s of untold wealth just brought to light. The golden
goal this season is the great Gunnison Country; and soon trains of
_burros_, packed with pick and shovel, tent and provisions, will be
climbing the Range.

Pueblo has likewise its business-men, its men of to-day, who manage its
banks, who buy and sell and get gain as they might do in any
well-ordered city, though, truth to tell, there are very few of them who
do not sooner or later catch the prevailing infection--a part of whose
assets is not represented by some "prospect" away up in the mountains or
frisking about the Plains in herds of cattle and sheep. But perhaps the
most curiously-original character in all the town is Judge Allen A.
Bradford, of whose wonderful memory the following good story is told:
Years ago he, with a party of officers, was at the house of Colonel
Boone, down the river. While engaged in playing "pitch-trump," of which
the judge was very fond--and in fact the only game of cards with which
he was acquainted--a messenger rushed in announcing that a lady had
fallen from her horse and was doubtless much injured. The players left
their cards and ran to render assistance, and the game thus broken up
was not resumed. Some two years later the same parties found themselves
together again, and "pitch-trump" was proposed. To the astonishment of
all, the judge informed them how the score stood when they had so
hurriedly left the game, and with the utmost gravity insisted that it be
continued from that point!

On a bright sunny morning we sought out the judge's office, only to
learn that he had not yet for the day exchanged the pleasures of rural
life across the Fontaine for less romantic devotions at the shrine of
the stern goddess. Later we were informed, upon what seemed credible
authority, that upon the morning in question he was intending to sow
oats. Though cold March still claimed the calendar, and hence such
action on the part of the judge might seem like forcing the season, yet
reflections upon his advanced years caused us to suppress the rising
thought that perhaps some allusions to _wild_ oats might have been
intended. Hence we looked forward to a rare treat--judicial dignity
unbending itself in pastoral pursuits, as in the case of some Roman
magistrate. "A little better'n a mile" was the answer to our
interrogatory as to how far the judge's ranch might be from town; but
having upon many former occasions taken the dimensions of a Colorado
mile