ch boils
beneath; and through the black, frowning rocks that guard the pass, I
catch the last glimpse of the open sunlit plain below.

We are now within the wild Weber Canon, and the scene is changing
every moment. On the right, we pass a most wonderful sight, the
Devil's slide. Two ridges of grey rock stand some ten feet out from
the snow and brushwood; and they run parallel to each other for about
150 feet, right away up the mountain side. For a distance of
thirty-five miles we run along the dark, deep cleft, the rocks
assuming all sorts of fantastic shapes; and the river Weber running
almost immediately beneath us, fretting and raging against the
obstacles in its course. Sometimes the valley widens out a little, but
again to force us against a cliff, where the road has been hewn out
of the solid bluff. In the canyon we pass a pine-tree standing close to
the track, with a large board hung upon it bearing the words, "1000
miles from Omaha." It is hence named the "Thousand Mile Tree." We have
all that long way before us to travel on this Union Pacific Railway.

At last we emerge from Weber Canon, and pull up at Echo City, a small
place, chiefly inhabited by railway employes. We start again, and are
soon plunged amidst red, rocky bluffs, more fantastic than any we have
yet passed. We pass the Mormon fortifications at a place where a
precipitous rock overhangs the narrowing canyon. Here, on the top of
the rock, a thousand feet above us, are piled huge stones, placed
close to the brink of the precipice: once ready to be hurled down upon
the foes of Mormonism--the army sent out against them in 1857. The
stones were never used, and are to be seen there yet. The rocks in the
canyon are of a different colour from those we passed an hour ago. The
shapes that they take are wonderful. Now I could fancy that I saw a
beautiful cathedral, with spires and windows; then a castle,
battlements and bastions, all complete; and more than one amphitheatre
fit for a Caesar to have held his sports in. What could be more
striking than these great ragged masses of red rock, thrown one upon
another, and mounting up so high above us? Such fantastical and
curious shapes the weather-worn stone had taken! Pillars, columns,
domes, arches, followed one another in quick succession. Bounding a
corner, a huge circle of rocks comes into sight, rising story upon
story. There, perched upon the top of the rising ground, is a natural
castle, complete with g