
Mansfield Peak is a stage station, called Stowe, from which the crown of
the mountain is plainly observable, exhibiting the distinct features of
a giant, whose forehead, nose and chin are formed by two rents in the
summit, making the proportions, as well as the outlines, so perfect that
visitors are quick to discover the likeness even before a guide calls
attention to it. Camel’s Hump is another mountain, five miles from
Waterbury, the second highest in the range (4,000 feet), but its surface
is so broken that no wagon-road has as yet been made to the summit, but
a horse may be ridden to the top, and the ascent, accomplished at
whatever expense of effort, is well repaid by the magnitude and
magnificence of the scenery thus brought into view. Balton Falls are
within five miles of the Hump, and are a shrine of beauty to which
hundreds of summer visitors pay the tribute of admiration.

[Illustration: CLARENDON GORGE, VERMONT.]

[Illustration: WINOOSKI RIVER, NEAR MIDDLESEX, VERMONT.]

From Montpelier the Vermont Central turns south, following a tributary
of the Winooski to Roxbury, thence it strikes the valley of White River,
down which it continues to the Connecticut River; but this latter region
is more subdued than the section just described. The scenery, while not
so grand and mountainous, possesses a beauty to excite the fancy of a
poet and day-dreamer, for the views are of gentle meandering streams
roaming through woods where fairies might love to dwell, singing their
lonesome lullabies to the deep coverts that bend low along the shores.
Dainty waterfalls, murmuring rapids, sylvan shades, distinguish the way
of many brooks that roll out of mountain springs and run down to the
sea, giving drink to the farmers’ herds, trundling old water-mills, and
doing many kind offices on the way.

Another branch of the Vermont Central runs due south from Essex Junction
and Burlington, on the shore of Lake Champlain, and passes through many
thriving villages, such as New Haven, Middlebury, Brandon and Rutland.
At this latter point, which is on a considerable stream called Otter
Creek, some very charming scenery occurs, not entirely confined to the
creek, which, however, is a stream almost as remarkable as the Winooski.
At a place called Clarendon Gorge the creek flows through a chasm some
thirty feet deep and so narrow that when the foliage of the banks is
heaviest the stream is almost entirely hidden by the overlacing branches
of opposite trees. Here the stream makes a sharp turn, and in doing so
has cut deeply into the rock-shore against which it strikes, and formed
a deep pool in which fish fairly swarm, and hence at all seasons the
angler here may find the choicest sport. The Green Mountain Range is
within five miles of Rutland, and several outlying peaks are much
nearer, such as Paco, Killington, Shrewsbury and Bald Peaks, which are
of sufficient altitude to give the summit-observer a good view of Lake
George and the Adirondacks. The road continues southwest from Rutland
through a pass in the Green Mountains at Healdville and joins the more
eastern section at Bellows Falls, on the Connecticut River.

[Illustration: A RURAL SCENE IN VERMONT.]

At Montpelier our photographer proceeded due east over the Montpelier
and Wells River Railroad to Woodsville, a route which follows a third
confluent of the Winooski for some miles to Marshfield station, where it
makes an elbow-turn southwest by Peabody’s Lake, and thence keeps close
to the bank of Wells River, a small stream that discharges into the
Connecticut at Woodsville. The region thus traversed is somewhat broken,
but is highly cultivated; and the farm scenes along the way are
particularly charming. Agriculture in the Eastern States exhibits a
striking contrast with that in the West, and in Vermont and New
Hampshire the dissimilarity of method and the size of farm is especially
great. The soil down east, in the sections named, has to be reclaimed,
not from the forests so much as from the rocks, for it is essentially a
rocky country. The fences are usually made of stumps and stones,
material which is plentifully at hand, so that the barb-wire trust has
no grip upon New England agriculturists. The farms, too, are what
Westerners would call “small acre-patches,” but they are so
industriously and intelligently tilled that every foot of ground is made
to yield its full capacity. Frugal, yet hospitable—poor, maybe, yet
refined—the down-east farmer is a hard worker, a lover of books,
patient, contented, and, withal, a generous man, philosophic and
industrious enough to extract happiness out of harsh natural conditions.

[Illustration: FALLS OF THE AMMOONOOSUC, IN THE WHITE MOUNTAINS.]

Woodsville is at the junction of the Ammoonoosuc with the Connecticut
River, along the valley of which former stream the railroad runs until
it strikes the White Mountains, into which region of world-famous
scenery our artist journeyed. A branch of the road extends south to a
terminus at Profile House, which is at the base of Profile Mountain, in
the Franconia Range. This peak, which is 4,000 feet above the sea,
possesses two remarkable features that have served to make it known
throughout the world. At the crown there are several colossal stones, so
distributed by chance that when viewed from Profile Mountain House they
resemble a mounted cannon, on which account the peak is often called
Mount Cannon. But a greater natural curiosity occurs to visitors after
1,200 feet of the ascent is made, for suddenly there appears the bold
and exceedingly well-defined features of “The Old Man of the Mountains,”
formed by three masses of rock so disposed that its ninety feet of face
exhibits the clean-cut characteristics of forehead, nose, lips and chin
perfectly outlined against the sky. A few feet below the point of
observation, where the old man’s face is exposed, the stone giant
changes his features like a magician and becomes “a toothless old woman
in a mop-cap.” Hawthorne has used this wonderful image to excellent
effect in his “Twice-Told Tales,” in which the Great Stone Face is made
the subject of a weird theme. Still nearer the base of the mountain is
an exquisite lakelet known as the “Old Man’s Wash-bowl,” just large
enough for the purpose, but full of fish, and from the shore of which a
splendid view of Eagle Cliff may be had. In the immediate neighborhood
is the lofty peak of Mount Lafayette, 5,269 feet above the sea, from
whose wind-swept head a landscape of marvelous diversity and beauty may
be surveyed, including miles of the Green Mountain Range and the entire
aggregation of White Mountain peaks.

[Illustration: THE FLUME, NEAR PROFILE HOUSE, FRANCONIA MOUNTAINS.]

Less than one mile from Profile House, and reached by a perfect
carriage-road, is Franconia’s chiefest marvel, known as the Flume. Six
hundred feet of cascades go churning their way through a fissure whose
vertical walls are sixty feet high and less than twenty feet apart. In
this chasm is the Flume, along the narrow confines of which a plank-walk
has been built to permit visitors to observe more closely the wonders
that nature has planted along this mountain brook. One mile south are
the Georgianna Falls, the largest yet discovered in the mountainous
districts of the State, plunging in successive leaps over two
precipices, each eighty feet in height, and scattering their spray into
vapor that keeps the vicinity drenched. Other mountain or detached peaks
near-by are Lincoln, Liberty, Flume, and Big Coolidge; while further
towards the east, yet in sight, are North, and South, Twin, Lowell,
Carrigan and Huntington, from any of which magnificent views are
obtainable.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  ELEPHANT’S HEAD AND MOUNT WEBSTER, NEAR CRAWFORD, NEW HAMPSHIRE.—
    Standing on the piazza of the hotel at Crawford’s Notch one observes
    a splendid view of that celebrated natural wonder, Elephant’s Head.
    The enormous head and trunk seem to be just emerging from the deep
    woods near the entrance to the pass, and the gray of the granite
    slope serves to heighten the illusion. The resemblance is so perfect
    and striking that even a stranger who had never heard of this marvel
    would need no introduction to be made fully aware of the fact that
    he was in the presence of the colossal counterpart of the great
    beast.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: CRAWFORD HOUSE NOTCH, NEW HAMPSHIRE.]

Turning back north from Profile House, our artist proceeded west from
Bethlehem Junction over the Maine Central Railway, and after a short
ride reached Fabyan’s, where the scenery of the White Mountains broke
upon his enraptured vision in all its glory. Two miles below is
Crawford’s Notch, the natural pass into the range, and here the visitor
has his surprise as well as admiration quickened by a sight of the
“Elephant’s Head.” Standing on the piazza of a hotel at Crawford’s, the
enormous head and trunk seem to be just emerging from the deep woods
near the entrance to the pass, and the gray of the granite slope serves
to strengthen the illusion. From the Elephant’s Head Hotel there is a
particularly fine view of the Notch, a gigantic cleft through which the
Titans may have forced a way, but which is now utilized by the railroad.
It is from this point that excursions to the summit of Mount Washington,
by way of the bridle-path opened by Thos. J. Crawford in 1840, are made.
A great majority of persons prefer the easier ascent by means of the
cog-wheel railroad, which was completed in 1869, and requires one and
one-half hours to make the trip, the fare being $6.00. The summit of
Mount Washington is 6,293 feet above sea level; and as the rail distance
is three miles, the grade is very great, in one place being a rise of
one foot in three, or 33 per cent. To secure perfect safety the track is
composed of three rails bolted to a trestle of heavy timbers, the center
rail being an immense wrought-iron ladder, with rounds four inches
apart, into which the cogs of the locomotive drive-wheels fit, and thus
drag the train up the steep, as well as control it in making the
descent, though automatic air-brakes are used in emergencies. But though
the rail route, in swinging seats, is more comfortable and expeditious,
if time be any consideration, the carriage-road is almost as popular
with travelers, who, as a rule, are willing to make sacrifices, if by so
doing they obtain the recompense of grander sights. As our artist had
made the ascent of Pike’s Peak by car, he concluded to take in the
larger experience of gaining the summit of Mount Washington by stage,
that he might be better able to report the contrast. Though the distance
by rail is only three miles, by wagon-road it is ten, so winding is the
way, and to add to the distress of the latter journey, the first four
miles is toilsome without revealing any scenery worth the effort of a
glance. But above the four-mile point the dreary, tame and desolate
aspect is succeeded by a landscape that cannot be excelled for
magnificence. It is here that the creaking stage emerges from the woods
that hides the prospect and moves out upon the bare crags, and the Ledge
House, or Half-Way Station, is reached, where a stop is made to rest the
horses and give passengers opportunity and time to drink in the glories
of the wondrous view that is thus presented. Far down below yawns the
measureless void of a tremendous gulf, while above is a colossal pile of
granite that supports the dome of Washington and a wide-spreading
wilderness of tumult. Looking off in the distance from this natural
observatory, the presidential peaks of Mounts Adams, Jefferson and
Madison are plainly visible, whose aged sides are cloven by deep
crevasses and their feet are hidden in gorges of tremendous depths;
while a glance downward over the ragged tops of the forest trees
discovers Peabody Glen and river, with a white spot in the fading
distance that by aid of glass is found to be the Crawford House.
Following the vale out to its entrance upon the Androscoggin Meadows,
the vision sweeps up Mount Moriah, and traversing the Confederate Peaks
to the summit of Mount Carter, finally rests upon the brow of
Washington, which is almost overhead.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  MOUNT WASHINGTON AND COG-WHEEL RAILROAD, WHITE MOUNTAINS.—The summit
    of Mount Washington is 6293 feet above the sea-level, and as the
    distance by rail is only three miles the grade is very steep, in
    some places as much as one foot in three. To secure perfect safety
    in ascending and descending such a tremendous grade, the track is
    composed of three rails bolted to a trestle of heavy timbers, the
    centre rail being an immense wrought-iron ladder, with rounds four
    inches apart, into which the cogs of the locomotive drive-wheel fit,
    and thus drag the train up the steep as well as control it, with aid
    of air-brakes, in making the descent. One and a half hours are
    consumed in making the round trip, and the fare is six dollars, but
    the view from the summit is so magnificent that it fully justifies
    the expense.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: SQUAM LAKE, NEW HAMPSHIRE.]

From the Ledge the road continues its zigzag way up the steep and around
dangerously narrow terraces, over which a party of excursionists in a
six-horse wagon tumbled to their death on the 3d of July, 1880, the only
accident that has ever occurred in making the remarkable descent here,
however perilous appears the passage; and this tragedy was due to a
drunken driver. In describing the ascent above Midway House, Mr. Drake
thus writes: “A sharp turn around a ledge, and the southeast wall of
Tuckerman’s Ravine rose up like a wraith out of the forest. Nearer at
hand was the Head of Huntington’s, while to the right the cone of
Washington loomed up gradually, more than a thousand feet higher. A
little to left you look down into the gloomy depths of Pinkham defile,
the valley of Ellis River and the Saco Valley to North Conway. The blue
course of the Ellis, which is nothing but a long cascade, the rich green
of the Conway intervales, the blanched peak of Chocurua, the sapphire
summits of Ossipee Mountains were presented in conjunction with the
black and humid walls of the ravine, and the iron-gray moss of the great
dome. The crag on which I stood leans out over the mountain like a
bastion, from which the spectator sees the deep-entrenched valleys, the
rivers which wash the feet of the monarch, and the long line of summits
which partake of his grandeur while making it all the more impressive.
From here the striking spectacle of four great northern peaks, their
naked summits, their sides seamed with old and new slides, and flecked
with snow, constantly enlarged. There were some terrible rents in the
side of Clay, red as half-closed wounds, and in one place the mountain
seemed riven to its center. It was this gulf that the first climber said
it was such a precipice he could scarce discern the bottom. The rifts in
the walls of the ravine, the blasted fir-trees leaning over the abyss,
and clutching the rocks with a death-grip, the rocks themselves,
tormented, formidable, impending, astounded by their vivid portrayal of
the formless, their suggestions of the agony in which these mountains
were brought forth.”

[Illustration: UPPER JACKSON FALLS, WILD-CAT RIVER, NEW HAMPSHIRE.]

But if there be grandeur in the chaotic landscape which spreads out
before the startled vision of the spectator on the mountain breast, what
must be the sensation inspired by the tremendous view that is afforded
from the summit? It is the feeling of complete separation from the
earth, of suspension in the sky and looking down upon the world below.
The exhilaration that comes from conquering a mighty thing; the
solemnity of being face to face with infinity. But gradually an orderly
array of magnificence and comprehensible grandeur appears, as peak upon
peak is resolved into definable chains, clusters, or detached masses.
Hills draw apart, valleys open, streams and cascades sparkle in their
tortuous beds, while the skirts of the mountains are dotted with rich
colors and the meadow-lands become a fringe of emerald encompassing
their irregular bases. Almost independent of the will, the eye wanders
from summit to summit, making a slow circuit of the crenated horizon,
until it is arrested by a vast spread of gleaming white that at first
sight may be mistaken for a luminous cloud in the southeast. More
careful observation reveals that it is the ocean, one hundred miles
away, and by the help of telescope vessels may be distinguished, and
even the number of sails which each craft carries.

[Illustration: LIGHT-HOUSE IN THE HARBOR OF PORTLAND, MAINE.]

Amazing, splendid, and even thrilling as the view unquestionably is from
the top of White Mountain, yet it cannot compare, for either extent or
grandeur, with that obtained from the summit of Pike’s Peak. Not so
great in altitude as its nobler rival of the Rockies, it is wanting in
other conditions to make it equal, chief of which is the usually heavy
and hazy atmosphere that is due to proximity to the sea, thus
interfering with the range of vision, and more frequently interposing
clouds to shut off the view entirely.

On the highest point of Mount Washington the Government has built an
observatory and signal station, and a very excellent hotel has also been
added, for the accommodation of those who desire to spend a night at
this great height, and to experience the sensation of a snow-storm in
mid-summer. A curiosity recently added to the other attractions of the
summit is an electric search-light of 100,000 candle-power, at a cost of
$7,000, which is controlled from the foot of the tower by electric
motors. Telegraphic signals flashed by this monster light have been
interpreted at Portland, Maine, which is eighty-five miles distant.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  LOWER GATEWAY TO CRAWFORD’S NOTCH, WHITE MOUNTAINS, NEW HAMPSHIRE.—It
    was through this Notch, in 1840, that Thomas J. Crawford opened a
    bridle-path to the summit of Mount Washington. It is now utilized by
    a railroad, and the rocks and cliffs along the way have been
    disfigured and besmeared with patent medicine advertisements. The
    Notch is a gigantic cleft through the mountains, with treasures of
    splendid scenery along the way on either side. Hills draw apart,
    valleys open, streams and cascades sparkle in their tortuous beds,
    while the skirts of the mountains are dotted with rich colors, and
    the meadow-lands become a fringe of emerald encompassing their
    irregular bases.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: MINOT’S LEDGE LIGHT HOUSE, OFF COHASSET, MASSACHUSETTS.]

From Mount Washington, the tourist who delights to revel among the
wonderful scenes of this tumultuary and anarchistic region, where nature
is in disarrangement through the operation of forces that long since
have spent themselves, usually proceeds west by Thorn Hill, through
Carter Notch, and thus arrives at the village of Jackson, the center of
another district of great scenic interest. The town is but a handful of
pretty white cottages, but it is in the quiet isolation of a mountain-
engirdled vale, and the very lonesomeness of its situation gives the
place an inexpressible fascination, for it is like meeting cheerful
company in the valley of desolation. The largest house, commanding
respect by reason of its size, and exciting reverence for its holy
purposes, is a frame church, in whose belfry the pigeons swarm,
undisturbed by the deep tones of the bell that summons the hamlet to
worship. How mournfully it peals out the first stroke, as if awakening
the town from sleep, so still is the place; but from a toll it becomes a
chime, as the notes reverberate from hill to hill, until the noise is
reassuring, that however lifeless things may have seemed, the church-
bell has power to stir the people into mental if not physical activity.
All about are mountains, Eagle, Wild-Cat, Tin, Iron and Thorn, the sides
of which have been cleared of their forest growths and stone, and
brought under cultivation, which add materially to the picturesque
landscape of which the village is the natural center.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  PROSPECT FROM THE SUMMIT OF WHITE MOUNTAINS, NEW HAMPSHIRE.—If there
    be grandeur in the chaotic landscape which spreads out before the
    startled vision of the spectator along the mountain sides, what must
    be the sensation inspired by the glorious panorama unfolded from the
    summit? It produces a feeling of complete separation from the earth,
    as if one were suspended in the sky and looking down upon the world
    below. It is the exhilaration that comes from conquering a mighty
    thing; the solemnity of being face to face with infinity.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: COG-WHEEL RAILWAY UP MT. WASHINGTON.]

[Illustration: MONUMENT AT PLYMOUTH ROCK, MASSACHUSETTS.]

Wild-Cat River cuts the town of Jackson in twain, a stream which is in
fact a mountain cataract, filling the air about with its incessant roar.
Within less than two hundred yards of the place the river makes a swift
descent over granite ledges, which it has washed to almost whiteness,
and near the bridge it is divided by a large bowlder into two cascades
that are half-concealed by the rich foliage that bends down to receive
the refreshing spray. The crest of the falls is split by huge stones and
the main stream has overcome the obstacles in its way by cutting a
passage under the rocks, after which it shoots down the ledge and
becomes a faithful servant to a miller, who has utilized its power.
Besides these cataracts there are several others, principal among which
is Goodrich Falls, at which point the river pours its restless flood
over a precipice eighty feet high. Bridal Veil Cascades are a mile
further up the river, but there is a pleasant bridle-path all the way,
and visitors to this district rarely fail to pay their respects to this
very interesting part of the stream. The bed of the river is full of
enormous bowlders, and its flow takes, accordingly, an erratic course;
in fact, in every direction save upward. At the cascades the stream is
parted by an elevation in the center of the ledge, and thus falls in a
double sheet at almost right angles, where, gathering new force again,
it goes rushing away to join the Androscoggin, which bears its waters to
the sea. A tour of the mountains having been completed, our photographer
doubled upon his tracks and returned to the Profile House, from which
road-terminus he crossed the twelve-mile interval to North Woodstock,
and there took train on the Concord and Montreal Railroad for points of
attraction towards the southwest. The mountain region, however, was not
yet entirely passed, for many prominent elevations, such as Mounts
Moosilauke, Tecumseh, Tri-pyramid, Welch, Fisher, Stinson, Irael, and
others, continued in view until Ashland was reached, at which place a
stop was made to visit Squam Lake, one of the most exquisite sheets of
water in the world. It is irregular in shape, but about six miles long
by half as many broad. The expanse is not great, but the beauties which
it presents are charming in the extreme. Over its bosom are scattered
numerous islands which are very bowers of beauty, green with thickets of
hazel and margined with mosaics of wild flowers. The waters are of such
limpid purity that they swarm with fish, which may be seen frisking and
playing tag twenty feet below the surface. The shores are banked but
level, and along the edge is a perfect carriage-road, making a circuit
of twenty-one miles, affording the finest excursion that can be made by
vehicle. Squam Lake is separated from Lake Winnipiseogee by a strip of
land two miles wide, and the village of Center Harbor lies on the west
shore of the latter, where steamer may be taken for a ride to
Wolfborough, twelve miles distant. The trip is a delightful one through
narrow channels between islands of exceeding beauty, so thickly strewed
over the water as to make the way appear like a labyrinth. Six miles
northwest of the lake is an eminence over two thousand feet high, known
as Red Hill, which is annually visited by many hundreds of tourists.
There is a good carriage-road to the base, but the ascent is so steep
and rugged that by foot or horse-back is the only means for gaining the
summit. Though not nearly so lofty as a score or more of the mountains
we have mentioned, yet visitors maintain that the view afforded from its
peak exceeds in extent and magnificence that obtained from the
observatory of Mount Washington or the summits of any of its brothers.
This superiority is due to the absence of intervening peaks, as Red Hill
is isolated, and overlooks a comparatively level district, in which
Squam and Winnipiseogee Lakes are conspicuously visible, with their
ragged shore-lines and lovely islands clearly definable.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  BRIDAL VEIL CASCADE, WHITE MOUNTAINS.—Wild Cat River, inaptly named in
    the pioneer times of New England, is an enchanting stream for the
    tourist and the painter. Its course is broken by many ravishingly
    beautiful waterfalls and cascades, each presenting new and charming
    features. At Bridal Veil Cascade the bed of the river is full of
    immense boulders, upon which the descending stream is broken into a
    thousand forms of diversified loveliness. At the summit the stream
    is parted by an elevation in the centre of the ledge, and thus falls
    in a double sheet at almost right angles, greatly enhancing the
    charming features of the delightful scene.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: THE OLD TOWER AT NEWPORT, RHODE ISLAND.]

From Wolfborough the route was east by the Maine Central Railroad to
Portland, and thence by steamer to Boston. There are many beautiful
places in the vicinity of Portland, and particularly about the popular
summer resorts of Mount Desert Island and Bar Harbor; but much must be
sacrificed to the limit of space, for no one book can ever contain
pictures of all the natural scenery that is worthy to be reproduced.
Among other photographs taken in and about Portland, we have room for
only one, viz.: the light-house on Cape Elizabeth, in the harbor, a
dreary desolation of stone, where the ocean is treacherous and a warning
to incoming vessels is indispensable.

