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Obvious typos and punctuation errors corrected.
Inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation retained.
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(U+2042). If the font in use on the reader’s device does not support
it, this character, ⁂, may not display correctly.
[Publisher Logo] on the title page represents an illustration with the
publisher name.
A short decorative line has been represented in the text as --*--.
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By the same Author.
A TREASURY OF THOUGHT. An Encyclopædia of Quotations from Ancient and
Modern Authors. 8vo, full gilt, $4.00.
The most complete and exhaustive volume of the kind with which we are
acquainted. The literature of all times has contributed to it, and the
range of reading necessary to its compilation is the widest.—_Hartford
Courant._
NOTABLE THOUGHTS ABOUT WOMEN. A Literary Mosaic. Crown 8vo, $1.50.
Full of delicious bits from nearly every writer of any celebrity,
English, American, French, or German, early and modern, it is a
fascinating medley. When one takes up the book it is difficult to lay it
down, for one is led on from one brilliant or striking thought to
another, in a way that is quite absorbing.—_Portland Transcript._
PEARLS OF THOUGHT. Choice Sentences from the wisest Authors. 16mo, full
gilt, $1.25.
The first noticeable thing about “Pearls of Thought” is that the
“pearls” are offered in a jewel-box of printing and binding. The
selections have the merit of being short and sparkling. Authors, ancient
and modern, and of all nations, are represented.—_New York Tribune._
DUE WEST; or, Round the World in Ten Months. Crown 8vo, $1.50.
It is a book of books on foreign travel, and deserves to be in the
hands of all subsequent writers as combining just the qualities to give
the greater information and zest.—_Boston Commonwealth._
DUE SOUTH; or, Cuba Past and Present. Crown 8vo, $1.50.
Full of information concerning the Bahama Islands, the Caribbean Sea,
and the island of Cuba. Of the finest and most extensive culture, Mr.
Ballou is the ideal traveler.—_Boston Traveller._
DUE NORTH; or, Glimpses of Scandinavia and Russia. Crown 8vo, $1.50.
The author has the tact to travel without an object; he strolls. He
sees things accidentally; you feel that you might have seen the same
things, under the same circumstances. He never lectures; rarely
theorizes. It is as useful to read him as it is enjoyable to travel with
him.—_Journal of Education._
UNDER THE SOUTHERN CROSS: or, Travels in New Zealand, Australia, and
Tasmania. Crown 8vo, $1.50.
Few persons have traveled so extensively, and no one more profitably
both to himself and the public, than Mr. Ballou.—EDWIN P. WHIPPLE.
EDGE-TOOLS OF SPEECH. Crown 8vo, $3.50.
A remarkable compilation of brilliant and wise sayings from more than
a thousand various sources, embracing all the notable authors, classic
and modern, who have enriched the pages of history and literature. It
might be termed a whole library in one volume.—_Boston Beacon._
GENIUS IN SUNSHINE AND SHADOW. Crown 8vo, $1.50.
Mr. Ballou displays a broad and thorough knowledge of men of genius in
all ages, and the comprehensive index makes the volume invaluable as a
book of reference, while—a rare thing in reference books—it is
thoroughly interesting for consecutive reading.—_The Journalist_ (New
York).
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO., PUBLISHERS,
BOSTON AND NEW YORK.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE NEW ELDORADO
A SUMMER JOURNEY TO ALASKA
BY
MATURIN M. BALLOU
I pity the man who can travel from Dan to Beersheba, and cry:
“’Tis all barren!” and so it is, and so is all the world to him
who will not cultivate the fruits it offers.—STERNE.
[Publisher Logo]
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY
The Riverside Press, Cambridge
1889
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright, 1889,
BY MATURIN M. BALLOU.
_All rights reserved._
_The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A._
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Company.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PREFACE.
--*--
The Spaniards of old had a proverb signifying that he who would bring
home the wealth of the Indies must carry the wealth of the Indies with
him. If we would benefit by travel we must take with us an ample store
of appreciative intelligence. Nature, like lovely womanhood, only
reveals herself to him who humbly and diligently seeks her. As Sir
Richard Steele said of a certain noble lady: “To love her is a liberal
education.” Keen observation is as necessary to the traveler who would
improve by his vocation as are wings to an albatross. The trained and
appreciative eye is like the object-glass of the photographic machine,
nothing is so seemingly insignificant as to escape it. Careless,
half-educated persons are sent upon their travels in order, it is said,
that they may “learn.” Such individuals had best first learn to travel.
Those who improve the modern facilities for seeing the world acquire an
inexhaustible wealth of information, and a delightful mental resort of
which nothing can deprive them. The power of vision is thus enlarged,
many occurrences which have heretofore proved daily mysteries become
clear, prejudices are annihilated, and the judgment broadened. Above
all, let us first become familiar with the important features of our own
beautiful and widespread land before we seek foreign shores, especially
as we have on this continent so much of unequaled grandeur and unique
phenomena to satisfy and to attract us. It seems to the undersigned that
perhaps this volume will have a tendency to lead the reader to such
conclusion, and certainly this is its primary object.
