It is by way of the Mullan Pass--so named from the fact of Lieut. John
Mullan, U. S. A., having built a wagon road through it in 1867, to
connect Fort Benton, Mont., with Fort Walla Walla, W. T.,--that the
railroad is carried over the continental divide. The highest elevation
of the pass itself is 5,855 feet; but, by the construction of a tunnel
3,850 feet in length, the line was made to reach the western slope
without attaining a higher elevation than 5,547 feet.
It is not until Butler is reached, thirteen miles from Helena, that
either the scenery or the construction of the road calls for special
notice. But at that point the scenery becomes exceedingly picturesque,
the rocks towering above the pines and spruce like the ruins of some
ancient stronghold. From now on, too, the tourist will find constant
employment in observing how the gigantic barriers, which seem to forbid
all further progress, are, one after another, overcome.
Amid scenery increasing in wildness and grandeur, the train pursues its
tortuous course; through Iron Ridge Tunnel, near which the track forms
an almost perfect letter S; across innumerable ravines; along rocky
shelves and through deep cuttings, until at last it enters the eastern
portal of the Mullan Tunnel. A few minutes later the traveler is looking
out upon the grassy hills and pleasant valleys of the Pacific slope, the
approach to the tunnel from the west presenting a singular contrast to
the savage grandeur that distinguishes the approach from the east.
Following the valley of the Little Blackfoot, the train presently
arrives at Garrison, where passengers desirous of visiting the most
flourishing mining city on the American continent, if not in the world,
must change cars.
"The most flourishing mining city on the American continent, if not in
the world!" exclaims the reader. Even so; and yet we are not in Nevada,
nor yet in Colorado; and, besides, the former is about played out; and,
as for Leadville, every one remembers the disasters that overtook her,
culminating, as they did, in the failure of all her four banks. The city
is Butte, that, at the last United States census, had a population of
only 3,363, but now claims six times that number, and has a monthly
mining pay-roll of $620,000.
The line from Garrison runs through the beautiful Deer Lodge valley, in
which are many fine farms. Deer Lodge City, the judicial seat of the
county, is pleasantly situated 4,546 feet above sea-level. Being well
laid out, it presents, with its wide streets and handsome public
buildings, an exceedingly attractive appearance.
It is at the head of this valley, on the western slope of the main range
of the Rocky Mountains, and fifteen miles from the Pipestone Pass, that
there has been witnessed, during the last three or four years, that
rapid growth of population and wealth that is without parallel, even in
the marvelous annals of mining. Here, encompassed on three sides by
lofty ranges of mountains, Butte pours forth the smoke of its
innumerable furnaces; for not only is its production of silver so great
that it has come to be designated the "Silver City," but its copper
mines are such as to give employment to the most extensive smelting
works in the United States. Its total production during 1885, valued at
$15,000,000, viz., $5,000,000 worth of bullion and $10,000,000 worth of
copper matte, was twice that of Utah, and three times that of Nevada. It
also exceeded that of the whole of California, or the combined
production of Idaho, New Mexico and Arizona.
The leading silver mines of the district are the Alice, Moulton,
Lexington and Silver Bow, which alone employ 210 stamps and produce 230
tons of ore daily. The magnificent appliances of the Alice mine,
including the great Cornish pump that cost $40,000, are the wonder of
every visitor. The process of reduction, here as elsewhere, is somewhat
complex, especially in the case of the baser ores, being in part
chemical and in part mechanical. It involves the crushing of the ore to
powder, under the pressure of enormous bars of iron, weighing 900 pounds
each, and known as "stamps," and its subsequent roasting in large,
hollow cylinders, salt being largely employed in the former, and
quicksilver in the latter, stage of the operation. The roasting mills of
the Alice mines treat 100 tons of ore per day, and their bullion
product approaches $100,000 per month.
The great Lexington property, which has produced $1,000,000 per annum
for four years, is owned by a French company. It claims to be the most
complete mine in the entire West, and it is certainly one of the richest
and most extensive.
