FOREST AND STREAM 
731 
rose, however, the frost had all melted, and the high grass 
and willow bushes were dripping with moisture. The 
flowers seemed to recover, and once more helc^ up their 
heads, and the temperature rose almost to that of a sum¬ 
mer day. 
As Rosier and I were the only members of the party that 
had ever packed before, the labor of loading the mules, 
adjusting ropes and so on, naturally fell to us. and, as we 
had only two animals to pack, we got along very well. 
There are few things more disagreeable than packing, 
however, and I recommend any of your readers who may 
purpose to travel through the mountains with a pack train 
to secure a man who is up in this business before starting 
out. It will be far cheaper to do this than to have to re¬ 
pack your animals three or four times a day, besides ruin¬ 
ing their backs and your own hands. It is no joke to be 
obliged to handle the wet, half-frozen ropes every morn¬ 
ing for an hour, and gloves, although they protect the 
hands for a time, wear out after a few days’ service, so 
that they are of no use whatever. 
From our camp we pushed out as early as possible, 
travelling in single file, Rosier in the lead and the packs 
near the head of the line. The valley became rapidly nar¬ 
rower and rougher, aud the impetuous force of the 
stream, which was now only a brooklet, increased. Some¬ 
times it fell down in a sheer cascade for ten or fifteen 
feet, and at such points the trail would leave the stream 
aud wind about in the timber until this ascent was over¬ 
come, when it would return to near the water’s edge. 
Some of the slopes were very steep, and there were not a 
few rather dangerous places where a misstep on the part 
of one’s horse would have thrown the rider down forty or 
fifty feet sheer into the streams bed below. I derived no 
little amusement during the ride from watching our little 
white mule which walked just ahead of me. He carried 
a light pack, but as it was composed mainly of blankets 
and* robes it was quite bulky and stood up so high above 
the saddle that it occasionally became caught in the over¬ 
hanging branches. The effect of this large pack on the 
small mule was funny enough ; but when the little ani¬ 
mal had to climb up an almost vertical slope the pack 
would stand out so that it seemed as if it must pull him 
©ver backwards. He never fell, however, and reached 
the summit in safety. The timber, from our camp up to 
where it ceased to grow, was very fine and large, many 
of the trees being apparently tall and stout enough for 
the spars of the largest ship. There was considerable 
down timber, which delayed us more or less, for some of 
the logs were too large to be stepped over, and we were 
hence obliged to make considerable detours to get by 
them. At last, however, the valley through which we 
were travelling became a mere gorge, and after climbing 
a few hundred feet up a very steep slope we found our¬ 
selves at the edge of the timber. Only the forest ended 
here, however ; a few stunted spruces flourished in the 
little ravines and sheltered nooks for 500 feet more of the 
ascent before finally giving up and acknowledging them¬ 
selves vanquished by the Arctic climate. We paused at 
the foot of the open slope to allow those behind us to 
come up. Before us lay spread out a wide amphitheatre, 
surrounded on all sides by the towering and rugged sum¬ 
mits of the great Continental Divide. The floor of this 
basin sloped smoothly down to a line through its midst, 
along which flowed a sparkling brook, fed by a lake lying 
far above among the snow-fields, and into which poured 
a hundred little springs that arose everywhere through¬ 
out the broad meadow. Low willows, the last sign of ar¬ 
boreal vegetation, bordered the brook, and their dark glis¬ 
tening leaves marked its course for a little distance, and 
then they, too, disappeared and the brook flowed through 
the grass. To the northwest the heights above rose ver¬ 
tically for several thousand feet to the rounded summit 
of the range, the bare rocks being streaked with alternate 
vertical lines of red and yellow ; nearly to the south was 
the pass which we were attempting to reach, and here 
was a deep sag, two or three thousand feet below the 
general level of the hill, up to which the amphitheatre 
which we -were entering sloped to a gradual ascent. On 
the south and west of the pass the mountains rose by 
successive steps to a great height, terminating in a con¬ 
fused mass of gigantic fragments, from which towered 
towards the skies three slender pinnacles, which seemed 
too delicate to long withstand the fury of the elements 
that for nine months of the year beat and buffet them 
with unremitting violence. Beyond the pinnacles to the 
west lies an endless confusion of rooks. Piled one upon 
another, of all shapes and sizes, gorged here and there 
with ravines whose black depths the eye cannot pierce, 
or showing little patches of smooth level meadow which, 
though far above the line of eternal snow, shine bright 
and green as a bit of lawn in May, they present an end¬ 
less variety of scenery which cannot fail to enchant the 
beholder. 
