Address Before the Masonic Veterans of Pennsylvania, Masonic Temple (1885) (50 Pgs)

8/6/2019 Address Before the Masonic Veterans of Pennsylvania, Masonic Temple (1885) (50 Pgs)

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AN ADDRESSdelivSred, by request, before the

MASONIC VETERANSOF

PENNSYLVANIA,AT THE

MASONIC TEMPLE, PHILADELPHIA,IF-JES. 27, 1885.

VET. BRO. I. LAYTON REGISTER,P. M. of Lodge No. j/, Philadelphia, Past GrandHigh Priest of N. J., Past Grand

Conujiander of N. J.


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THE NEW YORKPUBLIC LIBRARY734991

ASTOR, LENOX ANDTILDEN FOUNDATIONSR 19 6 L


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A TRIP TO CALIFORNIA.

It is within the recollection of peoplenow living, when a trip from Philadelphiato Boston took as much time as is nowrequires to go from this city to SanFrancisco. That was in the days of stage-coaches. We now live in an era whenthe earth is girdled by iron bands, overwhich the fleet-winged locomotive, withunabated breath, speeds on its course,filliDg up time and space to a degree thatis only outstripped by the electric cur-rent.

In those earlier days, to go as far asPittsburgh, or Cincinnati, or Chicago,was a long journey, to what was thencalled "The West." N'ow, there is a*' Far West," that reaches away beyondthose cities, and is only bounded in itsexpanse by the mighty Pacific ocean,three thousand miles away ILet us, in imagination, take this jour-


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ney that spans the continent, and fromthe bright shores of our well-known At-lantic, from whence the glimmering raysof the morning light rises to herald theday, we rush onward to the slope of thegolden Pacific, beneath whose placidbosom the great orb sinks to rest in radi-ant sunset glory.After leaving home we travel a dis-tance on land, as far as a voyage by seawould be from Philadelphia to Europe,having the advantage over an ocean tripin beholding nature in all her grandeur,without the discomforts of seasickness tospoil the appetite of our feasting eyes, aswe behold the varied and wonderfulscenes that swiftly pass before our visionwith kaleidoscopic effect and bewilder-ment.At night, when the moon shines uponthe broad plains, the railroad track ap-pears to be close to the edge of somegreat smooth lake, that stretches out inunbroken lines to the distant horizon be-yond, where sky and water seem to meet,while on the other side of the car, theglow of the sinking sun shoots upits dying streaks in all their twilightbeauty.As the nearer Western cities and Statesare so well known, we will not stop to


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dwell upon their prodigious growth andprosperity, or their many wonderfulsights, but begin taking notes of what wesaw from the car window, after passingthe muddy waters of the great Mississippiriver.Arrived at Kansas City, we stop a little

while and mingle in the bustle of thegood-natured crowd that may always befound at this Eastern terminus of theMissouri Pacific Railroad. We notice thefaces of the anxious emigrants, makinginquiries in broken English, of thebrawny Westerner, while people fromevery nation are hurrying hither andthither, preparing to scatter to their newhomes in this broad domain, where fertilevalleys and green-clad prairies, may besaid, in poetic language, to be overflow-ing with milk and honey, to welcomethem.We traverse the State of Kansas itswhole length from east to west. It issaid to be large enough to give every man,woman and child in the United States anacre of ground. We were somewhat sur-prised in comparing what we hastily sawwith the glowing descriptions that, werewritten, for it is pronounced by some tohave the most beautiful landscapes in theworld. We expected to see corn-fields


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stretching away out of sight, waving theirtasselled heads so high, as to excite theenvy of Eastern farmers, but we weredisappointed.Yet too much credit cannot be given toa people that have changed a wildernessinto fertile fields, and almost proved theprediction of Agassiz to be true, that theKansas plains would become the harvest-field of the world.We go to bed in comfortable sleeping-cars, and on rising the next day are greet-ed at early dawn with a thrilling sight ofPike's peak, 100 miles away, its snow-capped summit dazzling with brilliantlustre as it catches the first rays of thesun burst.We are now nearing Colorado, theState of grand and lofty altitudes, ofsalubrious air and gorgeous scenery, thatbafliis the pen to portray, reveling inmillions of mineral wealtha dream-land in which the common realities arelost in boundless visions of ecstacy.Colorado is double the size of Pennsyl-vania, with an average elevation that ishigher than our Allegheny mountains,and from this lofty plane rise toweringpeaks that seem to kiss the sky above,and are veiled in perpetual snow.Arrived at Denver, we were surprised


