WEIRD SCENERY. 
95 
little lakes lie sparkling in the morning sun. To 
the westward, only a mile away, but in that pecu- 
liarly transparent atmosphere seeming far nearer, 
rise in abrupt grandeur the Rocky Mountains, 
one peak of their snowy range gleaming, cool 
and white, above the deep shadows of the Boul- 
der canon. Its presence, in such contrast to the 
summer light on the nearer landscape, makes it 
the point to which the eye is constantly return- 
ing. How weird and spirit-like it looks! Just 
to the left, the majestic granite cliffs look down 
in endless vigils on the village dead ; but the still, 
white faces to their keeping given, never wore a 
look of more unbroken silence and far-off calm, 
than rests upon that mountain's pale, unshadowed 
brow. Through all the summer’s fitful heat, it 
knows no change. Above, beyond all other 
heights, against the western sky, it rests, an 
object from another clime, above the world of 
man ! 
Behind our excursionists lay the waking vil- 
lage and its background of limitless plains. Little 
did they dream, as they remarked the exquisite 
beauty of the scene, that before seven years 
should pass, the State University of Colorado 
would occupy that very spot. Yet there it stands 
to-day. 
Things move rapidly at the West— so did they. 
The fields and houses were all passed, and 
