ut, we too determined to shift our quarters to
Edelsheim, and, engaging a large jolting vehicle, were borne through
mire, rain and mist from the Elephant to the Hof.

Long before we reached the door we saw cheerful lights gleaming from
the long rows of windows. Anton, Moidel, the aunt, Uncle Johann were
at the door to receive us and our belongings. They felt sure, somehow,
that we should come.

The floors of our rooms had been scrubbed white as snow in our
absence, but we must not hesitate to enter with our damp shoes. Were
not the rooms our own? Letters and newspapers were carefully laid
according to their various directions, and with flowers and dainty
dishes covered the supper-table. Moro, the good house-dog, stood by
our chairs or caressed the hand of his favorite, E----. We felt that
we had come home--to our home in the Tyrol.

MARGARET HOWITT.

[TO BE CONTINUED]

COLORADO AND THE SOUTH PARK.

On the 15th of August, 1871, two brothers and a sister--Sepia, an
artist, Levell, an engineer, and Scribe, who is the narrator--left
Chicago by the North-western Railroad, bound for Denver in Colorado,
about eleven hundred miles west. The first day we were climbing the
gradual ascent from the Lakes to the Mississippi, which we crossed
at 4.30 P.M., at Clinton. The thirty years which had elapsed since I
first traversed this region had changed it from wild, unbroken
prairie to a well-cultivated country, full of corn-fields, cattle and
flourishing towns. Then I traveled in a wagon four miles an hour,
and had to find my own meat in the shape of a deer from the grove, a
grouse from the prairie or a duck from the river. Now we rushed across
the State in six hours, stopping fifteen minutes for dinner in a fine
brick hotel, metropolitan in charges, if not in fare. In 1840, when
we arrived at the great river, we waited two or three hours for the
ferry-boat, and finally had to cross in a "dug-out," which seemed but
a frail vessel to stem the rapid currents and whirling eddies of the
Mississippi. Now we crossed upon a railroad bridge of iron, which cost
more money than all Iowa contained in 1840. Still, I fancy that the
first method of traveling was the more interesting.

Through the still summer afternoon we rushed on over the rolling
prairies of Iowa, dotted with towns and villages and covered with
great corn- and wheat-farms. Here in 1840 was absolute wilderness:
we made our hunting-camp seventy-five miles west of th