584 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Nov. 8, 1913. 
A Trip to Yellowstone Park—II. 
L EAVING Colorado Springs at an early hour 
we were soon wending our way toward 
the city of “The Church,” the name by 
which the Mormon Church, in Salt Lake City, 
is almost universally called. All the way from 
Colorado Springs to Pueblo the Front Range of 
the Rockies is on the right to the west, while 
on the left are the great plains. Below Colorado 
Springs, wherever water can be secured for irri¬ 
gation, crops are grown; the land is exceedingly 
fertile. "The Pittsburgh of the West’’ is the 
name that is often conferred on Pueblo. It is 
a name that will make a citizen of that city 
smile clean across his face, and one that comes 
nearest to expressing the salient characteristics 
of the town. It is a live city of something like 
4,000 inhabitants, full of push and snap. Besides 
it has been highly favored of God, both in the 
matter of its immediate situation and of its sur¬ 
roundings. Coal and iron ore in abundance are 
found near by, and on the Mesa, south of the 
town, the Colorado Fuel and Iron Works are 
located, one of the largest plants of the kind in 
the world. Here are also great smelters for the 
reduction of gold and silver ores, also many 
manufactories, planing mills, machine shops, etc. 
Great stretches of rich agricultural land en¬ 
compass the city that in many places is under 
a high state of cultivation, and' the eye is pleased 
beyond expression as it falls upon the luxuriant 
crop of whatever is being grown upon it. The 
observer wonders why the entire country is not 
bringing forth in rich abundance that which 
makes glad the heart of man and beast. The 
answer given is, that the land is arid, crops will 
not grow without water, and the rain is not 
sufficient to promote the growth and develop¬ 
ment of the products of the soil. So it is only 
where the owners have been able to command 
water to irrigate that you find such splendid 
harvests. It is said where the land is watered 
by irrigation, it is as rich and fertile as the 
valley of the Nile; where it is not irrigated, it 
is nearly as sterile as the desert of Sahara. 
They say that this condition will not con¬ 
tinue much longer, for storage reservoirs to 
conserve the winter and spring rains and the 
water from the melting snows are in course of 
construction, also a series of canals to be taken 
from the Arkansas River to carry the water on 
to the waiting, dry and thirsty land. I was told 
that some enterprising citizens had gone up the 
Arkansas River some 175 miles above Pueblo, 
had constructed a great dam across some moun¬ 
tain tributary to the Arkansas River, impound¬ 
ing a vast amount of water which they emptied 
into the river as they had need of it, through a 
gauge that enabled them to know just how much 
they allowed to pass,. and thus using the 
Arkansas River as a canal they take the water 
out through another gauge some 150 miles or 
more and use it for irrigating somewhere below 
Pueblo. Would you not be pleased to call that 
enterprise and thrift? We hasten now some 
forty-five miles, and in that distance go up in 
elevation about 700 feet to reach Canon City, 
a great horticultural and coal center, and prop¬ 
erly named, for it is located at the entrance of 
By G. S. WYATT 
the greatest canon traversed by any railroad. 
The Arkansas River, which rises 175 miles 
to the northwest in Fremont Park, breaks 
through the Front Range here and enters upon 
its course to the Mississippi. Canon City is the 
seat of the State Penitentiary. Springs, both 
hot and cold, supply an abundance of mineral 
water to those who are seeking such aids to 
health. It is here that an observation car is 
attached to our train, into which we pour, that 
we may have a good look at the Royal Gorge, 
one of the great wonders of the world. This 
gorge is also known by the name of the Grand 
Canon of the Arkansas, and the name by which, 
I think, it should be called and advertised. When 
first looked upon I imagine that it was regarded 
as impossible to ever construct a railroad 
through the stupendous canon to Leadville and 
the West. It doubtless seemed that there was 
room for the river alone, “and granite ledges 
blocked the path with their mighty bulk.” But 
the modern engineer with his skill and courage 
went to work, directing his co-laborers, and as 
a result these obstructions were blasted away, a 
road bed following the curves of the mountain 
was made, and to-day the caiion is a well used 
thoroughfare. This was all accomplished with¬ 
out destroying the glory and grandeur of the 
gorge, for they remain. 
