30 



FORESTRY AND IRRIGATION 



January 



But what, after all, is a thousand 

 acres ? The eye, sweeping across those 

 level mesas, comprehends a million 

 acres; and beholds just occasionally a 

 bright green patch of alfalfa, or a 

 golden yellow one of grain, carved out 

 of the universal gray green of the 

 sage-brush, or the black green of pin- 

 ion trees. 



How small, how slow, how insignifi- 

 cant, is human endeavor ! As for man, 

 there are to be seen, here and there, 



west and always down, 3,000 feet, un- 

 til it reaches the ground. He watches 

 the electrical display — Nature's fire- 

 works — and listens to the terrific can- 

 nonade of thunder, all below his feet. 

 Yes, man is small indeed ; simply one 

 force in the Universal Grand Plan — is 

 his lofty verdict. 



But very soon his brain reels with 

 the tremendous thoughts of the moun- 

 tain, and he welcomes a descent into 

 the world of man, and contemplation 



Wright's Spring 



tiny white dots to indicate his domi- 

 cile ; but he himself is too minute to 

 catch the eye. Yet for so insignificant 

 a creature the mountain gathers, from 

 the mysterious ether above, a blessing 

 that spells the difference between life 

 and death. 



The spectator, intoxicated by the 

 rarefied air of such an altitude, for- 

 gets wee man for awhile, and stands 

 wrapt in wonder at a sight below him ; 

 for a king not of earth has taken the 

 stage of nature's endeavor before his 

 eyes, and demands his marveling at- 

 tention. It is the king of rain, stalk- 

 ing from the clouds below, east and 



of the history of man's smaller achieve- 

 ments. 



Descending to Wright's Mesa, 

 which is typical of all the mesas, and 

 better developed than the rest, 

 he seeks to fathom the beginnings of 

 things. Here runs an old Indian trail, 

 well beaten in the last century between 

 the Uncompahgre and Los Penos res- 

 ervations ; but also well beaten back 

 into the vague mists of forgotten his- 

 tory. How many thousand red feet 

 trod this crude highway; what 

 thoughts of sweet romance or cruel 

 war sped them on ; what loves and 

 hates, hopes and despairs, inspired 