M. M. B.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS.
--*--
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
Itinerary.—St. Paul.—The Northern Pacific Railroad.—
Progress.—Luxurious Traveling.—Riding on a Locomotive.—
Night Experiences.—Prairie Scenes.—Immense Grain-Fields.—
The Badlands.—Climbing the Rocky Mountains.—Cinnabar.—The
Yellowstone Park.—An Accumulation of Wonders.—The Famous
Hot Springs Terrace.—How Formed.—As seen by Moonlight 1
CHAPTER II.
Nature in Poetic Moods.—Is there Lurking Danger?—A
Sanitarium.—The Liberty Cap.—The Giant’s Thumb.—Singular
Caves.—Falls of the Gardiner River.—In the Saddle.—Grand
Cañon of the Yellowstone.—Far-Reaching Antiquity.—Obsidian
Cliffs.—A Road of Glass.—Beaver Lake.—Animal Builders.—
Aborigines of the Park.—The Sheep-Eaters.—The Shoshones
and other Tribes 20
CHAPTER III.
Norris Geyser Basin.—Fire beneath the Surface.—A Guide’s
Ideas.—The Curious Paint Pot Basin.—Lower Geyser Basin.—
Boiling Springs of Many Colors.—Mountain Lions at Play.—
Midway Geyser Basin.—“Hell’s Half Acre.”—In the Midst of
Wonderland.—“Old Faithful.”—Other Active Geysers.—Erratic
Nature of these Remarkable Fountains 34
CHAPTER IV.
The Great Yellowstone Lake.—Myriads of Birds.—Solitary
Beauty of the Lake.—The Flora of the Park.—Devastating
Fires.—Wild Animals.—Grand Volcanic Centre.—Mountain
Climbing and Wonderful Views.—A Story of Discovery.—
Government Exploration of the Reservation.—Governor
Washburn’s Expedition.—“For the Benefit of the People at
Large Forever” 47
CHAPTER V.
Westward Journey resumed.—Queen City of the Mountains.—
Crossing the Rockies.—Butte City, the Great Mining
Centre.—Montana.—The Red Men.—About the Aborigines.—The
Cowboys of the West.—A Successful Hunter.—Emigrant Teams
on the Prairies.—Immense Forests.—Puget Sound.—The Famous
Stampede Tunnel.—Immigration 57
CHAPTER VI.
Mount Tacoma.—Terminus of the Northern Pacific Railroad.—
Great Inland Sea.—City of Tacoma and its Marvelous
Growth.—Coal Measures.—The Modoc Indians.—Embarking for
Alaska.—The Rapidly Growing City of Seattle.—Tacoma with
its Fifteen Glaciers.—Something about Port Townsend.—A
Chance for Members of Alpine Clubs 73
CHAPTER VII.
Victoria, Vancouver’s Island.—Esquimalt.—Chinamen.—
Remarkable Flora.—Suburbs of the Town.—Native Tribes.—
Cossacks of the Sea.—Manners and Customs.—The Early
Discoverer.—Sailing in the Inland Sea.—Excursionists.—
Mount St. Elias.—Mount Fairweather.—A Mount Olympus.—
Seymour Narrows.—Night on the Waters.—A Touch of the
Pacific 84
CHAPTER VIII.
Steamship Corona and her Passengers.—The New Eldorado.—The
Greed for Gold.—Alaska the Synonym of Glacier Fields.—
Vegetation of the Islands.—Aleutian Islands.—Attoo our
most Westerly Possession.—Native Whalers.—Life on the
Island of Attoo.—Unalaska.—Kodiak, former Capital of
Russian America.—The Greek Church.—Whence the Natives
originally came 109
CHAPTER IX.
Cook’s Inlet.—Manufacture of Quass.—Native Piety.—Mummies.—
The North Coast.—Geographical Position.—Shallowness of
Behring Sea.—Alaskan Peninsula.—Size of Alaska.—A “Terra
Incognita.”—Reasons why Russia sold it to our Government.—
The Price comparatively Nothing.—Rental of the Seal
Islands.—Mr. Seward’s Purchase turns out to be a Bonanza 127
CHAPTER X.
Territorial Acquisitions.—Population of Alaska.—Steady
Commercial Growth.—Primeval Forests.—The Country teems
with Animal Life.—A Mighty Reserve of Codfish.—Native
Food.—Fur-Bearing Animals.—Islands of St. George and St.
Paul.—Interesting Habits of the Fur-Seal.—The Breeding
Season.—Their Natural Food.—Mammoth Size of the Bull Seals 143
CHAPTER XI.