Boston is historic ground, around which are many sacred spots
perpetuated in patriotic memories. It is a great city; but the traveled
visitor is indifferent to municipal sights, and is restless to pay his
tribute of respect and curiosity to those shrines that keep in mind the
reverent character of the Puritan, and the heroism of the Revolutionary
soldier. It is hard to resist this infectious temptation to photograph
monuments and battle-fields, when one is walking upon the very famous
dust, and reading inscriptions recording the valor of those who fought
for our National Independence; but this is a volume devoted to American
scenery rather than to American history, a subject which ought to
inspire equal patriotic sentiment, and monumental tributes must
therefore be omitted, or casually mentioned by incidental reference, as
may appear proper.

From Boston our artist proceeded by a train on the Old Colony Railroad
to Cohasset, a town which it has been truthfully said marks one of the
most interesting, most wildly beautiful bits of nature on any coast.

“This town,” let it be said, “marks one of the most interesting, most
wildly beautiful bits of nature on any known coast. In this situation
are to be found all the beauties and all the terrors which ocean scenes
can compass. The history of Cohasset, for the past two hundred and fifty
years, has in it an element personal to every civilized people on the
globe, since all have sent their ships and their travelers this way, and
added names to the death-roll hereabouts. The crags and ledges along
these shores have taken part in ocean tragedies for generations, and
have witnessed more of human suffering and the extremity of distress
than often falls to the lot of natural scenes. Upon their faces the
ocean surges have never ceased to dash themselves since the morning of
creation. Here the whiteness never goes out of the line of surf; and
often the conditions are of shattered waters flying in the air, of
roaring breakers crashing into fragments along the rocks, of great
masses of billows lashed into fury, and resistless in their commonest
attacks by all except the natural barriers to their progress here set
up.”

[Illustration: THE CLIFFS AT NEWPORT, RHODE ISLAND.]

Beautiful, commanding, stirring as the scenes are about Cohasset’s
bounding shores, yet the tragedies which have occurred in the
treacherous approaches to the harbor are both numerous and heart-
appalling. On these very rocks, where the waters usually play in such
happy abandon, more than seven score of persons from a single ship—the
_St. John_, in October, 1849—were dashed to their deaths, and disasters
attended by less mortality became so common that the Government erected
a lighthouse at Minot’s Ledge, which is two miles off Cohasset Point,
where the hidden rocks are most dangerous to shipping.

From Cohasset the trip was south, by the Old Colony, along the Atlantic
shore, passing many points of great interest, though for scenery there
is nothing but marshes and a waste of sandy beach. But on the way,
Daniel Webster’s farm is pointed out, located on a level strip between
the railroad and Marshfield Neck, where it would appear that raising
clams might be more profitably pursued than the growing of grain or
vegetable. Quaint scenes, reminders of the olden times when stage-
coaching was the most luxurious mode of travel, and pot-hooks and
hangers were adjuncts of the crane that rendered the fire-place the sole
convenience for cooking, pass in review and are a source of the greatest
interest to those of a retrospective and reflective turn of mind. Here
and there we observe old Puritan churches and equally old-fashioned
people, whose appearances indicate that they have not been widely
distributed since the Mayflower landed. There is a Miles Standish, John
Alden and Priscilla in every village, and the houses, in many cases,
tell of a time quite as remote. Indeed, in the little but ancient hamlet
of Greenbush, which is within a half-dozen miles of Cohasset, and twice
as far to Nantasket, an intensely fashionable resort, one may see the
identical old oaken bucket and the crazy sweep by which “dripping with
coolness it rose from the well,” which inspired Woodworth’s immortal lay
in 1817. There, too, is the same old house, hiding behind a clump of
trees, under which the poet sat and drank from the “full blushing
goblet,” which, alas for human weakness, he really coveted less than a
beaker of good wine.

[Illustration: PURGATORY CHASM, NEAR NEWPORT, RHODE ISLAND.]

Twenty-five miles south of Cohasset is the historic town of Plymouth,
and right in front of it is a harbor made by a long neck of land,
parallel with the shore, and known as the Cow-Yard, in which the
Mayflower came to anchor with her precious cargo of forefathers, on a
bleak December day in 1620. Mr. Samuel Adams Drake has written:

“Plymouth is the American Mecca. It does not contain the tomb of the
prophet, but the rock of the forefathers, their traditions and their
graves. The first impressions of a stranger are disappointing, for the
oldest town in New England looks as fresh as if built within the
century. There is not much that is suggestive of the old life to be seen
there. Except the hills, the heaven, and the sea, there is nothing
antique; save a few carefully cherished relics, nothing that has
survived the day of the Pilgrims.” And another writer of recent times
declares “it would be difficult to name any other place in America with
such a profoundly interesting historical event as that which has made
the name of Plymouth Rock forever famous in the annals of devotion and
freedom. Upwards of fifty thousand persons come here every summer,
making reverent pilgrimages to the cradle of American civilization. For
these, and for all who love the antique and historic, Plymouth has well-
nigh unrivaled attractions. Here is the renowned rock, down by the
water-side, overarched by a stately granite canopy, in whose top are the
bones of several of the Pilgrims. Up in the village rises the massive
structure of Pilgrim Hall, consecrated to relics and memorials of the
first colonists. Near this shrine is the court-house, with rare records
and documents of the seventeenth century. On a noble hill rises the
Pilgrim National Monument, a vast pile of carved granite crowned by a
very impressive statue of Faith, forty feet high, and the largest stone
figure in the world.

[Illustration: NEGRO-HEAD CLIFFS, NEWPORT, RHODE ISLAND.]

“Burial Hill is one of the most interesting localities in New England.
On every side are the tombs and monuments of the founders of the State
and their descendants. Above these sacred graves the pleased eye wanders
over an exquisite panorama of sea and shore, lonely islands, far-
reaching promontories, and distant blue hills, out across the blue sea
to where the sandy strand of Cape Cod bounds the view, low down on the
horizon. On this bleak summit stood the fortified log-church and watch-
tower, the former bearing six three-pound cannon on its flat roof, and
the latter occupied by vigilant sentinels.”

It is about forty miles from Plymouth to Newport, Rhode Island, one of
the ultra-fashionable summer seaside resorts, and thither our artist
repaired to take views of that vicinity. Newport is not only famous for
its fine bathing beach, elegant villas, and its harbor specially adapted
for yacht-racing; there is much more to recommend the city to visitors
than these means of recreation and pleasant vanities. Commercially,
Newport is a metropolis of looms; historically, it is a city of great
consequence; and scenically, a place of extraordinary interest. The Old
Tower at Newport has been for centuries an object of curious inquiry and
patient investigation. For many years the opinion obtained generally
that it was a relic of the Norsemen’s discovery and occupation of the
country, five hundred years before the time of Columbus, and that in
some way the building was connected with Druidic worship. The Druids of
England and France performed their religious ceremonies under oak trees
and always in the open air, but this fact did not affect the belief
current for so long a time that the Stone Tower was the remains of
either an edifice or a monument erected by the Druids. When this opinion
finally changed to the more reasonable though equally false one that the
tower was the relic of a fort built by Norsemen sea-kings about the year
985, historians appeared to be satisfied and inquiry ceased for a long
while. Finally, investigation of the Runic inscriptions on the Dighton
Rock, in Massachusetts, revived curiosity in the tower, and the result
of the last investigation is the opinion that it is the ruins of a wind-
mill that was built some time in the seventeenth century. The truth,
however, may as well be told, that notwithstanding what historians say
to the contrary, no one knows, or is likely ever to know, when, by whom,
or for what purpose the so-called tower was built. It is a question
about which there can be nothing but speculation.

[Illustration: SOLDIERS’ MONUMENT ON EAST ROCK, NEW HAVEN, CONNECTICUT.]

Newport is located on a peninsula on the east shore of Narragansett Bay,
which is a splendid harbor, having an anchorage of thirty feet in low
water. The scenery about the place, too, is very fine, and is brought
into advantageous view by a charming drive-way that extends along the
beach and entirely around the city. A part of the sea-shore line is very
rocky and precipitous, and the assaults of terrific breakers for many
ages have worn these cliffs into wonderful shapes. Purgatory Chasm is,
perhaps, the most remarkable example of wave force in this vicinity,
though the agency of water has, no doubt, been reinforced by some other
natural power, such as glacier, earthquake or volcano. Near-by are
Hanging Rocks, where Berkeley is said to have composed his _Minute
Philosophy_; and less than three hundred yards distant is Spouting Cave,
where the surf dashes into a grotto and thence through a hole in the
roof to a height at times of fifty feet, affording a beautiful
spectacle. Other points of interest along the cliffs are individualized
by such names as Eastman’s, Green’s End, Lime Rock, Negro-Head Cliffs,
the Flints, the Dumplings, Cockle-Shell Ledge, etc. After a brief
circuit of Newport’s attractions, our artist departed for Western
Connecticut and thence to Albany, there to take boat down the Hudson for
New York City. The route lay through New Haven, where a short stop was
made to take a picture of East Rock and the Soldiers’ Monument thereon.
East Rock is a bluff 360 feet high, on the north side of the city, to
which a beautiful carriage-road leads, and from its summit a wide extent
of charming landscape is presented, taking in a part of the Connecticut
Valley towards the west, Yale College on the east, and spanning Long
Island Sound on the south, so that when the weather is clear the low
banks of Long Island may be distinguished.

[Illustration: BALANCED ROCK, NEAR PITTSFIELD, MASSACHUSETTS.]

From New Haven the route was north and west over the Housatonic system
to Pittsfield, Massachusetts, in the Berkshire region, a city of some
17,000 people, and noted for its many interesting buildings of national
reputation, as well as for the lovely scenery that environs it. The
place is elegantly situated on a high plateau, with the Taconic
Mountains on the west and the Hoosac Range commanding the eastern view.
It will be remembered by students of history that Fighting Parson Allen,
of Revolutionary fame, was pastor of the First Methodist Church in
Pittsfield, and they will be gratified to know that the building is
still standing and that it exhibits little impairment from age. The
Agassiz Association, with an enrolled membership of 20,000, has its
headquarters in the city, and the place is also the seat of many
prominent historical and educational institutions. But it is the scenery
thereabout that interests us most. Waconah Falls is a pretty cascade ten
miles from the city, and still nearer is Roaring Brook, that rushes down
the side of a mountain in torrential flow, through a gap known as
Tories’ Cave, and contributes its waters to Ashley Pond, whence the
city’s supply is obtained. Lake Onota is a picturesque sheet two miles
west of Pittsfield, and near-by is Balanced Rock, one of the greatest
natural curiosities in America. It is a tremendous bowlder, as the
illustration shows, the estimated weight of which is 480 tons, and is
balanced on a point that is only one foot square. So unstable is its
appearance, resting on such a slender foundation, that it looks as if a
zephyr might topple it over, yet so firmly poised that an army of giants
could hardly disturb its equilibrium.

[Illustration: CROSS ROCK, NEAR PITTSFIELD, MASSACHUSETTS.]

In a rocky field three miles from the city is another great natural
curiosity known as Cross Rock, which has been singularly cleft, by some
unknown agency, into the form of a perfect cross, to which a few
superstitious people formerly attributed remarkable healing virtues, but
which no one any longer regards.

Four miles east of Pittsfield is the village of Dalton, where immense
quantities of paper are manufactured, and on the Pittsfield line is
located the mill that produces all the Government bank-note paper. West
Pittsfield, about five miles from the city proper, is also an
interesting place, reposing under the shadows of Taconic Mountains, and
celebrated as being the national headquarters of what is known as the
“United Society of Believers in Christ’s Second Appearing.” This curious
sect of Shakers, disciples of Ann Lee, founded the village more than a
century ago, and their “Millennial” church, which was built soon after,
still stands as one of the most conspicuous buildings in New England.
Massachusetts has been famous as the home of religious denominations
possessing peculiar tenets almost since the landing of the Pilgrims; but
from the days of Salem witchcraft to the present, few sects have adopted
more curious beliefs and ceremonials than the Shakers. Yet, to their
credit let it be spoken, they are good citizens, honest, generous,
faithful, industrious and kindly in all their intercourse with the world
as well as among themselves.

From Pittsfield our artist proceeded to New Albany, and thence by boat
to New York, where he joined the two other photographers, the route of
the third having been east by way of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad,
which now remains to be described.

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                              CHAPTER XII.
            ON HISTORIC FIELDS OF VIRGINIA AND PENNSYLVANIA.


[Illustration: A MIXED TRAIN FROM THE WILDERNESS.]

The instructions given upon the separation of our three photographers,
after leaving St. Louis, were necessarily indefinite, and discrimination
in the selection of routes and views had to be left to individual
judgment, since weather and conditions play an important part in the
artists’ profession. Our third photographer departed somewhat from the
route which he had selected to cover, for after the separation, instead
of proceeding directly east through Pennsylvania, as was his first
intention, he went south to Cincinnati and east by the Chesapeake and
Ohio Railroad, through the lovely Blue Grass region of Kentucky, making
his first stop at Charleston, the capital of West Virginia. The capital
is a small place of something less than 7,000 inhabitants, and with
nothing of particular importance to visitors except the mountain scenery
which invests it. The Kanawha River, upon which the town is situated, is
navigable for small crafts from this point to its junction with the
Ohio, but above Charleston the stream is treacherous and its channel so
rock-infested that a skiff can hardly follow the stream without danger.
Thirty miles from the capital are the Kanawha Falls, or cataracts, where
the river goes tearing over several benches of thinly stratified rocks,
and has scooped out a pool of very great depth, where fishing is said to
be excellent. On the north side of the river at this point are the
Gauley Mountains, rising to a considerable altitude, but so gently that
the slopes have been reclaimed from thick timber growths and converted
into beautiful farms.

The scenery all through the valley of the Kanawha is tumultuously grand,
but nine miles beyond the falls it attains its greatest glory. Here the
tremendous cliffs rise vertically to a height of 1,200 feet, and at a
point called “The Hawk’s Nest” a breast of the bluffs extends out over
the river in a perilous shelf 1,000 feet high, from which lofty
elevation the river becomes a ribbon of white, and a train of cars
running along the mountain skirts on the opposite side looks like a
string of army-ants hurrying to an attack. The view down the valley is
one of ineffable magnificence, presenting as it does a double file of
noble mountains dressed in uniforms of lovely green, which, as they
recede, assume a sky-blue hue, and then gradually fade away in the
opalescent mist of distance.

[Illustration: FALLING SPRING, NEAR WARM SPRINGS, VIRGINIA.]

Thirty miles above Kanawha Falls, at a town called Hinton, the New and
Green-Brier Rivers unite to form the Kanawha, and here the scenery is
likewise charmingly picturesque. The line of lofty bluffs continues
along the south shore of New River, under which the Chesapeake and Ohio
Railroad runs upon a bare passageway, while the north line is marked by
graceful mountains that in the distance look like lines of beauty
tracing the horizon. In some places the ledges are 1,200 feet high, and
the river so contracted that the cañon is almost dark at midday. The
view is further diversified by successive rapids and cataracts, while at
frequent intervals the bluffs recede, leaving stretches of fertile
valley that are in a high state of cultivation, with pretty farm houses
dotting the landscape and imparting an appearance of prosperous
animation to these pleasing interludes. The road follows the valley of
Green-Brier River twenty miles further, to Caldwell, then passes through
White Sulphur Springs, and a few minutes later crosses the James River
at Clifton Forge, where that romantic stream, drawing its inspiration
from the Alleghenies, cuts its way through the Blue Ridge Mountains.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  KANAWHA FALLS, WEST VIRGINIA.—Thirty miles from Charleston, the
    capital of West Virginia, are the Kanawha Falls or Cataracts, where
    the river is broken into numerous channels and fragments and plunges
    over an irregular ledge of thinly stratified rocks, presenting a
    scene that is both grand and picturesque. The Gauley Mountains rise
    with sloping terraces to the north of the falls, along the sides of
    which are many attractive farm-houses, adding a charm of rural
    beauty and contentment to the scene. At the foot of the falls an
    immense pool has been scooped out of the bed of the river, which
    teems with fish and is a favorite resort for lovers of that sport.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: WAITING FOR TIME TO CATCH UP.]

Clifton Forge is forty miles east of White Sulphur Springs, and from
this junction a branch of the Chesapeake and Ohio Road runs northeast to
form a connection with the Shenandoah Valley Railroad at Waynesborough.
All the region hereabout is very rugged, and intersected by beautiful
streams whose sources are springs that break out of the sides of
mountains, and the waters are generally more or less impregnated with
sulphur. Eighteen miles due north of Clifton Forge, and reached by a
delightful road that winds through charming vales, is the village of
Warm Springs, the capital of Bath county, and adjacent are the Warm
Sulphur Springs, which attract so many visitors in search of health and
fine scenery. It is a mountain town, whose population fluctuates with
the season, for while the place is one of some animation from April to
October, during the other months there are not enough people in the
village to keep the mud-daubers out of the houses. A more picturesque
district, however, can scarcely be found; too mountainous to permit
agriculture, nature has given other blessings than fertility to the
region. The climate is extremely invigorating, and the numerous springs
possess medicinal properties of undoubted value, while the scenery is
inspiring to even the most phlegmatic. One of the chief objects which
serves to further diversify the landscape of high-lifted peaks, jutting
cliffs, meandering brooks, green coverts, sylvan solitudes and cloistral
caverns, is Falling Spring, a sheet of rainbow-flecked water that dashes
over a ledge seventy feet high, and which, seen from a little distance,
may be likened in appearance to the white trailing trousseau of a bride,
so delicate, graceful, and gossamer-like is its form, so joyous is its
laughter. After leaving Clifton Forge the road winds along the sinuous
valley of James River, with charming views on both sides, until
interest, charm and excitement are superseded by wonder as Natural
Bridge, that marvelous curiosity of ages, is reached, and preparation is
immediately made to examine and to photograph its astounding formation
and immensity. This great natural wonder, which is an old acquaintance
to all school-children, is two miles from the railway station, at the
termination of a very deep gorge, through which flows a capricious
little stream called Cedar Creek. At one time this feeble brook may have
been a raging river, and needed bridging, but like an old man, it has
lost the vigor of former days and fallen into the seventh age of
decrepitude. But the bridge which Titans might have constructed still
spans the creek’s deep bed and has grown in mightiness as the waters
below subsided. To speak with mathematical exactness, without employing
statistical details, it may be said that the Natural Bridge spans with
graceful and architectural proportions the perpendicular ledges of Cedar
Creek, which rise 200 feet above the stream. The center of its wondrous
arch is forty feet in perpendicular thickness and sixty feet wide, while
the span is exactly eighty-nine feet. A public highway utilizes the
bridge, and it is the only means of passage for wagons within a mile
either way, except by a steep bank, very difficult to ascend, a short
distance below the gorge. Just above the bridge the creek bluffs are
broken into masses that look like immense buttresses, pinnacled at
places and reaching to a height of 250 feet. The most imposing view is
obtained from a position fifty yards below the bridge, where the arch
appears both lighter and higher, and the walls more dangerously
precipitous. From this point of view this world-famous natural structure
appears as perfect as if cut by design; a colossal arch that shines in
the sun like variegated marble, without stratification or displacement,
so high that the largest sailing vessel might pass under without
touching the peak of her mainmast. On the abutments of the bridge are
carved the names of many adventurous youths who sought fame by leaving a
record of their reckless efforts to scale the dizzy heights of stone.
George Washington was not above this ambition to win reputation by
carving his name higher up than any of his fellow-youths, and for nearly
seventy years he held the honor of being the most intrepid and expert
wall-climber, for, like Ben Adam, his name led all the rest. But in 1818
this distinction was surrendered to James Piper, of Washington College,
who performed the daring, and what was long thought to be impossible,
feat of climbing from the foot of the abutment to the top of the arch,
an exploit so dangerous that no one has since made a mad attempt to
repeat it. Thomas Jefferson was moved to write a eulogium of this
incomparable natural wonder in this wise:

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  HAWK’S NEST AND CAÑON OF THE KANAWHA RIVER, WEST VIRGINIA.—The scenery
    all through the Kanawha Valley is picturesque and splendid, but its
    full glory is not attained until it reaches a place about nine miles
    beyond the falls. Here, at the point called Hawk’s Nest, which is
    photographed on this page, the cliffs are majestic, rising to a
    height of 1200 feet, while immediately in the foreground of the
    picture a breast of the bluff extends out over the river in a
    perilous shelf 1000 feet high, from which lofty elevation the
    winding stream becomes a mere ribbon of white, lined on either side
    with the dark green colors of the mountain foliage.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: GALBRAITH SPRINGS, TENNESSEE.]

“The Natural Bridge, the most sublime of nature’s works, though not
comprehended under the present head, must not be pretermitted. Though
the sides of this bridge are provided in parts with a parapet of fixed
rocks, yet few men have resolution to walk to them and look over into
the abyss. If the view from the top be painful and intolerable, that
from below is delightful in an equal extreme. It is impossible for the
emotions arising from the sublime to be felt beyond what they are here;
so beautiful an arch, so elevated, so light and springing, as it were,
up to heaven! The rapture of the spectator is really indescribable.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  FALLS OF NEW RIVER, NEAR HINTON, WEST VIRGINIA.—Thirty miles above
    Kanawha Falls, the New and Greenbrier Rivers unite to form the
    Kanawha, and here the scenery is peculiarly grand and picturesque.
    In some places the ledges soar to a height of 1200 feet, and the
    river is so narrow that the intervening cañon sees but little of the
    sunlight except near midday. At some points the bluffs recede,
    giving space for beautiful green valleys, dotted with pretty farm-
    houses that lend an appearance of prosperous animation to these
    pleasing preludes. The river is broken into many rapids, cataracts
    and falls, which enhance the charms of the scenery by the music of
    their babbling waters.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: PASSAGE OF THE FRENCH BROAD RIVER THROUGH THE SMOKY
MOUNTAINS.]

From Natural Bridge our photographer took train on the Norfolk and
Western Railroad, and proceeded southwestwardly to the junction of that
road with the Tennessee, Virginia and Georgia Railroad, by which he
passed into Tennessee as far as Knoxville, and from that point made
excursions into the famous East Tennessee region, where scenes and
scenery are quite unlike anything which he had ever before transferred
to photographs. Nowhere in all the world are there richer lands,
prettier women, braver men, finer landscapes, and bigger prospects than
Tennessee affords. It is a region of boundless resources and charming
views, and possessing as it does so many advantages, it likewise
presents remarkable contrasts and conditions. Where can the scenery
about Cumberland Gap be equaled, or the panorama from the summit of
Lookout Mountain be matched? But there is relaxation in the quiet views
of rural life in East Tennessee which are here reproduced, and the
pastime reader as well as the student of geography, will appreciate the
restful change.

