Beyond, yawns a chasm three hundred and fifty feet deep, the death chant is lost amidst the roar of the mighty torrent. The hardened soldier shudders as that lone adventurous craft, freighted with the remnant of a powerful people, is gathered in the arms of that mighty torrent, hurled over the brink and dashed to pieces on the cruel rocks below, where the Maid of the Mist washed white each red man’s soul.
GRAND CAÑON OF THE YELLOWSTONE.
On June twenty-seventh last, word was telegraphed over the country that a new geyser had burst forth from an old crater about fifty feet from the famous Fountain Geyser. The eruption played from two hundred to two hundred and fifty feet high.
Tired, stage tired, we were snug in comforts and blankets and sound asleep one night in August at the Fountain hotel, when about twelve o’clock gongs sounded, bells rang and porters went running about pounding on the doors and crying, what seemed to our sleepy imagination, “Fire,” but presently we heard distinctly the words, the new geyser is playing. “The new geyser is playing,” went echoing down the corridors.
In ten minutes every tourist was out, in all sorts of costumes from blanket to full dress, either shivering on the long veranda or hurrying down to the basin to see the new geyser play, and right royally he did it, too.
Upward into the black night shot a stupendous column of water three hundred feet high. The porters were the first to arrive and playing their red calcium lights on the wonderful body of falling water gave us a display of fire and water that must be seen to be appreciated. The now flaming vermilion column rose steadily upward, seemingly through the red glare three hundred feet, the delicate, rose colored steam rising much higher, swayed in the breeze, now falling, now lifting, now floating away into the black night a rosy cloud.
The hotel cat hurried to the scene of action but lost his bearings and stood fascinated by the magic scene, the hot spray falling about him until some one picked him up and carried him out of danger.
In the reception hall of this hotel an old fashioned fireplace filled with glowing pine logs sent out showers of welcoming sparks. A big green back log sang again the anthem of the wild storm-swept mountain forest, while outside the rain came down in torrents.
The most wonderful features of the Rocky Mountains lie within the confines of Yellowstone Park. The world’s oldest rocks, granite, gneisse and basalt are found here. Later dynamic action held sway and the region became the center of mountain building on a grand scale. Rocky beds tossed up and down. Next came the reign of Vulcan. Fire held sway. Volcanic materials overflowed the region. Next came the ice age, when glaciers plowed down the mountain sides. Just now the hydrothermal agents are most active.