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to find a model city of 75,000 inhabitants,and many fine buildings. Less thanthirty years ago, or j ust before our Civilwar, all the region around about Denverwas the home and the hunting ground ofthe Indians, where they roved freely.But the red-men's lodge has given placeto the white-man's palace, by the right ofmight.A side trip from Denver to IdahoSprings, gave us our first treat of one ofthe wonderful canons that have beenthrown all around the State with promis-cious prodigality. We feel like the coun-tryman who gapes in awe on his first visitto the city, and we look aghast at thestrange upheavals of nature.For thirty miles the railroad followsClear creek, winding in and out itscrooked course, and going up and up, tillwe reach an elevation of 7000 feet, thebare precipitous sides of the canon risingto nearly 1000 feet higher at some places,and assuming all kinds of shapes thatfancy could imagine.Arrived at Idaho Springs we indulge in

a remarkable bath in a pool of soda water,at a temperature of ninety degrees, thatwas perfectly delicious. The water flowsout of the mountain side, heated by somesubtle volcanic influence.


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Before returning to Denver, we werewarned by the thunder and lightning, thatsuddenly startled us, of an approachingstorm. It was one of the usual cloud-bursts to which the nciountain region issubject, and of brief duration, thoughoften very destructive ; for as we pro-ceeded on our journey back, we noticedthat the little stream had become swol-len and risen three feet above its ordinaryheight, and in its turbulent and riotouscondition was charging on its downwardcourse like a miniature Niagara rapids,carrying away bridges and every otherobstruction in its path, while the groundwas strewn with hail, showing the trailof the storm.The next day, we make another excur-sion, and go to Manitou Springs, one ofthe prominent summer resorts of Colorado.The route brings us into the heart of someof the grandest and most picturesquescenery. The gigantic rocks, thrown intoconfused masses, assume forms that vivid-ly draw upon the imagination, and at onepoint we seem to see the ruins of an oldcastle perched upon an impregnable pal-isade, which in a moment disappearsfrom view, as the train whirls by on itscurving course.At Manitou, we rest awhile at a com-


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9fortable hotel, and enjoy drinking andbathing in the soda water that bubblesout of the ground, as fresh and nice ascan be drawn from the artistic fountainsof any of our attractive drug stores.We industriously employ our stay atManitou. Enterprising boys offer speci-mens of gold and silver quartz for sale,and we watched, with some fascination, afrieght car that was being loaded withsilver ore, the men shoveling in the crudestuff as though it were ordinary earth.Several days might be profitably spent invisiting the numerous mines in the regionaround, out of which millions of dollarshave been taken, and into which, it maybe safely said, other millions have beensunk, taken from the pockets of far awayconfiding stockholders IWilliams cuiion is within easy walkingdistance, its rugged sides rising severalhundred feet. We ventured to climb upone side to the Cave of the Winds, fromwhence may be had a grand view of thesurrounding mountains. On one we no-ticed two conspicuous rocks, named Gogand Magog, that appeared to be only onehundred feet apart, but were actually halfa mile distant from each other. Thisphenomenon is caused by the clear at-mosphere that renders far objects to seem


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10near at hand. Even Pike's peak, twelvemiles off, with its snowy mantle, seemsto be only as many squares away, and thelow building on its top, used as a signalstation, can be distinctly seen with thenaked eye.The Garden of the Gods next claims

our attention. It is a plane, extendingover half a mile in length, on which arescattered red sandstone rocks, partlyworn away in irregular seams by someunknown agency, that rudely resemble avariety of objects, the principal ones beingnamed the Mushrooms, the Wine-Casks,the Toad Stools, Mother Grundy andChild, the Toad, the Frog, the Irishman(which is very good), the Lamb and Lion,the Elephant's Head, the Devil's CardTable, the Happy Family, the Hog, theShepherd's Dog, the Camel, and so on.These are the Gods of the Garden. TheBalanced Kock, enormous in size, isreally an object of much interest. Andat the entrance to the Garden, as ap-proached from one side, is the SentinelRock, seeming to stand on guard betweentwo immense blocks of red sandstone,that rear their heads three hundred feethigh.Turning our faces again Westward, we


