A JOURNEY TOWARD THE SETTING SUN. 



A. M. NELSON. 



Denver, Col. 



Dear Recreation: After a delightful 

 journey of 2,000 miles I am here under the 

 wing of the mountains, in the everlasting 

 sunshine and beneath the changeless blue of 

 the skies of Colorado. 



What a change it is! The deep green of 

 the Maryland landscape has slipped away 

 like the shifting scene of a panorama, and 

 before me tower the hoary, treeless summits 

 of the Rocky mountains. To the unac- 

 customed eye the change seems like going 

 from life into death. Mile after mile speeds 

 by under the burning wheels of the train 

 and everywhere spreads — apparently — limit- 

 less desolation. The grasses lack the green 

 of Eastern fields, and the shrubs are clad in 

 the sombre foliage which characterizes the 

 plains, the gray of sage. It is as if Nature 

 had grown gray with age and had stretched 

 herself out to die. Swell after swell of roll- 

 ing prairie glides by, only to be followed by 

 countless others just like them, until the eye 

 grows weary with the monotony and the 

 brain giddy with gazing. 



But stop! Above the clickity-clash, click- 

 ity-clash of the wheels sounds suddenly the 

 hoarse roar of the engine whistle and we 

 begin to slow down. We are coming to a 

 stop. As if we had suddenly dropped to 

 earth from some other world we glide into 

 the orderly streets and past the business 

 houses of a town! Yonder, as we come to 

 a stop we see the sign of a printing office, 

 and not far off a saloon, " The Cow-boy's 

 Rest," or " Ike's Invitation," or some such 

 fanciful announcement. Farther off, where 

 the generous prairie opens wide her bosom 

 to receive it, stands the school-house—sure 

 accompaniment of American immigration, 

 symbol of American civilization, and seal of 

 the nation's safety. 



The streets are broad and generous, like 

 the people who laid them out, and are 

 adorned with rows of shade trees, liberally 

 planted and carefully nourished. The Amer- 

 ican pioneer carries with him into the desert 

 his fondness for the beautiful and the pleas- 

 ant. In the door-yards are blooming flowers 

 and cultivated gardens. Thrift is walking 

 hand in hand with courage here. 



Yonder a church lifts its taper spire, and 

 there is another. The Methodists are abroad 

 in the land, and the Presbyterians keep step. 

 Not far over, stands a building surmounted 

 by a cross. There meet and worship the 

 people who have brought the religion of 

 Rome from the poverty and oppression 

 over seas and have planted it here safe from 

 persecution, sure of peace. 



The School and the Church! Not the 

 school of the Church. Long may they live! 

 These frequent thriving towns, the many 



lofty elevators, and the numerous cattle- 

 chutes (is that the term?) speak of a pros- 

 perity which must go hand in hand with 

 happiness, and mean independence. 



For this the people have to thank the rail- 

 roads which span with their steel bonds these 

 limitless plains, and serve not only to plant 

 the immigrant in his Western home, but to 

 keep him in touch with the world from 

 which he has come. 



Happy the traveler who places his trust 

 in the management of the " Burlington." 

 Its officials are attentive gentlemen, courte- 

 ous and watchful to serve. Not more safe 

 from unwelcome surroundings would a lady 

 be in her parlor at home than in the care of 

 the officials who have charge of the Burling- 

 ton trains. 



Women are usually " cranky " travelers, 

 and are probably not in great demand 

 among railroad men. But surely the great- 

 est stickler for deference could find no fault 

 with these. From the courteous agent at 

 the Union Depot in St. Louis to the porter 

 in charge of the car, I found everywhere 

 ready politeness and knightly considerate- 

 ness, and take this means to thank them for 

 thej)ains they took to make bright and com- 

 fortable a long and wearying journey. 



The cars are equipped with sumptuous ele- 

 gance, and every possible effort is made in 

 their construction and appointments to sur- 

 round the traveler — far from friends — with 

 all the comforts and refinements which make 

 home delightful. 



But the great mission of the Burlington 

 has been to build up the country through 

 which it passes. This it has done by a sys- 

 tem of liberality which has not failed to make 

 the " waste places " of the desert " blossom 

 as the rose." Where a few years ago the 

 Indian divided his wickeyup with his pa- 

 pooses and his vermin, are now the thriving 

 farms and comfortable homes of his Anglo- 

 saxon successor. Instead of the herds of 

 buffalo whose numbers were as the sands of 

 the seashore are now the tamer " bunches " 

 of the cattleman, or the cows of the farmer, 

 which come with tinkling bells at evening to 

 the bars in answer to some lassie's milking 

 song. 



This is the magic which the " Burling- 

 ton " has wrought. Here has been a greater 

 wizard than the hero of the lamp and the 

 ring. 



It may be that markets have been unkind 

 to the pioneer, and that prosperity has not 

 always crowned his toil, but I doubt not in 

 many a home along this iron highway Con- 

 tent sits down by the fireside and smiles into 

 the eyes of Peace, two guests brought hither 

 by the " B. & M." 



A future letter may have more to say. 



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