ords of derision. We were willing to be
humbugged with the rest for the sacred emotions experienced under the
silent potency of this phenomenon of the nineteenth century; nor can we
even in the light of subsequent revelations deny the fact that he was
"fearfully and wonderfully made."

We next visited Pueblo, where this giant was exhumed, but were not at all
pleased with the town or its surroundings, and suffered greatly from
thirst rather than drink the offensive water for which the residents are
so heavily taxed. It was so apparently poisonous in odor, that if it had
been in the malarious climate of Chicago, instead of the exhilarating
atmosphere of Colorado, all would have died from its effects.

We have never visited a State which held such diversified interest as that
of Colorado, a fitting resort for the invalid, the pleasure seeker,
artist, scientist or poet. No place but some haunt of the Muses could
boast the ethereal beauty of a "Glen Eyrie," and no wonder the "Garden of
the Gods" is supposed to have once been the abode of "Great Jove himself,"
and that there fair Venus bathed her beauteous form, and girdled with the
fabled "Cestus," held her court amid the immortal beauties of the sacred
spot.

We came through Kansas via the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railroad,
meeting with no better success than that which marked our former trip in
that region of country, and could only conclude, that while their crops
were at that time large and lucrative, the grasshopper raid had taught
them a lesson of economy which they were rigidly observing.

Before returning home we visited the only surviving sister of my mother,
who lived in Salsbury, Missouri, and who not having heard from me since
the Chicago fire, concluded that I might have perished in its flames. She
and her husband were both over seventy years old, and strange to say, were
like so many of the old people I have met in my travels, that my readers
might suppose my heroes and heroines had found the "fabled fountain" and
secured immortal youth. Be this as it may, it could certainly be said of
her husband, as of the father of Evangeline:

"Stalwart and stately of form
Was the man of seventy summers;
Hearty and hale was he
As an oak that is covered with snow-flakes."

I had a delightful visit of two days with this aged couple, during which
my aunt rehearsed to me many incidents in the early life of my mother, and
presented me with a lock of h