The mountain vale which we now enter is carpeted 
with the softest aim greenest of grass, and with an as¬ 
tonishing profusion of flowers, which, for beauty and 
variety, I t hink I have never seen equalled. Up to the edge 
of the pine forest the crimson Epilobium, not differing 
materially from one of our Eastern species, grew in pro¬ 
fusion, and in the open spots just beyond were yellow 
Ra nuculacecu and a deep purple larkspur, which attains 
a height of two feet. Asters and other composite flowers 
of all hues, from white through pink, red and blue to 
purple, dotted tbe ground, and grew up in many places 
through the snow. A lovely Campanula, like our own, 
but with the flower an inch or more in length, waved its 
bells in the cool breeze, while the pale flax flower, as 
much at home here aB on the plains, nodded rythmically, 
keeping time to the music of its neighbors’ chimes. A 
blue gentian grew here and there, and the pale yellow 
flower of the wild mustard and tbe crimson of a meadow 
pink, lent their aid to brighten and diversify the scene. 
One of the most beautiful among the many lovely plants 
which we saw here was a columbine ( Aquilegia). The 
plant resembles in most respects our Eastern species, but 
the flower is not less than one inch and a half across and 
is pure white, shading into a pale blue on the closed spur. 
It resembles more nearly some gorgeous tropical flower 
than one from the Alpine height of 13,000 feet. And these 
floral gems are found growing beneath the shadow of the 
snow-drifts, and nourished by their cool drippings. But 
I might run on forever on this subject had I the space, for 
the flora was so varied and abundant that it would have 
driven a botanist wild with delight. 
Slowly riding through the sloping field, we approached the 
summit of the pass. The ascent was steeper than I had 
supposed, and our wearied horses had enough to do to drag 
themselves toward the top without carrying us. But two 
species of birds were visible —the Western song-sparrow 
and the titlark — and, besides these, a few insects were the 
only living things to be seen. The summit reached, we 
halted to rest and admire the scene before us. To the 
south and east we could see almost the whole of Middle 
Park, and all the rugged and broken mountains which 
surround it. In a little lake, which nestled in the moun¬ 
tain side a few hundred feet below us on the other side 
of the divide, the north fork of the Grand River takes 
its rise, and flows in a continually-increasing torrent 
down the narrow, wooded gorge, whose whole length we 
can see as far as the plains of Middle Park. Grand Lake 
is not visible from the point where we stand. In a saddle 
high above us to the right lies a huge snow-drift, whose 
melting waters from one extremity flow into the stream 
along which we have been traveling, thence into the 
North Platte, and passingtbrough the Park, between the 
Big Horn and Laramie Mountains, out into the plains, 
through the great grazing and wheat regions of Wyoming 
and Nebraska, pour into the Missouri, the Mississippi 
and the Gulf. From the other end of this drift a cool 
stream leaps out to unite with the Grand River, which, 
flowing through Middle Park and southwestwardly be¬ 
tween the Elk and Uneompagre Mountains, joinB the 
Green River to form that marvellous stream, the Rio 
Colorado of the West. On it goes, through desert wastes, 
between lofty mountains, and through silent, solemn 
cations, until at last, after its long and tumultuous jour¬ 
ney, it finds peace and rest in the calm waters of the 
Pacific Ocean. 
Continuing our march, we descended on the other side, 
passing by the little lake, until we reached the first few 
spruces that grew highest up on this side of the range. 
Here we made camp, and soon afterwards I started out 
on foot to ascend the high mountain to the north and 
east of our camp. After reaching a point a few hundred 
feet above the level of the pass, vegetation almost en¬ 
tirely disappeared, and a gray lichen, which attached it¬ 
self to the loose blocks of trachyte which covered the 
ground, was the only plant to be seen. The mountain 
side was very steep, and the loose rocks afforded but an 
insecure foothold ; besides this, the tenuity of the air was 
such that it was necessary to stop to take breath at fre¬ 
quent intervals. Although an icy wind was blowing from 
the west, I was wet with perspiration by the time I 
reached the summit. Here I reclined under the lee of a 
gigantic mass of rock, perfectly sheltered from the wind, 
and basked in the sunshine until I recovered from the 
fatigue of my climb. Near by was the edge of a beetling 
precipice, which almost overhung our camp, and repairing 
to this I tried to estimate how high above my companions 
I was seated. It was impossible for me to recognize, even 
with the help of my excellent field-glass, any of my com¬ 
rades in the camp ; in fact, it was difficult to see the in¬ 
dividuals at all, except when they moved. The horses 
grazing in a little meadow near the camp looked smaller 
than so many setter dogs. I learned afterward that those 
who saw me from camp took me for a mountain sheep, 
but finally recognized what the moving object was by 
the glint of my field-glass in the sun’s rays. 
At length, turning my back on the camp, I pursued my 
way along the ridge of the mountain. This was smooth 
and rounded and undulated; to the left was a deep and 
wide valley filled with low willows, among which, I am 
sure, if I had had a dog we might have started some ptar¬ 
migan, and from which flowed a considerable stream to 
join the south fork of the Cache la Poudre. To the right 
lay an illimitable stretch of mountains, most of them 
pine covered and dark green, but one or two bristling- with 
dead timber, the white and weather-worn trunks of which 
gleamed and shone when touched by the rays of the sun. 