Tennessee is the neutral ground between North and South, because it does
not distinctively belong to either, but its contiguity to both gives to
the State some of the characteristics of each. Adopting slavery, it is
Southern, but developing a strong pro-Union sentiment in the beginning
of the civil war, Tennessee became Northern in her affinities; but the
slave-marks of one hundred years have not been effaced even after thirty
years of freedom, for in the country and villages there are old slave-
cabins, rickety, but still habitable, the homes of white-haired relics
of ante-war times, and the new generation that has not been taught to
tie up their hair with cotton strings. All over the South it is the
same; but in East Tennessee there is something else to bring back old
memories, for here the brazen front of war marched through the land, and
turned its fair acres of waving grain and fruitful orchards into battle-
fields, furrowed with dead and harrowed with destruction. And yet
Tennessee was pro-Union, with secession tendencies, because her
interests were indissolubly linked with the South. But the wounds have
all healed; the impetuous youth who went forth to battle is now a peace-
loving grandfather; his daughter was captured by a Yankee, and she has
never regretted it, and the railroad runs every day between the two
sections with mail-bags full of peace-messages. Why, the war has been
over so long that we get mixed in our history, and sometimes we are not
quite clear whether it was in 1776 or 1861. In fact, many of the old
farm houses along the way look decidedly Revolutionary, and none of the
mountains have changed or added another wrinkle to their imperturbable
faces.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  PASSAGE OF THE JAMES RIVER THROUGH THE BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS.—The very
    name of Blue Ridge is music in the ears of many thousands of good
    and worthy citizens of our country, whose ancestral homes were, or
    still are, in the midst or within view of the hazy-blue summits of
    these historic mountains. Any one who has seen them at a distance,
    in the soft light of an Indian summer, will appreciate the aptitude
    of the title, and the affection which must be engendered by
    association with such delightful scenery from childhood to the
    evening of life. The view presented in the photograph on this page
    is an exceptionally fine one, showing the mountains on either side
    and in the distance through the rift made by the river.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: A SCENE OF RURAL LIFE IN NORTH CAROLINA.]

In some of the towns there is a lazy air that barely stirs the little
wind-mills on the marten-boxes, and indolence and shiftlessness have
their votaries even here. Up in the mountains there are shadows of hard
times, which are projected into the valleys and villages in the form of
bull-teams and crotchety “mover-wagons.” The driver has a _sang-froid_
appearance, and as if he was ahead of his expectations, and is willing
to wait for tardy time to catch up. His team is glad to encourage the
waiting ambition, and lies down in the street to keep him patient
company.

To exhibit the diversity of scenes in East Tennessee and the resourceful
expedients of the people, photograph was made of another mountaineer’s
team, wherein the traction energy of a bull is compared with that of a
horse, to the humiliation, no doubt, of the latter. In order to throw a
little more animation into the scene, our photographer grouped a party
of natives about the team, so that two purposes might be served with one
stone, and no mistake might be made as to types of the people and their
conveyances.

On a trip to the north boundary of the State several lovely landscape
pictures were secured, one of the most exquisite being a view in the
vicinity of Galbraith Springs, where the headwaters of Tennessee River
pour through Short Mountains, which are the outposts of Cumberland
Range, and go careening and pirouetting in many cascades between that
point and Knoxville. The scenery hereabout presents the majesty of
imperious isolation, the lonely grandeur of undisputed lordliness; and
under the shadows which these towering mountains cast, are people that
live in a little world of their own, almost forgetful that the earth
projects beyond the horizon of their vision. But in this valley of
delight the flowers run riot over the hills, the woods and fields are
musical with songs of many birds, and there are the sweets of peace and
the bloom of plenty beneath these opalescent skies.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  PICTURED BLUFFS ON NEW RIVER, WEST VIRGINIA.—These bluffs derive their
    name from their close resemblance to the Pictured Rocks of Lake
    Superior, and there is a very striking similarity between the
    general appearance and characteristics of the two localities, as all
    who are familiar with these famous scenic regions will admit. New
    River has its source in the picturesque Blue Ridge Mountains,
    flowing thence northwesterly to its junction with the Kanawha, and
    embracing in its course a wide diversity of some of the grandest and
    most beautiful scenery in the world.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: THE OLD MAN’S FACE, NEAR ASHEVILLE.]

From the pleasant vales about Galbraith the route was south to
Morristown, and thence southeast along the valley of the French Broad
River, through Unaka Pass of the Great Smoky Mountains, to North
Carolina. Many writers have exhausted the dictionary of adjectives in
describing the romantic beauties of the French Broad, but the stream,
and its intervales, bedighted with marvelous cliffs, continues as nature
made it, beyond the power of description. The course of this lovely
stream cuts through the charming hills about Asheville and pours its
crystal waters through a narrow gorge until it passes the blockade of
the Smoky Mountains. In this space of forty miles the French Broad is
indeed a “racing river,” to which the Cherokees applied the name
_Tahkecostee_, which has that significance, for it is impetuous,
torrential, terrific. From a gentle stream above Asheville, by the
contraction of its banks below, the river becomes angry, and the roar of
cataract as it rushes over opposing bowlders fills the air with noise
like thunder. At Stack House the current dashes over a fall twenty feet
high, and at Mountain Island it makes another leap and then becomes a
noisy rapid to a point known as “Deep Water.” Here the mountains close
in upon the river, forcing it through a narrow channel only one hundred
and fifty feet wide and forty feet deep. The railroad to reach the
opposite bank, crosses the river diagonally by an iron bridge, with a
clear span of two hundred and sixty feet, squeezing itself, as it were,
around the rocky face of the mountain on the right bank, to be received
with the same grudging hospitality by the hard face of the left bank,
and twists itself by a very short curve into line, which in a very few
minutes brings it into the beautiful, smiling valley of Hot Springs.

No one has ever been able to convey a just idea of the remarkable
magnificence of this wonderful cañon, with its wild and ceaseless
splendor of tumultuous waters, its overhanging cliffs, its noble
mountains and fairy islets. In the time of stage-coaching it was an
experience never to be forgotten—the day’s journey from Asheville to the
Warm Springs, along the turnpike which followed the old Indian trail and
lay between the river and the cliffs, hemmed in by the whirling emerald
waters of the first and overhung by the fern-draped escarpments of the
last, with vistas of wild and yet wilder beauty opening at every step.

Paint Rock is six miles below Hot Springs, and directly on the line
between North Carolina and Tennessee. The rock itself is massive in size
and would attract attention, if not admiration, aside from the legends
which make it famous. The name Paint Rock is given to perpetuate a
tradition that the Cherokee Indians colored portions of it with an
indelible paint, and in the form of hieroglyphics which no one has been
able to decipher, though the legend represents that it is the tribe’s
prayer to the Great Spirit; and being approved, ages will not suffice to
efface it. Twenty miles east of Asheville is Round Knob, on the line of
the Western North Carolina Railroad and nestled in the very heart of the
Blue Ridge Mountains, where the scenery surpasses in wildness and
sublimity that of any other section of the State. It is a basin so
completely shut in by lofty peaks, that if a person were dropped into it
without knowing the point of entrance, he would find difficulty in
escaping. A brawling mountain stream rushes by, in whose crystal waters
bask the speckled trout to tempt the angler, while near the hotel is to
be seen one of the most beautiful spectacles in the world—a magnificent
fountain that throws its spray two hundred and eighty-six feet high,
then like a bridal veil floats off in misty fragments. It is beautiful
by day, but far more beautiful in the moonlight, as it throws its
sparkling vapor high in the air, giving to the scene a weird
enchantment.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  A VIEW OF THE FRENCH BROAD RIVER ABOVE ASHEVILLE.—Many writers have
    exhausted the dictionary of adjectives in describing the romantic
    beauties of the French Broad River, but the stream and its
    intervals, bedighted with marvelous cliffs, continues, as Nature
    made it, beyond the power of description. In its course northward
    this lovely stream cuts through the charming hills about Asheville,
    and pours its crystal waters through a narrow gorge until it passes
    the blockade of the Smoky Mountains. In this space of forty miles it
    is indeed a “racing river,” which is signified by its Cherokee name
    of _Tahkecostee_. From a gentle stream above Asheville, it becomes
    an angry, raging flood below that point as it dashes through
    mountain gorges and over opposing boulders with a roar like thunder.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: CÆSAR’S HEAD, SPUR OF THE BLUE RIDGE RANGE, N. C.]

Overhead, apparently weaving in and out like a silver thread, winds the
glistening track over which the tourist must pass to gain the summit of
the Blue Ridge. So great and difficult is the ascent that at one point
four parallel tracks may be seen, one above the other, while at another
point, as the train passes over a winding trestle sixty feet high, the
tourist might easily drop his hat on the track below over which he had
passed a few minutes before, but now going in an entirely opposite
direction, having gained nothing on his journey save about ninety feet
in elevation. So often does the track turn, twist and double upon itself
to gain the summit, that at one place of observation it may be seen at
seventeen distinct points. After having gained a distance of over five
miles of the ascent, the train is again within one-fourth of a mile of
the Knob, now lying far below, but still the center of this grand system
of iron loops, by means of which the train is gradually rising to the
region of the clouds. From this point to the summit, in the short space
of one and a half miles, the train passes through six tunnels and across
numerous gorges, whose sides are clothed with the primeval forest where
perhaps the foot of man never trod. The most noted of these is “Royal
Gorge,” seen from the car window, whose precipitous sides and deep-
yawning chasm form a scene of magnificent grandeur, from the top of
whose butting cliffs the mountains of South Carolina are visible, two
hundred miles distant. As the train rushes forward, suddenly it plunges
into Swannanoa Tunnel, which is nearly two thousand feet long, and upon
emerging at the western end, along the massive walls, we reach the
highest point in that Land of the Sky, where the waters of a spring
divide, a part flowing into the Atlantic Ocean and an equal share being
contributed to the Gulf of Mexico.

Having crossed the Blue Ridge Mountains and passed through Hickory-Nut
Gap to the valley, the road leads into one of the grandest cañons of the
Broad River. Here for a distance of nine miles on either side of the
river giant mountains rise to a dizzy height, forming massive walls of
blue granite, often reaching a height of more than a thousand feet,
while not a sprig of vegetation appears on their surface.

A creek large enough to turn a mill plunges over one of these
embattlements and falls in a single stream a distance of over thirteen
hundred feet, known as Hickory-Nut Falls, said to be the third highest
falls in the United States. Passing on down this great gorge, we see
Chimney Rock on the right, a circular column four hundred feet high,
while on the opposite side is Round Top, with its pyramidal dome resting
against the sky.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  CHIMNEY ROCK, ON THE FRENCH BROAD RIVER.—After passing through the
    Blue Ridge Mountains at Hickory Nut Gap, the valley of the French
    Broad River is encompassed by one of the grandest cañons to be found
    in any part of the world. For a distance of nine miles on either
    side, giant mountains rise to a dizzy height, forming massive walls
    of blue granite, often reaching an altitude of more than a thousand
    feet, while not a sprig of vegetation appears on their surface. They
    are cut and carved by the elements into many curious and remarkable
    shapes, designated by names more or less appropriate. Chimney Rock,
    photographed on this page, is a circular column four hundred feet
    high, bearing upon its top a curiously shaped rock closely
    resembling the cap of liberty.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: ABOVE THE CLOUDS ON MITCHELL’S PEAK, NEAR ASHEVILLE,
NORTH CAROLINA.]

“High mountains bound this vale on north and south, while directly in
front of us, like companion sentinels guarding the western gateway, down
which the sun was to march, stands Round Top and Chimney Rock Mountains.
Behind Chimney Rock, trending toward the west, arise in close succession
a number of mountains with distinct, broken summits—a long palisade
fencing the gap in whose depth rushes the Broad River. In the center of
the west stands Bear Wallow Mountain, the last visible knob of Hickory-
Nut Gap.

“The sun was sinking behind the white cumuli that capped this mountain.
Streamers of golden light, like the spokes of a celestial chariot, whose
hub was the hidden sun, barred the western sky. The clouds shone with
edges of beaten gold. Their centers, with every minute, changed to all
hues imaginable. The fronts of the Sentinel Mountains were somber in the
shadows, while the gap was radiant with the light pouring through it,
and every pine on the top of the palisade stood black against the
glowing sky.” The “Old Man’s Face” is another wonderful natural
curiosity which divides interest with the finest scenery in this
remarkable region, and is on the west side of Bald Mountain, in
prominent view, for the rocks are barren and garish from the light of
the sun. This singular formation is a faithful representation of a
three-quarter view of an old man’s face, with forehead, eyes, nose,
mouth and beard in such perfect proportion that one can hardly believe,
without close examination, the face is only an accidental result of the
elements, in their unceasing work of denudation.

Eighteen miles from Asheville, in the Balsam Range, is Mount Pisgah,
5,757 feet high, from the apex of which a wonderful expanse of mountain
scenery is spread out to view; but it is from the Blue Ridge peaks that
the sublimest visions are presented, and the most curious forms of
nature-sculpturing occur. Passing southwest from Asheville, the
Asheville and Spartanburg Road runs through an exceedingly fertile
region, and thence into the Cañon of Little River, where for four miles
the stream is a succession of surging rapids, noisy cascades, and
picturesque waterfalls, until it approaches the base of tremendous
cliffs. These are spurs of the Blue Ridge, one of which is famous as
presenting a facial profile which has been named “Cæsar’s Head,” but it
takes a person of vivid imagination to distinguish the human features,
very plain though the guide declares them to be. As the altitude is
nearly 6,000 feet, and 2,000 feet above the valley, the prospect of the
peak of this Blue Ridge spur is incomparably magnificent.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  LITTLE RIVER RAPIDS, NORTH CAROLINA.—At this point the river flashes
    over a sloping ledge of rocks and boulders with irresistible power
    and a roar like that of thunder. At all seasons of the year the
    scene is splendid and inspiring, but when the river is swollen with
    the spring floods and the waters come with a mighty and irresistible
    flood, dashing over the rocks and carrying away trees and boulders
    with titanic force and rage, the view is awe-inspiring and grand
    beyond the power of human pen to describe.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: THE SUMMIT OF MOUNT MITCHELL, NORTH CAROLINA.]

From this dizzy height the peaks of the Blue Ridge may be observed for
scores of miles in each direction; looking northeast you may see the
famous King’s Mountain, seventy miles away, while in the opposite
direction, in distinct view, is Stone Mountain, near Atlanta, Georgia,
over one hundred miles away. Looking to the north, a distance of a
little more than one hundred miles, is the Roan Mountain, while to the
northeast is seen the black dome of Mount Mitchell, full sixty-five
miles distant. In the northwest, about thirty-five miles away, is
Pisgah, resembling a great Egyptian pyramid in outline, while directly
to the west are the Highlands of Macon county, with Whiteside Mountain
glittering like an iceberg in the sunlight. From the top of this
wonderful precipice the view is strangely suggestive of a great stretch
of ocean. The blue waves of the sea find their counterpart in the waves
of these blue mountains, with their corrugations extending far out until
the outline is lost in the hazy distance. There is no grander sight than
a view from this point at sunrise, when the world below is buried from
sight in an ocean of impenetrable fog, and the great billows of fleecy
mist rolling like angry waves, while the breaker-like roar of cataracts
a thousand feet below, makes the deception complete.

The loftiest peak of the Appalachian system is Mount Mitchell, which is
thirty miles from Asheville, and is easiest reached by way of the
Swannanoa River. The ascent is by a comparatively easy roadway, but as
the altitude of the summit is 6,717 feet, it is not gained without great
exertion. Formerly the mountain was called Black Dome, then Clingman’s
Mount, but was afterwards christened Mitchell’s Peak, in honor of
Professor Elisha Mitchell, of the State University of North Carolina,
who was first to measure its exact altitude, and who lost his life by
falling over a precipice in making a second ascent to verify his first
measurement. The body was found ten days after the fatal accident and
conveyed to Asheville, where it was buried. One year subsequently the
remains were disinterred and carried to the summit of Mitchell Mountain,
and there committed to the grave, over which a beautiful monument now
stands, the tribute of a daughter’s loving memory.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  CATHEDRAL AND THRONE IN LURAY CAVERN, VIRGINIA.—The formations of
    Luray Cavern are perhaps the most beautiful of all the subterranean
    wonders of the world. At some period, long subsequent to its
    original excavation, the cavern was completely filled with glacial
    mud, whereby the drip-stone was eroded into singularly grotesque as
    well as lovely shapes. Out of these molds of nature, after the mud
    had been mostly removed by flowing water, came these marvelous
    formations, rivaling in beauty and wonder the most exquisite
    carvings of art. The “Throne-Room,” so beautifully photographed on
    this page, is canopied with curtains and hung with tapestry that
    seem to be woven of pearls and diamonds, rivaling the splendors of
    Aladdin’s fabled cave.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: BRIDAL VEIL FALLS, DINGMAN’S FERRY, PENNSYLVANIA.]

The ascent of the mountain lies through superb forests of deciduous
trees and along the banks of the rushing Swannanoa, until after a climb
of five miles the second base of the mountain is reached—a small grassy
plateau, where a residence once stood—now known as the “Half-way House.”
From this point the world below unrolls before the gaze like an azure
scroll, while above, awful in its nearness and immensity, towers the
dark mass of Black Mountain, clothed with a somber forest, into the
depths of which the path now plunges, and which it does not leave again
until the final summit is reached. Winding in snake-like turns through
the close-growing firs, the trail climbs the steep shoulders of the
great mountain, passing over what is now known as Clingman Dome (of the
Blacks) and then following its ridges for about three miles, until the
bare rocky peak, which is the highest point of land east of the Rocky
Mountains, is reached, and all hardships of ascent are forgotten in the
view that bursts upon the enraptured vision.

If the day is clear, the prospect is almost boundless in extent and of
infinite beauty. Range behind range of great mountains lie below, like a
Titanic ocean stilled by some mighty hand. From this supreme elevation
it is possible to study the structural character of the region, and to
count all the great chains that cross the country, while no words can
express the varying and exquisite color that, like a glamour of heavenly
enchantment, lies over the wide expanse. The whole earth, “and the
beauty thereof,” seems to be spread out at one’s feet, and the airs that
come to this high mountain crest are full of freshness and balm.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  TITANIA’S VEIL, LURAY CAVERNS, VIRGINIA.—The origin of the beautiful
    scarfs and canopies that constitute a special feature of the
    attractions of Luray Caverns, and which differ from all other
    subterraneous formations yet discovered, is from carbonates
    deposited by water trickling down a sloping and corrugated surface.
    In one place there are sixteen of these alabaster scarfs hanging
    side by side—three white and fine as crepe shawls; thirteen striated
    like agate, with every shade of brown, and all perfectly
    transparent. Down the edge of each a tiny rill glistens like silver,
    the ever-flying shuttle that weaves this fairy fabric. When lighted
    by electricity each drop of liquid and every rounded gem becomes a
    flaming diamond, producing a scene of splendor that can be but
    faintly imagined.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: COLOSSEUM FALLS, NEAR DINGMAN’S FERRY, PENNSYLVANIA.]

A Southern poet, who climbed the mountain in the spring of 1891, thus
describes the inspiring sight which greeted him when the day was dying:
“To witness a sunset from this peak is something long to be remembered.
Never shall I forget that evening in June, when in company with my
guide, we stood by the grave on the summit of Mount Mitchell, and looked
down on that scene of resplendent glory that lay before us; far in the
west the sun was slowly sinking in a bed of crimson and gold, the
horizon was lighted with a flushing radiance which was infinitely
sublime, while the whole landscape was aglow with splendor, every tint
and hue imaginable seemed to intermingle in that sea of color, and every
jutting crag, and dome, and pinnacle of sullen rock flamed as though a
thousand rainbows had fallen out of the sky and hung themselves there
like glorious banners; we stand enthralled at the scene before us, no
sound is heard, no note of bird breaks the awful stillness. We are in
the region of that eternal silence which wraps the summit of the
‘everlasting hills.’ A hush of dreamy repose broods over this lofty
peak, which still retains the last rays of the setting sun, while over
the world below twilight has fallen.

              ‘How fair this lone and lovely scene,
                And yonder dropping fiery ball,
              And eve’s sweet spirit, which steals unseen
                With darkness over all!’”

But it is not only from its unsurpassed view that this great mountain is
interesting. Its vast sides are clothed with a forest of bewildering
beauty, crystal streams gush from its heights, and there is, altogether,
a fascination about this wild, unpeopled region that goes far to account
for the passion which caused Professor Mitchell to lose his life in
wandering through its wilderness.

Having accomplished a circuit of the wonderlands of Western North
Carolina, our artist departed from Asheville by way of the Richmond and
Danville Railroad, and thence by its northern connections to Roanoke,
Virginia, at which point train was taken on the Shenandoah Valley Route
for Luray, a town of 1,500 people, but famous by reason of its proximity
to the marvelous caverns of that name, the beauty of which is
incomparable, and in wonder they rival the great Mammoth Cave. This
marvelous subterranean labyrinth is one mile distant from the town, and
is entered by an easy passage-way that has a gradual descent by stone
steps. The cave was an accidental discovery by Mr. Andrew J. Campbell,
in 1878, who, while examining the locality known as Cave Hill, was led,
by the hollow sound produced by stamping the earth, to seek for the
cavity which he knew must exist at that point. With spade and mattock he
sank a hole four feet deep and was rewarded by finding the great cavern
which ought rightfully to bear his name.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  THE BALL-ROOM, LURAY CAVERNS.—Luray’s stalactite display exceeds that
    of any other cavern known. The original material is yellow, brown or
    red, and its wavy surface often shows layers like the gnarled grain
    of costly woods. The new stalactites growing from the old, and made
    of hard carbonates that had already once been used, are usually
    white as snow, though often pink, blue or amber-colored. The small
    pendants are innumerable, and they sparkle and blaze in the light
    like clusters of diamonds, sapphires and other precious stones. At
    some points the stalactite columns are of immense size and height,
    unsullied and wax-like in their transparent whiteness, each ripple
    and braided rill appearing as if it had been polished.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: FACTORY FALLS, DINGMAN’S FERRY, PENNSYLVANIA.]

To Rev. Horace C. Hovey, of New Haven, we are indebted for the best, as
it is the most interesting, description that has ever been written of
this underground wonderland, prepared as it was after a careful
examination of the geology of the cave as well as of its splendors:

“At some period, long subsequent to its original excavation, and after
many large stalactites had grown, the cavern was completely filled with
glacial mud, whereby the drip-stone was eroded into singularly grotesque
shapes. After the mud had been mostly removed by flowing water, these
eroded forms remained amid the new growths. To this contrast may be
ascribed some of the most striking scenes of the cave. The many, and
extraordinary monuments of aqueous energy include massive columns
wrenched from their place in the ceiling and prostrate on the floor; the
hollow column forty feet high and thirty feet in diameter, standing
erect, but pierced by a tubular passage from top to bottom; the leaning
column, nearly as large, undermined and tilting like the Campanila of
Pisa; the organ, a cluster of stalactites, dropped point downward, and
standing thus in the room known as the Cathedral; besides a vast bed of
disintegrated carbonates left by the whirling flood in its retreat
through the great space called the Elfin Ramble.

