After lunching in a temporary hotel, consisting of several tents, we drove on till we came to "The Fairy Falls," which can only be seen by following a steep path down the side of the cañon—a difficult path, but quite worth taking. Shortly afterwards we came upon a scene which probably cannot be paralleled on this earth. They call it, not inappropriately, "Hell's Half-acre." Here our coachman turned out of the road on to a wide expanse of white, chalky formation, which seemed to me like the upper crust of an immense honeycomb; out of this bubbled innumerable small and large hot springs. Driving over this great crust, which covered a boiling lake, struck me as being rather risky, for I could see no reason why it might not give way under the weight of a coach and four at any moment. Suddenly we came upon a great opening which had fallen in. Just imagine an apple-pie a dozen acres in size, and on it you come suddenly upon a place where half an acre or so has been cut out with a knife; or you may picture the crust as having fallen in. The coach drives close up to the edge of this place, and you look down upon a great roaring, boiling cauldron at least half an acre in size, sending up great rolls of sulphurous steam hundreds of feet into the air.[[4]] The terror of it is quite indescribable. I was glad when the coach got back on the hard road again. The boiling water is of a most brilliant transparent green, and it boils up great globes of various coloured gems like potatoes in a pot.
[4]. Lord Dunraven says, "The crust feels as if it might break through at any moment and drop you into fire and flames beneath, and the animals tread gingerly upon it.... It is dangerous ground; I have not heard of any accident up to this time; no modern Korah, Dathan, and Abiram as yet have been engulfed alive; but the visits to these regions have been, like those of angels, few and far between."
Last week, a wild duck flying over the scalding steam was sucked into the cauldron and immediately shot out again cooked and ready for table—so said our coachman. As to the cooking there can be no question, for the temperature is over 200°.
Passing along Fire Hole River, we could see at intervals small and large springs, boiling hot, rising right out of the banks of the river. So you see how perfectly practicable it is to catch a fish in the river and cook it in the boiling water without moving a yard.
On we went till we came to the Lower Geyser Springs, and after a look at them, we drove on to the hotel at the Upper Geysers, completing a distance of fifty-eight miles. We had been jolted on the stage since seven o'clock in the morning. This is the scene of the Great Geysers, and one of them, called the "Riverside," which flings itself up at intervals of twenty-four hours, did us the honour of starting just as we came to it; it springs from the banks of the river, where the bridge spans it, and made a grand display for us as we crossed over.
"THE RIVERSIDE."
Close by the hotel is another marvellous geyser, which, from his extreme punctuality, has earned the name of "Old Faithful." He rises once every sixty-five minutes to a second.[[5]] We walked up over the lava, or chalky bed, to examine his abode. There we could look down into the circular crater, from which jets of steam were rising, and great agitated bubbles of water were struggling to get free. Presently, without a minute's warning, up shot an enormous column of boiling water, it may be six feet in diameter, straight into the sky, a hundred and fifty feet or more, then spread out into a beautiful vase-like shape, and came down in hot showers all round. Of course we managed to get outside the range of the spray, but we had some difficulty in steering clear of the little rivers of hot water which were streaming all round us. The eruption lasts for about five minutes.
[5]. When Lord Dunraven saw "Old Faithful," ten or eleven years ago, his time was "every three-quarters of an hour." The landlord now quotes it as I have stated, and he is confirmed by my own observation; but we only saw him twice.
We saw "Old Faithful's" performances just as the sun was setting most brilliantly over the far-off western mountains. There are scores of other geysers continually bubbling, boiling, and seething on this great white plain, which is hemmed in on all sides by pine or fir-clad hills, forming a scene not to be described by me. The principal geysers have all names attached to them. "The Giantess" only shows off her powers once in fourteen days. Then there are "The Castle," "The Lion," "The Lioness," and her two cubs, "The Grand," "The Comet," &c. One of the most curious and eccentric is called "The Bee-Hive." She is very uncertain in her movements; but when she does go off she throws a strange, solid column of water straight up into the air for 220 feet, which is then diffused in brilliant colours, like rockets at a Crystal Palace display of fireworks. We did not see her—her times are irregular; but there is a small one at her foot called "The Indicator," which, when it goes off, gives half an hour's warning that "The Bee-Hive" is coming. Then there is a strange commotion at the hotel, for she sometimes bursts out at midnight. A watchman on the look-out shouts, "The Bee-Hive! the Bee-Hive!" and people rush out of their beds wrapped up in blankets, or whatever clothing they can find, and off they go; there is no time to dress, for the grand display is as brief as it is magnificent.