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11leave Denver, and with note book in hand^jot down many things that are strange.The irrigating canals, seen so fre-quently, excite our wonder, until we learntheir wise purposes in supplying thethirsty soil with needed water during thedry season. This supply is drawn fromthe unfailing mountain streams of meltedsnow, through wooden aqueducts orflumes, that follow the natural contourof the ground, or along the mountainsides, in zig-zdg courses for many miles.In timber regions, these aqueducts arealso used to float logs down to the rail-road for shipment.Another curious sight in Colorado^ insummer, are the dried- up water-courses,that look as though the streams had vaca-ted their regular routes and gone else-where. But when the rainy season comes,and the clouds empty themselves thickand fast, as is often the case in themountains, augmented by the meltedsnow, then it is that these dried-up water-courses assume their natural functionsand dash and plunge with uncheckedfury.Among the cutest and prettiest lit-tle things to be seen, and so frequentlymet on the way, are the prairie dogs,sitting watchfully at a safe distance, on


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12their little mound-houses, with headserect, and their little forepaws hanginglimp on their breasts, like very dudes,looking curiously at the swiftly passingtrain. I wrote my little daughter that Ishould like to have brought her onehome, but they are not easily caught.The railroad on the plains requires butlittle grading, but where a cut is neces-

sary, open fences are erected near theside of the track, through which, in win-ter, the snow filters and accumulates indrifts about the fences, instead of on thetrack, and by this means travel is notimpeded.Daring the construction of the PacificRailroad, it is said that towns were builtand often abandoned as fast as the roadprogressed. The population of such placesthen were mostly roughs and gamblers,and as water was scarce and as costlyalmost as whiskey, more of the latter fluidwas consumed. But this rough elementwas driven from place to place furtherWest, as the better class outnumberedthem, though oftentimes terrible fightsensued before the outlaws gave way.

It would be tedious to mention themany towns, large and small, that werepassed on the route. We are followingihe sun fast, and getting into higher alti-


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13tudes, till we reach a point seven thou-sand feel above the sea, surrounded by-chains of mountains, where the air is per-ceptibly cooler, and long snow-sheds areerected over the tracks lor protection inwinter.Some Indians are seen at the stations,or taking a free ride on the platforms ofthe cars, wrapped up in dirty blankets,their unkempt appearance making a verydifferent impression from that receivedin our youth from gay picture books. Therailroad companies permit the Indiansto ride, without charge, in order to obtaintheir good-will, and the poor creaturesseem to enjoy the privilege and avail them-selves of the pleasure quite often. Indiansquaws, with papooses strapped upon theirbacks, would have been a pretty sighthad the greasy urchins been clean. Lit-tle Indian boys showed their skill inshooting arrows at coins that were freelyput up as marks by the indulgent passen-gers. And Indian girls, with paintedcheeks, looked like blushing maidensata distance. But the real Indian is nothandsom**, and the Western people cruellyassert, that the only good Indians aredead Indians !Leaving Wyoming Territory, we enterUtah at an impressive point, called Castle


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14Rock. From a distance, the raggedrocks resemble a deserted castle. Someof the wildest scenery now presents itself,the towering cliffs rising in majesticsplendor five hundred to fifteen hundredfeet near at hand, while farther backfrom the railroad, the massive rocks aresaid to be still grander, standing forth inall their wild and weird beauty, withcolumn, dome and spire, to lure the trav-eler on. Rounding a curve, we behold afreak of nature called Hanging Rock, andnear by, on a cliff, one thousand feetabove the track, is the spot where theMormons, in 1857, erected a fortificationto defend the pass against an expectedinvasion of their territory by UnitedStates troops. But its ragged battlementsdid not bar our passage, as the trainwhirled by, and immediately afterwardson looking up at the mountain side, wesee what bears a rude resemblance to theprow of a ship, and is called SteamboatRock, the seams of the rocks running upfour hundred feet high, forming the ribsof the vessel, while perched on top aredwarf trees that represent passengers.Gliding through Weber c^non, we passtwo immense parallel ridges of granite,

