104 
FOREST AND STREAM 
July 27, 1912 
The Throne of the Mighty 
W HERE then is the throne of the mighty? 
I11 what enchanted land, and amid what 
wonderful environments, surrounded by 
the blessed outpourings of a generous nature, 
can such a place be found, such a place as 
would stir the latent blood of the least caring 
onlooker and lift his very soul into the bound¬ 
less home of the infinite? Truly there is such 
a place, for out there where the eternal Rockies 
thrust their snow-clad peaks into the matchless 
blue of the Western heavens, and form them¬ 
selves in all their beauteous grandeur into what 
is now famed as the Glacier National Park— 
truly the playground of those gods who rule 
our mere lives, and strengthen us to meet our 
daily toil, with a smile of courage beaming on 
our faces. Let me not be misunderstood. I 
am offered no remuneration for this pleasant 
task of extolling this wonderful and grand ex¬ 
pression of nature’s handicap—other than to 
have the honor of putting my words to type for 
the perusal of my brothers of the out-of-doors. 
I can best write this unvexed by the call of 
fame and gold, best know that T am writing 
from my heart with the glory of the infinite 
resting upon my soul and directing this task 
toward its ultimate goal. Truly there is a 
throne of the mighty, and there is a place for it 
in this beautiful country of ours; out there in 
Montana in this park, where the Creator heaped 
in lavish array the summing up of his toil in 
building this earth. There, under the graceful 
bend of the skies, rise in faultless attire the 
hoary vestured mountains, one after another, 
hundreds of lakes, like gems on the bosom of 
silk, and streams that throw off a million glints 
of light to catch the sun : rays and turn them 
into bars of the purest silver; where the cas¬ 
cades pour their tumultuous offerings into the 
foaming, crashing basins below, where the very 
demons of carnage eagerly lie in wait to visit 
their doom upon whosoever in mortal flesh and 
blood, would stumble and disappear into that 
vast waste. Here, in seemingly endless array, 
the mountains rise, one after another, each 
seeming to vie with the other in presenting to 
the human eye that vast scheme of mighty per ¬ 
fection, beheld by the onlooker with a certain 
degree of awe that no endeavor of the mind 
would suffice to diagnose. In the selection of 
this wonderful region as an addition to our 
national playgrounds. there certainly was 
evinced a degree of perception that had for its 
making the very essence of art and beauty. 
Who can behold this region in all its primitive 
magnificence, without realizing that, first and 
above all things, it is the one spot in all tin- 
chain of the American Rockies where grandeur 
and sublimity walk hand in hand, where a man 
might truly spend a summer, and still be aware 
of new and newer sights as he traverses those 
pine set trails in sight of glaziers, multitudin¬ 
ous lakes, and waterfalls at whose bottom lurk 
the trout in such abundance as to set the heart 
a-beating in the breast of the wisest piscatorial- 
ist born. There is not one foot of that virgin 
region that has not some special attraction, 
where the man, tired and worn from his com- 
By ROBERT PAGE LINCOLN 
bat with his kind in the sordid, practical mart, 
in search after the elusive dollar, might gain 
back some of that youthfulness that has stolen, 
truly like the Arabs, from his weary body. 
Here he might lift his eyes to the eternal hills, 
and be in constant communion with the wisest 
of all, nature. Here he might drink in the 
blessed ozone of pine and balsam, feel the 
muscles respond to his daily exertions, and 
realize in a thousand varying phrases those 
dramatic intercourses that cannot but influence 
the being to a better and wiser system of life. 
It will tone and recuperate the lost ideals; it 
will instill into- the mind the very flower of en t 
deavor, so that when once more the train car¬ 
ries one back over the homeward journey he 
will be fresh and happier for his little sojourn 
into the heart of things. 
Such is the Glacier National Park, and 
word of pen or speech, and yet again the brush 
of the artist, cannot serve to convey in one 
single whit the intense, silent, overwhelming 
beauty of this spot, which seems like the su¬ 
preme effort of the' God of All Things. With 
an area of some one thousand four hundred 
square miles, this park is truly what is said of 
it; it is a national playground, offering to the 
persevering man the very cream of outdoor 
beauty, and setting forth for the appreciation of 
man those environments, so singularly in keep¬ 
i 
RED EAGLE MOUNTAIN. 
Copyright by Kiser Photo Co. 
ing with the Western atmosphere. There it lies, 
all wild and unbroken, save for a few trails 
here and there, but always the same day in and 
day out, always beauty, loftiness and magnifi¬ 
cent; gazing upon those lakes, those staggering 
waterfalls, those great mountains one feels the 
lack of tongue in trying to make the soul be¬ 
lieve one’s own capacity. With a perfect sys¬ 
tem of accommodation for the benefit of pros¬ 
pective visitors, much of the rough and unwel¬ 
come is done away with, so that now one is able 
to leave the railroad and make the inland jour¬ 
ney without any great inconvenience. 
Proceeding to Lake McDonald, one is 
brought almost instantly into the very heart of 
this most beautiful region, the heart of it, and 
by that I mean the very center of its magnifi¬ 
cence. A glimpse at the photograph on page 
106 will suffice to give the reader an idea 
of the wondrous clarity of the atmosphere, the 
subtle scenic effect, and the gem-like rarity of 
the waters, of that scintillating expanse. Twelve 
miles of this wonderful water with all the va¬ 
riety in color one can think of, and mirroring 
the clouds in the sky to perfection. The photo¬ 
grapher has caught the effect and has brought 
with his effort some of that art that is gradu¬ 
ally becoming more and more noticeable in the 
work of our camerists. At Glacier Park Hotel 
one finds the nucleus of his visiting days; from 
here he can start out, and, day after day, enjoy 
the beauties of this scenery, riding over the 
endless trails, and fishing out those inimitable 
pools, where the trout are crazy to snatch the 
skillfully cast fly from the foamy surface, and to 
make the bamboo a very thing of life and 
action. Starting out from the Glacier Hotel 
the first trip will be to Avalanche Lake, along 
trails where one is fully able to appreciate the 
wholesome stretch of country that lies between 
the two points. With good saddle horses 
trained for this mountain climbing, one finds 
no difficulty in becoming inured to the pleasure 
of sitting in a saddle, and the incident will soon 
enough appeal to one who has never before 
thrown his legs over the back of a horse. Up 
and up into the heights, where the sky seems 
to droop low over those giant mounts, envelop¬ 
ing them in a shroud of haze, and presently, 
ere one is quite aware of it, he comes upon the 
Royal Gorge, and pauses, with something of 
the awe-inspiring in his breast, to gaze, and still 
stand there inspired, while the moments creep 
by—a sight that one will cherish as long as 
there is life in the body. What mortal can tell 
in word of those intrinsic beauties? Who can 
unravel from his heart the promptings of the 
soul? There are none. Words are but mere 
playthings, and will fall upon the silence un¬ 
heard. One can only gaze and wonder. 
Avalanche Lake is a sight for the most 
world-familiar man or woman. With the pines 
reaching gracefully down to its sides, one has 
his first glimpse of it, as it lies there hid in be¬ 
tween the guardian mounts, and fed by some 
half dozen spuming waterfalls of inconceivable 
beauty. These torrents flash from their great 
height into the space below, and one stands 