“The stalactite display exceeds that of any other cavern known, and
there is hardly a square yard on the walls or ceiling that is not thus
ornamented. The old material is yellow, brown or red, and its wavy
surface often shows layers like the gnarled grain of costly woods. The
new stalactites growing from the old, and made of hard carbonates that
had already once been used, are usually white as snow, though often
pink, blue or amber-colored. The size attained by single specimens is
surprising. The Empress Column is a stalagmite thirty-five feet high,
rose-colored and elaborately draped. The Double Column is made of two
fluted pillars side by side, the one twenty-five, the other sixty feet
high, a mass of snowy alabaster. Several stalactites in the Giant’s Hall
exceed fifty feet in length. The small pendants are innumerable; in the
canopy above the Imperial Spring it is estimated that forty thousand are
visible at once.

“The Cascades are wonderful formations, like foaming cataracts caught in
mid-air, and transformed into milk-white or amber alabaster, while the
Chalcedony Cascade displays a variety of colors. Brand’s Cascade, which
is the finest of all, being forty feet high, and almost as wide, is
unsullied and wax-like white, each ripple and braided rill appearing to
have been polished.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  THE SARACEN’S TENT, LURAY CAVERNS, VIRGINIA.—The fervid imagination of
    youth, or the dreamer under the influence of the delirium-inducing
    hashish intoxicant in India’s climes, never riveted gaze on visions
    more wondrously beautiful than Luray’s intervals of divine
    architecture. Here and there are polished stalagmites, rich bluffs
    slashed with white, and others like huge mushrooms, with a velvety
    coat of red, purple or olive-tinted crystals. Some of the
    stalactites have their tips under water long enough to allow tassels
    of crystal to grow upon them, which in a drier season are again
    coated over with stalactite matter, by which many singular
    distortions are occasioned.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: CADEDENEAN FALLS, DINGMAN’S FERRY.]

“The Swords of the Titans are monstrous blades, eight in number, fifty
feet long, three to eight feet wide, and one to two feet thick, but are
hollow and drawn down to an extremely fine edge, filling the cavern with
tones like tolling bells, when struck by the hand. Their origin, and
also that of certain so-called scarfs and blankets exhibited, is from
carbonates deposited by water trickling down a sloping and corrugated
surface. Sixteen of these alabaster scarfs hang side by side in Hovey’s
Balcony, three white and fine as crape shawls, thirteen striated like
agate, with every shade of brown, and all perfectly transparent. Down
the edge of each a tiny rill glistens like silver, and this is the ever-
plying shuttle that weaves this fairy fabric.

“Streams and true springs are absent, but there are hundreds of basins,
varying from one to fifty feet in diameter, and from six inches to
fifteen feet in depth. The water in them is exquisitely pure, except as
it is impregnated by the carbonate of lime, which often forms
concretions called, according to their size, pearls, eggs, and snow-
balls. A large one is known as the Cannon-Ball. When fractured, these
spherical growths are found to be radiated in structure. Calcite
crystals, drusy, feathery, or fern-like, line the sides and bottoms of
every water-filled cavity, and, indeed, constitute the substance of
which they are formed. Variations of level at different periods are
marked by rings, ridges, and ruffled margins. These are especially
strongly marked about Broaddus Lake, and the curved ramparts of the
Castles on the Rhine. Here, also, are polished stalagmites, a rich buff
slashed with white, and others, like huge mushrooms, with a velvety coat
of red, purple, or olive-tinted crystals. In some of the smaller basins
it sometimes happens that when the excess of carbonic acid escapes
rapidly there is formed, besides the crystal beds below, a film above,
shot like a sheet of ice across the surface. One pool twelve feet wide
is thus covered so as to show but a third of its surface. The quantity
of water varies greatly at different seasons; hence some stalactites
have their tips under water long enough to allow tassels of crystal to
grow on them, which in a drier season are again coated over with
stalactitic matter, by which singular distortions are occasioned.
Contiguous stalactites are often enwrapped thus till they assume an
almost globular form, through which, by making a section, the primary
tubes appear. Twig-like projections, lateral outgrowths, to which the
term _helictite_ has been applied, are met with in certain portions of
the cave, and are interesting by reason of their strange and uncouth
contortions. Their presence is partly due to the existence of a
diminutive fungus peculiar to the locality, and designated from its
habitat, _Mucor Stalactitis_. The Toy Shop is an amusing collection of
these freaks of nature.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  FARM SCENE IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHENANDOAH, VIRGINIA.—The war between
    the States found the valley of the Shenandoah an ideal pastoral
    country, of rich and beautiful farms, of wealthy and aristocratic
    families, where life in its ease and sunshine rivaled that in older
    lands. The war left it a bare, blackened and blasted region, its
    homes destroyed, its farms desolated, and its able-bodied population
    decimated in the field. But it has fully recovered again. Grass and
    grain have woven Nature’s beautiful covering over all the scars of
    battle, and once more the fields and orchards are laden with
    flowers, while the lowing of the cattle and the song of the
    contented husbandman are heard in place of the discordant drum and
    the ruthless clash of arms.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

“The dimensions of the various chambers included in Luray Caverns cannot
be given, on account of the great irregularity of their outlines. Nor
can their size be estimated from a diagram, because there are several
tiers of galleries, and the vertical depth, from the highest to the
lowest, is two hundred and sixty feet. The tract of one hundred acres,
owned by the Luray Cave Company, covers all possible modes of entrance,
and the explored area is much less than that. The waters of this cavern
appear to be entirely destitute of life; and the existing fauna is quite
meager, comprising a few bats, rats, mice, spiders, flies and small
centipedes. When the cave was first entered the floor was covered with
thousands of tracks of bears, wolves and raccoons, most of them probably
made long ago, as impressions in the tenacious clay that composes most
of the cavern-floor would remain for centuries. The traces of human
occupation, as yet discovered, are pieces of charcoal, flints, moccasin
tracks, and a single skeleton imbedded in a stalagmite in one of the
chasms, estimated to have lain where found for not more than five
hundred years, judging from the present rate of stalagmitic growth.”

Accurate and beautiful as is Mr. Hovey’s description of Luray Caverns,
yet words, however ingeniously used, fail utterly to convey a true idea
of the incomparable splendors of this under-world palace which gleams
with unspeakable glories, such as God alone can create. Aladdin, in the
Arabic tale which so delighted our youthful fancy, was permitted to
enter a cave which exhibited such decorations that its very beauty both
dazzled and affrighted; and to his amazement was added the greater
wonder, that the cavern thus wrought of precious stones was the work of
a geni, who was slave to a lamp and ring. But the fervid imagination of
youth, or the dreamer under influence of the delirium-inducing hasheesh
intoxicant in India’s climes, never riveted gaze upon vision more
wondrously beautiful than Luray’s intervals of divine architecture; nor
was Aladdin’s Cave half so charming. The Throne-Room, canopied with
curtains woven of pearls and diamonds; “The Saracen’s Tent,” in which
more than oriental splendors of richest damasks and golden samite sweep
round the crystal couch in festoons of magic beauty; Titania’s Veil of
petrified spider’s webs and crystallized harmonies, behind which the
queen of fairies hides from Æolus; and the Ball-Room, with best
adornments, as if to celebrate a marriage between the gods; all these
and many more, in fast succession of admiring surprise, compose the
Caverns of Luray, of which it has been said: “Mortal hath not made the
like, nor human fancy conceived a thing more magnificent.” Let the
illustrations herewith convey an idea of the beauty which language
cannot express.

The uniform temperature of the cave is 54° Fahrenheit, which is the same
as Mammoth Cave, and as the chamber-floors are dry, visitors are not
fatigued or discomforted by long walks through the labyrinthine
passages, where every step taken brings fresh marvels into view. To the
curiously inclined the inquiry, not often asked, will appear very
interesting: How did the animals whose foot-prints were noticed in the
tenacious clay, by those who made the discovery, get into the cave? The
opening by which the chambers are reached is an artificial one, made at
the point where Mr. Campbell detected the hollow by stamping on the
ground, as explained. No other ingress is yet known, though the cave has
not been thoroughly explored; so it is possible, or probable even, that
other means of entrance have long continued open, but the possibility
also remains that its entering passage-ways may have been sealed up by
an invasion of glacial drift, since the flood; marks of that tremendous
cataclysm are plainly to be seen in the cave, and not all of the
diluvium deposit has been yet removed or ground under foot by the 10,000
persons who visit the caverns annually.

A trip up the Shenandoah Valley, though made in a luxurious coach on a
swift-moving train, is attended by innumerable reminders of the great
civil war, for the journey is over a succession of hotly-contested
battle-fields; but the beautiful scenery, rich lands, and lovely farm
scenes that now compose the landscape, cannot efface the recollection
which monuments and cemeteries constantly revive. General Boynton has
drawn a truthful picture of this war-famous section, in this wise:

“Every foot south of the Potomac was fighting-ground; every town was, at
some time, the headquarters of well-known forces; nearly every farm
house was a hospital, and some of the dead and wounded of the many
contests had fallen on every acre. On the Union side Fremont and Sigel,
Milroy and Shields, Hunter and Banks, Kelley and Crook, Wilson and
Sheridan, and others of note had there met Jackson, Ewell, Early,
Stewart, Ashby, and the advance of Lee in force. There were innumerable
small affairs, and many extended and fierce engagements. Columns in
advance and in retreat ebbed and flowed there through every year of the
war; while every gap opening eastward poured its footmen and its
horsemen upon the flanks, first of the one army, and then of the other.
From the opening of the contest till is close it was the vortex of
strategy. The war found it an ideal pastoral country, of rich and
beautiful farms, of wealthy and aristocratic families, where life in its
ease and sunshine rivaled that in older lands. It was the granary and
store-house of the Confederacy. The war left it a bare, blackened, and
blasted region, its homes destroyed, its farms desolated, and its able-
bodied population decimated in the field. But it has fully recovered
again. Grass and grain have woven nature’s beautiful covering over all
scars of battle, and the countless miles of parapets are green each year
with verdure, and the fields and orchards are laden with flowers again.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  HARPER’S FERRY, WEST VIRGINIA, FROM BOLIVAR HEIGHTS.—Harper’s Ferry is
    a place of great scenic as well as historic interest; but it is the
    magnificent scenery surrounding the place that now chiefly attracts
    the tourist’s attention. From Maryland Heights, on the opposite side
    of the Potomac, the observer is able to look into seven counties and
    across stretches of three States, the view being at last arrested by
    a soft haze that crowns the summit of the Blue Ridge range. The
    Shenandoah River unites with the Potomac at this point, sprinkled
    with white-crested waves that dash and roar over the boulders that
    uselessly attempt to impede its progress.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The southwestern branch of the Baltimore and Ohio skirts the Cumberland
Range, following the valley of the Shenandoah, until it joins the main
line at Harper’s Ferry, where the Shenandoah and Potomac likewise form a
junction, each stream cleaving a way through the mountains and watering
a region of extraordinary scenic beauty. Sheridan, when operating in
these valleys, declared that the country was so barren that a crow would
have to carry its rations when flying over it; but the country has
blossomed into fertility since that time, and now presents glorious
visions of great productiveness, as well as bluffs and mountains of
rugged picturesqueness.

Harper’s Ferry was well known before the war as being the location of
one of the important Government armories and arsenals, which were
destroyed soon after the beginning of hostilities, and have not since
been rebuilt. Its chief fame, however, is derived from the fact that the
town was the seat of the John Brown insurrection (in October, 1859); and
at Charleston, seven miles distant, on the road to Winchester, is the
place where he was tried and executed. Harper’s Ferry was thus not only
the scene of the opening events of the war, but it remained the center
of action for a long time, being alternately occupied by the Union and
Confederate forces, who contended with varying fortunes, but always with
immense loss of life, in efforts to retain it as a base for their
supplies. It is the magnificent scenery surrounding the place that now
attracts the tourist’s interest, for a more beautiful section of
mountain country is nowhere to be seen in the East. Particularly fine
views are afforded from Maryland Heights, on the opposite side of the
Potomac, and from Bolivar Heights, which are above the town, the latter
being a more extensive perspective, commanding as it does a long stretch
of river and the huge mountain ramparts on the south. From this point of
observation, too, the Shenandoah River is presented to the view,
sprinkled with white-crested waves dashing over smooth-worn bowlders,
that have long lain in its course, and its frowning shores that rise up
into towering mountains and form a chain of peaks that girdle the
horizon. From Maryland Heights the observer is able to look into seven
counties, and across stretches of three States, the view being at last
arrested by a soft haze that crowns the soaring summits of the Blue
Ridge Range. The route from Harper’s Ferry was north by way of the
Baltimore and Ohio and the Cumberland Valley Railroads to Harrisburg,
and thence some of the fine scenery of Pennsylvania was visited,
particularly that which lies along the line of the Pennsylvania
Railroad. In going East, the first view of great interest which greets
the eyes of observant travelers along this road, after leaving
Pittsburgh, is Johnstown, a great manufacturing place, at the confluence
of Conemaugh River and Stony Creek, but whose largest fame dates from
June 1, 1889, when the town was swept by one of the most appalling
cataclysms that has found a record in history. On that ever-memorable
date the immense reservoir away up in the Alleghenies that held the
waters of South Fork, burst without warning and rushed down, a very
devastating monster, into the smiling valley, which it overwhelmed with
a flood forty feet deep. The result is too awful to dwell upon; two
thousand people were whirled to their death, and the city was carried
from its foundations, with a loss of $10,000,000. But Johnstown has
recovered from the terrible blow which it received on that opening day
of summer, and the blazing forge of the rolling-mills has again brought
prosperity to the place.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  THE HORSESHOE CURVE AT KITTANNING, PENNSYLVANIA.—This point is in one
    of the finest scenic localities of the great State of Pennsylvania,
    the rolling and broken hills rising in many places almost to the
    dignity of mountains. The valleys and sloping sides of the hills are
    covered with rich and well-cultivated farms, adorned with elegant
    farm-houses, barns and other improvements, superior to almost any of
    the other rural districts of our country. It is a region also famous
    for fruits of various kinds, and in the early spring the whole
    country seems abloom with the apple, peach, pear and other fragrant
    and familiar blossoms.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Beyond Johnstown a magnificent panorama of the Alleghenies breaks into
view with their myriad phases of beauty and grandeur. As we follow down
the Conemaugh, along the breast of the mountains are the remains of
inclined planes of the Portage Railroad, by which loaded canal-boats
were transported over the mountains at points where the canal was not
yet constructed. This was before the days of steam railroads, when
canals were the most expeditious mode of freight transportation. Beyond
Cressons the road begins the ascent of the Alleghenies, and in doing so
makes many turns, and from the right hand of the road a gorgeous
spectacle is presented looking down into the valleys, where the houses
are dwarfed by distance until they look like mole-hills, and men are not
distinguishable. There are horseshoe curves as sharp and graceful as any
on the roads that climb over western mountains, while the scene is often
more picturesque because of the high state of cultivation of the
mountain slopes. A tunnel three-quarters of a mile in length pierces the
brow of one of the highest peaks, after which the road descends rapidly
to Cressons, a place noted for its seven mineral springs. Altoona is
next passed, and a few minutes later the train rushes around the
beautiful horseshoe curve at Kittanning, affording a charming prospect
of lofty mountains, surrounding a lake of exquisite beauty, made by
damming a pretty stream that comes gamboling down from cool retreats in
the high altitudes.

Out of the Tuckahoe Valley and on to Tyrone, where the Little Juniata is
reached, along whose sweet-smelling banks the road hastens by Broad Top
Mountain, Sliding Hill, through the gap of Jack’s Mountain, and thence
into the Long Narrows, which is traversed by highway, river and canal,
running in competition with the railroad. For several miles the scenery
is wondrously beautiful, with kaleidoscopic glimpses of swift-passing
mountain, foaming water-ways, laughing cascades, and bounty-bestowing
valleys bedewed with the delicious waters of the blue Juniata. Thence on
to Harrisburg the road speeds, with many a twist through smiling vales
that swathe the mountain’s feet with ribbons of verdure; across the
Susquehanna, where the river is more than a mile wide and freckled with
impeding stones. Lancaster is soon reached, and thence eastward the
scenery grows in grandeur until Chester Valley is passed and Paoli comes
into view. This place is famous in history from the fact that here took
place a massacre which will be remembered for ages as a reproach to the
British. On September 20, 1777, the American forces under General
Anthony Wayne were surprised by a large army of British regulars,
commanded by General Gray. Notwithstanding the superior numbers of the
enemy and his unpreparedness, General Wayne offered a stubborn
resistance, and not until nearly one-half his men had fallen in the
desperate conflict did he capitulate, upon terms of honorable surrender.
Instead of observing the rules which obtain among civilized nations,
after the Americans had laid down their arms the British mercilessly
slaughtered many of their helpless prisoners. A monument, erected in
1817, marks the site of this shameful tragedy. Eastward from Paoli the
road traverses one of the fairest sections in the world, resembling the
richest agricultural regions of England, where the soil is in the
highest possible state of cultivation and the farm houses are models of
architectural elegance, with a gradual increase in the beauties of the
prosperous landscape until the train pursues its way through Fairmount
Park and into the great metropolis of Philadelphia.

Northward from Philadelphia our artist traveled, through Bethlehem to
the Delaware Water Gap, where the Delaware River forges its way through
the Blue Mountains, the point of passage being narrowed by walls from
1,200 to 1,600 feet high, which seem to clasp the sturdy stream in
colossal arms, of half affection and half restraint. This tremendous
gorge formerly bore the Indian name of Minnisink, signifying “Whence the
waters are gone,” which is thus explained by a local geologist: “Here a
vast lake once probably extended; and whether the great body of water
wore its way through the mountain by a fall like Niagara, or burst
through a gorge, it is certain that the Minnisink country bears the mark
of aqueous action in its diluvial soil, and in its rounded hills, built
of pebbles and bowlders.” The gap proper is about two miles long, when
the mountains recede on both sides, as if at one time some terrific
disturbance had thrown up a giant ridge in the path of the river. It is
apparent also that centuries ago the passage, though hardly more than
one hundred yards wide now, was very much narrower, and the name given
to it by the Indians was no doubt suggested by this cleft through which
the pent-up waters must have dashed with terrific force and roar.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: NATURAL BRIDGE OF VIRGINIA.]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  LITTLE NECK OF THE SUSQUEHANNA RIVER, PENNSYLVANIA.—The Susquehanna
    River takes its rise in the northern part of Pennsylvania and flows
    southward into Chesapeake Bay. Its entire course passes through a
    richly diversified and splendid scenic region, equaling in many
    respects the scenery along the Rhine River in Germany, and lacking
    only the castles and the ancient historic associations to make it as
    popular with tourists as its less poetically named sister of the
    Fatherland.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The two mountains between which the river passes are named in honor of
two famous Indian chiefs, that on the New Jersey side being called
Tammany, and the one on the Pennsylvania shore being known as Minsi.
Chief Tammany was of the Delaware tribe, whose bravery and magnanimity
was such that he was canonized as the patron saint of America, but his
name is best perpetuated by New York City’s political organization. The
two mountains, adjacent, and which were no doubt one before the wearing
waters cut a way through it, exhibit marked differences, which, to a
casual observer, would seem to controvert this theory. Mount Minsi is a
graceful peak crowned with dense forest growths, while Tammany is a
gigantic rock that rises in broken ledges, almost terraces, from the
river, on one of which, two hundred feet above the river, a hotel has
been built to accommodate summer tourists. And the scenery is grand
enough to lure lovers of the picturesque in nature. Just below the hotel
falls a silvery cascade whose waters are derived from Hunter’s Spring,
that bursts out of the mountain side, and perambulates through many
sequestered nooks, moss-covered and beflowered, before it drops into a
pool called Diana’s Bath, thence over Caldeno Falls, and slides into the
river. Above the source of the waterfall is a lofty ledge known as
Lover’s Leap, and to the left another promontory called Prospect Rock,
while near-by is a clear lake on the very apex of the mountain, which
visitors are told is of an unfathomable depth.

But though Tammany is the more ruggedly picturesque, Minsi offers the
more entrancing prospect, expanding on the east until the whole of New
Jersey seems to be spread out to view. A mile below the Gap the scenery
becomes curiously pretty, for the river has worn the banks into grottoes
and fantastic forms. Here are such objects of interest as Indian Ladder
Bluff, Cold-Air Cave, Point of Rocks, Bumer’s Spring, etc., while a few
miles above the Gap there are bits of nature positively charming.
Bushkill Creek pours its contribution into the Delaware five miles from
the Gap and a few hundred yards from its outlet the stream tumbles over
a precipice twenty feet high in a sheet of water that looks like a
curtain of lace. On an affluent of the Bushkill are two other cataracts
of even greater beauty, known as Buttermilk and Marshall, both of which
may be reached in a half-hour’s walk from the river, and are within
seven miles of the hotel on Tammany’s ledge. A feature of the Water Gap,
which vies in interest with the natural scenery, is the railroad-bed
around the base of Tammany, where it exacts a space from both the river
and the mountain, in order to secure sufficient width for passage. At
this point the gap is narrowest and the cliffs most stupendous, right
where the jaws of the gorge are set in firmest resolution to prevent a
full flow of the river, and where a rushing current betrays irritation
at the impediment by a ceaseless roar.

Twenty-five miles above the Water Gap is another section of wild and
weirdly grand scenery, where Dingman’s Creek carols through the copses
and takes a header into the Delaware, like a swimmer at the bath.
Dingman’s Ferry is a small hamlet containing a score of houses, but what
it lacks in population is made up in public interest by its picturesque
surroundings. The region is intersected by numerous streams, which are
noted for their impetuous courses and numerous falls. Of these Colosseum
Falls are the largest, and by many are regarded as the most beautiful;
but Bridal Veil Falls are more exquisitely fascinating to the artist.
The stream is not large, but the precipice is high, and so gracefully
terraced that the water makes a succession of leaps, and each time is
spread by the ledges until at its last fall it is as airy as a bride’s
veil. Its sedgy banks and bosky shelves add to the general effect in a
way that compels the thought of fairy bowers and naiads’ retreats.
Factory Falls are the largest cataracts of this sylvan region, pouring a
considerable volume of water over serrated brinks, and twisting around
in shapely ways that add ineffable grace to the boiling, laughing and
playful waters. Cadedenean Falls are almost as graceful, but are spread
over a greater surface, and fall into the creek in the form of an
outspread fan. The “Brakes and Braes of Bonny Doon” were not more
charming to the eyes of the poet than the soul-delighting coverts and
falls about Dingman’s. In the spring-time these streams are swollen to
immense proportions, and it is then that the falls display their
greatest grandeur, filling the woods with their torrential orisons; but
in summer they exhibit the most marvelous graces, for it is then the
waters are crystalline in their purity, and the dewy mosses along their
brinks look like garlands of diamonds, which the branches of bordering
thickets stoop down to kiss.