fifty feet in height and ten feet apart,


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15lying prone down the mountain side, thatare facetiously called the Devil's Slide.But it would be impossible to portrayby mere words the grandeur of this greatcanon, enclosed by precipitous walls, fivehundred to two thousand feet high, thesides seared by the storms of ages, andshutting in the little rushing river forforty miles, as it plunges over rocks andboulders and seethes in eddies around thecurves.At last we reach the Mecca of Mor-mondom. Salt Lake City. We found ita quiet, pleasant place, with wide un-paved streets, and clear water runningdown the gutters, from the mountains.Of course the Mormon element verylargely predominated, outnumbering theGentiles seven to one. But the peoplelooked just the same there as here, anddressed in the same fashion. We talkedwith some of them about their peculiarreligion, and found them apparently sin-cere and temperate in their views, andthough their faith be vile, they deservegreat credit for developing the countryand converting a wilderness into fruitfulfields of agriculture.There are only a few houses that makeany pretension to be showy, but generalthrift and industry among the masses is


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16evident everywhere, without any displayof wealth.The immense Tabernacle is 256 feetlong: and 150 feet wide, and will seat8000 people. It is plain in appearance,but the roof is a wonderful work of archi-tecture, springing from the walls in oneunbroken arch. And so perfect are theacoustics, that we were able to hear dis-tinctly, in the gallery at one end of thebuilding, a whisper uttered on the plat-form, at the other end.The large organ is said to be perfect inmechanical and musical power and effect,and was made by Mormon workmen,showing a degree of skill that is worthyof mention.The new Temple, begun over twentyyears ago, and yet unfinished, is very sub-stantially built of granite. The tithinghouse, where the faithful Mormon de-posits one-tenth of his earnings, either inmoney or merchandise, and BrighamYoung's grave, naturally excited our in-terest.

Zion's Co-operative Mercantile Institu-tion, with the symbolic words, "Holinessto the Lord," over the entrance, is a largebuilding, and for variety of goods soldand amount of business transacted, willcompare favorably with Wanamaker's


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17Grand Depot. This fact struck us assomething marvelous, considering thatforty years ago. this region was almost adesert.A Mormon, reported to have three orfour wives, invited us to see the effect ofirrigation in his garden, showing a varie-ty of fine fruit and immense strawberriesthat were raised on ground where noth-ing formerly grew but sage brush. Apleasant, though dusty drive, is to FortDouglass, located on the side of theWasatch mountains, 500 feet above thecity, garrisoned by soldiers, ready forany outbreak among the Mormons orIndians, for both are equally distrusted.But one of the most novel and delight-ful experiences was a bath in the GreatSalt Lake, which we reached after pass-ing over the River Jordan, dry shod, in arailroad car. This lake has been com-pared with Lake Como or Lake Killarneyfor beauty. Its still silvery surface ishemmed in by broken mountain ranges,whose pinnacles rise to perpetual snow.The water it so dense wiih salt that it isalmost impossible to sink, and on leavingthe bath our bodies were encrusted withsmarting salt scales. The white sandalong the shore is peculiar, as every par-ticle, however small, under the mag-


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18nifying glass, is shown to be a perfectsphere.But we have not time to see every-thing, or to tell you all we did see, andwe drop the curtain upon the Mormonscene as we hurry away, bound furtherWest.Passing Ogden, where the Union Pa-

cific and the Central Pacific railroadsunite, we came to the spot where the lastspike was driven in 1869, that joined theWest to the East by iron bands. Greatwas the rejoicing at the time, for it was anational event of much importance, bothfrom a commercial and political point ofview. For, at the outbreak of our Civilwar, about which time these roads werebegun, it became a matter of some appre-hension whether California, in its isolatedlocation, might not desire to secede andform an independent empire, taking withit the whole region west of the moun-tains. This fear was happily allayed bythe union effected through the buildingof the railroads, that were hurried for-ward to completion. And the last spikethat crowned the event as well as thelast rail, became objects of art and werecut to pieces and carried off as relics.Along the upper end of Great Salt lakeis an extended sandy plain, whitened with


