y Cap. It is a fitting
monument to mark the entrance into Wonderland, for it is the cone of
an old geyser long since dead. Within it is a tube of unknown depth.
Through that, ages since, was hurled at intervals a stream of boiling
water, precisely as it comes from active geysers in the Park to-day.
But now the hand of Time has stilled its passionate pulsations, and
laid upon its stony lips the seal of silence. At only a little
distance from this eloquent reminder of the past I peered into a
cavern hundreds of feet deep. It was once the reservoir of a geyser.
An atmosphere of sulphur haunts it still. No doubt this whole plateau
is but the cover of extinguished fires, for other similar caves
pierce the locality on which the hotel stands. A feeling of solemnity
stole over me as I surveyed these dead or dying agents of volcanic
power. In the great battle of the elements, which has been going on
here for unnumbered centuries, they doubtless took an active part.
But Time has given them a mortal wound; and now they are waiting
patiently until their younger comrades, farther up the Park, shall,
one by one, like them grow cold and motionless.

[Illustration: A MOUND OF THE HOT SPRING TERRACES.]

Not more than fifty feet from Liberty Cap rise the famous Hot Spring
Terraces. They constitute a veritable mountain, covering at least two
hundred acres, the whole of which has been, for centuries, growing
slowly through the agency of hot water issuing from the boiling
springs. This, as it cools, leaves a mineral deposit, spread out in
delicate, thin layers by the soft ripples of the heated flood.
Strange, is it not? Everywhere else the flow of water wears away the
substance that it touches; but here, by its peculiar sediment, it
builds as surely as the coral insect. Moreover, the coloring of these
terraces is, if possible, even more marvelous than their creation;
for, as the mineral water pulsates over them, it forms a great
variety of brilliant hues. Hot water, therefore, is to this material
what blood is to the body. With it the features glow with warmth and
color; without it they are cold and ghostlike. Accordingly, where
water ripples over these gigantic steps, towering one above another
toward the sky, they look like beautiful cascades of color; and when
the liquid has deserted them, they stand out like a staircase of
Carrara marble. Hence, through the changing centuries, they pass in
slow succession, from light to shade, from br