From Dingman’s Ferry our photographer passed on to Milford, and thence
by the Erie Road to New York City, where a junction was made with the
two other photographers for a trip to the sunny lands of the South.

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                             CHAPTER XIII.
              THROUGH LANGUOROUS LANDS OF THE SUNNY SOUTH.


[Illustration: TOMB OVER THE GRAVE OF WASHINGTON’S MOTHER, AT
FREDERICKSBURG, VIRGINIA.]

New York City possesses many attractions for the cosmopolitan, but not
for the artist, who prefers nature’s solitudes to the artificial glamor
and noisy hum of a large city; hence our stay in that city was only for
such time as it required to make preparations for extending our
pictorial journey through summer lands of the southeast. Instead of
carrying our original plans into immediate execution, however, it was
decided to visit the battle-field of Gettysburg, which our artist coming
up through Virginia and Pennsylvania did not find it convenient to
include in his journey. The town of Gettysburg has a population of some
3,500 souls, and is the capital of Adams county, Pennsylvania, the
center of a blooming and bounteously-producing agricultural district.
Our route to reach the place was by way of the Pennsylvania Railroad to
Hanover, and thence by the Western Maryland Railroad, a distance of 250
miles from New York. The landscape thereabout is undulating,
occasionally rising to hills of considerable size; but scenically there
is nothing particularly attractive, aside from the beautiful farms and
truck-gardens that clothe the knolls with prodigal harvests.
Historically, the place is imperishably famous, for here was fought, on
the 1st, 2d and 3d of July, 1863, the bloodiest and hottest-contested
battle of the civil war. From every eminence this dreadful field, though
it now smiles with plenty, still presents memorials of that ever-
memorable conflict. There is Cemetery Hill, the old grave-place of the
town, where thousands slept before the awakening alarms of cannon and
musket enveloped the scene in battle-smoke. Here it was that the Union
forces, under General Meade, pitched their quarters, because it
commanded a view of the adjacent country. One mile towards the west is
Seminary Ridge, the spot chosen by the Confederates, under General Lee,
as their vantage-point and headquarters. Now sweep the horizon and mark
the places where the battle waxed fiercest; where the dead lay thickest
and the thunder of conflict was loudest. There is Willoughby Run, where
the battle began and where Buford’s cavalry was hurled upon the steel of
Hill, and for two hours withstood the hell of ball and bayonet until
flesh could endure no more. There is Round Top, another eminence where
the Union lines reformed, with the left wing thrown around the ridges to
Cemetery Hill. There is where Longstreet struck Sickles with such
fearless resolution, and a whole day was spent in a contention for Great
and Little Round Top, without advantage to either side, but with
frightful losses to both. Now on Cemetery Hill the eyes of the world
must rest, for here it was, on the third day, that such fighting was
done as Greek nor Roman ever knew. After a lull at midday, two hundred
brazen throats were opened with boom and screaming shells; the air
became filled with smoke, and the earth was choked with dead, until
there came a lull, out of which broke a column three miles long, whose
gray uniforms soon proclaimed the advance of General Pickett leading his
army in a desperate resolve to storm the Union position. No charge ever
made was more terrible, no repulse was ever more fatal. Americans,
whatever be their sympathies, whatever their prejudices, may feel proud
of the heroism displayed by both armies on that day of carnage around
Cemetery Hill. It was a courage that glorifies America.

[Illustration: THE DEVIL’S DEN, BATTLE-FIELD OF GETTYSBURG]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  ROUND TOP, OVERLOOKING THE BATTLEFIELD OF GETTYSBURG.—The battle that
    was fought at Gettysburg on the first, second and third of July,
    1863, has been justly classed as one of the great battles of the
    world. It was the final turning-point in the war between the North
    and the South, and each side, on this field, displayed a heroism
    that will forever shed a light of glory upon the courage and
    fortitude of Americans as soldiers. Fifty-four thousand of our
    countrymen gave up their lives at Gettysburg. They were
    distinguished by uniforms of blue and gray then; now they are
    clothed with robes that are woven without color. Let the head be
    uncovered and the eye moist with tears as we stand upon the ground
    made sacred by their blood.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: A VILLAGE SCENE OF HAPPY CONTENT IN VIRGINIA.]

The 54,000 souls that laid down their arms and answered roll-call the
morning of July 4th on the parade-grounds of paradise, were our
countrymen. They were distinguished by uniforms of blue and gray then;
they are invested with robes now that are woven without color. Let the
trumpets blare, and the drums be beaten, but let it be on Memorial Day,
as salutes of remembrance for the heroes who died within the gates of
Cemetery Hill, at Round Top, the Stone Fence, Culp’s Hill, Seminary
Ridge, Willoughby Run and Benner’s Hill.

Gettysburg is of itself a monument to human courage, but its field of
blood has been made a national cemetery of seventeen acres, which was
dedicated with imposing ceremonies on November 19, 1863, at which
President Lincoln made the greatest address ever delivered on American
soil, “With malice toward none, with charity for all.” A soldiers’
monument was erected in 1868, which is sixty feet high, surmounted by a
marble figure of Liberty, and occupies a crown of the hill, where it is
a conspicuous object for miles, and arranged in semi-circles about the
base are the graves of nearly three thousand of the unidentified victims
of the dreadful conflict.

                “Thus sleep the braves who sank to rest,
                By all their Country’s wishes blest.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  AN OLD COLONIAL HOUSE AT APPOMATTOX, VIRGINIA.—This picturesque old
    mansion, built while Virginia was still a colony of the mother-
    country, stands yet as a landmark of an earlier civilization and a
    social era that has passed away. The wealthy pioneer who planned it
    took as his model some still older mansion of the merry England from
    which he had emigrated, and thus sought to transplant in the wilds
    of America a memorial of some loved spot in his native country. Its
    halls are now filled with the ghostly recollections of the past, for
    even the mighty events which took place in this immediate vicinity
    in April, 1865, seem almost like ancient history, so rapidly does
    time speed away on the wings of steam and electricity.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: FORTRESS MONROE, VIRGINIA.]

From Gettysburg our route was southwest to Washington, and thence by way
of Fredericksburg to Appomattox. From Washington the Richmond,
Fredericksburg and Potomac Railroad runs through a sterile section,
unrelieved by either picturesque scenery or smiling field, so that a
part of it has long been known as the Wilderness, famous, however, as
the scene of many great battles in 1863-4, many traces of which are
still to be seen from the car windows of passing trains. Fredericksburg
is distinguished also as the vicinity in which Washington was born, and
where he spent the greater part of his youth. Here it was also that
Washington’s mother lived for a long time, and died in 1789. A monument
erected in 1883, in the suburbs of the town, marks the place of her
sepulture. Twelve miles beyond Fredericksburg is the battle-ground of
Spottsylvania Court House, where Stonewall Jackson received his death
wound, May 2, 1863. Indeed, the region for fifty miles thereabout is
still scarred by the strokes of contending armies delivered thirty years
ago, and cemeteries in which repose the heroic dead of both Union and
Confederate are numerous, marked by many monuments to attest the
appreciation of the living for the sacrifices which were endured in
those dreadful years of the sixties. But if the country is somewhat
barren, and gruesome with reminders of fratricidal strife, it is not
entirely destitute of the phases that lend cheerfulness to life. Here is
essentially the land of happy negroes, where poverty abounds with joy,
for absence of responsibility is contentment of mind with the colored
race. At the depot there is always a swarm of pickaninnies eager to
scramble for pennies thrown to the crowd, and the most comical scenes
imaginable occur at these tussles, for the little darkies themselves, in
an array of all sizes and shades of black and brown, a company of
tatterdemalions that would put Punch and Judy to rout, are ludicrous
enough to make a goat laugh. The street-scenes of villages near-by, as
well as in the suburbs of Fredericksburg, are equally whimsical,
presenting, as they often do, human nature in its most grotesque aspect.
Horses are rarely used by negroes for draught purposes; mules more
frequently; but bulls, cows and yearling calves are the chief
dependence, and carts the popular style of conveyance with these happy-
go-lucky people. There is no need for haste, and the loads are never
large, hence a yoke of cattle are as handy as a span of horses, and
preferable because slow movement allows more sleep on the way. The sun
makes the tobacco grow, and the rain makes music on the cabin-roof; so
rain or shine the darkey’s heart is always light and the future is
hidden from him by a veil of present delight. Such sights teach the
value of content, even if they do offend ambition, and in them the
philosopher’s stone has its hiding-place.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  AN OLD CABIN HOME IN GEORGIA.—The old log cabin is a familiar sight in
    Georgia, as well as other parts of the South. Often it is vine-
    wreathed, showing signs of great antiquity, with roof of clapboards,
    upon which the rain patters like the long-roll beat of the snare
    drum. Homely, battered by time, and affording few comforts, yet in
    such cabins greatness has often had its birth, nor scorned such
    humble nativity. How many men of high estate lie down in the drapery
    of fine linen and, when night has folded the earth in her sable
    arms, think of the old cabin home in Georgia; of the long-time ago;
    of the bubbling spring in the hollow and the gourd that hung by it;
    of the grape-vine swing, and the cows mooing in the pasture; of
    father and mother, and the graves on the hillside. And there is a
    sigh from the heart for these pleasures of a past that have departed
    forever.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: DRUMMOND’S LAKE, IN GREAT DISMAL SWAMP, VIRGINIA.]

From Fredericksburg our route was northwest to Appomattox and thence
east by way of Richmond to Fortress Monroe, on the peninsula. We were a
little disappointed to find the site of the culminating event of the war
destitute of any special feature of interest of either a natural or
artificial character. The scene of surrender is not even marked by a
monument, and the country thereabout is a pale and somber stretch of
poorly-cultivated lands. Yet there are exceptions; for occasionally the
monotony of cabin and broken fence is relieved by prolific tobacco-
fields, pretty towns, and inviting manors adorned with colonial houses
that still preserve their old-time air of comfort and Southern
hospitality. Virginia well deserves the title of the Dominion State, not
only because she is the mother of Presidents, but because she is also
distinguished as the native state of many of the greatest men and women
born on American soil. “To be a Virginian, is to be a gentleman,” has
passed into an adage; and the country is proud of her for a hundred
reasons, which reference to history will explain. If her soil is not the
most fertile, yet her legacy is the richest, for she gave to the world
such men as Washington, Madison, Jefferson, Randolph, Clay, Lee and a
thousand others whose names and deeds are alike imperishable. Fortress
Monroe is reached by the Chesapeake and Ohio Railroad, over which route
we traveled from Appomattox. It is located at the point of a peninsula,
formed by the Fork and James Rivers, which projects into Chesapeake Bay
where it joins the Atlantic. The situation is particularly favorable for
a Government fortress, and its natural and commanding advantages have
been fully utilized, for it is the largest and strongest fortification
in America. Hampton Roads separates the point of the peninsula from the
opposite land. This body of water is about five miles wide and forms the
outlet of James River. It was in the Roads that the most famous of
modern naval battles, between the _Monitor_ and the _Merrimac_
(Virginia), took place, March 9, 1862. Two miles below Fortress Monroe
is Old Point Comfort, a very popular resort and the seat of the National
Soldiers’ Home. Newport News is nine miles above the Fortress, on
Hampton Roads; and Yorktown, the place of Cornwallis’ surrender to
Washington, October 19, 1781, is twenty-five miles north, on York River,
both places possessing great historic interest for events of which they
were the scene during the Revolutionary war.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  OLD FORT AND SEA WALL AT ST. AUGUSTINE, FLORIDA.—This old fort
    possesses a peculiar interest for Americans, being the oldest
    historic fortification of our country. Its construction was begun by
    Menendez de Aviles, a Spaniard, in 1565, but it was not completed
    until two centuries later. It was then called Fort San Marco, but
    with a ruthless disregard of historic associations characteristic of
    our people, it has been changed to Fort Marion, without in the least
    adding to the lustre of the renown of the great Revolutionary
    patriot of the South. The walls of the fort are composed of a
    conglomerate called coquina, which is formed of shells and sand
    brought from the island of Anastasia. Originally soft and pliable as
    plaster, it becomes almost of granitic hardness by exposure,
    affording a safe protection against the primitive artillery of that
    period.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: A HUNTER’S CABIN ON THE CANAL, DISMAL SWAMP.]

Crossing Hampton Roads by steamer to Norfolk, we proceeded southward by
the Norfolk Southern Railroad, through a region known as the Dismal
Swamp, famous alike in fact and fiction. The term has been indelibly
affixed to two extensive stretches of morass, the larger of which lies
between the James River on the north and Albemarle Sound on the south,
thus covering a part of Virginia and North Carolina, having a length of
about forty miles and a breadth of twenty-five miles. Little Dismal
Swamp is wholly within North Carolina, in the peninsula between
Albemarle Sound and Pimlico Sound, and while occupying considerably less
than one-third as much area as Great Dismal, is probably better known to
readers because of the tragedies which have been enacted within its dark
and gloomy districts. Speaking generally, the swamps are composed of a
spongy, vegetable soil, but without any mixture of earth, which supports
a dense growth of aquatic plants, brush-wood and timber. Sir Charles
Lyell, the distinguished geologist, was first to bring to notice the
curious fact that the surface of the swamp is actually twelve feet
higher in many places than the surrounding country, so that its drainage
is outward, except where a few small streams flow in from the west side.
The center of Great Dismal is occupied by Drummond’s Lake, an oval basin
six miles long and three wide, with perpendicular banks and fifteen feet
depth of water. In and around this lake is a veritable paradise for
hunters, for its waters abound with fish and wild fowl, and the adjacent
woods are the favorite haunts of deer, bears, wild-cats, coons and
swamp-rabbits. The region, inexpressibly dreary as it is, contributes
largely to commerce by furnishing immense supplies of timber. To
facilitate transportation the Great Swamp is intersected by canals, the
two largest being those which connect the Elizabeth and Pasquotank
Rivers, and Elizabeth River with Carrituck Sound.

Some queer little cabins are built along these water-ways, a few being
occupied by timber cutters, but generally they are the temporary abodes
of hunters who find shooting and trapping both pleasurable and
profitable, and who work at logging out of game season. Little Dismal
Swamp, though smaller than its more northern neighbor, is very much more
dense with brush-wood, and decidedly more forbidding, because its gloomy
depths rarely echo with the voice of man, or the sound of the woodman’s
ax. Fifty years ago it was the refuge of runaway negroes, and a
dangerous place for a white man to be seen, because the blacks who hid
in its thick coverts were usually of the most desperate character, who
would not hesitate at crime. One of the best-remembered, because the
most tragic, negro insurrections that ever occurred in Virginia was
headed by a Samsonian black named Nat Turner. Under his leadership more
than a hundred armed negroes rose against their masters and massacred a
score of men, women and children. When a sufficient force of whites was
mustered to oppose them, the negroes fled to Little Dismal Swamp, where,
after great length of time, they were starved into surrender. Nat
Turner, however, was last to submit to his pursuers, and committed so
many crimes, while the search for him continued, that his very name
became a terror; but he was at last captured through betrayal by a negro
whom he trusted, and after due trial was convicted and hanged.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  PONCE DE LEON HOTEL, ST. AUGUSTINE, FLORIDA.—This photograph
    represents the court of the hotel, around which the walls extend in
    the form of a hollow square. The hotel itself is a revival of the
    richest examples of Moorish architecture. It is old Spain of the
    golden reign of Ibn-l-Ahmar transported to American shores. With its
    lavish adornment, picturesque style and exquisite grounds, in which
    every known tropical plant is made to add its beauty and shed its
    fragrance, while flowing fountains cool the summer air, the Ponce de
    Leon is not only a reminder of the great palace of Spain in the time
    of Columbus, but it is also one of the best representatives of
    modern convenience, comfort and artistic beauty of architecture and
    construction.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: BONAVENTURE CEMETERY, SAVANNAH, GEORGIA.]

Our next halting place on the flight southward was Savannah, the Gate
City, as it is the Queen City of the South. Next to Atlanta in
commercial importance, Savannah is easily first of all sunny metropoli
in the superb beauty of its situation and the park grandeur of its
surroundings. Here it was that General Oglethorpe founded his Georgia
colony early in 1733; and the flourishing city, from which the first
ocean steamer that ever attempted to cross the Atlantic sailed, and its
rank as the second cotton port of the United States, are striking proofs
of his foresight and excellent discrimination.

The city is situated on a bold bluff overlooking the Savannah River,
along which it extends in a curved front for a distance of three miles,
affording excellent wharfage. The streets are all very broad and
magnificently shaded, while parks containing one to three acres occur at
all the principal intersections, charmingly laid out and beautified with
flowers, which grow in that warm climate in the richest profusion.
Flower gardens constitute one of the most characteristic features of the
place, for a majority of the residences are surrounded by ample grounds
that are abloom with flowering plants throughout the year. This is the
borderland of southern evergreens, where the stately oak is festooned
with pearl-gray mosses, and the orange and the magnolia fill the air
with delicious perfumes. Along the streets, too, are rows of flowering
oleanders, pomegranates, palmettos, bananas, laurels, bays and sweet
crape-myrtles. But of all the beauties about Savannah none rival the
charms of Bonaventure Cemetery, four miles from the city, on Warsaw
River, and reached by a shell road that is equal to any drive-way in the
world. Every grave is a flower-bed, and the long avenues canopied with
moss-garlanded oaks present a picture Arcadian in its loveliness, and
suggestive of those flowery glades through which immortals might delight
to wander.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  OLD CITY GATES, ST. AUGUSTINE, FLORIDA.—As St. Augustine is the oldest
    town in America, having been founded by the Spaniards in 1565, it is
    quite natural that we should find here many relics of the past
    mingled with the bright and better features of modern life. The old
    city was surrounded by a wall as security against attacks from the
    outside, and of this wall the gates, so beautifully photographed on
    this page, are about the only remaining relics. It is one of the
    links connecting the present with the earliest events of discovery
    in our country—a link rusty with the blood of conquest and
    martyrdom. Here it was that Spanish cruelty and French retaliation
    were carried to the most barbaric extreme, and cruelty is always in
    need of strong walls to protect it from the enemies it creates and
    nourishes.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: A HOME IN THE MOUNTAINS OF GEORGIA.]

The country district about Savannah is somewhat similar in appearance to
that of Western North Carolina, except that its mountains are not nearly
so high. The soil, however, is practically the same, as are the social
conditions; and hence the constant reminder of that section which we
have already described. The old log-cabin is a familiar sight in
Georgia, often vine-wreathed, and showing signs of great antiquity, with
roofs of clap-board, upon which the rain patters like the long-roll beat
of a snare-drum. The picture which we present is typical of this class,
and an example as well of rural simplicity. Homely, battered by time,
and affording few comforts, yet in such cabins greatness has often had
its birth, nor scorned such humble nativity. How many men of high estate
lie down in the drapery of fine linen and, when night has folded the
earth in her sable arms, think of the old cabin home in Georgia; of the
long time ago; of the bubbling spring in the hollow and the gourd that
hung by it; of the grape-vine swing, and the cows mooing in the pasture;
of father and mother, and the graves on the hillside. And there is a
sigh from the heart. The old time was the flush of life’s morning; it is
growing evening now, and the shadows are creeping up the slopes. Soon
the present will be the “old times” to our children. How many men who
have achieved greatness would exchange their possessions and positions
for youth and the old cabin home as they see it now in their dreams!
Many, yes, very many.

Inseparable, almost, from the log-house of the Southern poor, is the
cabin home of the negro, because the two are separated by such a thin
line of distinction that only critical inspection can prevent them from
assimilating in the minds of those unfamiliar with Southern life. There
is the same stone-chimney and clap-board roof, but the colored man’s
cabin is a single room, and the front is porchless. More hasty
construction is also noted, for the logs are laid like a turkey-pen, and
clap-boards are used again, not for weather-boarding, but as a
substitute for batten. Windows are not needed, through which to exchange
civilities with the season, for there are holes and crannies to let
smoke out, and plenty of accidental entrances for the warm summer air to
get in. It is thus at small effort and no care the worst weather is kept
out, and contentedness reigns within.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  AMONG THE PALMETTOS ON THE BANKS OF HALIFAX RIVER, FLORIDA.—This is a
    typical Southern scene, and one of the most delightful to human
    senses that could be imagined. It is so perfectly in accord with
    nature that in imagination we can hear the bursting of the buds as
    they grow beneath the fructifying influences of the Southern sun,
    and feel the soft, hazy atmosphere as it gently rolls in from the
    cooling waters of the sea, and floods the intervening spaces of the
    moss-covered trees. In the Garden of Eden there must have been many
    bowers such as this, where Adam and Eve whispered the first vows of
    devotion and human love.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: THE HEAD OF HALIFAX RIVER, ABOVE ORMOND.]

Through Georgia and into the land of orange groves we sped, stopping a
day at Jacksonville, and then hurried on to San Augustine, the oldest
town in America (founded by the Spanish in 1565), and possibly the most
interesting. It is a link which connects the present with the earliest
events of discovery in our country—a link rusty with the blood of
conquest and martyrdom. Here it was that Spanish cruelty and French
retaliation were carried to the most barbaric extreme, and the
enslavement of native Indians began. Passing through the first ordeals
of settlement, a century later it was bitterly afflicted by raids of
Indians and the plundering of pirates, so that its growth was prevented,
and not until the British surrendered possession to the United States in
1821, did the place show any indications of permanency, or that it would
attain to any importance beyond what it had before reached as a very
small village.