Far away across the park I saw the lofty crests of its 
western boundary, and noted with keen regret that the 
fire was still sweeping over the range toward the north. 
The bare Hog Back, where we had camped some time be¬ 
fore, was easily recognizable, and near its base, between 
it and my present position, were a dozen lakelets spark¬ 
ling in the sun like diamonds. To the southwest the 
view was cut off by the pinnacles which rose two or 
three hundred feet above the range, and by mountains of 
about the same height as the one from which I was look¬ 
ing ; but I could see to the right dimly through the haze 
the Rabbit Ears and Arapaho Peak. Before me, on the 
southeast, beyond the mountains, lay the gorged and des¬ 
olate plateaus of Middle Park, with many a pine-covered 
butte interrupting the view, and marked here and there 
with lines of brighter green, which indicate the courses 
of the various streams which traverse it. 
The ridge along which I am passing is quite barren of 
life, and a single titlark is the only living creature that 
meets my eye as I slowly pursue my way along the crest. 
From the talus of trachyte, however, which in many 
places reaches high up on the precipice to the right, I 
can occasionally hear the plaintive, bleating cry of the 
little chief hare, which, safely hidden in some cranny 
among the loose rocks, sounds his notes of alarm as he 
beholds me and hears my footsteps : and in one place I 
found some white feathers, freshly shed, of a ptarmigan. 
Perhaps a mile from where I gained the summit I no¬ 
ticed in some loose sand in a little saddle, the fresh tracks 
of two mountain sheep, and followed them carefully; but 
before I reached the end of the ridge I saw the animals 
—a fine ram and a ewe—come out onto an open plateau, 
and after looking at me for a moment or two, plunge 
down the steep face of a precipice and disappear in a 
deep ravine. They must have seen or scented me, and to 
follow them would, I knew, be useless ; besides, approach¬ 
ing night warned me to return to camp. 
Two days more were passed in this camp, and occupied 
in climbing the highest mountains and enjoying to the 
full their majestic Rcenery. Game we found very scarce, 
prospectors and Indians having driven it off. About 
Indians I hear unpleasant rumors, which if true would 
lead me hack to the railroad, but I shall wait before start¬ 
ing, for something definite. 
In one of my mountain climbs I came upon a colony of 
the gray-crowned finches ( Leucosticte), which greatly 
interested me, because I had never seen the genus before. 
They are most active and noisy little birds, and occupy 
themselves continually in searching for food among the 
rocks, uttering the while almost constantly a shrill 
but rather musical whistle. Unluckily, on the occasion 
when I saw them I had my rifle with me, and so could 
not secure any specimens. We were equally unfortunate 
with regard to the ptarmigan. Several times we found 
their fresh tracks in the snow, but though searching for 
them persistently, we never saw any. Better luck next 
time, I hope. 
At last our provisions gave out and we were forced to 
turn our steps toward the Park once more, and a march 
of a day and a half brought us to Kosier's camp, 
Kosier's, North Earle, Colorado. Yo. 
The New Jersey State Shooting Tournament. — We 
have kept our readers advised of the progress of prepara¬ 
tions which are being made for the coming tournament 
of the pigeon shooters, and last week we printed a full 
programme of the anticipated events. This tournament, 
it will be borne in mind, will be held at the West Side 
Driving Park Manor, from the 21st to the 24th day of 
October inclusive. Eight thousand wild pigeons from 
the West are now in the coops of the Association, and it 
may be naturally supposed that their presence creates 
quite a flutter among the competitors for the liberal 
prizes which have been offered, the aggregate value of 
which amounts to $2,500. 
The Labors of Db. Elliott Cores.—W e are much 
gratified to publish Prof. Ballou’s very just and carefully 
written review of the labors of Dr. Coues during the past 
eighteen years, and are thankful for the opportunity thus 
afforded to add our humble service to do him the honor 
he has so fully and laboriously earned. 
—Mr. William C. Sadlier, the youngest son of Mr. D. 
Sadlier, has started the subscription business at No. 31 
Barolay Street, having fitted up the second floor hand¬ 
somely, He intends to supply Bibles, albums, standard 
works, etc., at cash prices, at weekly or monthly pay¬ 
ments, at such low terms as to be in reach of all. He also 
proposes to do all styles of binding on the same terms and 
to furnish all of D. & J. Sadlier’s publications. 
B ake r s Chocolate, so noted for its nutritive, salu¬ 
tary and delicious qualities, hardly needs any further in¬ 
dorsement after the awards given for its excellence at the 
lead mg expositions in this country and Europe. A trial 
is all that is needed to convince any one of its great 
merit.— Adv. & 
—Mr. H. C. Squires, of No. 1 Cortlandt street, has just 
received two cases of guns from Greener, containing 
hanimeriess,top-snap and wedge-fast actions,with all mod¬ 
ern improvements, which are well worthy the inspection 
of connoisseurs in that line. They range from t\\ enty to 
ten-gauge, and especial attention is called to the twenty- 
gauge for lovers of small game. 
