asture. My saddle is an old McLellan cavalry
saddle, with a battered brass peak, and the bridle is a rotten leather
strap on one side and a strand of rope on the other. The cotton quilts
covered the Rosinante from mane to tail. Mrs. C. wore an old print
skirt, an old short-gown, a print apron, and a sun-bonnet, with a flap
coming down to her waist, and looked as careworn and clean as she
always does. The inside horn of her saddle was broken; to the outside
one hung a saucepan and a bundle of clothes. The one girth was nearly
at the breaking point when we started.

My pack, with my well-worn umbrella upon it, was behind my saddle. I
wore my Hawaiian riding dress, with a handkerchief tied over my face
and the sun-cover of my umbrella folded and tied over my hat, for the
sun was very fierce. The queerest figure of all was the would-be
guide. With his one eye, his gaunt, lean form, and his torn clothes,
he looked more like a strolling tinker than the honest worthy settler
that he is. He bestrode rather than rode a gaunt mule, whose tail had
all been shaven off, except a turf for a tassel at the end. Two flour
bags which leaked were tied on behind the saddle, two quilts were under
it, and my canvas bag, a battered canteen, a frying pan, and two
lariats hung from the horn. On one foot C. wore an old high boot, into
which his trouser was tucked, and on the other an old brogue, through
which his toes protruded.

We had an ascent of four hours through a ravine which gradually opened
out upon this beautiful "park," but we rode through it for some miles
before the view burst upon us. The vastness of this range, like
astronomical distances, can hardly be conceived of. At this place, I
suppose, it is not less than 250 miles wide, and with hardly a break in
its continuity, it stretches almost from the Arctic Circle to the
Straits of Magellan. From the top of Long's Peak, within a short
distance, twenty-two summits, each above 12,000 feet in height, are
visible, and the Snowy Range, the backbone or "divide" of the
continent, is seen snaking distinctly through the wilderness of ranges,
with its waters starting for either ocean. From the first ridge we
crossed after leaving Canyon we had a singular view of range beyond
range cleft by deep canyons, and abounding in elliptical valleys,
richly grassed. The slopes of all the hills, as far as one could see,
were waving with fine grass ready for the scythe, but the food of wild