St. Augustine is located on a narrow peninsula formed by the Matanzas
and San Sebastian Rivers, and is separated from the ocean by Anastasia
Island. From a place of little consequence, in the last few years it has
become distinguished as the most popular winter resort in the South.
Several things have conspired to bring about this change, chief of
which, however, was the enterprises of Mr. H. M. Flagler, who,
recognizing its favorable location, resolved to convert the town from a
listless, sleeping, poverty-stricken village into such an Eden of
loveliness as the arts of man can create. In accomplishing this object
he spent $6,000,000, and the improvements are of such a character as may
well satisfy his ambition. The Ponce de Leon Hotel is a revival of the
richest examples of Moorish architecture. It is old Spain of the golden
reign of Ibn-l-Ahmar transported to American shores. And strange
coincidence it is, that the year in which Columbus set sail on his first
western voyage in quest of eastern lands, the year of the Moorish
Expulsion, the beautiful Alhambra, most magnificent building that ever
graced the earth, was given over to vandalism and spoliation. The Ponce
de Leon, with its lavish adornment, picturesque style and exquisite
grounds, in which every known tropical plant is made to add its beauty
and shed its fragrance, while fountains cool the summer air, is a
reminder of the great palace of Grenada, and the chivalry of Spain in
the time of Columbus.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  AVENUE OF MOSS-COVERED OAKS, NEAR ORMOND, FLORIDA.—Laying aside the
    question as to whether the command to work, that was imposed upon
    our first parents, was a curse or a blessing, it is easy to conceive
    that one reared among such scenery as this, where there are but few
    wants which the spontaneous growth of nature does not supply, would
    naturally regard hard labor as the greatest curse that could be
    pronounced against mankind. Here, side by side and of their own
    volition, grow the orange, the pomegranate, the fig, the melon, and
    nearly all the other fruits and vegetables necessary for the support
    of physical existence, while life is made delightful with the
    blossom and odor of thousands of bright-hued and ever-blossoming
    flowers. Here let us rest and dream, and think of work only when the
    flaming sword of necessity drives us forth to exertion.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: PALMETTO HUTS NEAR TITUSVILLE, FLORIDA.]

But the interest to St. Augustine visitors is not confined to the Ponce
de Leon, glorious as it is, joined though it be to its almost equally
superb annexes, the Cordova and Alcazar, for the city is filled with the
relics of an olden time, and associations that are almost painful to
recall. Along its water-front extends a sea wall one mile in length and
ten feet broad, built of coquina and coped with granite, forming an
incomparable promenade between the old Franciscan monastery, now used as
a barracks, and the ancient fort of San Marco, now known as Fort Marion.
Though not the most formidable, these antique fortifications rank all
others of this country in interest. Their construction was begun by
Menendez de Aviles in 1565, at the time of the founding, but were not
completed until two centuries later, all of the work being performed by
enslaved Indians. The fortifications cover about four acres, and the
walls are of coquina, a conglomerate of shells and sand brought from
Anastasia Island, which, soft when dug, hardens by exposure. The fort is
a splendid example of the best military architecture of the time, being
in the shape of a trapezium, surrounded by a wide and deep moat, and
with walls twenty-one feet high, sharp bastions at the corners, thick
casemates, and subterranean passages and vaults which might serve
equally for refuge ports or dungeons. That some of these were used for
the latter purpose is proved by the fact that in one of the least
accessible dungeon-rooms, the entrance to which was accidentally found,
two skeletons chained to the wall were discovered. What a story of
suffering these might tell if they could speak!

In the earlier centuries a wall extended across the peninsula, which
protected the city from attack on the north side, but nothing now
remains of this defence except the old city gates, at the head of St.
George street. These are massive square towers fifteen feet high,
pierced with loop-holes, and at the base of each is a sentry-box, which
the guards occupied when on duty.

Near the center of the business part of the city is the old slave-
market, adjoining which is the _Plaza de la Constitucion_, containing a
monument erected in 1812, commemorative of the Spanish Liberal
Constitution, while another monument stands in front of the old Market,
which was erected in 1879, in honor of the Confederate dead.

Besides being a great winter resort, St. Augustine is a place of some
commercial importance, its largest industry being the manufacture of
palmetto hats, while in the convents a fine quality of lace goods is
made, by girls and the nuns in charge.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  RUBBER OR BANYAN TREE, ON BANANA RIVER, FLORIDA.—We are now among the
    wonders of the semi-tropics and the paradisaic delights of a
    marvelous sun-browned land, where the mocking bird opens the matin
    competition in the college of vernal hymns, and the palmettos are
    vocal with the softly stirring breeze. The landscape is a dreamy
    haze of incomparable loveliness, where a feast of flowers is
    perpetually spread, and the voice of peris may be heard down under
    the green waters of a murmuring sea. The ocean is so near that the
    music of its rolling beach comes like a gentle lullaby through the
    clustering branches of the scented trees, bringing the hush of the
    still small voice that reminds us of the presence of Deity.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: IN THE DEEP PALMETTO SOLITUDES ALONG INDIAN RIVER.]

It is about seventy-five miles from St. Augustine to Ormond by the
Jacksonville, Tampa and Key West Railroad, one of the branches of the
Plant System, whose terminus is Daytona, five miles below Ormond.
Indeed, nearly every road in Florida is the property of the Plant
company, which has proven a factor of incalculable benefit to the State,
and has reaped correspondingly great reward. Ormond is located on the
head of Halifax River, which is a part of the Indian River Lagoon,
connected by the Mosquito Haul-Over, or canal. We are now in the sub-
tropics, and among the paradisiac delights of a marvelous sun-browned
land, where the mocking-bird opens the matin competition in the college
of vernal hymns, and the palmettos are vocal with the softly stirring
breeze. The landscape is a dreamy haze of incomparable loveliness, where
a feast of flowers is perpetually spread, and the voice of peris may be
heard down under the green waters of a murmuring sea. Only a thin
stretch of golden beach lies between the mainland, on which Ormond is
located, and the ocean, so near that the billows are distinctly heard
beating against the shore. Along this water-front of lagoon and sea are
gleaming sands so hard that step nor wheel make any impression, and so
inviting that nymphs might make it a playground. West of the village is
a typical hummock of tropical growths, penetrated by a glade that is
embowered and sweetly shaded by massive oaks gracefully festooned with
pearl-gray mosses, and palmettos that flaunt their tangled, rustling
branches before the beaming sun. Hereabout, too, are groves rich-laden
with fruits as golden as those that were plucked by Hercules in the
garden of Hesperides; where the orange and the banana bend beneath the
weight of their own deliciousness, and pour out their honey to the bees
in rich extravagance.

At Ormond boat was taken for a trip down Indian River, a journey which
all the speech of adjective and imagery cannot justly describe. Indian
River and Halifax River are not streams, but shallow lagoons, strips of
the ocean enclosed by narrow tongues of sandy beach, severed by
occasional inlets through which the billows break tumultuously. Its
extreme length, for the two are now joined by a canal, is about two
hundred miles, and though rarely more than three feet deep, and in
places less, the lagoon is navigated by a line of stern-wheel boats,
which, in winter-time, are crowded with excursionists, notwithstanding
their sleeping accommodations are confined almost entirely to cots in
the cabins. One line runs to Titusville, and there connects with
another, which carries passengers as far south as Jupiter, the southern
limit of the river. In the last year (1892) a railroad has been built
from Titusville to Rockledge, and is being pushed southward, so that in
another year or two the trip to Jupiter may be made by rail. But the
boat journey, though beset by some harassments, consequent upon narrow
passages and low water, will lose little of its popularity, because it
will always remain one of the most delightful that can be taken. The
connection between Halifax and Indian Rivers is by means of a canal that
requires constant dredging, and through which it is difficult to pass
with boat when the wind is blowing hard; while at times it is so choked
with sand that the boats have to be literally dragged through by means
of hawser and capstan. New Smyrna is a town of some importance, as is
Titusville, but besides these, the landings are of no consequence as
trading-places, consisting of never more than one or two stores and as
many houses. This sparseness of population increases the interest of
travelers on the river, for the charm of primeval beauty and
attractiveness thus remains.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  ROCKLEDGE, ON INDIAN RIVER, FLORIDA.—Rockledge is a resort of great
    popularity, but of no commercial importance, for it does not contain
    a single store. For beauty it is almost unrivaled, being richly
    adorned by nature and lavishly ornamented by the arts of man. The
    large cabbage palmettos that grow up wildly along the coquina banks
    were suffered to remain, and between them avenues were laid out and
    covered with shells, so that from the river there is a long prospect
    of gleaming walks ramifying a shore of brilliant green. Here also
    the orange grows to its most delicious perfection, likewise the
    lemon, banana and grape fruit; and such a breeze of perfume greets
    the incoming passenger as paradise itself might exhale.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: SPOUTING ROCK, NEAR JUPITER.]

As a rule the banks are covered with spiney-palmetto, which is almost as
difficult to eradicate as Canada thistle, and hence few attempts are
made to reclaim the land, as the cost of clearing exceeds the value. But
at occasional intervals the banks are diversified with orange groves,
and bananas are also raised to some extent, but the chief industry is
fishing, for the river abounds with sheephead, pompano, mullet, cavalli,
and green turtles. Rockledge is a resort of great popularity, but of no
commercial importance, for it does not contain a single store. For
beauty, however, it is almost unrivalled, being richly adorned by nature
and lavishly beautified by the arts of man. The large cabbage palmettos
that grow up wildly along its coquina banks were suffered to remain, and
between them avenues were laid out and covered with shells, so that from
the river there is a lovely prospect of gleaming walks ramifying a shore
of brilliant green. Here also the orange grows in its most delicious
perfection, likewise the lemon, banana, and grape fruit; and such a
breeze of perfume greets the incoming passenger as paradise itself might
exhale.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  ORANGE GROVE AT ROCKLEDGE, INDIAN RIVER, FLORIDA.—A trip down Indian
    River is a journey that all the speech of imagery and adjective
    cannot justly describe. It is here that the orange reaches its best
    perfection, and on every hand are groves laden with the yellow
    fruit, while the more modest banana bush bends beneath the weight of
    its own deliciousness, and pours out its honey to the bees in rich
    extravagance. Nature is so luxurious in her productions that she
    supports nearly all the plants and trees and flowers belonging to
    this delightful climate, so that within the limits of an orange
    orchard may be found nearly everything that grows in the semi-
    tropics.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: LAKE OKEECHOBEE, FLORIDA.]

The river at Rockledge is nearly six miles wide and furnishes the finest
sea for sailing, for the salt-air is present, and the dangers of heavy
billows are absent. Across this expanse lies a broad strip of land which
is divided by another lagoon called Banana River, along which is a
charming vista of wood that has been named by some admirer Fairyland.
This strip of forest-growth is beautiful enough to justify the name, and
wandering through groves of oranges, palms, magnolias and paw-paws, on
shell-walks of snowy whiteness, fancy pictures a troop of dryads
picnicking among the trees, and drinking nectar from flaming begonia
flowers that sprinkle the woods with scarlet. At the lower end of
Fairyland is a natural park in which gnarled oaks spread their giant
shadows over a lawn of grasses, and on the margin is a grove of pine-
apples, the fragrance of which almost stifles the odor from the orange-
blossoms. A single cottage is the only habitation in this poetic
retreat, before the door of which are lofty paw-paws waving their
feathery crests, and a gigantic rubber, or banyan tree, whose branches
woo the soil and have taken root therein. Only one other specimen of
this remarkable tree, of equal size, is found in the United States, and
it, too, is a native of Florida, being one of the chief curiosities of
Key West. There are other species that exhibit a disposition to fix the
points of their drooping branches in the ground, but it is peculiar to
the banyan to send out shoots from its main stems, which, instead of
growing upward, point straight down, and even before reaching the ground
the ends put out root-tendrils, which strike into the soil and firmly
attach themselves as soon as they reach the earth. As the boat proceeds
southward from Rockledge the way grows in interest, for we soon reach
what may be called “the region of water-fowls.” Ducks, coots, water-
hens, absolutely cover the river’s surface, while pelicans increase in
number until we reach Pelican Island, where they swarm by thousands. The
rising of water-fowl before the boat is a wondrous sight, and the
beating of their wings on the water produces a sound like a heavy fall
of hail on a dry clap-board roof; there are positively millions, and the
commotion which they create is almost pandemonium. Another remarkable
sight which we witnessed was a school of porpoises that had strayed into
the lagoon (for they are not commonly found there) which, being
frightened by the boat, made a retreat across the river in such
precipitation that the shallow water was beaten into foam, leaving a
streak of white behind them that marked their course some time after.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  A PINEAPPLE GROVE ON INDIAN RIVER, FLORIDA.—A pineapple grove is one
    of the most enjoyable places in the world. The broad green blades of
    the plants, the golden reddish yellow fruit, and the pleasant odor
    that fills the air form a combination of the most delightful
    character. No one can fully appreciate the delicious flavor of the
    pineapple until he has plucked it ripe from the plant and eaten it
    on the spot. The fruit that goes to market is cut when only half
    ripe, and thus loses the best part of its flavor, and is spongy and
    tough in comparison with that which is allowed to mature before
    being gathered.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: A CAMP OF CONSUMPTIVES, NEAR LAKE WORTH, FLORIDA.]

The character of the shore vegetation also changed, the spiney-palmetto
giving place to mangroves that grow so thickly a man might almost walk
on their tops. In these deep forests wild game is abundant, including
deer, bear, panthers and ’coons; and on our journey we saw a ’coon that
had so little fear it scarcely moved even when the boat brushed the limb
upon which it sat. When night falls upon these solemnly somber deep
woods a sense of dread steals on the traveler, though he be in a gay
crowd on a good steamboat. The river narrows for nearly ten miles
through the mangrove thickets, and during this interval the banks are
within reach from both sides. The passage is tortuous, too, and the boat
requires slow and careful handling, frequently the bow striking one bank
and the stern the other, while the electric bull’s-eye light penetrates
and flashes like a Druid’s fire dance in the tangled copse where many
slimy and uncanny things have their haunts. An alligator’s grunt, a
loon’s cry, a frog’s hoarse croak, and a snake-bird’s piping are some of
the sounds that animate the solitudes, and cracking branches betray the
proximity of some wild beast whose eyes are like lanterns in the
darkness.

After hours of patient working, Jupiter Narrows are passed and the boat
speeds on, her iron hull often grinding on the oyster-beds, and long
waves breaking over the shallows. Eden is then reached, and the odor of
the pine-apple is perceptible in the air. A stop is made to allow
passengers to go on shore and visit the pine-apple grove near-by, where
that excellent fruit is cultivated successfully by a gentleman who first
lost a fortune in the experiment. A mile below Eden St. Lucie Sound and
River extend several miles inland towards Lake Okeechobee, twenty-five
miles distant. It is proposed to connect the lake with this river by
means of a canal, and thus drain the swamps and everglades of Southern
Florida. Another shorter canal on the west would connect the lake with
Caloosahat River, and thus two outlets would be afforded, which would
speedily accomplish the purpose of the company that has undertaken the
enterprise.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  A BANANA GROVE IN FLORIDA.—The banana plant is one of the most
    beautiful growths that can be imagined. Its broad, luxuriant leaves
    are of a bright green color, changing to maroon and orange as the
    season advances and the fruit begins to ripen. The latter, when it
    reaches the delicious yellow stage of full maturity, does its part
    in helping to dress the field in the most beautiful livery of
    nature, presenting a scene of gold, green and maroon surpassing the
    powers of pen or pencil to depict or portray. The Spaniards, from a
    fancied resemblance of the transverse section to a cross, supposed
    the banana to have been the forbidden fruit, and that Adam saw in
    eating it the mystery of redemption by the cross.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: THE ONE-OX SHAY IN FLORIDA.]

Twenty-five miles below Eden is Jupiter, the southern termination of
Indian River, a little town that derives its importance from the
Government light-house which stands before the inlet to warn vessels off
the dangerous reefs outside. The surroundings, however, are very
delightful, especially the beach, which is strewn with the prettiest
ocean-shells that ever a pensive person gathered, including an
occasional pearly nautilus, a perfect one of which we had the good
fortune to find. Near-by is the Spouting Rock, a coquina formation that
rises into a bank and which has been hollowed at the base by incessant
dashing of the billows. Into this grotto the waves plunge with such
force that they drive out through an opening in the top of the rock like
a colossal fountain, and are scattered by the winds into a shower of
rainbows. A narrow-gauge railroad runs south from Jupiter, a distance of
eight miles, to Juno, its terminus on Lake Worth, where tourists take a
steam launch for Palm Beach and are then in the land of the cocoanut.
The voice of eloquence grows coarse when it attempts to paint the
beauties of this o’er fair summer-land; a land where warm zephyrs stir
the hazy air with breath of perpetual bloom, and sensuous perfumes fan
the cheeks of languorous day. In this Arcadian spot of beauty, where the
air is passionate as a lover, wooing and kissing the flowers, tossing
and embracing the fronds of the cocoa-trees, there is a joy like
retrospection; a communion with the rapturous soul of nature; a
commingling with the creatures of our sweetest fancy; a balmy, delicious
sense of gratification that lulls and etherealizes; that bridges the
gulf between the real and the ideal; that builds substantial castles in
clouds of gold, and makes everything a slave to our desires. The banks
are pictures of beauty, the gardens are beds of perennial delight. Lake
Worth is separated from the ocean by a strip of land less than half a
mile wide, and this narrow tongue of what was once bare sand has been
converted into a stretch of tropical exuberance. For a distance of four
miles there is an unbroken glade of cocoanut-trees, while nearer to the
sea-shore are banana groves, and trees bending to the ground with
guavas, sapodillas, oranges, lemons and other tropical fruits. At
intervals there are gardens full-bearing in February with beans, peas,
tomatoes, and along the walks are flower-beds that flame with color and
lade the atmosphere with nature’s incense. To walk through such a grove
of fruitful delight is to fill the heart with ecstasy.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  A COCOANUT GROVE ON THE BANKS OF LAKE WORTH, FLORIDA.—There are but
    few of the wants and conveniences of mankind to which the cocoanut
    palm does not contribute something. Without exception it is the most
    useful tree in existence. It attains a height of sixty to one
    hundred feet, and a diameter of one to two feet; while it is
    resplendently crowned with numerous feather-like leaves from
    eighteen to twenty feet long. The flowers come in clusters, and at
    first have a beautiful milk-white appearance, which, however, soon
    changes to a yellowish color. They are beautiful for their varied
    combinations and great number rather than from any individual grace.
    Each tree will produce from eighty to one hundred nuts per year.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: SCENE ON THE OKLAWAHA RIVER, FLORIDA.]

The air of this southern region is not only languorous but, in the piney
districts particularly, is balsamic, and hence thousands of consumptives
go to Florida for relief which they cannot find elsewhere. The
Everglades are not what they were formerly pictured to be before
exploration revealed that instead of impenetrable swamps they are
sections of very thickly timbered lands, whose only drawback are spiney-
palmettos, which render travel through them very laborious. But at
several places I saw parties of consumptives encamped not far from
Indian River, and also in the vicinity of Lake Worth, where they spent
their time in hunting and fishing, and claimed great benefits from the
exercise as well as from the restoratives contained in the air.

Returning from our trip down Indian River, we left the steamboat at
Titusville and took train for Enterprise, at which point we embarked on
boat for a run down the St. John’s River as far as Palatka. The journey
was very different from that on Indian River, yet the sensation of
pleasure was not wanting, for the stream, though the largest in Florida,
is, nevertheless, characteristic, sluggish, rather shallow and margined
with a thick growth of timber and brush-wood. The landings, while more
important than those on Indian River, are generally small villages whose
principal population are negroes. The industries in Florida are not
varied as in other States, but consist mainly of fruit growing, fishing
and phosphate digging. Manufacturing there is none, practically, and the
people derive their largest revenue from tourists, who pay as much for
oranges, cocoanuts and pineapples at the places where they are grown as
is charged for the fruit in our Northern cities. Yet there are signs of
rapid growth in Florida, and the State has a bright future, for it is
settling up at a marvelous pace, and with an excellent class of
immigrants.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  AN ORANGE GROVE NEAR PALATKA, FLORIDA.—A full-grown orange tree,
    loaded to the ground with its yellow, ripe, luscious fruit, is a
    delightful object to gaze upon. Oranges do not drop from the trees
    of their own accord as soon as they are matured, like most other
    fruits, but they hang by the stem until they are plucked off, and it
    is said that the longer they remain the sweeter and juicier do they
    become. Experience seems to prove the truth of this theory, for we
    have never eaten oranges elsewhere so deliciously sweet as when we
    took them from the tree with our own hands and ate them on the spot.
    Owing to the peculiarity of the fruit it is no uncommon thing to see
    ripe oranges on a tree that is in full bloom for another crop.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: EXCURSION LAUNCH ON THE RUN, FLORIDA.]

About Palatka are many very fine orange groves, and the city is in a
flourishing condition, largely through the business of fruit growing. In
writing of the St. John’s River Mr. Edward King says, with truth well
told: “The banks are low and flat, but bordered with a wealth of foliage
to be seen nowhere else upon this continent. One passes for hundreds of
miles through a grand forest of cypresses robed in moss and mistletoe;
of palms towering gracefully far above the surrounding trees; of
palmettos whose rich trunks gleam in the sun; of swamp, white and black
ash, of magnolia, water-oak, poplar and plane trees; and where the
hummocks rise a few feet above the water level, the sweet-bay, the
olive, cotton-tree, juniper, red-cedar, sweet-gum, and live-oak shoot up
their splendid stems; while among the shrubbery and inferior growths one
may note the azalea, the sumach, sensitive plant, agave, poppy, mallow,
and the nettle. The fox-grape clambers along the branches, and the
woodbine and bignonia escalade the haughtiest forest monarch. When the
steamer nears the shore, one can see far through the tangled thickets
the gleaming water, out of which rise thousands of cypress knees,
looking exactly like so many champagne bottles set into the current to
cool. The heron and the crane saucily watch the shadow which the
approaching boat throws near their retreat. The wary monster-turtle
gazes for an instant, with his black head cocked knowingly on one side,
then disappears with a gentle slide and splash. An alligator grins
familiarly as a dozen revolvers are pointed at him over the boat’s side,
sullenly winks with his tail, and vanishes, as the bullets meant for his
tough hide skim harmlessly over the ripples left above him. For its
whole length the river affords glimpses of perfect beauty. It is not
grandeur which one finds on the banks of the great stream; it is nature
run riot. The very irregularity is delightful, the decay is charming,
the solitude is picturesque.”

I may add to Mr. King’s description the regrettable fact that the
animate scenes which he pictured are no longer to be witnessed on the
St. John’s River. The persecution of alligators by travelers on the
steamers has resulted in the practical extermination of those curious
creatures in that stream. They are now protected by a State law, but it
came too late; where alligators were plentiful five years ago they are
now a curiosity, though in some parts of Florida, where travel is not
heavy, their number is not yet diminished, but every year they are
becoming scarcer, and in a little while they will no doubt be extinct.
Not only are alligators persecuted for the mere sport of killing, but
thousands are annually destroyed by professional hunters for their
hides, which make an excellent leather. The taxidermist also finds his
business increased by the sale of stuffed specimens to visitors from the
North, while great numbers of the young are caught and sold to the
lovers of curious things for pets, all of which contribute to their
rapid diminution, and their total extinction is therefore a matter of
only a short while.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  A PALMETTO GLADE NEAR PALATKA, FLORIDA.—The palmetto is intimately
    associated with the history of the South, having on several
    occasions been adopted as the national tree and emblazoned on the
    flags. It has also done good service on many occasions as material
    for forts and breastworks, the tough and spongy nature of the wood
    being well suited for such a purpose. No wonder, therefore, that it
    is regarded with a certain degree of love and veneration by the
    people who live within the limits of its growth. As a forest tree,
    or for the ornamentation of lawns, nothing could be more beautiful,
    as may be inferred from its elegant appearance in the photograph
    before us.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: SILVER SPRING AND OCKLAWAHA STEAMBOAT.]

