Westward for thirty miles extends the rich and fertile Gallatin valley. It is no uncommon thing to get forty bushels of hard spring wheat, or sixty bushels of fall wheat, to the acre in this valley, and its barley is of such superior excellence as to be in great demand for malting purposes at Milwaukee and other Eastern cities.
Twenty-nine miles west of Bozeman, are Gallatin City, and the bright little town of Three Forks, commanding the valleys of the Madison and Jefferson, the agricultural lands of which, now being brought under cultivation, are not inferior to those of the older settled valley of the Gallatin.
Four miles more, and the tourist comes upon a point of considerable geographical interest, the three mountain streams just mentioned pouring their waters into a common channel, to form the Missouri river. It is through a rocky cañon, abounding in wild and magnificent scenery, that the greatest river on the continent enters upon its long course of 4,450 miles. For nearly fifty miles, the line follows its various windings, until finally the river runs away northward through that profound chasm known as the Grand Cañon of the Missouri, or the Gates of the Rocky Mountains. Visitors to Helena will find an excursion to the Grand Cañon, occupying not necessarily more than two days' time, one of the most delightful experiences of their transcontinental journey.
The most important town between Bozeman and Helena, is Townsend, the shipping and distributing point for no inconsiderable portion of one of the best counties in Montana. It has daily communication by coach with White Sulphur Springs, a health resort of great local repute. This coming rival of older and hitherto more famous spas, lies in a beautiful valley, 5,070 feet above sea-level, and surrounded by the grandest of Rocky Mountain scenery. Its accommodations for visitors of all classes are most excellent, including, as they do, one of the best hotels in the Territory. Six miles distant are Castle Mountain and Crystal Cave, the latter a cavern of great extent, having twenty-three separate chambers, full of curious and beautiful stalactitic and stalagmitic formations. The town, mountain and cavern were all fully described and admirably illustrated in the West Shore Magazine for July, 1885.
Not so much by way of tribute, either to its own beauty or that of its situation, as in recognition of its wealth, its commercial importance and the commanding position it has so long occupied in the mining world, Helena, the capital of the Territory, is called the Queen of the Mountains. Situated on the eastern slope of the continental divide, 1,155 miles from St. Paul, it became a great distributing point and financial centre, even when hundreds of miles of mountain and prairie separated it from the nearest railroad. Dependent upon the Missouri river for its commercial intercourse with the world, it was in a state of well-nigh complete isolation during the greater part of every year. Under other conditions, this comparative isolation would have stunted its growth and cramped the energies of its people. But with the assured product of their labor such a commodity as gold, with its universality of demand and stability of value, the sturdy settlers in Last Chance Gulch had always the most powerful of incentives to restless energy. With the steadily increasing production of the precious metals, if not in its own immediate vicinity, at least in the country it dominated, Helena grew rich, until now it claims to be the wealthiest city of its size in the United States.
It was on the afternoon of the 15th of July, 1864, that a party of four miners, weary and sick at heart, pitched their tents in that desolate-looking gulch where now stands this flourishing city. Disappointed at not being able to secure claims in the then prosperous camp of Virginia City, and reduced to great extremity, they regarded the little gulch on the Prickly Pear as their “last chance.” Finding gold in paying quantities, they resolved to settle down; and it is said, that, before two years had elapsed, each of them was worth $50,000.
In the meantime, the little camp in what was thenceforward known as Last Chance Gulch had attracted miners from all parts of the Rocky Mountains. It is stated, in a recent official publication of the Territory, that the gulch yielded $30,000,000 during the first three seasons it was worked; but these figures so far exceed the popular estimate, that they are repeated only under reserve. The present annual production is said to be about $50,000. It would seem to the visitor as though every square foot of ground had been dug up, and, if it be his first experience of a placer mining district, its appearance will strike him as singularly novel.
The romance of mining is well illustrated by the story of the citizen of Helena who was digging out a cellar to his house, when a passing stranger offered to remove the pile of earth that was being heaped up in the roadway, and promised to return with one-half of whatever dust he might obtain by the washing to which he proposed to submit it. Permission granted and the earth removed, the citizen thought no more of the matter. Great, therefore, was his astonishment when, a few days later, the half-forgotten face of the stranger appeared at the door, and he was handed, as his share of the yield of that unpromising dirt, the equivalent of $650.
Possibly, however, a story involving only a paltry sum of three figures, may not answer to the reader's conception of the romantic. It does not excite his imagination. He expects to read of millions. If so, let us turn to the story of the miner, who, confident that he was the possessor of a valuable claim, held on to it in spite of the most adverse circumstances, hiring himself out in winter that he might have a little money wherewith to work upon his claim in summer, until, at last, after eight years of indomitable perseverance and patient toil, he was able to sell his property for $2,250,000; or that of the weary and penniless wanderer, who, having tramped all the way from Nevada, began a toilsome search, to be continued through much suffering and privation for several years, but destined to be rewarded at last by the discovery of one of the richest veins of gold in the Territory, a vein that has yielded, up to the present time, $4,000,000 worth of gold.
The tourist will find an hour's chat with an old-timer an interesting and not altogether unprofitable exercise, albeit he may find it hard to discriminate between statements that he may venture to repeat and those made for his especial benefit as a tenderfoot.