A GLASS ROAD, 



Not least among the wonders of our 

 National Yellowstone Park are the sin- 

 gular obsidian cliffs. They are formed 

 of a volcanic glass, that, in color, re- 

 sembles the cheap green bottles of com- 

 merce. They rise in, almost, vertical 

 columns, which, though opaque, glisten 

 like jet. 



At their base is a road, probably 

 unique upon the globe. It consists en- 



tirely of glass, and is a quarter of a mile 

 long. To construct it large fires were 

 built upon the obsidian . mass. Cold 

 water was then dashed on the heated 

 surface, causing it to crack and crumble 

 to pieces. This tedious undertaking, 

 finally, resulted in a roadway that is the 

 admiration and wonder of all who be- 

 hold it. 



Louise Jamison. 



THE FOG. 



up from the dark recesses 



Of the mist enshrouded night. 

 Like a ghostly pall arising 



To smother out the light. 



Comes the chill fog of winter 



When the northern lights grow dim; 

 And the mighty constellations 



On the universe's rim, 



Fade into utter darkness 



Before the besom's blight. 

 That rises, rises slowly 



From the mist enshrouded night. 



— Edgar Maclaren Swan. 



48 