Palatka is a pretty town of 3,500 inhabitants, and situated in the heart
of the orange belt. Besides its picturesque surroundings and importance
as a shipping point, it is healthfully located on high ground and in the
midst of a piney region noted for the blandness of its climate. Florida
has been transformed within the past very few years by the Plant
railways from a state of comparatively sandy desolation, without roads
through its dense growths, into a country of great advantages and
thriftiness. Fruit trees have supplanted the coverts of palmetto, and
there is health and prosperity abounding everywhere. The “Florida
Cracker,” as her languid, backwoods, one-gallus type of slovenly, slow
humanity is called, has not yet wholly disappeared, but the transition
to more industrious and cultured citizenship is going on, and it is
particularly apparent about Palatka. The old-time conveyance of an ox in
shafts hitched to a cart of uncertain age is not quite obsolete, but it
survives more as a relic than as a thing of every-day service; and
people who visit Florida on a winter trip, people in fine linen who are
able to fare sumptuously, are more given to using the ox-cart, than are
the permanent inhabitants. In the mountain districts of Colorado
tourists ride burros; in Florida they affect a preference for the
harnessed ox. It is the influence of locality that diversifies custom.
Another curiosity in Florida, peculiar alike to Cuba and the tropics
generally, is the palmetto hut, an unsubstantial structure roofed and
“weather-boarded” with palmetto leaves, but which furnishes protection
from the sun and rain. These huts are usually built to serve as
temporary abodes for orange-pickers, and are therefore usually within or
near the groves. Throughout Florida it is the custom to sell the orange
crop on the trees, the purchasers being fruit dealers from the North.
These dealers employ trained pickers, who work throughout the season,
going from one grove to another, until the gathering is completed;
usually they provide their own supplies, likewise their shelter, and the
palmetto hut serves them both well and economically. When the fleas
become so thick as to crowd the occupants, they burn the hut and build
another. It is the cheapest way yet discovered of getting rid of these
elusive pests.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  HOME OF THE ORANGE-PICKERS IN FLORIDA.—A curiosity peculiar to
    Florida, and the tropics generally, is the palmetto hut, an
    unsubstantial structure roofed and “weather-boarded” with palmetto
    leaves, but furnishing ample protection from sun and rain. These
    huts are usually built to serve as temporary abodes for orange-
    pickers, and are therefore generally within or near the groves. It
    is the custom to sell the orange crop on the trees, the purchasers
    being usually fruit dealers from the North. These dealers employ
    trained pickers, who work throughout the season, going from one
    grove to another until the gathering is completed. These pickers
    generally provide their own supplies, likewise their shelter, and
    the palmetto hut serves them both well and economically.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: SCENE ON THE SUWANEE RIVER.]

At Palatka we took boat for an excursion up the Ocklawaha River to
Silver Spring and Ocala, the head of navigation on that stream. Of our
many trips in the East, West and South, this proved to be the most
unique, the most wonderful, the most sensationally picturesque.
Ocklawaha River is at once a lagoon, a narrow lake, and a swamp, but at
no place does it have the appearance of a flowing stream, for the
current is scarcely perceptible. The shore-line is indicated by a
profuse growth of water-vegetation and cypress knees, while at places
the river is so narrow that lofty trees interlace their branches above
the low smoke-stack of the boat. And what a boat! It is well adapted to
the trade, and to that end is unlike any other steamer that ever sat in
the water, a thing of indescribable shape, an object of surprise and
curiosity. On this queer craft fifty people may ride in comfort during
the day, while attention is attracted by the alligators, cranes, loons
and snake-birds along the shore, but the night must be spent in vain
regrets and fighting mosquitoes. No chance to get lonesome on this trip;
there is too much to see in day-time and too much to do at night. But it
is a novelty, an experience, a sensation worth more than the discomforts
that must be endured. Along the Ocklawaha alligators are still
plentiful, because shooting is not allowed from the boat, and there is
no other way to approach them within gun-shot distance. The lazy
monsters may be seen sunning their corrugated backs on nearly every log,
and in their company huge water-snakes are often found, associated with
big and little snapping-turtles, the three species forming a congenial
but most repulsive family of reptilian cousinship. The water being half-
stagnant is black with a vegetable dissolution, and yet so transparent
that the bottom may at times be seen. But if the creatures that haunt
the river are offensive, the sight is compensated by the wonder which
they excite; while the dense woods that margin the shore are resonant
with the carol of birds and jewelled with their brilliant plumage.

The trip is remarkably interesting, but the greatest charm that attaches
to the stream is found when the boat reaches Silver Spring, the most
exquisite pool that was ever rippled by dip of oar or skimmed by lap-
wing. Tradition tells us that this is the marvelous rejuvenating spring
of which Ponce de Leon heard fabulous tales which lured him to the dark
interior of Indian-infested Florida. If his eyes ever gazed into its
crystalline depths surely he must have believed that his quest for the
magic fountain had been rewarded. The clearness of the water may be
likened to the air itself, for at its greatest depth of eighty feet
objects on the bottom may be clearly and distinctly seen, likewise the
fissure through which the water pours up like a veritable fountain. A
peculiarity of the spring is the prismatic colors which are reflected
from any white or shiny object thrown into it. To test this curious fact
I cast in a piece of broken crockery and watched with keenest interest
the fragment as it sank in a zigzag motion to the bottom. No rainbow was
ever so brilliant as the colors which flashed up from this piece of
saucer, nor did ever jewel gleam with more scintillant beauty.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  A HOME IN THE SHADES OF SOUTHERN PINES.—If Ponce de Leon and his
    doughty Spaniards had remained in Florida and built them homes like
    this, under the shades of the health-giving pines, instead of wading
    through swamps and morasses in quest of the fountain of youth, they
    might, and probably would, have lived to be hale and hearty old men.
    Abodes like this, in the balmy air of the Sunny South, are fountains
    of life within themselves, where, free from worry and the necessity
    of making a living, one has but little to do aside from living and
    growing and being happy. Such homes, with contentment, are more
    worthy of being sought after than the wealth of a thousand Crœsuses.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration: A BAPTIZING ON THE SUWANEE RIVER.]

The flow from Silver Spring is so great that a deep river one hundred
feet wide is formed, which, after a course of nine miles, joins the
Ocklawaha. This stream is called the Run, and a little launch, or tug,
plies over this short course, carrying visitors on an excursion which,
if brief, is incomparably delightful. Five miles from Silver Spring is
Ocala, on the Florida Southern Railroad, to which point we proceeded,
and thence north and west by the Savannah, Florida and Western, and the
Florida Central and Peninsular railroads to New Orleans. Ocala is on the
border or north limit of the hummock lands, and thereafter the journey
was through pine-barrens which are so infested with dwarf palmetto that
it appears to be an impossible labor to clear it away. This is the home
of the deer and likewise of the rattlesnake, very monsters of the latter
being more plentiful than game; but north of Gainesville the country
presents a change for the better, being much higher and undulating, with
hills that are 300 or 400 feet above the ocean level, and the soil is
exceedingly fertile. The vegetation, too, loses its tropical character,
orange groves disappear, and fields of tobacco and cotton occupy the
landscape.

At High Springs we crossed the Santa River, a tributary of the Suwanee;
at New Bradford we touched the banks of that historic river, and at
Ellaville crossed the stream and halted there a day to pay to it the
tribute of a respect aroused in every American heart by Foster’s
mournful pastorale, “The Old Folks at Home.” Who has not heard “Way down
upon the Suwanee River”? and who hearing the song has not tried to
picture the desolate plantation and the dreary heart that went up and
down the solitudes of the deserted cotton-field sighing for the old
massa and missus, who will never call for Pompey again? In a small boat
we rowed down the river, which was as still as death, and almost as
motionless. The faint sound of a saw-mill at Ellaville was the only
thing that gave reminder of our proximity to civilization; and when at
length even this link was broken by distance, it seemed as if all
creation had gone into mourning. The spell, while mournful, was yet
dreamily charming, and instinctively, under the influence of such
lonesome isolation, we sang with the fullness of appreciation, “The Old
Folks at Home.” Never before had song such sweetness, never had one so
much of sadness, to me; and when the last note died away there was a
feeling of oppression in the silence that ensued. The old song brought
up visions to which we were unused: a fallow-field where once was
bounty; a large white mansion with its long porch fallen in decay; a
magnolia-tree with a mocking-bird’s deserted nest ready to fall from its
dead branches; two grave-stones, green with moss, in the pasture, and an
old darkey bowed in prayer. The Suwanee has its source in Okefenokee
Swamps, Georgia, and after running its course of nearly three hundred
miles, empties into the Gulf of Mexico, just above Cedar Key. At some
places the river has considerable width, but never sufficient depth to
permit of navigation by any craft of considerable size. Its banks are
occasionally high, as at Ellaville, but generally they are flat and
overhung by oaks thickly festooned with moss. The current is sluggish
and the water seldom clear, carrying as it does a thick vegetable
solution. The stream is neither beautiful nor romantic, save as it
acquires the reputation for being both through the song that has made it
as famous as our largest rivers.

[Illustration: A SECTION OF BIENVILLE PARK, MOBILE, ALABAMA.]

The country about Ellaville is fairly well settled, though the place
itself hardly ranks as a hamlet. We arrived on Saturday, and as no
trains run on Sunday we were compelled to remain over, and attended
church in the forenoon and witnessed a baptizing later in the day. The
administration of the ceremony proved to be a great event in the
unruffled lives of the people, and many came long distances to witness
the immersion of four candidates, three women and a man. The sight of a
baptizing, while common enough, possessed for us unusual interest
because the place was Suwanee River, and having the consent of the
officiating minister, we took a photograph of the crowd on shore, a
heavy cloud overcasting the sun immediately after, so that a picture
could not be made of the baptizing. From Ellaville our journey was
continued westward through Tallahassee and on to Mobile, where a short
stop was made, and thence to New Orleans. Mobile is not only one of the
oldest towns in the South, but is among the earliest settlements in
America, the exact date of its founding being in dispute. The place is
known to have been the original seat of the French colonization in the
Southwest as early as 1702, but its growth was so slow that the Colonial
Government was transferred to New Orleans in 1723, and with the change,
the little importance which it had acquired became lost, nor was it
again recovered until the place became a rendezvous for corsairs under
the infamous Lafitte, from 1810 to 1815. Its greatest prosperity,
however, dates since the civil war, though some years preceding that
troublous period Mobile had become a considerable port, her chief
shipments being cotton, coal, lumber and naval stores.

[Illustration: AVENUE OF TOMBS IN WASHINGTON CEMETERY, NEW ORLEANS.]

The entrance to Mobile Bay is commanded by Forts Morgan and Gaines,
which are thirty miles below the city, and on the east side of Tensas
River are the ruins of Spanish Fort and Fort Blakely, all of which
played an important part in the defence of the city when it was attacked
by Admiral Farragut, in August, 1864. One of the most desperate battles
that was fought during the war took place in the harbor, when Farragut
ran the blockade with a squadron of ten powerful men-of-war headed by
his flagship, the _Hartford_, and encountered the Confederate fleet
inside. One of the Union ships ran onto a torpedo and was instantly
blown into fragments, but the other vessels met with little opposition
until at the moment when Farragut thought the battle won, he saw with
surprise the dark body of a strange vessel flying the Confederate flag
and bearing down upon him at great speed, evidently intent upon ramming
and sinking his ship. The _Hartford_, by a piece of good luck and
skilful handling, managed to avoid the intended blow, and then followed
an engagement that has few parallels in fierceness. The strange gun-boat
proved to be the _Tennessee_, one of the most powerful and destructive
that the Confederate Government had sent into service. The Union iron-
clads closed around their black and terrible antagonist and battered her
with their heavy prows of steel until the unequal contest was ended by
her surrender. Forts Gaines and Morgan were also captured, but Spanish
Fort and Fort Blakely still defended the city, which resisted all
efforts at its reduction until April 12, 1865, three days after the
surrender of Lee.

Mobile has grown greatly since the war, and now has a population of
nearly 35,000. It is situated on a sandy plain that rises into high and
very graceful hills. Notwithstanding the barren shore as nature made it,
the arts of man have supplied the deficiency of soil and made of the
streets bowers of lovely shade, so charming that much of the city’s fame
is due to the noble trees that arch all its streets. Bienville Park is
one of the prettiest spots in southern lands, noted far and near alike
for its massive live-oaks, magnificent magnolias, and handsome fountain,
a place swathed in delicious airs and luxurious with the richest and
most beautiful vegetation.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  A PLANTATION HOME IN MISSISSIPPI.—This is one of the few old-time
    Southern mansions that survived the shock of war and still remain as
    landmarks of the golden age of the South country, when the wealthy
    planters owned armies of slaves and entertained with a hospitality
    even more than princely. As a rule these mansions have fallen into
    decay, even where they were not wholly or partially destroyed, for
    when the master and his sons left their bones to bleach upon some
    distant battle-field, the light of the home went out, and the weaker
    members of the household, reduced in many instances to pinching
    poverty, sadly but bravely took up the battle of life in less
    favored localities. But prosperity promises once more to smile upon
    the South, and the old mansions are being rebuilt, but the old faces
    are no more seen beneath their roofs.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Westward from Mobile the route was by the Louisville and Nashville
Railroad along the Gulf border of Mississippi, through some of the
loveliest intervales that vision ever wandered over. The air is warm
without debilitating sultriness, for the Gulf of Mexico tempers the
atmosphere with refreshing humidity, and a constant breeze shakes the
perfume out of flowering shrub and tree. Many beautiful places are
passed on the run of one hundred and forty miles from Mobile to New
Orleans, some of which are more or less noted as winter resorts, such as
Ocean Springs, Biloxi, Beauvoir, Pass Christian, and Bay St. Louis.
Beauvoir has a place in history as being the residence of Jefferson
Davis for several years after the war, and where he died. The way is
beautified also by many palatial homes and well-cultivated plantations
that attest the thrift and prosperity of farmers of the New South.

Between Pass Christian and Bay St. Louis the road crosses an inlet of
St. Louis Bay on a steel trestle, and a few miles further west passes
over Pearl River and enters Louisiana. The land is level, and cut up by
innumerable bayous, and after crossing the narrow outlet of Lake
Pontchartrain, called Pigolet’s, the road runs along a tongue of sea
marsh for a few miles, then plunges into a dismal swamp, where the
alligator’s bellow and the cormorant’s cry are the only sounds that
disturb its stillness, save when a train goes growling by. “The sea
marsh is dotted with many lakes, where green vegetable rafts of lotus
leaves and lily pods turn slowly with the tide or float lazily about,
blown by the breath of a salt breeze sweeping in from the Gulf. But in
the ghostly gloom of the swamp, the forest trees are like an assemblage
of monstrosities, great gnarled trunks and knotted arms of moss-draped
oaks, clutching at the fan-shaped fronds of palmettos, while the mixture
of crooked bodies and twisted leaf-stems of the latonia appear as if
they were the bodies and outstretched arms of horned goblins appealing
for release.”

New Orleans is a very old city, settled by the French in 1718. Like
other settlements of these early times, it has passed through many evil
vicissitudes and been in turn a possession of France, Spain, and the
United States. A singular thing in connection with the city is the fact
that it is built upon ground that is considerably lower than the surface
of the Mississippi during high water, and that it has no more
substantial foundation than an alluvium deposit which has been going on
for centuries, constantly extending into the Gulf, the point of outlet
of the Mississippi. To prevent overflowing, the city is protected by a
dyke, or levee, which is fifteen feet wide and fourteen feet high. This
earth-wall follows the river’s crescent winding a distance of ten miles,
while another extends across the rear to protect the city from Lake
Pontchartrain. To secure a firm foundation for some of the large
buildings, cotton-bales have been used on which to build, as piling is
of no service. But that this character of basis is no disadvantage is
proven by the fact that New Orleans is noted for its mammoth edifices,
public, church and commercial, which give no sign of insecurity. The
place is essentially cosmopolitan, for in no other city is the
population more mixed, nearly every street being occupied by a different
nationality. Commercially it is next to New York as an export city, and
easily holds the honor of the leading cotton port of the country, from
which one-fourth of the world’s supply is floated. She is likewise a
city of many charms and great historic interest. Within the city proper
occurred a terrible scene following the rebellion of 1763, when France
ceded the place to Spain, while at its southern outskirts is the battle-
field on which Jackson won his glorious victory over the British under
Packenham, January 8, 1815. The city passed through another storm of
shot and shell in 1862, when Farragut compelled its capitulation after a
terrible bombardment. But these scars have long since healed, and New
Orleans, despite plagues and wars, has held her position as Queen City
of the South and one of the great metropoli of America, with a
population now of 250,000, which is rapidly increasing. While New
Orleans is famous for the romance with which her history is invested,
for her immense importance as an export city, and also for the beauty of
her parks and magnificence of her private residences, the curiosity of
strangers is no less attracted by her cemeteries, which are unlike those
of any others in the world. In earlier times it was the custom there to
bury the dead in shallow graves, but this practice was finally abandoned
for the more sacred and sanitary one of enclosing the bodies in tombs
above the ground, and then hermetically sealing up the mortuary cell.
This became a necessity because of the nature of the soil, where water
is reached at a depth of two feet below the surface. Some of these tombs
are mausoleums made of stone or iron and of beautiful architectural
designs, but the more common form of disposition of the dead is in a
wall pierced by cells large enough to contain a coffin, one above the
other, to a height of seven or eight feet. There are thirty-three such
cemeteries in New Orleans, in one of which (Greenwood) is a monument to
the Confederate dead; and in another, the National, at Chalmette, the
Union dead are similarly honored.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  FAIRY GROTTO, MAMMOTH CAVE.—There is a remarkable absence of
    stalactitic formations in Mammoth Cave, Fairy Grotto and the
    Maelstrom being the only points where they are found in any
    quantity. But on the other hand, it contains an unexampled wealth of
    crystals of endless variety and incomparable beauty. There are halls
    canopied with fleecy clouds, or studded with mimic snowballs, and
    others displaying various grotesque resemblances on the walls and
    ceilings. Two avenues, each a mile long, are adorned by myriads of
    gypsum rosettes and curiously twisted crystals, called
    “oulopholites,” or cave-flowers, which are unfolded by pressure like
    a sheaf of wheat forced through a tight binding. This charming
    embellishment of clusters and garlands is frequently seen curling
    outward, like roses, composing petrified bouquets that cover the
    snowy arches.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Having completed our work in New Orleans, and a tour of the Southeast,
or at least that portion which is noted for its semi-tropical
characteristics and great picturesqueness, we took train on the
Louisville and Nashville Railroad for Mammoth Cave, to make an
inspection and photographic tour of that world-wonderful natural
curiosity. To reach the Cave our route was northeast through Birmingham,
Nashville, and thence to Glasgow Junction, at which point connection is
made with a little spur of the Louisville and Nashville Road, which runs
directly to the Cave, a distance of twelve miles from the Junction.
Mammoth Cave is in the eastern part of Edmondson county, Kentucky,
eighty-five miles south of Louisville, and its entrance is in a forest
ravine nearly two hundred feet above Green River, where the banks are
very steep and high. It is said to have been discovered in 1809 by a
hunter named Hutchins, while pursuing a wounded bear that had taken
refuge in a wide crevice that led directly into a broad chamber of the
Cave. The history of this discovery is not sufficiently definite to
enable us to know which one of the two points of entrance was thus
accidentally found. The present opening used is in the ravine mentioned,
but the original mouth is believed to have been the aperture that is
nearly a quarter of a mile above, and leads into what is known as
Dixon’s Cave, a disconnected branch of Mammoth Cavern.

Luray Caverns are lighted by electricity, so that photographing its many
chambers and beautiful stalactitic formations is easily accomplished;
but though Mammoth Cave is the largest and best known of the world’s
great subterranean recesses, and visited by about 6,000 persons
annually, no provision has been made for lighting, beyond the crude
method of guides who carry torches and candles. To photograph its dark
rivers, avenues, configurations, and strange sculpturings many attempts
have been made by the aid of magnesium lights, but without satisfactory
results until Mr. Ben. Hains, of New Albany, Indiana, made special and
most careful preparations to do the work which had so often failed in
the hands of others. Several weeks were spent in the cave testing the
powerful artificial lights which he had provided, and by dint of
perseverance he was at last rewarded by the most perfect results. To
this enterprising gentleman we are indebted for the use of the
photographs from which our reproductions are made.

Mammoth Cave first came into notice and importance about the year 1812,
when it was discovered that the cave contained vast beds of niter,
sufficient, as was stated at the time, to supply the whole population of
the globe with saltpeter. Gratz and Williams were the owners, and
established a very large industry in collecting the nitrous earth by
means of ox-carts and shipping it to Philadelphia, where it was used in
manufacturing the gun-powder that enabled us to triumph over England a
second time. The region is essentially cavernous, as Professor Shaler
estimates that in this carboniferous limestone district of Kentucky
“there are at least 100,000 miles of open caverns,” but very few of the
five hundred caves and grottoes of Edmondson county contain nitrous
earth. On the other hand, there have been very few evidences of
prehistoric occupancy discovered in Mammoth Cave, while in Salt Cave,
its neighbor, and almost a rival in size, archæologic remains, such as
fire-places, burnt torches, sandals, and moccasin-prints are numerous;
and in Short Cave, also near-by, the mummified bodies of several small
animals and a few human remains have been found. White Cave is half a
mile from the Mammoth Cave entrance, and the two may be connected,
though the communication has not been discovered. But there is a decided
difference in the formations that characterize the two. White Cave is in
some respects similar to Luray Caverns in its exquisitely charming
variety of stalactites. In the first chamber, “Little Bat Room,” as it
is called, we find many lovely creations and a few objects of great
interest to paleontologists. In the second room is a piece of
stalactitic drapery, which has been very appropriately called the
“Frozen Cascade.” “Humboldt’s Pillar” and “Bishop’s Dome” are other
wonderful examples of the effects of slowly percolating water bearing
lime in solution. In this same cave, some seventy years ago, were found
huge fossil bones, of the megalonyx, or giant sloth, bear, bison, and
stag, and scattered among these animal remains were a few human bones.

