Friday, July 7.
We are camped at the foot of the Black Hills. They seem like immense
mountains to me. There are four large corrals near the little village
of La Porte. We rushed through with dinner, then Mrs. Hardinbrooke and
I started for the top, taking our note-books with us. Before we had
gone far, Winthrop and Frank joined us. Frank brought his gun; I do not
know if he expected to find Indians or antelope up here. After much
puffing and blowing, climbing and clambering, we reached the top. Oh,
it is magnificently grand. If only I could make a pen-picture of this
scene that others might realize it, as I do.
The mount upon which we stand is shaped like the quarter of a ball or
globe miles and miles in diameter and circumference; we having climbed
up the outside of the quarter to the top edge are looking down a steep
precipice--the perpendicular side of the quarter. When a stone is
thrown over, it takes it twenty-five seconds to reach the bottom, where
the Cache la Poudre River runs at the base of the precipice.
How easy to step off into eternity from this place. I would not like to
live near here, lest I might be tempted to do it some time. The valley
over there looks as if--away back in the ages past--another quarter
of the great ball that had been separated from this quarter, had been
lifted by giant hands and carried away, leaving the most picturesque
valley that I have ever beheld. There are three prosperous-looking
farms in sight, a large herd of cattle grazing, and a beautiful grove
or park at the northern end of the vale. West of the valley, and
opposite where we stand, are peaks much higher than this; behind which
the sun is sinking. The setting sun has crowned the mountain-tops with
a crown of glory and brightness. The moon is rising out of beautiful,
white fleecy clouds in the east. It is lovely beyond description.
How beauteous is this earth,
How bright the sky,
How wisely planned by him
Who reigns on high.
The sun is gone, night is coming; we must go, for we are at least one
and a half miles from camp. I fired Frank’s gun before starting; I
aimed at the river, and hit the mark. How weak and insignificant these
words seem when compared with the reality.