THE YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK 53 



and all ask questions, an odd mixed lot of them : 

 " Where is the umbrella ? What is the name of 

 that blue flower over there ? Are you sure the 

 little bag' is aboard ? Is that hollow yonder a 

 crater ? How is your throat this morning ? 

 How high did you say the geysers spout ? How 

 does the elevation affect your head ? Is that a 

 geyser reeking over there in the rocks, or only a 

 hot spring ? " A long ascent is made, the solemn 

 mountains come to view, small cares are quenched, 

 and all become natural and silent, save perhaps 

 some unfortunate expounder who has been read- 

 ing guidebook geology, and rumbles forth foggy 

 subsidences and upheavals until he is in danger 

 of being heaved overboard. The driver will 

 give you the names of the peaks and meadows 

 and streams as you come to them, call attention 

 to the glass road, tell how hard it was to build, 

 — how the obsidian cliffs naturally pushed the 

 surveyor's lines to the right, and the industrious 

 beavers, by flooding the valley in front of the 

 cliff, pushed them to the left. 



Geysers, however, are the main objects, and as 

 soon as they come in sight other wonders are for- 

 gotten. All gather around the crater of the one 

 that is expected to play first. During the erup- 

 tions of the smaller geysers, such as the Beehive 

 and Old Faithful, though a little frightened at 

 first, all welcome the glorious show with enthu- 

 siasm, and shout, " Oh, how wonderful, beautiful, 