Enormous Slaughter of Seals.—Manner of Killing.—Battles
between the Bulls.—A Mythical Island.—The Seal as Food.—
The Sea-Otter.—A Rare and Valuable Fur.—The Baby
Sea-Otter.—Great Breeding-Place of Birds.—Banks of the
Yukon River.—Fur-Bearing Land Animals.—Aggregate Value of
the Trade.—Character of the Native Race 159
CHAPTER XII.
Climate of Alaska.—Ample Grass for Domestic Cattle.—Winter
and Summer Seasons.—The Japanese Current.—Temperature in
the Interior.—The Eskimos.—Their Customs.—Their Homes.—
These Arctic Regions once Tropical.—The Mississippi of
Alaska.—Placer Mines.—The Natives.—Strong Inclination for
Intoxicants 173
CHAPTER XIII.
Sailing Northward.—Chinese Labor.—Unexplored Islands.—The
Alexander Archipelago.—Rich Virgin Soil.—Fish Cunning.—
Myriads of Salmon.—Native Villages.—Reckless Habits.—
Awkward Fashions and their Origin.—Tattooing Young Girls.—
Peculiar Effect of Inland Passages.—Mountain Echoes.—
Moonlight and Midnight on the Sea 186
CHAPTER XIV.
The Alaskan’s Habit of Gambling.—Extraordinary Domestic
Carvings.—Silver Bracelets.—Prevailing Superstitions.—
Disposal of the Dead.—The Native “Potlatch.”—Cannibalism.—
Ambitions of Preferment.—Human Sacrifices.—The Tribes
slowly decreasing in Numbers.—Influence of the Women.—
Witchcraft.—Fetich Worship.—The Native Canoes.—Eskimo Skin
Boats 199
CHAPTER XV.
Still sailing Northward.—Multitudes of Water-Fowls.—Native
Graveyards.—Curious Totem-Poles.—Tribal and Family
Emblems.—Division of the Tribes.—Whence the Race came.—A
Clew to their Origin.—The Northern Eskimos.—A Remarkable
Museum of Aleutian Antiquities.—Jade Mountain.—The Art of
Carving.—Long Days.—Aborigines of the Yukon Valley.—Their
Customs 212
CHAPTER XVI.
Fort Wrangel.—Plenty of Wild Game.—Natives do not care for
Soldiers, but have a Wholesome Fear of Gunboats.—Mode of
Trading.—Girls’ School and Home.—A Deadly Tragedy.—Native
Jewelry and Carving.—No Totem-Poles for Sale.—Missionary
Enterprises.—Progress in Educating Natives.—Various
Denominations engaged in the Missionary Work 222
CHAPTER XVII.
Schools in Alaska.—Natives Ambitious to learn.—Wild
Flowers.—Native Grasses.—Boat Racing.—Avaricious Natives.—
The Candle Fish.—Gold Mines Inland.—Chinese Gold-Diggers.—
A Ledge of Garnets.—Belief in Omens.—More Schools
required.—The Pestiferous Mosquito.—Mosquitoes and Bears.—
Alaskan Fjords.—The Patterson Glacier 231
CHAPTER XVIII.
Norwegian Scenery.—Lonely Navigation.—The Marvels of Takou
Inlet.—Hundreds of Icebergs.—Home of the Frost King.—More
Gold Deposits.—Snowstorm among the Peaks.—Juneau the
Metropolis of Alaska.—Auk and Takou Indians.—Manners and
Customs.—Spartan Habits.—Disposal of Widows.—Duels.—
Sacrificing Slaves.—Hideous Customs still prevail 246
CHAPTER XIX.
Aboriginal Dwellings.—Mastodons in Alaska.—Few Old People
alive.—Abundance of Rain.—The Wonderful Treadwell Gold
Mine.—Largest Quartz Crushing Mill in the World.—
Inexhaustible Riches.—Other Gold Mines.—The Great Davidson
Glacier.—Pyramid Harbor.—Native Frauds.—The Chilcats.—
Mammoth Bear.—Salmon Canneries 258
CHAPTER XX.
Glacier Bay.—More Ice Bays.—Majestic Front of the Muir
Glacier.—The Bombardment of the Glacier.—One of the
Grandest Sights in the World.—A Moving River of Ice.—The
Natives.—Abundance of Fish.—Native Cooking.—Wild Berries.—
Hoonish Tribe.—Copper Mines.—An Iron Mountain.—Coal Mines 275
CHAPTER XXI.
Sailing Southward.—Sitka, Capital of Alaska.—Transfer of the
Territory from Russia to America.—Site of the City.—The
Old Castle.—Russian Habits.—A Haunted Chamber.—Russian
Elegance and Hospitality.—The Old Greek Church.—Rainfall
at Sitka.—The Japanese Current.—Abundance of Food.—Plenty
of Vegetables.—A Fine Harbor 293
CHAPTER XXII.
Contrast between American and Russian Sitka.—A Practical
Missionary.—The Sitka Industrial School.—Gold Mines on the
Island.—Environs of the Town.—Future Prosperity of the
Country.—Hot Springs.—Native Religious Ideas.—A Natural
Taste for Music.—A Native Brass Band.—Final View of the
Capital 304
CHAPTER XXIII.