But while the adjacent caves each possess an interest peculiar to
themselves, Mammoth Cave must continue to remain the most remarkable
cavern in our country, not only for its size, but likewise for the
marvels which exploration of its labyrinthine avenues has revealed. To
Professor H. C. Hovey’s admirable and scientific description of the Cave
I acknowledge my indebtedness for a larger part of the information here
imparted, from which, also, liberal extracts are made, though without
quotation credit.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  OLD STONE HOUSE, MAMMOTH CAVE.—The dry atmospheric condition of the
    galleries of Mammoth Cave led to a belief some forty years ago that
    a continuous residence within these dark precincts for a definite
    period would be beneficial to consumptives. The experiment was
    therefore made by building a number of stone houses or huts at a
    point about a mile within the cave, in which a colony of invalids
    took up their abodes and lived in deep seclusion until it was
    demonstrated by the death of several of the sufferers that they
    derived no benefit from the surroundings. Relics of two of these
    stone huts still remain, but they exist now only as curiosities, no
    one having spent a night in either of them for many years.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The entrance to Mammoth Cave is arched by a rock-span of seventy feet,
thence leading by an easy descent down a winding flight of stone steps
to a narrow passage through which the air rushes outward with great
force in summer and is drawn inward with corresponding violence during
the winter, a phenomenon due to the inequality of temperature between
the air inside and out of the Cave, for the temperature of the Cave is
uniformly 54° Fahrenheit at all times. The atmosphere being thus
constantly agitated, is kept constantly pure, for while the lower levels
are moist, being no doubt connected with Green River, the upper avenues
and galleries are always dry; conditions which were one time thought to
be particularly favorable to consumptives, as well as to those suffering
from other wasting diseases. The experiment was therefore made, some
forty years ago, of building thirteen stone houses at a point one mile
within the Cave, in which a number of invalids took up their domicile
and lived there in deep seclusion until it was demonstrated that
whatever might be the salubrity of the atmosphere, consumptives derived
no benefit from it, a number dying in the Cave. Relics of two of these
stone huts still remain, but they exist now only as curiosities, no one
having spent a night in one of them for many years.

The main cave is from 40 to 300 feet wide and from 35 to 125 feet high,
divided into a great number of rooms and winding avenues, the extent of
which has not yet been determined, for exploration of the Cave is far
from being complete. Some of the best known rooms are, first, the
Rotunda, in which are ruins of the old saltpeter works, and where the
skeletons of two men were found several years ago. Beyond this is the
Star Chamber, where the protrusion of white crystals through a coating
of black oxide of manganese creates an optical illusion of great beauty.
Another department is called the Chief City, a chamber of nearly two
acres space, with a vaulted roof 125 feet high. The floor is bestrewn
with rocks, among which have been found charred torches of cone, and a
few other evidences of prehistoric occupancy. There are also shown some
mummified bodies, preserved by their inhumation in nitrous earth,
utensils, ornaments, braided sandals, and other relics, but all of these
were found in Salt and Short Caves, near-by, and removed to Mammoth Cave
for exhibition. The main cave ends four miles from the entrance, but is
joined to other spacious chambers by winding passages leading to
different levels, so that while the cavern area is perhaps less than ten
miles, the total length of the avenues is supposed to be 150 miles.

The chief places of interest are found along two main lines of the
explored portions, from which side excursions may be made. The “short
route” may be covered in about four hours, but it requires nine hours to
traverse what is known as the “long route.” Audubon Avenue is the first
leadway, interesting for the swarms of bats that hang in huge clusters
from the ceiling, but it is not until Gothic Avenue is reached that
stalactites and stalagmites are met with. This passage leads into the
Chapel, at the end of which is a beautiful double dome and cascade;
thence we pass into the Throne-Room, with its royal formations of
surprising splendors, which compel visitors to stop, and elicit
exclamations of wonder and admiration. The Bridal Altar is almost
equally grand, with its frosted pillars of pearl-white, and the
convolutions of their magnificent pediments that may be likened to
clouds in the sky of cave. Indeed, these vertical shafts or petrified
columns are among the most surprising features of cave scenery. They are
not confined to the Bridal Altar, however, for they pierce through all
levels, from the uppermost galleries to the lowest floors, and even find
lodgment in the sink-holes.

A block of stone that is forty feet long by twenty feet wide is called
the Giant’s Coffin, and when viewed from a certain angle the resemblance
to a funeral casket is so great that even if attention were not called
to it, visitors would hardly fail to be a little shocked by the sight.
There is a narrow passage-way around the coffin, which followed leads to
a large vault called Gorin’s Dome, in which there are six pits varying
in depth from 65 to 220 feet; truly, awful pits to fall into.
Notwithstanding the treacherous character of the floor, Gorin’s Dome is
one of the finest chambers in the Cave, for it is charmingly festooned
and pillared with stalactitic formations. Mammoth Dome, which is at the
termination of Sparks Avenue, is probably more interesting, because
besides having its walls draped with a marvelous tapestry, the great
wonder of the room is immensely increased and beautified by a cataract,
which falls from a height of 250 feet and fills the apartment with its
musical splashings. The Egyptian Temple, which is a continuation of the
Mammoth Dome, contains six massive columns, two of which are quite
perfect and eighty feet high by twenty-five feet in diameter. Lucy’s
Dome, which is three hundred feet high, is the loftiest of these monster
shafts, the equal of which cannot be found in any known cave in the
world.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  BEAUTIFUL BOW VALLEY.—One of the peculiarly attractive and
    picturesquely exquisite portions of British America is mountain-
    begirted Bow Valley, 500 miles east of Vancouver, along the Canadian
    Pacific Railway line. The region is wondrously diversified and
    marvelously beautiful, holding within its compass not only a valley
    of paradisaic charms, but also mountains of startling grandeur, with
    crystalline lakes reposing on their bosoms, range breaking beyond
    range, snowy crests gleaming with sunlight splendors, forests tinted
    with softest hues, streams that murmur and cascades that roar, while
    the valley is aflame with the richest colorings of daisies,
    buttercups, bluebells, heather, wild pinks, anemones, and brianthus,
    a symphony of beauty, a colossal bouquet decorating the marriage-bed
    of nature.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  GIANT’S COFFIN, MAMMOTH CAVE, KENTUCKY.—This remarkable and weird
    curiosity is composed of a huge block of stone forty feet long by
    twenty wide, and when viewed from a certain angle the resemblance to
    a funeral casket is so great that, even if attention were not called
    to it, visitors would hardly fail to be a little shocked by the
    uncanny sight. Standing within its presence it is almost impossible
    to divest one’s self of the belief that he is gazing upon the last
    resting-place of some tremendous giant, the guardian genius,
    perhaps, of this lugubrious subterranean abode; and it is with a
    sigh of relief that we pass on to more inspiring and splendid
    scenery.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Maelstrom, in Croghan’s Hall, is one of the deepest and most awful-
appearing pits yet discovered, and until 1859 no one had ever ventured
to explore its dark recesses. It is at a remote point in the Cave and
seldom visited, because the way is beset with obstacles, while the sight
is neither reassuring nor compensating. A son of George D. Prentice,
however, braved the dangers of the pit by permitting some of his friends
to lower him 190 feet by a rope to the bottom, but his experience was of
little value, because he found nothing of interest to reward him for the
trouble. Some pretty stalactites are near this pit, and also in Fairy
Grotto, but in the deeper recesses there is a remarkable absence of
these formations. Indeed, considering the character and extent of
Mammoth Cave, its poverty of stalactitic ornamentation is surprising. On
the other hand, it contains an unexampled wealth of crystals of endless
variety and incomparable beauty. Besides the sparkling vault of the Star
Chamber, which is 300 feet long and 80 feet high, there are halls
canopied by fleecy clouds, or studded by mimic snow-balls, and others
displaying various grotesque resemblances on the walls and ceilings.
Cleveland’s Cabinet, and Marion’s Avenue, each a mile long, are adorned
by myriads of gypsum rosettes and curiously twisted crystals called
“oulopholites.” These cave-flowers are unfolded by pressure, like a
sheaf of wheat forced through a tight binding. This charming
embellishment of clusters and garlands is frequently seen curling
outward, like roses, composing petrified bouquets that cover the snowy
arches.

This curious feature is even more marked by the stalactites in Mary’s
Vineyard, where they appear in the form of an aggregation of spherical
prominences, resembling clusters of grapes. Other chambers are drifted
with snowy crystals of sulphate of magnesia, and the ceilings are so
thickly covered with their efflorescence that a sharp concussion of the
air will cause them to fall like flakes in a snow-storm.

Many small rooms and tortuous paths, where danger lies, are avoided as
much as possible; but even on the regular routes through the Cave some
disagreeable experiences are inevitable, while about the deep pits peril
is always present. The one now known as the Bottomless Pit was for many
years a barrier to all further exploration, and until a substantial
wooden bridge was built across it. Long before the shaft had been cut as
deep as now, the water flowed away by a channel gradually contracting
until at a point called The Fat Man’s Misery the walls were only
eighteen inches apart. The rocky sides are beautifully marked with waves
and ripples, as if running water had been suddenly petrified. This
winding-way conducts to River Hall, beyond which lie the crystalline
gardens that have been described. It was formerly believed that if this
narrow passage were closed, escape would be impossible; but a few years
ago a tortuous fissure called the Cork-Screw was discovered, by means of
which a good climber ascending a few hundred feet finally lands 1,000
yards from the mouth of the Cave, and cuts off nearly two miles.

The waters, entering through numerous domes and pits, and falling,
during the rainy season, in cascades of great volume, are finally
collected in River Hall, where they form several extensive lakes, or
rivers, whose connection with Green River is known to be in two deep
springs appearing under arches on its margin. Whenever there is a
freshet in Green River the streams in the cave are joined in a
continuous body of water, the rise sometimes being as much as sixty feet
above the low-water mark. The subsidence within is less rapid than the
rise; and the streams are impassable during a greater part of the year.
They are usually navigable from May to October, and furnish exceedingly
interesting as well as novel features of cave scenery. The largest body
of water is called the Dead Sea, embraced within a basin formed by
cliffs sixty feet high, above which a path has been made which leads to
a stairway and thence to the River Styx, a body of water that is four
hundred feet long and forty feet wide. Lake Lethe is the next water-
basin, enclosed by walls ninety feet high, below which is a path that
conducts to a pontoon at the neck of the lake. Thence a beach of the
finest yellow sand extends for 500 yards to Echo River, the largest of
all, being nearly one mile long, from 20 to 200 feet broad, and varying
in depth from 10 to 40 feet. Two or three boats are placed on this
Lethean or Stygian stream, in which visitors are taken from one end of
the river to the other, and the trip is of such novelty that the
remembrance of it is imperishable. To see the boats approaching, in the
weird light of flickering torches, is like a vision of a spectral crew,
funereal, sepulchral and almost horrific. The arch overhead is
symmetrical but irregular in height, and is famous for its musical
reverberations—not a distinct echo, for the repetitions are so rapid
that they merge and become a prolongation of sound that continues for
nearly half a minute. The long vault has a certain key-note of its own,
which, when sounded, produces harmonies of almost incredible depth and
sweetness.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  THE BRIDAL ALTAR, MAMMOTH CAVE.—The Bridal Altar is one of the most
    magnificent spectacles of Mammoth Cave, with its frosted pillars of
    pearl-white and the convolutions of their magnificent pediments that
    may be likened to clouds in the sky of the cave. These vertical
    shafts or petrified columns are among the most surprising and
    beautiful features of cave scenery, and when brilliantly lighted
    they present a scene of splendor surpassing the utmost stretch of
    the imagination. Let us not, therefore, wonder that this is a
    favorite resort for young married people, who come hither in the
    rosy blush of their wedding dawn to plight the faith that makes them
    one for time and eternity.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

In these Plutonian regions of perpetual night, where vegetation is only
imaged by petrified efflorescence, many creatures find a congenial
abode, and become so accustomed to this dark habitat that they cannot
live elsewhere. Of the twenty-eight different species here found, the
most remarkable are a blind and wingless grasshopper with extremely long
antennae; a blind and colorless cray-fish, and a blind fish which grows
to the length of six inches. These fish possess the additional curiosity
of being viviparous, or producing their young in a living state, instead
of by eggs. Occasionally other fish are caught in the running streams of
the Cave which are identical with species common in Green River, thus
proving the subterranean connection that exists between that river and
the Cave streams.

The strongly marked divergence of these blind creatures from those found
on the outside led Agassiz to believe that they were specially created
for the limits within which they dwell; but the opinion now generally
held is that they are modifications of allied species existing in the
sunlight, and that their peculiarities are to be accounted for on the
principles of evolution—the process of change being accelerated, or
retarded, by their migration from the outer world to a region of silence
and perpetual darkness.

Having concluded our examination of Mammoth Cave, we departed by the
Louisville and Nashville Railroad for Louisville, at which city train
was taken on the St. Louis Air Line for Wyandotte Cave, which was to be
our last objective point in completing our extensive photographic tour
of America. This very remarkable Cave, though not so generally known as
Luray or Mammoth, is about ten miles south of the Louisville and St.
Louis Air Line, in Crawford county, Indiana, and is only five miles from
the Ohio River. We reached the Cave by way of Milltown, thence to
Corydon, and from that point by private conveyance a distance of eleven
miles. Entrance to the Cave is by way of a large opening in a hillside,
the aperture being about six feet high and twenty feet wide, through
which there is always a strong circulation of air like that noted at the
mouth of Mammoth Cave, while the temperature is likewise uniformly 54°
Fahrenheit. A short avenue leads into a chamber known as Fanueil Hall,
whose dimensions are 200 feet long, 50 feet wide and 25 feet high;
thence the route conducts through Twilight Hall into Columbian Arch,
which resembles a railroad tunnel, so symmetrical is the excavation.
Washington Avenue is next entered, which, followed, brings the visitor
to Banditti Hall, where the ceiling rises to an immense height, and the
walls are jagged, as is the floor, with protruding rocks, so that this
chamber is both forbidding in appearance and difficult to traverse. At
this point the main gallery branches, one avenue leading to what is
known as the Old Cave, and the other conducting by a longer route to
more interesting apartments than those before passed. Through a narrow
crevice the visitor gains a room called the Bats’ Lodge, and beyond this
is Rugged Mountain, which is in the center of a circular room, where
Epsom salts of sparkling purity and vast quantities of gypsum in
efflorescent beauty cover the arched vault. Seen under torch-light the
effect is indescribably magnificent, and is the first striking
intimation which the visitor receives of the extraordinary grandeur to
which he will be presently introduced. Following the long route we cross
a lovely sand-deposit known as the Plain, but find an abrupt termination
of this level walk and are compelled to climb the rock-bestrewn Hill of
Difficulty, then squeeze through a small passage-way from which we find
present relief by emerging into Wallace’s Grand Dome, one of the most
magnificent chambers, as well as the largest, in the Cave, being 245
feet high and 300 feet in diameter. In the center is Monument Mountain,
a tremendous stalagmite formation above which is an immense dome
beflowered with curling leaves of gypsum that bear a wondrous likeness
to the foliage of the acanthus. At the apex of the mountain is a
stalagmite one hundred and twenty feet in circumference, which has been
broken by some force into three columns, which, viewed from the base,
admirably counterfeit three monuments, or ghosts clad in robes of
gleaming whiteness, from which fact the chamber takes its name. Visitors
are usually treated to a superbly grand sight while examining the
splendors of this hall, for the guide disposes his company about the
base of the mountain, and ascending to the summit he extinguishes his
torch in order to bring the visitors under the influence of dense
darkness for a few moments. Suddenly the peak is lighted up with a
dazzling splendor, as the guide touches off green, blue, red and orange
lights, bathing the chamber in a sea of flaming beauty and bejewelling
its lofty arch until Aladdin’s Cave of our imagination is reproduced.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  THE RIVER STYX, MAMMOTH CAVE, KENTUCKY.—Some idea of the grandeur of
    the waterways of Mammoth Cave will be obtained from the following
    description: The largest body of water is called the Dead Sea,
    embraced within a basin formed by cliffs sixty feet high, above
    which a path has been made leading to a stairway and thence to the
    River Styx, which is forty feet wide and four hundred long. Lake
    Lethe is the next water-basin, enclosed by walls ninety feet high,
    below which is a path that conducts to a pontoon at the neck of the
    lake. Thence a beach of the finest yellow sand extends for five
    hundred yards to Echo River, the largest of all, being nearly one
    mile long, from twenty to two hundred feet broad, and varying in
    depth from ten to forty feet. Two or three boats ply this Stygian
    stream, in which visitors are taken from one end to the other, and
    the trip is of such novelty that the remembrance of it is
    imperishable.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  ENTRANCE TO PILLARED PALACE, WYANDOTTE CAVE.—There are many grand and
    splendid halls in Wyandotte Cave, of which the most attractive is
    Pillared Palace, in which gypsum and stalactites occur in the most
    charming and imposing forms. This hall is particularly entrancing in
    its sumptuous and architecturally beautiful decorations. It is from
    five to six feet high, forty or fifty wide and several hundred long.
    The ceiling is a complete fringe-work of stalactites, while the
    floor is as thickly set with stalagmites, many of which uniting with
    the former produce pillars of the grandest proportions, beautiful
    beyond the power of imagination to describe. Drapery of every
    conceivable style is seen in the utmost profusion, some of it
    transparent as crystal and resonant as a silver bell when struck
    with a metal substance.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Illustration:

  THE THRONE, WYANDOTTE CAVE.—Although less celebrated than Mammoth or
    Luray Caves, Wyandotte fully equals them in many of its wondrous and
    beautiful formations. The Throne and the hall in which it is located
    are truly marvels of Nature’s handiwork. Imagine great bunches of
    white, delicate, branching coral, twisting, curling and interlacing
    itself, serpent-like, into every conceivable fantastic shape, and
    you have only a faint idea of the truly extraordinary scenery of
    this glorious temple erected by Nature. In all directions are to be
    seen fantastic examples of stalactite formations, and marvelous
    decorations of whitest gypsum. Huge rocks, overhung by galleries of
    creamy stalactites, with vermicular tubes intertwined, while frozen
    cataracts and vine-like pendent forms cluster along the walls in a
    profusion almost incredible.
]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Beyond Wallace’s Dome there are a hundred halls of great magnificence,
in nearly all of which are seen fantastic examples of stalactite
formations, and marvelous decorations of whitest gypsum, Milroy’s Temple
being a very exhibition-room of these exquisite curiosities: huge rocks,
overhung by galleries of creamy stalactites, vermicular tubes
intertwined, frozen cataracts and vine-like pendant forms of
stalactites, cluster along the walls in a profusion almost incredible.
Imagine great masses of white delicate branching coral, twisting,
curling and interlacing itself, serpent-like, into every conceivable
fantastic shape, and you have only a faint idea of the truly
extraordinary scenery of this glorious temple erected by nature. Other
halls of almost rival splendor are known as Snowy Cliffs, Frosted Rocks,
Fairy Palace, Beauty’s Bower, The Throne, and Pillared Palace, in all of
which gypsum and stalactites occur in the most charming and imposing
forms. Pillared Palace is particularly entrancing in its sumptuous and
architecturally beautiful decorations. It is from five to six feet high,
forty or fifty feet wide and several hundred feet long. Its ceiling is a
complete fringe-work of stalactites, while its floor is as thickly set
with stalagmites, many of which latter unite with the former, making the
grandest pillars. Drapery of every conceivable style may be seen, some
of which is as transparent as crystal and rings like a silver bell when
exposed to a light blow. After Pillared Palace comes the Palace of the
Genii, which for delicate formations even excels the former. Here are
found stalactites of every conceivable form, many of them as white as if
they were made of sugar or whitest marble.

Passing through Fairy Grotto, Neptune’s Retreat, and Hermit’s Cell, the
visitor enters a larger chamber invested with the same charming
ornamentation, and in the center is a rich canopy of stalactite
overhanging a stalagmite which has been likened by some imaginative
person to a chair richly upholstered. This is called the Throne, a
designation appropriate enough, for it is one of the most royally
beautiful curiosities in the Cave, as the illustration will show.

That portion known as the Old Cave, while scarcely so interesting as the
galleries and vaults of the long route, contains several halls of much
interest and one, called the Senate Chamber, which rivals Wallace’s
Dome. In the center of this room stands a mountain whose top is covered
many feet deep with stalactite formations, upon which stands the Pillar
of the Constitution. This is an immense stalagmite measuring seventy-
five feet in circumference and thirty feet high, reaching from the top
of the mountain to the ceiling above, fluted and carved after a manner
that would have put to shame the most extravagant architecture of Rome’s
most halcyon days. The world has not yet produced, so far as civilized
man knows, anything of the kind to equal it. A writer says of it:

“Before us arose a considerable hill, upon the top of which stood, like
a column supporting the ceiling, a vast stalagmite like an immense
spectral-looking iceberg looming up before us, appearing as though it
had just arisen from the foaming waves of the ocean, on a dark and foggy
night. In the uncertain light of our lamps it presented an appearance
grand, if not appalling; but when the Drummond light had been set off,
all this changed to the most unearthly beauty. The ceiling above, with
its long fringes of stalactites, came out to view, and the great pillar
could be seen in all its grandeur and beauty.”

Beyond this is Pluto’s Ravine, where stands Stallasso’s Monument, a
large white stalagmite, marked all over with pencil inscriptions, some
of them sixty years old, composing an autograph album of wonderful
curiosity, containing hundreds of names which to fame are otherwise
unknown, and effusions of doggerel poets whose reputations, alas, will
no doubt be forever restricted to the limits of this cave chamber. A
short distance beyond Pluto’s Ravine is the termination of this section
of the Cave, and from this point return is made to the open air. A
ramble among the subterranean glories and petrified splendors of
Wyandotte Cave was a fitting conclusion to one of the most interesting
tours that was ever taken through the picturesque regions of our
country; a tour affording so much information, pleasure, adventure, and
profit, that the remembrance must forever remain a source of intense
satisfaction and delight. It was with feelings of deep regret that we
separated after the completion of our work, and each returned to his
respective home, to take up anew the old labor which we had laid down
when the start was made upon our long journey. During the trip our
photographers took five thousand pictures; many of these were taken
under unfavorable conditions, and upon development were found unworthy
of reproduction. Many others were excellent and well deserving to rank
with those which we have here used, but there is a limit to all things,
and ours does not exceed the space occupied by the 520 odd views which
we have presented; these, however, are fairly representative of the
incomparable scenery that charmingly diversifies our native land, a land
kissed by the lips of liberty, bounty, and beauty, and blessed with an
amplitude of powers, under the exercise of which the largest freedom,
benefits and sovereign rights are obtained for the whole people.


                               [THE END.]