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19dry salt, that glistens in the sun like sea^foam. Beyond, are the alkali plains orthe Great American desert, which wassupposed to have been submerged at onetime and formed a part of Great Saltlake. This theory is confirmed by themarks or lines on the sides of the moun-tains next to the lake, showing that thewaters have subsided Lo a considerableextent.The finely powdered dust from thesealkali beds sifts into every crevice of thecar. But in the midst of this desert, hereand there are seen patches of green oases,due to irrigation, a factor that has alreadyaccomplished wonderful results, and indi-cates still greater possibilities in reclaim-ing the barren soil for the profit of thehusbandman.But while we moralize thus, as we lookout of the luxurious car window, we arereminded of earlier days in this region,when the resolute pioneers dared to ven-ture across the trackless waste, as Colum-bus did over the unknown sea, not ableto tell where the desert ended, leaving,perchance, many unmarked graves bythe wayside.Less than thirty years ago, the ponyexpress was the only means of carryingthe mail through this desolate region.


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20The hardships endured and the risks en-countered by the brave postman in thosedays, is something almost incredible, ashe wended his weary way, all alone, overthe mountains, in all kinds of weather,oftentimes through deep and treacheroussnows, aud in a country inhabited by hos-tile Indians and wild animals. Now, allis changed, and the mail is carried fromPhiladelphia to San Franci3co in as fewdays as heretofore required weeks.We have passed from Utah into Neva-da, and as we cross the State line thatseparates the silver State from its goldenneighbor, we utter the motto of Califor-nia, "Eureka."The celebrated Sierra NeVada moun-

tains now come in sight, and with doubleengines we prepare to cross them and toenjoy some of the most picturesquescenery to be found in America. AtTruckee we begin to ascend the moun-tains, passing under twenty-eight milesof snow sheds, and finally reaching thesummit, at an elevation of over seventhousand feet above the sea, while farabove us, bleak and bare, rise the ancientgranite hills, just as^ they stood when"the earth was without form," theirsnowy caps glistening in the expanding


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21glow of the morning sun, inviting thetraveler to scenes of rarest beauty.Through the chinks and windows ofthe snow-sheds, we catch passing glimpsesof this wonderful landscape, and lookingdown one side of the mountains, we hada magnidcent view of Donner Lake, aperfect sheet of water, nestling serenelyamong the hills. It was here that anemigrant family, named Donner, perish-ed, while attempting to cross the moun-tains in the winter, their bodies beingentombed under fortv feet of snow, andnot discovered till the following spring.The mountain avalanches are terriblydestructive, even to this day.Mountain scenery has a charm andpeculiarity about it that is almost inde-scribable, and particularly is this thecase when we are surrounded by loftyaltitudes and deep ravines that bewilderus with their intensity and variety. Atone place we are reminded of the superbhorse shoe view on our Alleghany moun-tains, only it is more expansive in theSierra Nevadas, and we beheld rangepiled upon range, and tier upon tier ofmountain tops, stretching their purpletints away off into the immeasurablehorizon, until lost in the blue hue of thesky above and beyond.


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At a point called Cape Horn, we be-come enchanted with the view whilelooking down the rugged mountain sidetwenty-five hundred feet into the sweetvalley, where the American river appearslike a silver thread, glistening in the sun-light and winding through green fields.The swiftly-passing train, from its eyrieheight gives us but a hasty glimpse ofthis fairy land, and as the bold bluffrecedes from view and diminishes in size,it becomes the background of a lovelypicture, surpassing the most vivid imagi-nation that was ever attempted to beplaced on canvas by the most giftedartist.Passing from this sesthetic vision ofdream-life, we directly have pjesented toour observation huge excavations in themountain side, showing the result ofhydraulic mining for gold. Water isbrought in flumes from the region of per-petual snows and hurled with terrificforce against the side of the mountain,digging out great trenches in a remark-ably short space of time.But eye and brain are fairly tired look-ing and thinking of so many wonderfulsights, and we rest awhile, and with gladhearts await the end of our delightfuljourney, and in the fading light of a