The Return Voyage.—Prince of Wales Island.—Peculiar
Effects.—Island and Ocean Voyages contrasted.—Labyrinth of
Verdant Islands.—Flora of the North.—Political Condition
of Alaska.—Return to Victoria.—What Clothing to wear on
the Journey North.—City of Vancouver.—Scenes in British
Columbia.—Through the Mountain Ranges 321
CHAPTER XXIV.
In the Heart of the Rocky Mountains.—Struggle in a
Thunder-Storm.—Grand Scenery.—Snow-Capped Mountains and
Glaciers.—Banff Hot Springs.—The Canadian Park.—Eastern
Gate of the Rockies.—Calgary.—Natural Gas.—Cree and
Blackfeet Indians.—Regina.—Farming on a Big Scale.—Port
Arthur.—North Side of Lake Superior.—A Midsummer Night’s
Dream 338
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE NEW ELDORADO
--*--
CHAPTER I.
Itinerary.—St. Paul.—The Northern Pacific Railroad.—Progress.—Luxurious
Traveling.—Riding on a Locomotive.—Night Experiences.—Prairie Scenes.—
Immense Grain-Fields.—The Badlands.—Climbing the Rocky Mountains.—
Cinnabar.—The Yellowstone Park.—An Accumulation of Wonders.—The Famous
Hot Springs Terrace.—How Formed.—As Seen by Moonlight.
A journey from Massachusetts to Alaska was a serious undertaking a few
years ago. It involved great personal risk, considerable expense, and
many long months of weary travel; but it is now considered scarcely more
than a holiday excursion, a good share of which may be denominated a
marine picnic. That an important country, so easily accessible, should
remain comparatively unexplored seems singular in the nineteenth
century, especially when its great mineral wealth and natural
attractions are freely admitted. The trip to Sitka, the capital of the
Territory, and back is easily accomplished in three months, affording
also ample time to visit the principal points of interest on the route,
including the marvels of the Yellowstone National Park, in Wyoming,
which is not only not surpassed in grandeur and beauty by any scenery on
the continent, but in fact has no parallel on the globe. The traveler
also naturally pauses on his way to examine at least one of the great
mining centres of this gold-producing country, such as Butte, the
“Silver City” of Montana, where he may behold scenes eclipsing in
affluence the fabulous story of Midas. The plan adopted by the author,
as herein detailed, was to make the westward journey by the Northern
Pacific Railroad to Tacoma, on Puget Sound, where the remarkable inland
sea voyage begins, thence sailing north to Pyramid Harbor and Glacier
Bay, stopping as usual at the intermediate places of interest.
On the homeward passage, to vary the journey and to enjoy the wild
scenery of British Columbia, Alberta, Assiniboia, and Manitoba, he left
the steamer at Vancouver, returning by the Canadian Pacific Railway,
which presents to the lover of nature such famous scenic advantages.
The journey westward seems practically to begin when the traveler
reaches St. Paul, the capital of Minnesota, by way of Chicago, as here
he strikes the trunk line of the Northern Pacific Railroad, which has an
exclusive and unbroken track thence to Tacoma, a distance of nearly two
thousand miles, the whole of which is covered with novelty and interest.
We will not pause to fully describe St. Paul, that youthful city of
marvelous growth, promise, and beauty, with her mammoth business
edifices of stone and brick, her palatial private residences, and her
charming boulevards. The most casual visitor is eloquent upon these
themes, as well as regarding the open-handed hospitality of her two
hundred thousand inhabitants. Three iron bridges span the Mississippi at
St. Paul, one of which is nearly three thousand feet long, supported
upon arches two hundred and fifty feet in span, and having a roadway
elevated two hundred feet above the water.
St. Paul is situated upon a series of terraces rising from the left bank
of the Mississippi River, its site being both commanding and
picturesque. Thus built at the head of navigation on a great waterway,
it naturally commands a trade of no circumscribed character, besides
enjoying the prestige of being the State capital.
Were it not for the unlimited facilities of transportation afforded by
the grand and beneficent railroad enterprise embraced in the Northern
Pacific system, the development of the vast and fertile country which
lies between Lake Superior and the Pacific Ocean would have been delayed
for half a century or more. It should be remembered that so late as 1850
there was not one mile of railroad in existence west of the Mississippi
River. In 1836 there were, at most, but a thousand miles in operation on
the entire American continent. This is an epoch of progress. Japan is
traversed by railways, even China has caught the contagion, and is now
building roads for the use of the iron horse in more than one direction
within that ancient and widespread empire, while Russia and India are
“gridironed” with rails.
It was remarked in a congressional speech in the year 1847 that the
Rocky Mountains would be the limit of railroad enterprise across our
continent; that the barrier presented by these huge elevations and the
extensive “desert tract” beyond them must certainly prevent the
development of the Pacific States.
“Desert,” indeed!
