CHAPTER VI.
Ranch again—Tea—American press—Celebrities victimized—Last journey—Chicago—Beauty—Niagara missed—New York—Atlantic—Home.
fter my holiday at Colorado Springs, I returned to the ranch, and soon began my preparations for leaving. The climate is the same at both places. It was then the end of September, and nothing could exceed its perfection. Never a cloud in the sky, but bright sunshine all day long, with a bracing atmosphere and a pleasant temperature withal. Then came October, which was equally fine, but the nights began to be very cold. However the house was fairly air-tight, we had good stoves, and spent jolly evenings, to which a cask of excellent beer I had got from Denver contributed not a little. There was much to settle as to how my sons would act, as regards ranch work, after my departure. They were greatly pleased at being landowners, had the sanguine expectations of success so natural at their age, and I am afraid to say how many pipes we got through discussing the bright future they painted. Then came a "snow storm" for a day and a night (it's always so named in America); for twenty-four hours the flakes fell incessantly, and all was white around with nine inches of snow. The following morning the sun rose in his usual cloudless splendour, and shone brightly all day, leaving no snow except on the hills, when darkness came, while owing to the dry atmosphere all moisture had evaporated, and the ground was dry. But the night succeeding was bitterly cold. The thermometer fell to Zero, or near it, and yet when we had been up four hours, the temperature stood at 60° again! This is the usual thing in the high lands of Colorado (and the Water Ranch is near 6000 feet high), for warm days and cold nights are the rule in winter, and hot days and cool nights in summer. Verily, it is a superb climate.
As regards the want of courtesy in America, which I have more than once dilated on, I was at this time much struck with the following:—I saw a girl, some sixteen years old, at the railway station, or rather "Dēpot," as it is named and pronounced there. She was evidently waiting for a train, seated near her trunk. There was no one close by, and she came up to me. She was a particularly pretty-looking girl, nicely dressed, and seemed to be of a better class than the usual inhabitants in that somewhat out-of-the-way part of the country. I expected therefore, when she addressed me, she would do it nicely. The following passed:—
Girl.—"I can't fix my box—you do it."