ateway and windows. Indeed, the hour passed
quickly, in spite of the cold, and I felt myself to have been in
fairyland for the time. The whole seemed to be some wild dream. But
dream it could not be. There was the magnificence of the solid
reality--pile upon pile of the solid rock frowning down upon me; great
boulders thrown together by some giant force; perpendicular heights,
time-worn and battered by the elements. All combined to produce in me
a feeling of the utmost wonder and astonishment.

Emerging from Echo Canon and the Castle Rocks, we enter a milder
valley, where we crawl over a trestle-bridge 450 feet long and 75 feet
high. Shortly after passing Wahsatch Station, we cross the Aspen
Summit and reach an opener country. Since we left Ogden, we have, in a
distance of ninety-three miles, climbed an ascent of 2500 feet, and
are now in a region of frost and snow. After another hour's
travelling, the character of the scenery again changes, and it becomes
more rugged and broken. The line crosses the Bear River on another
trestle-bridge 600 feet long; and following the valley, we then strike
across the higher ground to the head of Ham's Fork, down which we
descend, following the valley as far as Bryan or Black's Fork, 171
miles from Ogden.

As the day is drawing to a close, I take a last look upon the scene
outside before turning in for the night. The sun is setting in the
west, illuminating with its last rays the red sandstone bluffs; the
light contrasting with the deep-blue sky overhead, and presenting a
most novel and beautiful effect. We are now traversing a rolling
desert, sometimes whirling round a bluff in our rapid descent, or
crossing a dry water-course on trestles, the features of the scenery
every moment changing. Then I would catch a glimpse of the broken,
rolling prairies in the distance, covered with snow; and anon we were
rounding another precipitous bluff. The red of the sunlight grows dull
against the blue sky, until night gradually wraps the scene in her
mantle of grey. Then the moon comes out with her silvery light, and
reveals new features of wondrous wildness and beauty. I stood for
hours leaning on the rail of the car, gazing at the fascinating
vision, and was only reminded by the growing coldness of the night
that it was time to re-enter the car and prepare for my night's rest.

After warming myself by the stove, I arranged my extemporised couch
between the seats as before, but was wakened up b