No land on the globe produces such remarkable cereal crops as this very
prairie soil is doing each successive year, not only supplying our own
rapidly increasing population with the stuff of life, but also feeding
the less fortunate millions of Europe, where excessive labor and costly
enrichment must make up the deficit arising from an exhausted soil and
circumscribed area. The reader who follows these pages will not fail to
see how liable legislators are to be mistaken in their predictions, and
how apt events are to transcend the weak judgment of the confident and
inexperienced declaimer. Even that Titan statesman, Daniel Webster, put
himself on record in the United States Senate, while speaking against a
proposition to establish a mail route through a portion of the western
country, as follows: “What do we want with this vast, worthless area—
this region of savages and wild beasts, of deserts of shifting sands and
whirlwinds of dust, of cactus and prairie dogs? To what use could we
ever hope to put these great deserts or those endless mountain ranges,
impenetrable, and covered to their very base with eternal snow? What can
we ever hope to do with the western coast,—a coast of three thousand
miles, rock-bound, cheerless, uninviting, and not a harbor on it? What
use have we for this country?”
In crossing the continent by the route we have chosen, one passes
through a country whose grand scenic charms can hardly be exaggerated,
in describing which superlatives only will apply, and whose agricultural
advantages, natural resources, and mineral wealth are probably unequaled
in the known world. We are taken through the productive wheat-fields of
Minnesota and Dakota, among the gold and silver bearing hills of Idaho
and Montana, into the prolific, garden-like valleys of Washington, whose
lovely hopfields rival the gorgeous display of Kent in England, and
whose abundant supply of coal and iron is only second to that of
Pennsylvania.
The State has been, and may well be, denominated the Eden of the North
Pacific.
On our way we are constantly meeting immense freight trains, laden with
grain, flour, cattle, and other merchandise, bound for the Atlantic
coast; long strings of coal cars, winding snake-like round sharp curves,
and creeping up steep grades; passenger vans crowded with animated,
intelligent people, all together testifying to the great and growing
traffic of the West and Northwest. We pass scores of lofty grain
elevators, high piles of lumber, and miles of various kinds of
merchandise prepared for, and awaiting, shipment eastward, all of which
evinces a local capacity for production far beyond our computation. How
marvelous is the change from the conditions existing in this region a
few years since, when millions of buffaloes roamed unmolested over these
plains, valleys, and hills from Texas to Manitoba! The skeletons of
these herds still sprinkle the prairies, bleached by the summer sun and
crumbled by the winter’s frost. Hundreds of carloads are annually
shipped eastward to the factories which manufacture fertilizers.
As we speed on our western journey day and night, gliding through long
tunnels and deep rock cuttings, over airy trestles, immense embankments,
bridges, and viaducts, representing the skillful accomplishments of
modern engineering, we carry along with us the domestic conveniences of
home. The train, in fact, becomes our hotel for the time being, where we
bathe, eat, sleep, and enjoy the passing scenery seated in luxuriously
upholstered easy-chairs, which at night are ingeniously transformed as
if by magic into soft and inviting beds. The elegance and comfort of
these parlor, dining, and sleeping cars is calculated to make traveling
what it has in a measure become, an inviting luxury. The miraculous cap
of Fortunatus would seem to have been pressed into our service. So
thoroughly perfected is the transcontinental railroad system that it is
quite possible to enter the cars in an Atlantic city, say at Boston or
New York, and not leave the train until five or six days have expired,
when the objective point on the Pacific coast is reached.
While passing through deep gorges at night, or creeping over a mountain
top, the effect from one’s seat in the cars is weird and curious,
especially when the winding track makes long curves in the train, so
that the panting iron horse is seen from the rear, all ablaze and
emitting dense clouds of smoke. The snow-tipped peaks on one side and
the threatening gulch of unknown depth on the other assume a mantle of
soft, gauze-like texture in the clear moonlight. At times one half
believes this rails are laid upon the tree-tops, the branches of which
loom up so close to us. Away in the valley, two thousand feet and more
below our level, a rippling stream sparkles in the silvery light while
on its way to swell some larger watercourse which drains the rocky
hills. Looking far across the valley we try to make out the distant
mountains, but only dim phantoms of gigantic size are seen, gliding
stealthily away in the darkness.
We make interest with the conductor and engineer of the train for a
special purpose. We are in search of a new sensation, to wit, such as
may be derived from a night-ride on the engine, where one can see all
the engineer sees, which is indeed little enough. The headlight of the
locomotive throws its rays dimly on the darkness for a few rods in
advance of the train. But what does that amount to, so far as being able
to avoid danger? That brief space is passed in a second of time, and it
is impossible to see what is beyond. The faithful engineer stands with
both hands upon the machinery, one with which to instantly apply the
brakes, the other to shut off the steam if danger shows itself ahead.