The train moves along at a moderate speed 
around projecting boulders of the dark-hued 
granite, further and further and further still 
into the heart of the magnificent range. The 
crested peaks mount still higher, the river rages 
and foams over its rocky bottom, and in a few 
moments the opening appears to be but a mere 
thread through the immense heights. Above, 
yonder somewhere, for the eye dares not the 
feat of measuring the distance, the sky forms a 
blue arch of light, while in the Grand Canon 
of the Arkansas shadows hang dark and somber, 
which the rays of the sun have never touched. 
When we reach the suspension bridge—or hang¬ 
ing bridge would be more correct—the train 
stops to allow us to view more closely the 
grandest part of the caiion. The treeless, shrub¬ 
less, flowerless and birdless cliff of solid granite 
rises to the amazing and bewildering height of 
2,267 f eet - The river breaks the awful silence 
with its roar. You feel that you are a mere 
speck in the midst of this awful grandeur, and 
stand dumb in the sublimity of the scene. The 
power of the eternal is shown forth on every 
side, and the soul feels like laying itself in the 
dust before Him and crying from its very 
depths, “With angels and archangels and with 
all the company of heaven we laud and magnify 
Thy glorious name, evermore praising Thee, and 
saying holy, holy, holy, Lord God of hosts, 
heaven and earth are full of Thy glory. Glory 
be to Thee, O Lord Most High. Amen.” 
Onward we speed through the Grand Canon 
of the Arkansas till we escape its enfolding walls 
and enter the narrow valley of the upper Arkan¬ 
sas with the attractive and impressive serrated 
peaks of the Sangre de Cristo on the west, until 
we reach Salida; thence onward to Leadville, 
the Cloud City, at an altitude of 10,200 feet, 
among the largest cities of the State, and the 
greatest carbonate mining camp in the world. 
And on we go along a tortuous path cut at 
heavy grade into the sides of the mountains, 
mounting slowly into Tennessee Pass, where on 
the west side it feeds the headwaters of Eagle 
River, and is one source of the Arkansas on the 
east. 
Now we are face to face with the Mount of 
the Holy Cross, bearing the sacred symbol in 
such heroic characters as dwarf all human grav¬ 
ing, and set on the pinnacle of the world as 
though in sign of possession forever. “On every 
side the virgin continent was taken in the name 
of Christ, and with all the eclat of religious 
conquest. Yet from ages unnumbered, before 
any of them, centuries oblivious in the mystery 
of past time, the Cross has been planted here. 
As a prophecy during unmeasured generations, 
as a sign of glorious fulfillment during nineteen 
centuries, from always and to eternity, a re¬ 
minder of our fealty to Heaven, this divine seal 
has been set upon our proudest eminence. What 
matters it whether we write ‘God’ in the Con¬ 
stitution of the United States where here in 
sight of all men is inscribed this marvelous testi¬ 
mony to His sovereignty! Shining grandly out 
of the pure ether and above all turbulence of 
earthly clouds, it says: ‘Humble thyself, O man! 
Measure thy fiery works at their true signifi¬ 
cance. Uncover thy head and acknowledge thy 
weakness. Forget not that as high above thy 
gilded spires as gleams the splendor of this 
ever-living Cross, so are My thoughts above thy 
thoughts, and My ways above thy ways.’ ” 
But we* must hasten on through Eagle River 
Canon, the marvelous canon of the Grand River, 
Glen wood Springs, Grand Junction, the junction 
of the Grand and Gunnison rivers (how my 
mouth waters just to cast a few times, but I 
must hasten), climbing the Wasatch Range, 
Soldier Summit, the River Jordan, and here we 
are at Salt Lake City. 
As we made our way from the train to the 
autos, waiting to convey us over the city to see 
the places of interest, we were met by the guides 
who were to explain to us the different sights. 
They were all young men of the most marked 
politeness and courtesy, well attired, and with 
faces that showed culture and refinement. We 
soon found that they were Mormons, and that 
the autos belonged to the Mormon Church, and 
that the places of interest pointed out to us were 
so selected that they tended to put honor on 
Brigham Young and the Mormon Church. 
Salt Lake is a most beautiful city with 
wide streets that are bordered with rows of 
shade trees on either side in the residence por¬ 
tion of the city. Along both sides of all the 
streets streams of pure water are conducted in 
ditches. Whatever also you may say of Brigham 
Young, you are forced to say that he showed 
a high degree of statesmanship in laying his 
plans for his followers, and especially in lay¬ 
ing out the plans of the original city. Right 
at the intersection of the principal streets of 
the original city stands the statue of Brigham 
Young, an imposing striking picture of the great 
