GENERAL REPORT. H 



horses the range of the taller bunch-gi-ass. Of course, when the land was 

 definitely settled, surveyed, and paid for, the proprietor would consult his 

 own individual interest. 



Along our route, the possibilities of agriculture died out as we ap- 

 proached Georgetown, though here and there an acre under cultivation 

 showed that the farmer must have received some return for his labor. The 

 valleys still furnished a fair quantity and quality of bunch-grass. 



We leave the country between Georgetown and South Park out of the 

 question for agricultural purposes. There were, as usual, some beautiful 

 summer ranges for herds. One especially, along a tributary of the Snake 

 River, was covered with a luxuriant crop of grass. The soil, too, was fertile, 

 and, but for its altitude, would have produced large crops of the ordinary 

 cereals. 



South Park, 8,800 feet above tide-water, so far as known does not 

 promise much in the way of grain raising. It has frequent frosts during 

 the summer months, and the temperature at the same time is so low as to 

 almost inevitably destroy all the cereals. On the morning of July 3, 1873, 

 the ground was covered to a depth of two inches with snow as low down as 

 the level of Fair Play. Its utmost will probably be accomplished in the way 

 of agriculture in the production of turnips, cabbages, and possibly potatoes, 

 with other vegetables equally hardy. It will, however, be an important 

 grazing ground. Large herds of cattle now roam at large over it. In 1872 

 and in 1873, the experiment was tried of wintering the stock in the Park. It 

 is asserted that it was successful, and that the herds kept there were in 

 better condition in spring than those that had been driven for the winter to 

 the valley of the Arkansas. 



The bunch-grasses in the smaller parks toward the mountains are of 

 wonderful luxuriance, and will furnish abundant food for many thousand 

 head of cattle. Sheep do well on the more level portions of the Park, 

 among the shorter grasses. 



The valley of the Upper Arkansas, as we first saw it, twelve miles 

 above Twin Lakes, certainly looked like anything but a land of promise. 

 Along its central axis, the soil appeared absolutely unproductive, and seemed 

 fit to raise nothing but "prickly pears and sage-brush". Yet we have 