That is all he can do. What a boisterous, asthmatic monster it is that
drags the long train through the darkness at the rate of a mile in two
minutes! How its hot breath belches forth, and how it springs and leaps
over the iron track, fed incessantly with fresh fuel by the stoker! To
one not accustomed to the oscillating motion, it is nearly impossible to
keep his footing, much more difficult than on board of a pitching or
rolling ship at sea. The motion is short, quick, and incessant. Black,—
black as Erebus; how venturesome it seems to dash into such darkness!
What a tempting of fate! Yet how few accidents, comparatively, occur!
“The law of averages is what we calculate upon,” said the engineer of
No. —; “about so many people will be killed annually out of a given
number of railroad travelers. We take all reasonable precautions to
prevent accidents, but there are thousands of exigencies beyond our
control.” If any one proposes to you, gentle reader, to indulge in a
night-ride on a locomotive, take our advice, and don’t do it.
One does not linger in bed when passing through a country famous for its
scenery. The experienced traveler has learned that the opening hours of
the day are those in which his best and clearest impressions are
received. He therefore rises betimes to enjoy the cool, dewy freshness
of the morning. Now and again a prairie-owl is seen groping its winged
way to shelter from the increasing light. He is sure to see plenty of
coyotes, gray wolves, and graceful antelopes on the rolling prairies,
each of these animals exhibiting in some special and interesting manner
its natural proclivities. The prairie-dog nervously diving into and
leaping out of its little prairie mound; the wolf bravely facing and
glaring at the passing train, though careful to keep at a wholesome
distance; and the antelopes in small herds hastening away by graceful
bounds over the nearest hills, far too pretty and far too ornamental to
shoot, suggesting in form and movements that most picturesque of wild
animals, the Tyrolean chamois.
Minnesota presents to the eye of the traveler a grand and impressive
country in the form of rolling prairies, diversified by lakes,—of which
there are said to be ten thousand in the State,—forests, and inviting
valleys, the latter particularly adapted for raising wheat and for dairy
farming. Vast fields of ripening cereals are seen stretching for miles
on either side of the railroad, without a fence to break their
uniformity. This State possesses among other advantages that of a
climate particularly dry, invigorating, and healthful. Four hundred
miles of our route is through Northern Dakota, where the farming lands
are easily tilled, well watered, and wonderfully prolific in crops. The
choicest wheat grown in America, known as hard spring wheat, comes from
this section, which has been called “the granary of the world.” The
gigantic scale on which wheat-raising is here conducted would seem
incredible if faithfully described to an old-time New England farmer.
The improvement which has been made in machinery connected with sowing,
reaping, harvesting, and threshing grain enables one man to do as much
in this western country as a dozen men could accomplish twenty-five or
thirty years ago. There are wheat farms here embracing twenty thousand
acres each, where economy in labor is of the utmost importance, and
where the employees are so numerous as to be kept under semi-military
organization. The author has seen the big grain-fields of Russian Poland
in their prime, but they are as nothing when compared with those of
Northern Dakota, nor are the farming facilities which are generally
employed throughout Europe nearly equal to those of this country.
At Bismarck, capital of the State, which is a small but energetic and
thriving place, the Missouri River is crossed by a magnificent iron
bridge, hung high in air, which cost a million dollars. This is the acme
of successful engineering, passing our long, heavy train of cars over a
track of gleaming rails from shore to shore without the least
perceptible tremor, or the deflection of a single inch. The great
waterway which it spans measures at this place fully twenty-eight
hundred feet from bank to bank, though it is at this point two thousand
miles from its confluence with the Mississippi.
The route we are following soon takes us through what are called the
Badlands, a most singular region, where subterranean and surface fires
are constantly burning, where trees have become petrified, and where the
natural blue clay has been converted into terra cotta. This locality,
extending for miles and miles, has been called Pyramid Park, on account
of its fantastic forms presented in a singular variety of colors, and
because of its mounds, domes, pyramids, and rocky towers. These vary as
much in height as in form, some measuring ten feet, some two hundred,
while all are clad in harlequin costume, black, white, blue, green, and
yellow. It is called Badlands in contradistinction to the adjoining
country, which is so very fertile, but the district is improved as good
grazing ground for many thousands of cattle which supply our Atlantic
cities with beef. Some of the best breeds of horses furnished to the
Eastern States are raised, fed, and brought into marketable condition on
these peculiar lands.
This region forms a sort of tangible hint of what we shall experience
still farther on our Wonderland journey in the interesting and unequaled
valley of the Yellowstone, where there are abundant evidences of
volcanic force and subterranean fires, and where Nature is seen in her
most erratic mood.
Just as we pass from Dakota into Montana, a short distance beyond the
Little Missouri River, a lofty peak called Sentinel Butte is seen, at an
elevation of nearly three thousand feet above sea level. The teeming,
vigorous young life of the Northwest is manifest all along the route,
with its wonderful energy and its almost incredible rate of progress. We
were told that in the State which we had just left three thousand miles
of railroad had been built and properly equipped before it contained a
single town of more than five hundred inhabitants.
