AMONG COLORADO'S WILD FLOWERS. 3 



a truly magnificent flower. Growing in large patches these Cacti 

 often resemble wicker baskets full of yellow roses. Then there are 

 the smaller so-called pin-cushion Cacti, in shape somewhat like a pine- 

 apple, and also covered with spines most artistically placed. Of these 

 there are two kinds, the larger having a bright pink blossom, while 

 the smaller has a flower of a dull yellow hue. 



One evening late in the summer, an entertainment was to be 

 held at the schoolhouse some miles distant. We intended going, and 

 while I was busy finishing up the evening's work on the ranch, G. 

 had gone to a field a mile away to get the mare we were to drive, 

 and also a refractory cow who was rather slow in moving along and 

 had failed to put in her appearance at the proper time. When half of 

 the way home, he persuaded the cow to travel somewhat faster with 

 the aid of a long "black-snake." The mare tTiinking the persuasion 

 might be meant for her, objected and whirled; somehow G. became 

 tangled up in the whirl and suddenly landed on the ground, in the 

 very midst of a beautiful large bed of cactus. Over the rest of the 

 scene a veil is thrown, and it is left to the imagination to depict. But 

 I understood that thereafter all hands made direct and rapid tracks 

 for the barn, each moving onward from different but most forcible 

 causes, and each undoubtedly busy with his own reflections. On their 

 reaching home I had the pleasure of extracting cactus spines for a 

 good hour and a half; then it was too late to go to the other entertain- 

 ment. 



Along the wheel tracks of the road are found miniature wild, 

 brick-red Geraniums, little yellow Marigolds and a tiny blue Mint, 

 each sending out a sweet perfume of its own, but, like many another 

 fragrance, often becoming objectionable. We have often been obliged 

 to make our bed, while camping, among this festive Marigold, and 

 suffering in consequence have ceased our admiration. The bright 

 eyes of the Mountain Pink are seen laughing amid the grasses; this 

 little flower is another old acquaintance, for a very similar posy 

 blooms in the home garden. 



The white bushy Ladies' Tobacco and Fireweed, belonging to the 

 everlasting kind, growing low and raising their blossoms above their 

 leaves, mingle with the shorter shrubs and sometimes losing them- 

 selves amid the rank -growing grasses, as does that queer, little, bright 

 yellow Umbrella Plant, lifting its umbel flowers, like so many skeleton 

 frames, to the sun. Near by the Harebell gaily swings its azure cup 

 upon the breezes that are wafted, perfume-laden, over the hills. 

 The Deerweed, spikes of gay, lavender blossoms, glow upon the hill- 

 sides and in clefts of rocky canon walls. What a glorious feast all 

 this must be for the multitudes of bees and butterflies, that flutter in 



