We return to the train and find breakfast waiting. While we are at breakfast the ladies return from the post office; they were too early to get letters, for the office wasn’t open, but they were loaded with souvenirs they had procured on the way. After breakfast we are notified to remove all stuff from our sections to the baggage car, as the cars are to be cleaned. This is a notice that isn’t calculated to sweeten temper. It has been served on us several times since we started from home, and we know what an annoyance it is, but we rejoice to know this is the last time we will suffer the inconvenience.
After this task is accomplished a number of us take a 25-mile ride around the city on the “Seeing Denver” trolley line. It is a delightful ride, and in this way we see many interesting features of the “Queen City of the Plains.” The car we are on is No. 111, in charge of Motorman Ewell and Conductor F. F. Porter. Mr. H. Given accompanies the car and points out and explains interesting localities and places. We can see that the educational facilities of Denver are up to date. Our attention is called to Westminster University, located on a knoll just beyond the city limits, said to be one of the finest institutions of learning in the State. We pass near the Louisa M. Alcott Public School, one of the finest public buildings we have ever seen. Having reached the suburbs we are out amongst cultivated fields, and Mr. Given, in speaking of the fertility of Colorado soil and the abundance of their crops, called our attention to the rich growth of the alfalfa grass in a field close at hand. At the utterance of the word alfalfa a protest went up from the party; they had had all the alfalfa they wanted in Texas, and begged Mr. Given to give them no
more. Manager Wyman explained why our people dislike the name of alfalfa. Mr. Given said he could but acknowledge that we had just reasons to boycott the name, and thought he could give us some information that would increase our dislike the more. “Perhaps you do not know,” he continues, “that there are hundreds of tons of alfalfa leaves shipped yearly from Colorado to New York to adulterate the tea you drink?” This is certainly news to us; it is something we did not know, nor are we sure of it yet, notwithstanding Mr. Given’s assertion; nevertheless it may be true.
We cross the South Fork of the Platte River, that flows through the centre of the town, from which the city’s supply of water is taken, and are shown the Public Park, containing four hundred acres, that is kept up by a tax on the city property owners amounting to $125,000 a year. Our attention is directed to the towering smokestack of the Omaha and Giant Smelter, which rises to the height of 352 feet and is said to be the highest chimney in the world. This is one of the most extensive smelters in America, and since its erection, a trifle over twelve years ago, it has treated ore amounting to nearly $300,000,000. In addition to the Omaha and Giant Smelter there are a number of other plants in active operation. The ores treated are gold, silver, copper, and lead. The total product of the Denver smelting industry amounts to $40,000,000 per year.
Denver is six by ten miles in extent, and I think we rode all the way around it and part way through it. It is a city of beautiful, substantial residences and superb public buildings, the most noticeable being the State Capitol Building, completed in 1895 and costing $2,550,000.
The streets of this great city are not in as clean a condition as they might be; mud in many places is ankle deep, caused, Mr. Given informs us, by the recent heavy rains turning the dust into mud. What an awful dusty city it must be when not muddy; we imagine an occasional heavy shower is a great relief, for dust is a far greater evil than mud. We would quietly suggest to the City Fathers of this great metropolis, for the sake of the health and comfort of their citizens and the pleasure and convenience of visitors, that they eliminate the dust from their town by scraping up and carting to the dump the mud from the streets, through which pedestrians are forced to wade every time it rains.