The Moulton and Silver Bow have a daily capacity of forty and thirty
tons of ore respectively. They are magnificent properties, well
developed and exceedingly productive. The former makes the proud boast
of working its ore to a higher percentage of its value than any other
mill in the district.
But it is the copper mines and smelters that represent the largest
capital; give employment to the greatest number of men; have the largest
production, both in tonnage and aggregate value; and, it may be added,
make the most smoke.
At the head of the rich and powerful companies engaged in this industry,
stands the Anaconda,--its mine at Butte, the greatest copper property in
America; its smelting works, at the neighboring town of Anaconda, the
largest of their kind in the world. Sold, five years ago, for an amount
that would not now be more than sufficient to pay its employes a week's
wages, its property is roughly estimated to be worth $15,000,000. With
certain contemplated additions to its smelting capacity, it will handle
daily 1,200 tons of ore, yielding 180 tons of matte, or 108 tons of pure
copper. Its entire machinery run by water-power, it yet requires for its
furnaces no less than 180 cords of wood per day; in view of which
enormous consumption it is stated to have recently let a contract for
300,000 cords, representing upward of $1,000,000. Second only to this
gigantic concern, is the Parrott Company, whose total matte output for
1884 was 14,856,323 pounds, containing 9,324,805 pounds of pure copper,
valued, including its silver contents, at about $1,250,000. With largely
increased capacity, its production of pure copper will probably have
reached 15,000,000 pounds in the year just drawing to a close. Among
other leading companies, may be mentioned the Montana, owning some of
the richest and most steadily productive mining property in process of
development; Clark's Colusa, said to have in sight, above the 300-foot
level, at least 150,000 tons of valuable ore; and the Bell and Colorado,
two of the richest copper-silver mines in the district.
So much for the mines and smelting works of Butte. What of the city
itself? Briefly, it may be said to be a typical Western town, as seen in
flush times; nothing too big for it, nothing too good; its quivering
energy finding expression, now in the erection of a $150,000 court
house, and now in that of the finest opera house on the Pacific slope,
outside of San Francisco; its business enterprise filling magnificent
stores with costly goods, suited to the tastes, pocket-books and
spending proclivities of a community that on last Christmas eve spent
$6,000 in presents in a single one of its stores.
[Illustration: FALLS OF THE GIBBON RIVER, YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK.]
There are several good trout streams in the vicinity of Butte, and it is
pleasant to know that, in a city whose amusements are mainly of a very
different character, there are those who know how to handle the rod.
Proceeding westward from Garrison, the traveler will have some fine
views of mountain scenery, including the snow-clad peaks of Mount
Powell. Drummond, twenty-one miles west, is the station for the rich
mining districts of New Chicago and Phillipsburg. Granite Mountain mine,
near the latter place, is exceedingly rich. A vein of ore, six feet
wide, and assaying from 125 to 2,000 ounces of silver to the ton, is now
being worked, the output reaching $120,000 per month.
Soon the train enters Hell Gate Canon, at first a beautiful valley, from
two to three miles in width, but narrowing as we go westward, until from
between its stupendous walls we suddenly emerge upon a broad plateau,
where stands the city of Missoula. Formerly a remote and isolated
frontier post, Missoula is now a place of considerable importance.
Extending southward for ninety miles is the valley of the Bitter Root
river, well watered, exceedingly fertile and thickly settled. Here are
raised fine crops of wheat and oats, as well as vegetables, apples and
strawberries.
The tourist has now entered the finest game country in the Northwest. At
any point along the line, for a distance of nearly three hundred miles,
he will find deer, elk and bear in great abundance. Let him but place
himself on their trail, and he will certainly soon have them within
gunshot. Even in the vicinity of Missoula there is excellent sport, one
local trapper obtaining $160 bounty for bear last season. Ducks and
prairie chickens are also plentiful, and various species of trout abound
in the mountain streams.
The most interesting, as it is the most accessible, of the Indian
reservations contiguous to the line of the Northern Pacific Railroad, is
that of the Flathead tribe, through which the line runs for many miles
in the course of its north-westward sweep from Missoula. At Arlee
station, the visitor is within five miles of the agency, and at Ravalli
a like distance from St. Ignatius mission. For a full account of the
excellent work carried on among the Indians by the Jesuit Fathers,
together with an exceedingly interesting description of the Flathead
country generally, the reader is referred to an article in the _Century
Magazine_ for October, 1882, from the accomplished pen of Mr. E. V.
