Yellowstone National Park, Old Faithful Inn, August 15: It has been
raining in the Park. The weather has been lowering before a blustering
wind, with snow and sleet. People sat shivering in the stage coaches
today, but they tell us we are more fortunate than those who have been
compelled to make the journey in the dust. Mr. Jones and Mr. Pope came
in dusters, but they have donned their overcoats, instead. Every one
who has made the tour of the Park thinks he can tell you all about it,
but the truth is that no one knows anything about the weather here, it
is so variable and there is so much of it. It is clearing now and every
one is buoyant. It is sunshine after a storm that makes people happy,
especially the women. They like sunshine.
This inn is an interesting point in the journey. It is built entirely
out of logs, seven stories high, at the peak. It has great fire places
and a rustic dining room, where the food begins to taste “shippy.”
In these places one’s appetite always craves the things that are not
placed before you. Resort hotels are the most contrary places in the
world. The name of the inn is taken from that of the geyser, the
largest now in action in the Park basin, Old Faithful, so named because
it gives an exhibition every hour. The water is thrown a hundred
feet in the air and the spray that accompanies it, and the vapor,
are beautiful to see. The basin, in front of the hotel, is filled
with miniature geysers and in whichever direction one looks he can
see vapor rising from crevices. In many places the crust is thin and
treacherous. Some of the pools have the most delicate formations and
the most exquisite colorings, comparable with nothing except the colors
in precious stones. Some are green and some are blue and some are like
morning glories. The smell of sulphur is in the air. There are also the
ugly things, mud geysers, unwholesome holes bubbling with and spouting
out mud, like toads. Some people insist on seeing every crevice. They
tramp about until they are all tired out. That is what they call
“doing” the Park. The poor Park, and the poorer mortals! But to me it
seems easier and better to sit down quietly and absorb the spirit of
things. The mountains clad with the green timber, the rich blue sky,
fleeced with delicate clouds, over all. It is a great joy to be in the
midst of these natural wonders. Why weary one’s self with the details?
Why make it a place of weariness? It is a great picture gallery of
the gods. Here they have left unfinished the work of creation. But
people go through it, rushing about it as about bargain counters in the
stores.