et the protection
of another wet towel on my head. After that, all was enjoyment. The
whole experience was unique, and in due time I had the further luxury
of a good rub down, and a lounge for some time on a couch, helped on
also, by a cup of good, black coffee. I could scarcely tell which was
best; to float in sulphur water in the open air, with others, under the
bright light of day, in the big pool; or, to be utterly alone in the
clefts of the everlasting mountains, surrounded by their mysterious
warmth, and melted by their embrace. It seemed to me the last ought to
have the preference.

As I have said, our party decided to press on from Glenwood. Hours were
precious on the homeward run, and to have a whole day for the wonders
of the Colorado mountains was something.

We first passed through the canyon of the Grand River, a fitting prelude
to all that was to come. Then we travelled along the Eagle River Canon,
and, last of all, experienced the wild wonders of the Royal Gorge. It
was a day of continued excitement and exalted pleasure. It is hard to
put in words the impressions of these immense rocky passes.

One may think of the giant forces which cleft asunder their rugged
sides in times so far removed as to be scarcely conceivable.

Then, as one sees the detached rocks, and the great moraines at the
mountain bases, and notes the clinging trees, and wild shrubs, and many
flowers, one must think of the rolling seasons, the heat, the frost,
the forces of the wind, and the storm, and the constant changes which
come with rain and sunshine, with growth, and with decay.

And then, wherever one looks, there, at right hand, or at left of the
railway track, is the rushing river, roaring on without stop or
stay--day and night--forever. It was these streams which gave a hint of
the pathway; first, to the red man, and then to the frontier trapper,
and gold-hunter, and last of all, to the engineers who built the iron
track over which we were speeding, swiftly, and in peace.

The picturesque effect of all is as varied as the thoughts which must
come in such a place. The rapid motion of the train, the ever-changing
point of view, as the track winds its sinuous way by the tortuous
river-bed--all gives a sort of motion to the vast, overhanging cliffs,
which seem to dance past one, like giants on a frolic.

I remember once making the journey through these passes, going west
from Denver. The view from the car windows was not enou