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California sunset, we descend the mount-ains and approach the Golden Gate. iAs there will not be time to-night tospeak of our stay in California, I willconclude with a description of anotherportion of Colorado, through which wepassed on our way home.Ou our return Githens and I left therailroad for a side trip to Lake Tahoeand the silver mines. Securing seats inthe stage, the driver cracked his whip andaway went the six horses up the mountainside over the old overland road. Thelake is over COOO feet above the sea, itsclear waters near the shores reflectingupon its rippling surface the white sandon the bottom like burnished gold.Further out, where the water deepens,the brilliant emerald color changes to arich indigo blue, as perfect and even in itshue as the sky above that canopies it.This gem of a lake is encased in a spurof the Sierra Nevada mountains, thatrise in broken snowcapped ridges 2000 to5000 feet higher, shelving off abruptlyinto the lake, the depth in some placesbeing ISOO feet. A boat ride around thismagnificent sheet of water is regarded asone of the greatest attractions to tourists.The water is so nearly pure, that it isdifficult to keep afloat while swimming.


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Drowned bodies never rise to the surface,the water beingr so cold as to prevent de-conoposition. The temperature through-out the year is about the same, and thelake does not consequently freeze in win-ter, except over a small, shallow indenta-tion called Emerland bay. There thesides of the mountain widen out into apretty little caiion, covered with green tothe top.

It would hardly be possible to describea sunset scene on this lovely lake. Itwas like a double picture. As the fadingflush of the declining day deepened intone behind the glowing mountain peaks,the twinkling stars appeared in the dark-ening heavens above, while below, onthe placid bosom of the mirrored lake, thegorgeous colors are reflected in matchlesssplendor, that would defy the artist's at-tempt to convey to canvas.The trip by stage from Lake Tahoe toCarson, Nevada, was through the mostrugged and barren mountain scenery yetseen. But the six-horse team traveled upthe sides at a tiot, dashing down andaround the dangerous curves on a run,that made everybody hold on and breathefreer when we reached the level plain.The region had a desolate appearance, thetimber having been cut, leaving the


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25inountains bare and angry-like, as we al-most touched the jagged edges of thecliffs, that seemed to look down on uslike skeleton sentinels, waiting their finaldoom.Passing on to Virginia City we reachthe heart of what was once the most cel-

ebrated mining region in the world. Butthe great milling works and machineryare silent, for the silver ore seems to havebeen almost exhausted, and instead of abonanza of big dividends, the mines arein a borrosca condition or losing money.Some idea of this depression was seenin the undisguised decay of VirginiaCity. The number of inhabitants hasbeen reduced one-half from what it wasten years before, and property then con-sidered worth $100,000 would not sellnow for $10,000. The enormous sum of$370,000,000 in gold and silver has beentaken out of Nevada alone. It is therethat the great bonanza kings, Mackey,Flood, Fair, and O'Brien accumulatedtheir immense wealth.The machinery required to pump thewater from these mines, is probably thelargest in the. world. At the Union Shaftare six large boilers, side by side, goingday and night. The fly-wheel measuredthirty six feet in diameter, and weighs


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one hundred and twelve tons, the enginesbeing one thousand horse-power, all inthe most perfect order and detail.But the most interesting event was go-ing down into the bowels of the earth.We were courteously provided withwoolen suits and heavy soled shoes keptfor the purpose, and with lanterns foreach person, we entered the cage, and inthe short space of four minutes descend-ed 2500 feet. The temperature grewdecidedly warm, rising quickly to 100 de-grees and sending the perspiration out ofour bodies in streams. Emerging fromthe cage, we followed our guide, fearingno danger, passing through a labyrinth ofdrifts, and then descended four hundredfeet lower in another cage, where the airwas beginning to be stifling. Throughone drift we walked for six hundred feet,where the thermometer indicated 112degrees and at one place 127, until webegan almost to wonder whether we werenot trespassing on the devil's dominions.But down still further we go, two hun-dred feet more, making 3100 feet underthe surface. The sensation experiencedw&s so qufer, that I think visitors rarelygo down but once. There was somethingawful about it, that impressed us withman's insignificance. The miners work


