Presumptuous piled on Shinar’s plain,
Their rocky summits, split and rent,
Formed turret, dome, or battlement,
Or seemed fantastically set
With cupola or minaret,
Wild crests as pagod ever decked,
Or mosque of Eastern architect.’
“At six o’clock we whirl into Cascade. We jump from the stages, and fairly pinch ourselves to see if we are the same people who left there in the morning. Yes, we are the same in outward appearance, but something has entered into our lives, our inner selves, that broadens us out, and will prove a continual feast in coming days.
“It would seem that a climax could hardly be capped, but ours was in a most delightful way. The stages had hardly driven away when up drive four or five carriages, and we are invited to go back to Manitou, by way of the Ute Pass trail, instead of by the railroad. Nothing loath we get in, and settle ourselves for one of the pleasantest of rides. It is a perfect evening, and we have not gone far before the moon comes out and throws a spell of enchantment over the scene. The road is so smooth and hard that our horses’ hoofs make a pleasant ring as we speed along. A merry little stream, whose dashing and dancing have given it the name of “The Fountain that Boils,” accompanies us, and we run a race with it, but own ourselves thoroughly beaten in all respects, when our rival enhances its beauty, redoubles its speed, and makes louder its laughter as it throws itself headlong down the cliff of rocks; and we alight from our carriage to go down the ravine and pay homage to the beauties of Rainbow Falls.
“This brief glimpse in the twilight makes us long for a view by day, and we promise ourselves a longer visit the next time we come.”