In the State of Montana we find a more hilly country than that through
which we have so recently passed, yet it is well adapted to farming and
possesses large areas of excellent grazing land. Indeed, there is
scarcely any part of this territory, except the mountain ranges, where
the climate is not sufficiently mild for cattle to winter out-of-doors.
Undoubtedly they will thrive better for being housed at night in the
coldest weather here or anywhere, but this is not absolutely necessary.
No food is required for them except the native bunch grass, which cures
itself, and stands as hay until the succeeding spring. Cattle are very
fond of and will quickly fatten upon it. Sheep husbandry is also a great
and growing interest here. We observe now and again a thrifty flock,
tended by a boy-shepherd accompanied by his dog, recalling similar
scenes in Tasmania and on the plains of Russia.
Statistics show that there are over two million acres now under
cultivation in Montana, and that the territory is also fabulously rich
in minerals. The present output of gold, silver, and copper is at the
rate of three million dollars per month, and the yield of the mines is
steadily on the increase.
As we hasten on our way, looking on one side far down into sombre
depths, and on the other at threatening, overhanging bowlders, or
backward at the road-bed cut out of the solid rock which forms the
cliff, we wonder at the successful audacity which conceived and built
such a difficult highway. We have seen few instances of similar
engineering so remarkable as is exhibited at certain points on the
Northern Pacific Railroad. Equal difficulties have been overcome on the
Zig-zag Railway over the Blue Mountain Range, near Sidney, Australia,
and also in Northern India, where the narrow gauge railroad climbs the
foothills of the Himalayan Range to Darjeeling, about eight thousand
feet above the plains of Hindostan, but in neither of these instances is
the work so thorough, or on so gigantic a scale, as where the Northern
Pacific crosses the Rocky Mountains.
We are quite conscious of being on an up grade, the large engine panting
audibly from its extra exertion, and the train moving forward no faster
than one could walk. Presently tall, snow-capped peaks come trooping
into view, like mounted Bedouins clad in fleecy white, as the small city
of Livingston is reached. This locality is about forty-five hundred feet
above the sea. The town is situated in a beautiful valley, with nothing
to indicate its altitude except the snow-crowned mountains not far away,
standing like frigid sentinels. The observant traveler will also notice
a certain rarefied condition of the atmosphere. Here we are about midway
between the Great Lakes and the Pacific coast,—between Superior, the
largest lake on the globe, and the Pacific, the largest ocean in the
world.
Livingston contains three thousand inhabitants, and is a thriving place,
the frequent resort of many lovers of the rod and gun, both large and
small game being found in abundance hereabouts. Forty miles north of
Livingston is Castle Mountain mining district, rich in silver ores, and
from whose argentiferous soil millions of dollars have been coined and
hundreds of enterprising prospectors enriched. A branch road is taken at
this point which runs directly southward to Cinnabar, a distance of
nearly fifty miles, from which place coaches convey the traveler about
six miles farther to the Wonderland of our continent,—the Yellowstone
National Park.
The terminus of the railroad is known by the name of Cinnabar because it
is situated at the base of a mountain bearing that title, remarkable for
its exposure of vertical strata of three distinct geological periods.
Here is a famous place known as the Devil’s Slide, a singular formation
caused by the washing out of a vertical stratum of soft material between
one of quartzite and another of porphyry. The slide is two thousand feet
high, and being of different color from the rest of the rocky mountain
side is discernible for many miles away.
We have now reached one of the most remarkable points of our excursion,
which demands more than a passing notice, sharing with the great
glaciers of Alaska the principal interest of the present journey
westward across the continent.
This magnificent territorial reservation is situated in the northwestern
part of Wyoming, embracing also a narrow strip of southern Montana and
southeastern Idaho, lying in the very heart of the Rocky Mountains. It
was wisely withdrawn from settlement by an act of Congress in 1872, and
is beneficently devoted forever to “the pleasure and enjoyment of the
people.” It forms a great preserve for wild animals, and a natural
museum of marvels free to all. The well conceived liberality of this
purpose is only commensurate with the unequaled grandeur of the Park
itself, though at the time of passing this law comparatively little was
actually known of the stupendous marvels contained within its widespread
borders, besides which fresh discoveries of interest are still being
made annually.
Of all those who have endeavored to depict this locality, none have been
able to convey with the pen an adequate idea of its wild magnificence,
or to give a satisfactory description of its accumulated wonders. The
eye alone can appreciate its indescribable beauty, majesty, and
loveliness.
By the judicious expenditure of public money and the liberal outlay of
corporate enterprise in road and bridge building, not to mention other
facilities, one can now pretty thoroughly explore the Park in the brief
period of a week or ten days. To do this satisfactorily heretofore
required thrice this length of time, besides which, camping out was
necessary; but it is no longer so, unless one chooses to play the gypsy.
This plan is adopted by a few summer tourists, who take with them a
regular camp outfit, depending upon the fish they catch for a
considerable portion of their food supply during this out-of-door life.
