PUBLIC PARKS OF IOWA 269 



of the assets of the Golden State while this neglected purple beauty 

 of the Iowa prairie springs into being and thrives, and withers away with 

 the returning seasons, its glory unknown because its praises are unsung. 



With the wealth of Indian lore we have in Iowa, why is it our fathers 

 selected such atrocious names for some of our rivers? We stop on the 

 bridge for a moment to look way back into the shadows of a limpid stream 

 and are disappointed when we learn it is called Skunk river. From 1843 

 to 1850 Skunk river was the favorite route of the Argonauts through east- 

 ern Iowa and many parties of pioneers assembled along its shores and 

 prepared for a long journey to Oregon and California. 



As we cross Lee county, along roads flanked by receding colonades of 

 pines, we remember it was here the Mormons sought refuge in 1838. 

 Driven from their colonies in Ohio and Missouri, they congregated in 

 Illinois, on the east bank of the Mississippi river. There they built a 

 prosperous city which they called Nauvoo, and there they devoted them- 

 selves to the profitable arts of peace. In 1840 Nauvoo had more inhabi- 

 tants than Chicago. 



Rounding a bend in the road, ten miles below Ft. Madison, we catch 

 through the gathering dusk, glimpses of this city of Nauvoo, where the 

 Mormon prophet, Joseph Smith, was killed, and from whence Brigham 

 Young led the pilgrimage of his people westward. Scarcely had the 

 Mormons completed the building of their holy temple, the spires of which 

 still pierce the fading skyline, when a storm of hate broke over their 

 heads and, in February, 1846, they sold their property, came across the 

 river to Iowa. 



In those days the Mormons owned a large part of the city of Keokuk 

 all of the town of Nashville, six miles north and most of the little village 

 of Montrose. Their sojourn in Iowa was brief and all we find is 

 a crumbled ruin of their former occupation. Here, on a bluff that 

 rises three hundred feet above the Mississippi, they built an "institute"- 

 but all that remains is this and memory. The modern pioneer has 

 transformed the site into a delightful summer resort, and called it Bluif 

 Park. Artistic cottages have been placed here and there in the sheltering 

 shadows of oaks, and, from their verandas, views may be had for many 

 miles across Lake Cooper, created when the waters of the Mississippi 

 were held in leash by the dam at Keokuk. 



Looking up from the river toward Bluff Park, the road is pic- 

 turesque. All over Iowa there are roads like this, but those who insist 

 on a traveling schedule of thirty miles an hour see nothing but the 

 beginning and the end of the journey like a tourist hurrying through 

 some famous art gallery, intent only on finding the doorways that lead 

 on and out. It was just such nooks and corners as this that gave 

 our state its name Iowa, Beautiful Land. 



The road into Keokuk is the best in southern Iowa. Its macadam 

 surface has not had time to disintegrate, for it was constructed quite 

 recently by the men who built the great dam at Keokuk. When the 

 broad Mississippi was harnessed, the backwaters flooded this section for 

 many miles farms and farm houses were obliterated, parts of the towns 

 of Sandusky, Galland and Montrose were washed away, and the people 



