A Sportsman 179 



beacon lights of welcome to the weary traveller on 

 the plains, long before he refreshes himself at the 

 sparkling streams of the foothills which they supply." 



There I paused to drink water and listen for the 

 echo and reverberations of the battlement artillery. 

 Day after day I would read it over, but could get 

 no farther, and finally had to get Harry Furbush to 

 start it on for me. By the way, he had a very attrac- 

 tive, sprightly sister, quite a belle in Paris at the time. 

 I met her a few years ago. She was living in Rhode 

 Island with her family of nine children. How time 

 has flown since 1867. It seems only a few years ago. 

 I should be very glad to live it over again. 



A ver\' simple friend was Dunlap, from Peoria, 

 111. One day I dined with him and two others at 

 the Diner de Paris — five francs, including a full bottle 

 of common Bordeaux. One could, at the same price, 

 change the quart of wine oflf for a pint of superior 

 quality. When the four bottles of wine were put on 

 the table we concluded one would do for all of us, and 

 I said to the waiter: "Take oflf this wine and boil it 

 down to one bottle," and he soon returned with it. 



The next day I met Dunlap at the exposition, and 

 when about to leave him he said: "I have been think- 

 ing what a wonderful people these French are. But 

 I want to ask you how that waiter at dinner last 

 night could boil down those four bottles of wine into 

 one in five minutes and have it come so cold." 



The display of minerals at the exposition was 

 very extensive and interesting, all of which, except 

 that of Colorado, were relegated to the various an- 

 nexes, and when the award of prizes was made I 

 had the satisfaction of receiving the gold medal of 



