The novelty of the geyser region soon wears off. Steam and hot water
are steam and hot water the world over, and the exhibition of them
here did not differ, except in volume, from what one sees by his own
fireside. The "Growler" is only a boiling teakettle on a large scale,
and "Old Faithful" is as if the lid were to fly off, and the whole
contents of the kettle should be thrown high into the air. To be sure,
boiling lakes and steaming rivers are not common, but the new features
seemed, somehow, out of place, and as if nature had made a mistake.
One disliked to see so much good steam and hot water going to waste;
whole towns might be warmed by them, and big wheels made to go round.
I wondered that they had not piped them into the big hotels which they
opened for us, and which were warmed by wood fires.
At Norris's the big room that the President and I occupied was on the
ground floor, and was heated by a huge box stove. As we entered it to
go to bed, the President said, "Oom John, don't you think it is too
hot here?"
"I certainly do," I replied.
"Shall I open the window?"
"That will just suit me." And he threw the sash, which came down to
the floor, all the way up, making an opening like a doorway. The night
was cold, but neither of us suffered from the abundance of fresh air.
The caretaker of the building was a big Swede called Andy. In the
morning Andy said that beat him: "There was the President of the
United States sleeping in that room, with the window open to the
floor, and not so much as one soldier outside on guard."
The President had counted much on seeing the bears that in summer
board at the Fountain Hotel, but they were not yet out of their dens.
We saw the track of only one, and he was not making for the hotel. At
all the formations where the geysers are, the ground was bare over a
large area. I even saw a wild flower--an early buttercup, not an inch
high--in bloom. This seems to be the earliest wild flower in the
Rockies. It is the only fragrant buttercup I know.