[S] Page 151, Gunnison’s History of the Mormons. See [Appendix E].
In this admirable summary we readily discover the Yellowstone Lake, the Grand Cañon, the Falls, the geyser basins, the Mammoth Hot Springs, and Cinnabar Mountain. Prior to 1860, Bridger had related these accounts to Captain Warren, Captain Raynolds, Doctor Hayden, and others, and although he seems to have convinced these gentlemen that there was something in his stories, they still attributed less to fact than to fancy.
In his efforts to disseminate a knowledge of this region, Bridger was as determined as Colter had been before him, and with little better success. He tried to have his narratives published, but no periodical would lend itself to his service. The editor of the Kansas City Journal stated editorially in 1879 that Bridger had told him of these wonders fully thirty years before. He prepared an article from Bridger’s description, but suppressed it because his friends ridiculed the whole thing as incredible. He later publicly apologized to Bridger, who was then living at Westport, Missouri. [T]
[T] Of interest in this connection is the following extract from a recent letter to the writer by the present managing editor of the Kansas City Journal:
“The interview had with Bridger was in the year 1856. He told Col. R. T. Van Horn, Editor of the Journal, which was published at that time, the story of the Park with the geysers, and at the same time, drew with a piece of charcoal on a piece of wrapping paper an outline of the route necessary to be taken by a railroad should it ever cross the continent, which route is exactly on the line that is now crossed by the Union Pacific.
In this conversation, he told the Colonel about the mud springs and the other wonders of that part of the country, or to use his own expression, ‘it was a place where hell bubbled up.’
The Colonel was much interested in the matter at the time and took notes of the account, but did not print it because a man who claimed to know Bridger, told him that he would be laughed out of town if he printed ‘any of old Jim Bridger’s lies.’”
The persistent incredulity of his countrymen, and their ill-concealed suspicion of his honesty, to say nothing of his mental soundness, were long a cloud upon Bridger’s life; but, more fortunate than his prototype, Colter, he lived to see himself triumphantly vindicated. Whether from disgust at this unmerited treatment, or because of his love of a good story, Bridger seems finally to have resolved that distrust of his word, if it must exist, should at least have some justification. He was in fact noted for “drawing the long bow to an unparalleled tension,” and for never permitting troublesome scruples of conscience to interfere with the proper embellishment of his yarns. These were generally based upon fact, and diligent search will discover in them the “soul of truth” which, according to Herbert Spencer, always exists “in things erroneous.” These anecdotes are current even yet among the inhabitants of the Yellowstone, and the tourist who remains long in the Park will not fail to hear them.
When Bridger found that he could not make his hearers believe in the existence of a vast mass of volcanic glass, now known to all tourists as the interesting Obsidian Cliff, he supplied them with another glass mountain of a truly original sort. Its discovery was the result of one of his hunting trips and it happened in this wise.