56 IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 



the flower-lover it is the yucca; to the culti- 

 vator, or whosoever meddles with its leaves, it 

 is the Spanish-bayonet ; to the utilitarian, who 

 values a thing only as it is of use to him, it is 

 the soap-weed ignoble name, referring to cer- 

 tain qualities pertaining to its roots. When 

 we remember that this flower is not the care- 

 ful product of the garden, but of spontaneous 

 growth in the most barren and hopeless-looking 

 plains, we may well regard it as a type of Colo- 

 rado's luxuriance in these loveliest of nature's 

 gifts. 



Of a surly disposition is the blossom of a 

 cactus the "prickly-pear," as we call it in 

 Eastern gardens, where we cultivate it for its 

 oddity, I suppose. When the sojourner in this 

 land of flowers sees, opening on all sides of 

 this inhospitable-looking plant, rich cream-col- 

 ored cups, the size of a Jacqueminot bud, and 

 of a rare, satiny sheen, she cannot resist the 

 desire to fill a low dish with them for her table. 



Woe to her if she attempts to gather them 

 " by hand " ! Properly warned, she will take a 

 knife, sever the flower from the pear (there is 

 no stem to speak of), pick it up by the tip 

 of a petal, carry it home in a paper or hand- 

 kerchief, and dump it gently into water 

 happy if she does not feel a dozen intolerable 

 prickles here and there, and have to extract, 