The Park is under the control of the Secretary of the Interior. A local
superintendent lives here, who is assisted by a few game-keepers and
government police, besides which there is a small gang of laborers
constantly at work during the favorable season, building roads and
bridges, opening vistas here and there, and clearing convenient
footpaths, under the direction of an army engineer. Two companies of
United States cavalry make their headquarters in the Park during the
summer months, distributed so as to prevent any unlawful acts of
visitors. The size of the reservation is sixty-four miles in length by
fifty-four in width, thus giving it an area of over three thousand six
hundred square miles. Or, to convey perhaps a clearer idea of its extent
to the reader’s mind, it may be said to be nearly one half the size of
the State of Massachusetts. It is a volcanic region of incessant
activity, with mountains ranging from eight to twelve thousand feet in
height, and embracing a collection of spouting geysers, hot springs,
steam holes, petrified forests, cascades, extraordinary cañons, and
grand waterfalls, such as are unequaled in the known world.
We do not forget the well-known geysers of Iceland, or the Hot Lake
district of New Zealand, with which the traveled visitor finds himself
contrasting the phenomena of the Yellowstone.
The writer of these pages happened lately to see an article upon our
National Park, written by the Earl of Dunraven, in which that gentleman
questions whether the singular natural exhibitions here are not exceeded
by those of New Zealand. We are familiar with both localities, and shall
dismiss such a supposition simply by saying that the hot springs of the
British colony referred to are no more to be compared with those of the
Yellowstone Park, than is an artificial Swiss cascade comparable with
Niagara. If Nature has anywhere else shown so wonderful a specimen of
her handicraft, it has not yet been our lot to see it.
All the natural objects best worth visiting in the Park are now
accessible by daily stages, which start at convenient hours from the
hotel at Mammoth Hot Springs, making the round of the interesting
sights; thus affording the general public every needed facility for
examining the strangely attractive vicinity.
Near the hotel is an area of two hundred acres and more, covered here
and there with boiling, terrace-building springs, which burst out of
sloping ground in ceaseless pulsations, at an elevation of about a
thousand feet above the Gardiner River near by, into which the main
portion of the chemically impregnated waters flow. Five hundred feet
from the base of the springs the water becomes cool, tasteless, and
perfectly clear to the eye, as refreshing to drink as any water from the
purest mountain rill. In ordinary quantities it has no evident medicinal
effect, but is thought to be a wholesome tonic, with blood-purifying
power. Some springs in the Park, though inviting in appearance, are to
be avoided on account of certain objectionable medical properties which
they possess. The hot springs adjacent to the hotel issue from many
vents and at various elevations, slowly building for themselves terrace
after terrace with circular pools, held in singularly beautiful
stalactite basins, formed by depositing in thin layers the chemical
substances which they contain. Some are infused with the oxide of iron,
and produce a coating of delicately tinted red; others are exquisitely
shaded in yellow by an infusion of sulphur; while some, from like
causes, are of a dainty cream color. Upon numerous basins there are seen
wavy, frill-like borders of bright green, indicating the presence of
arsenic. Here and there the margins of the pools are scalloped and edged
with a delicate bead-work, like Oriental pearls, while others are
curiously honeycombed, and fretted with singular regularity. No artistic
hand, however skillful, could equal Nature in these delicate and
exquisitely developed forms. The grand terrace, viewed as a whole, is
like a huge series of stairs or steps, two hundred feet high and five
hundred broad, decked with variegated marble, together with white and
pink coral. This immense calcareous formation might represent a frozen
waterfall, or a congealed cascade. The water, in most instances, is at
boiling heat as it pours out of the various openings, charged with iron,
magnesia, sulphur, alumina, soda, and other substances. Every spring has
its succession of limpid pools spreading out in all directions, the
basins varying in size from ten to forty feet across their openings.
When the sun penetrates the half enshrouding mist, and brings out the
myriad colors of these beautiful terraces, the effect is truly charming;
it is as though a rainbow had been shattered and the pieces strewn
broadcast. While thus wreathed in vapors, as the evening approaches and
the whole is touched by the rosy tints of the setting sun, the entire
façade glows with softest opaline blushes, like a conscious maiden
challenged by ardent admiration. For a moment, as we gaze upon its
illumined expanse, it seems like a gorgeous marble ruin half consumed
and still ablaze, the fire of which is being extinguished by an
avalanche of snow-clouds. Such a scene cannot be depicted by
photography; it cannot be represented faithfully by the artist’s
skillful touch in oils, because, like the vivid beauty of a sunset on
the ocean, the light and shade are momentarily changing, while the
prismatic hues gently dissolve into each other’s embrace.
If possible, let the visitor witness the magic of the spot by moonlight.
It is then fairy-like indeed, shrouded in a thin, silvery screen,—
“mysterious veil of brightness made,”—like the transparent yashmak of an
East Indian houri.
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