Smalley, as well as to sundry articles in that gentleman's own magazine,
_The Northwest_. From a point about 500 feet from the summit of
Macdonald's Peak, a few miles north of Ravalli, there is a remarkable
view of a deep mountain gorge known as Pumpelly Canon, which has many of
the striking features of the Yosemite valley, in California. Two
waterfalls, having an apparent height of about 800 feet, leap into this
profound rocky canon, and form a small circular lake of a dark blue
color. This lake falls, by another cataract, into a second lake of
exactly the same size and shape as the first, while still another
cataract leaps from the lower lake into a deep ravine filled with
magnificent forest trees. An excursion to Macdonald's Peak may be made
from the mission in a single day. Tourists are, however, recommended to
take blankets and provisions, and encamp upon the crest of the mountain
to witness the sunrise. Saddle horses are obtainable at the mission, and
there is a good trail all the way.
Thompson Falls, 101 miles west of Missoula, is the starting point for
the C[oe]ur d'Alene mines. The distress that followed the arrival in
this district, in 1883, of several thousand half-starving adventurers,
who, expecting to pick up in a few hours' time nuggets enough to make
them rich for life, brought neither blankets to protect them from the
cold of winter, nor the means of returning to their far-distant homes,
or even of reaching less remote centres where work could be obtained,
gave the C[oe]ur d'Alene mines a blow from which they were slow to
recover. The development that has since taken place, especially since
the introduction of hydraulics, has, however, abundantly demonstrated
that former claims as to the richness and permanence of the mines were
well founded, and we shall probably soon see here the richest placer
mining camp in the world.
The matchless river scenery that has done so much toward placing the
Northern Pacific Railroad system in the proud position it occupies
to-day at the head of the scenic railways of America, is not alone that
of the peerless Columbia. For 140 miles of its course, in Western
Montana and the Panhandle of Idaho, it follows the windings of a stream
that for grand and imposing scenery is second only to that renowned
river itself. Should the traveler wake up in the morning, anywhere
between the point at which the waters of the Missoula empty themselves
into the bright green flood of the Pend d'Oreille river and the head of
Pend d'Oreille Lake, he will almost certainly suppose that it is in the
current of the far-famed Columbia that he sees reflected, perhaps
hundreds of feet beneath him, the varying forms of those stately
mountains that soar thousands of feet above. But he is as yet almost a
day's journey from the classic regions of the Columbia, albeit the
lordly stream, whose scenery will be, hour after hour, a succession of
surprises and delights to him, is one of the principal forks of that
mighty river, whose still grander scenery it may be said to foreshadow
in miniature.
Between the Yellowstone National Park, on the one hand, and the Columbia
river, on the other, Clark's Fork and the beautiful lake into which it
widens out before turning northward to the British possessions, have
been almost completely overshadowed. But their ten thousand beauties
will assert themselves. They have not to be sought for in out-of-the-way
places, nor are they so localized that a mere passing glimpse is the
only reward of strained attention as the train flies onward. On the
contrary, from an early hour in the morning until long past noon, there
is a continuous unfolding of scenes in which are combined, with Nature's
inimitable skill and infinite variety, all that is grandest in mountain,
all that is most graceful in woodland and stream. So evenly distributed
are the beauties of this long stretch of river scenery, that it is not
easy to single out particular points as calling for special notice.
There are, however, two that must arrest the attention and command the
admiration of every traveler. The first, one mile east of Cabinet, where
the river, which has been flowing for some distance considerably below
the level of the railroad, enters a magnificent rocky gorge; and the
other, about the same distance east of Clark's Fork, where it flows,
without a ripple, through a forest of stately pines, whose forms are,
with singular fidelity, reflected in its clear and tranquil waters. Soon
it is lost to view, but only to reappear, after a short interval, in the
form of the lovely