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27in three gangs of eight hours each, butthe intense heat prevents their workingmore than fifteen minutes at a time, whenthey come out into the cooling rooms,where the air is kept fresh and cool bythe great machinery on top of theground.Leaving this wonderful region wherethe precious metal is as "common as

dirt," we return to Ogden for a trip overthe Denver and Rio Grande Railroad. Wenoticed that the engine was made at Bald-win's in Philadelphia, the name instantlycalling up memories of our far-awayhome. Gliding out of the depot in hand-some Pullman cars, we skirt the shore ofGreat Salt lake, and a little further onpass by Utah lake, a body of fresh water,emptying into Great Salt lake.At Provo we behold Mount Nebo,standing alone in majesty, guarding theentrance to the valley, its steep sides cov-ered with verdure to the very top, in pleas-ing contrast to the barren hills left be-hind. Scattered all along the valley areMormon settlements. At one place, aswe ascend the mountain, the rocks highabove us -form a perfect picture of aruined castle, with towers, windows andarched entrance complete.This narrow-gauge railroad is consid-


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ered one of the greatest feats of engineer-ing:. It has noany curves, and the jokingconductor had many tales to tell about itscrookedness as it goes winding up themountain side. One was, that on round-ing a certain curve, the engineer takes alight for his pipe from the brakeman onthe platform of the rear car ! Andagain, an engineer stopped to let anothertrain pass, when he discovered it was therear end of his own train ITwo engines slowly drag our train upto the summit, where we cross the Wa-satch mouniains at an elevation of nearly8000 feet, the grade of the road beingabout 21G feet to the mile. Descending,we follow the little stream in its sinuouscourse through Castle canon, where amygnificent view bursts upon us, as inand out we wind on the irregular moun-tain sides, that slope away up and off,mingling in the distance with othermountains beyond, till lost in the hori-zon, grand beyond description. Soon theriver sides assume a more perpendicularform, their serrated and weather-wornfaces cut into many curious shapes, pre-senting a battered front. Projected fromthis mass of rocks is Castle Gate, a long,slender monolith, 500 feet or more inheight, against which the echo of the en-


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39gine's whistle sounds like the answeringcall of mighty giants. And then, as thetrain whirls by on its swinging curve, thegate seems to close up this wonderfulcaSon, leaving upon our smitten senses animpression that a vision of the supernat-ural bad been exposed to view, of whichwe caught but a flitting glance.Down into the valley we descend,where but a few weeks before a cloud-burst washed away twenty miles of theroad-bed. So terrible was the force ofthe rushing water that the iron rails weretwisted and bent like so much wire, thedebris being scattered all along the road.The water rushed through a tunnel tothe depth of eight feet.

During' the night we crossed a desert,and after daylight again ascended themountains side, at a grade of 211 feet tothe mile, and came into Cimmaron valley,where we enter another incomparablecafion, and we thought it well thrit theimpression of the previous day's vista didnot burden the memory in one day, fortwo such sights coming close togetherwould have made us wild with excite-ment.After a good breakfast of venison and

trout, we got aboard an open observationcar, the better to get an unobstructed


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30view, as we speed along by the clearwater's side, as it plunges over moss-covered boulders in its narrow bed, whilestretching away above us, on both sides,we view with bated breath the grandeurof the lofty prf^cipices of Black canon,rising higher and higher, and capped bythe Curricanti Needle, 3000 feet high,as a crowning glory.In spring time the riven sides of thisdark canon are turned into a series of

sparkling waterfalls that tumble over thejagged sides in fascinating bewilderment.The scene is a shifting panorama. Nowits craggy sides shoot up into the sky,and in another moment our gaze is enrap-tured with some deep recess or gorge,down which, even .at the dry season, thewater comes leaping into the river below.One spot is called the Bridal Veil, thatwas particularly beautiful, springing,seemingly from the sky, in spirituelleand gauzy array.So close does the railroad cling to the

steep sides of the rock that there is noplace for the telegraph wires, except tobe attached to the rocks above the track.Emerging from this beautiful scene, wecome out into a wide and fertile valley,and stop at Gunnison, a young mining


