ser, five years old." In fact, in 1891, a sudden outburst of
volcanic fury made an opening here, through which, at intervals of
thirty minutes, day and night, hot water now leaps forth in wild
confusion.

"This, then, is a geyser!" I exclaimed.

"Bah!" said the guide, contemptuously, "if you had seen the real
geysers in the Upper Basin, you would not look at this."

[Illustration: A BABY GEYSER.]

Meantime, for half an hour we had been hearing, more and more
distinctly, a dull, persistent roar, like the escape of steam from a
transatlantic liner. At last we reached the cause. It is a mass of
steam which rushes from an opening in the ground, summer and winter,
year by year, in one unbroken volume. The rock around it is as black
as jet; hence it is called the Black Growler. Think of the awful
power confined beneath the surface here, when this one angry voice
can be distinctly heard four miles away. Choke up that aperture, and
what a terrible convulsion would ensue, as the accumulated steam
burst its prison walls! It is a sight which makes one long to lift
the cover from this monstrous caldron, learn the cause of its
stupendous heat, and trace the complicated and mysterious aqueducts
through which the steam and water make their way.

[Illustration: THE BLACK GROWLER.]

Returning from the Black Growler, we halted at a lunch-station, the
manager of which is Larry. All visitors to the Park remember Larry.
He has a different welcome for each guest: "Good-day, Professor. Come
in, my Lord. The top of the morning to you, Doctor." These phrases
flow as lightly from his tongue as water from a geyser. His station
is a mere tent; but he will say, with most amusing seriousness:
"Gintlemen, walk one flight up and turn to the right, Ladies, come
this way and take the elevator. Now thin, luncheon is ready. Each
guest take one seat, and as much food as he can get."

"Where did you come from, Larry?" I asked.

[Illustration: LARRY.]

"From Brooklyn, Sor," was his reply, "but I'll niver go back there,
for all my friends have been killed by the trolley cars."

Larry is very democratic. The other day a guest, on sitting down to
lunch, took too much room upon the bench.

"Plaze move along, Sor," said Larry.

The stranger glared at him. "I am a Count," he remarked at last.

"Well, Sor," said Larry, "here you only count wun!"

"Hush!" exclaimed a member of the gentleman's suite, "that is Count
Schouvaloff."

"I'll forgive him