37G 



TUE GARDENER'S MONTHLY 



{December^ 



with tall urass and an abundanci' of l)loomin<; 

 tlowi-rs, Gentians, Blue JJi'lls, Potontillas, sev- 

 eral species of Pedieularis, Pentstemon, and 

 Gilias, wild Dandelions, Kudbeckia-s, and a kind 

 of Thistle not seen before ; pjissing throu<;h this 

 we come upon the Pine and Spruce again but 

 still of ditlerent sjjecies. Over a crest of rock 

 our horses move with steady pace and slow, and 

 the Tiake House comes in view a short distance 

 farther on. A beautiful sheet of water is here, 

 and the house is close by the shore. Those who 

 ^vish to commence the ascent in the afternoon, 

 make this the stopping place for the night, but 

 from all the show of comfort that we behold, I 

 would as leave take a blanket and make my bod 

 beneath a spreading tree, with the blue sky the 

 canopy over head. Here w^e overtake the pe- 

 destrians that left Manitou two hours and a half 

 in advance of us; they are still looking top-ward, 

 but their slackened pace tells the story of tired 

 feet and aching limbs. On the march again, 

 ere all our part}' get together, for some cannot 

 ride so fast as the leader, and have lagged far 

 behind. We are now at an elevation of 10,175 

 feet and I notice a rapidly increasing change as 

 we mount higher; the growth of timber, nearly 

 all Pine, becoming less dense, though many of 

 the trees are still of large size ; there is but 

 little of it yomig, and much of the old is dead, 

 and dying ; the sweeping winds of Winter have 

 prostrated many of these, which makes a pic- 

 ture of desolation indeed, though cm-iously 

 interesting. The ascent is becoming more and 

 more steep, but fewer rocks, consequently less 

 winding is the path. 



At 12,000 feet elevation, another kind of Pine 

 is seen, and soon we pass beyond the " timber 

 line," into the open world again ; the open world, 

 how natural the expression, for it is open in the 

 fullest sense ; we are so far above many of the 

 other mountain summits, that we seem to look 

 down on avast sea of peaks, which lose individu- 

 ality as they fade away in t;he dim distance, but 

 still the "timber line" is discernable, curving 

 up and down, according to the sheltered loca- 

 tion. The flora has completely changed, and 

 assumed its Alpine character, dwarf Blue Bells, 

 the yellow Senecio, some species of Saxifrage, 

 a blue Forget-me-not, so limited in range, as not 

 to extend more than ten yards up and down, 

 with a few of the pink tribe, a beautiful Gentian 

 which opens its whitish petals in the sun, some 

 grass and sedges, all of which gradually become 

 smaller in size as we mount higher. We pass 



those who left the hotel at 6 o'clock and pursue 

 our way now in advance of all. W. H. II. Bussel, 

 of St. Louis, is the only one of our party who 

 keeps close beside me, the others falling farther 

 and farther behind, as the ascent becomes more 

 and more rugged. The unclouded sky of the 

 early morning is now changed and I fear the 

 f()r<'l)o<lings of a storm is apj^arcnt ; the sun is 

 ol)scured most of the time, a chilly feeling is in 

 the atmosphere, and I remark to my companion, 

 a storm cloud is gathering fast. Just as we 

 reach the limit of vegetation, except the lichens 

 on the rocks, a slight rain sets in, soon changing 

 to sleet, then to snow and hail. 



We arc now among the rocks, and scarcel}^ 

 can we discern the trail ; faster and faster falls 

 the snow, not large in .size, perhaps not larger 

 than peas are the hail stones, but in numbers, 

 there are no means of measurement ; our horses 

 shake their heads and stop. We hold a hurried 

 consultation. Shall we turn back? for doubtless 

 danuer lies in the way before us, and we know 

 not how much farther we have yet to go ere the 

 top is reached. Onward and upward, is our con- 

 clusion, and we urge the horses forward. The 

 ditliculty of breathing is now sensibly felt. So 

 steep and rocky has become the ascent that not 

 a dozen yards can we advance without our horses 

 stop to draw full breaths. The severity of the 

 storm increases; our^ coats are buttoned tight to 

 keep out the driving hail, we hang our heads in 

 silence, not a sound reaches our ears but the 

 wind as it rushes past. So winding has become 

 the path that we have lost sight of those who 

 kept nearest us, so tilled the atmosphere, that 

 the depths below, the heights above, indeed the 

 rocks are no longer discernable. Our horses 

 evidently know the way, and on them we 

 rely. I have known and experienced furious 

 storms before but never aught like this. Min- 

 utes seem like lengthened i)eriods, and we are 

 making headway slowly. Longfellow could not 

 have written a truer picture when he penned 

 " Excelsior " had he been through these condi- 

 tions himself. A tingling sensation in our ears, 

 distended viens upon the forehead, bodies be- 

 coming wet and chilled, hands benumbed with 

 cold, and yet, and yet no end. A line of telegraph 

 wires stretched across the rocks is now in sight 

 and courage is renewed, for we may be nearing 

 the top, but on, on, on, the storm not sensibly 

 abating for an instant. Around a shai'p promon- 

 tory of rock Ave slowly work our way, and then 

 the signal station comes in view ; never sight of 