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31city, with a $200,000 hotel, and gas andwater works.Leaving this peaceful valley we againascend the mountain to Marshall's Pass,where another different kind of view ispresented. We keep close beside the oldwagon-road for ten noiles, built long be-foie the railroad was projected, and we goup and up until an elevation of 10,857 feetis reached, at a grade of 218 feet to themile. Except in South America, no rail-road crosses the mountains at a greateraltitude than does the Denver and RioGrande. The air is now perceptiblyrarified and exhilarating, and breathingis quite troublesome with some people.Unlike the canons through which we sorecently passed, and where we strain ournecks in looking upward, we now lookdown on the landscape, and see manyhundred feet below us tiny streams,hemmed in by wide ravines, whose sidesexpand in view as we rise above them,the whole covered with sweet-scentedpines and wild-mountain flowers, thehills rising one behind the other, tillthe farthest is lost in the blue sky be-yond.We have not yet reached the top, andas we mount higher and higher, we seeafar off in the distance and above us, a


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row of snow-sheds, and when the portersays we will soon be up there, the wonder-ing query is, How will we get there ? for,as we turn the Horseshoe curve, we seemto be going in another direction, whileaway down below us ig the track, overwhich we came but a moment before,that had doubled upon itself, and ap-peared like two threads stitching the skirtof a beautiful garment of green velvet,that lay spread out in gorgeous array atour feet.Soon we see Marshall's Pass awayabove our heads, and though only half amile off in a straight line, it requires sixmiles of railroadmg to reach it, in thezig-zag course, and at one moment thetop appears in front and in another, be-hind the train.But what shall be said to give you anyadequate idea of the grand view obtainedfrom this elevation of two miles above thesea y We didn't have much time to lin-ger, so the image must be swept in aswift survey of the surrounding scene.The mountains appeared like great wavesof the sea, rolling upon each other andspreading out beyond our vision. Wecould exhaust all the superlative adjec-tives permitted and then fail to impart toothers the sublimity of the scene before


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33us. We simply looked on amazed andenchanted, the clear sunshine brighten-ing up the elaborate landscape, and bring-ing out every outline with distinctness,and causing us to wonder how muchmore beautiful this world must appearfrom the skies above us, where the Crea-tor of all looks down upon His perfectwork that He made for man's happiness.But we were aroused out of this deliciousreverie by the reverberating echoes of theengine's shrill whistle, and the trainmoved on.From the mountain top may be seen,far below, three other tracks runningparallel with each other, that appear tobe different roads, and we were surprisedto learn that it was the same road overwhich we had to go, in its encirclingcourse, in order to get down to the plains.The ride down opens up another view ofmountain splendor, as the shifting pano-rama is spread out before our enrapturedeyes, the vast expanse clad in living green,merging into a purple haze beyond, wherethe farthest mountains drop quickly outof sight and disappear as we descend.But what glowing words shall we use,or into what fervid ink shall we dip ourfeeble pen, in presuming to speak of theGrand canon, or Royal gorge of the


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34Arkansas ? It is said that there is noth-ing in Europe to equal it, and as we hadjust drank in the sublime till our sensesreeled, we felt like those at the marriage-feast to whom the better wine was offered,after all had had enough of that whichwas good.But let us quaff the draught.Following the Arkansas river, in itsdownward course, we came at first into awide valley, bounded on either side bylofty mountain peaks, piled in seemingconfusion. We enter this grandest of allcanons, the walls of which get narrowerand narrower, as though some earth-quake had burst the mountain asunder,its jagged sides rising vertically full 3000feet above us, enclosing the river in con-tracted bounds, until at one point thestupendous mountain sides are only thirtyfeet apart, leaving no space for the rail-road track. To enable the railroad topass through this narrow defile, the en-gineer's skill devised a suspension bridge,wedged in lengthwise above the littlestream, that raged harmlessly below.Over this bridge we passed in safety,but we felt that it was something awfulto look upon and awful to contemplate,and though we could get but a glimpse ofthis feariul work of man and nature,


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35because of the swiftly passing train, wewere thankful for the privilege of seeingnature in her granduer and glory, and cannow better understand the meaniner of theprophet of old, when he said, *'Now letThy servant depart in peace, for mine eyeshave beheld Thy glory,"


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Address Before the Masonic Veterans of Pennsylvania, Masonic Temple (1885) (50 Pgs)

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