August 29th.
This is a glorious region, and we send you the enclosed sketch to
show our picture of comfort and perfection. I assure you, nightly
as we sit down to our evening repast, or later round our wood fire
in our "parlour," we congratulate each other, and fancy we would
not change places with the highest of the land, the air and life
are so intoxicating.
After twenty-four hours in Ouray we came up here, sending the
darkie Henry and our luggage on before us in a waggon. We have
brought nothing but the bare necessaries of life--all our heavy
boxes are gone to Chicago to await our return--being warned to
bring as little as possible, on account of the difficulties of
transport in the mountains, also of only being allowed 50 lbs.
weight on the coach, every extra lb. charged ten cents. We
ourselves rode up here, arriving about 6 o'clock, and found poor
Henry waiting outside, not having been able to get into the cabin,
the door-key being carefully in Mr. W----'s pocket; but as
everything is always left in order it didn't take us long to make
ourselves comfortable; and as at sunset the cold had been piercing,
a fire soon lit was very acceptable.
This cabin is quite unique. It consists of two rooms on each side
of the front door, with a tiny passage used as larder, wood-hole,
saddle-room, &c.
Our room is our bed and drawing-room combined, which is hung all
round with every imaginable skin, wolf, skunks, lynx, &c., stuffed
animals and birds, guns and traps, to say nothing of shelves
covered with different specimens of ore taken out of the adjoining
mines. It was quite creepy, the first night, having to sleep with
a bear's head at the foot of our bed, with a stuffed fox just over
our head, which has the most awful squint, and is the first object
that catches the eye on awaking, and a dried root, the fibres of
which so much resemble a man's beard that it looks horridly like a
scalp. The hay-mattress on our bed has to be; shaped into grooves
for our poor bones to rest comfortably. In the day-time it is
covered up with skins, and then is called the "lounge."
Our washing-stand is primitive, a box standing on end, in which
our tin bason and cans are concealed, so that we can consider our
"parlour" quite correct. Our other room is the kitchen, and fitted
up with four bunks against the wall, which Mr. W---- and Henry
occupy. We breakfast and dine out of doors, at a table placed just
outside the cabin, and on the only bit of flat ground we have
near, as we are situated on the slope of a mountain, and a most
beautiful stream of water runs about forty feet below us with the
clearest and coldest of water. One of our first occupations in the
morning is to take the animals down to water, and afterwards to
picket them in amongst the long grass, growing in great profusion
and height during the short summer on all the foot hills and
wherever there is an open space. The first afternoon we were up
here we went for a ride round Imogene basin, and were delighted
with the wild flowers, which are quite innumerable--columbine,
phloxes, blue gentian, dandelions, harebells, vetches, and fifty
other species. E---- picked a good many, and hopes to draw them
for the benefit of you all at home. The flowers shoot up almost
before the snow has melted, and make the most of their short
existence which lasts about two months and a half. We tasted the
"bear berry," which grows as a bush and has a round brown berry,
quite bitter, but, as its name shows, is much appreciated by the
bears, who come any distance to get it.
* * * * *
September 4th.
We are enjoying this mountain life; the weather is all we can
desire, and we are in the most robust of health. We live almost
entirely out of doors, sketching all the morning, in the
afternoons making expeditions either into some of the mines, or
over a mountain-pass; and for "tender-feet" the name given to all
new-comers, are pronounced to be good mountaineers; but our ponies
and mules are so sure-footed and pleasant that we follow any
trail, however narrow and uneven, with the greatest confidence.
The scenery everywhere is far beyond our sketching capacities, but
we find spoiling many sheets of drawing-paper a never-failing
amusement and occupation; and we can sit out anywhere, as neither
snakes nor mosquitoes are known in these altitudes. Our darkie's
criticism might be discouraging, he saying he cannot understand
our wasting so much time on "things not at all like nature," were
it not counterbalanced by the praise given us in the "Ouray Times"
which paper we sent home to you last week. The balsam pine, which
is about the only tree we have, is rather monotonous and sombre-
looking, being of a blackish-green; and we have not here, as in
the valley around Ouray, the beautiful sandstone and porphyry
rocks for background; only never-ending blue distances, brought
out so clearly on account of the extraordinary dryness and purity
of the atmosphere.
We have been escorting two men to-day over a pass 12,500 feet,
part of the way to San Miguel, going as far as the ridge, from
whence we had a most glorious view and panorama, as we could see
into the valleys and canyons some miles below; Mount Wilson, which
unfortunately was shrouded in dark, stormy clouds; a range of
mountains in Utah called Sierra la Sal, about 120 miles distant;
and a long way into New Mexico.
In returning home we got into clouds, and could hear a thunderstorm
raging in the valley below us, for some little time losing our trail,
and not sorry when we found it again and were able to descend from
higher regions, the cold was so intense; not so surprising, as we
found when the mist lifted that snow had fallen on all the surrounding
peaks.
* * * * *
IMOGENE BASIN, September 12th.
Two days' after our expedition to San Miguel we awoke to find
ourselves in a "white world," the snow being two inches deep. It
is said to be a most unusually early storm, but it was not
altogether a surprise: the glass had been falling and storms had
been audibly growling all round us. The snow only lasted about
twenty-four hours, just long enough for us to realise and admire
Imogene in its winter garb, and enable us to try and walk in snow-
shoes. We did not attempt either going up or down hill in them, so
that our performance was confined to the small space in front of
the cabin.
With the exception of this one storm our weather continues lovely;
bright, sunshiny, warm days--we do not even require an extra
jacket out of doors until after sunset--with a slight frost every
night.
Last Monday we started early, taking provisions with us, and spent
a long day in Red Mountain Park, sketching the marvellously
brilliant scarlet peaks, whilst Mr. W---- shot grouse, of which he
got three and a half brace. The grouse are much like ours, only
larger, and roost in trees. These parks abound in game. We have
been wishing to see a bear; at a safe distance, perhaps, but have
never succeeded, though several have been killed since our
arrival. Whilst shooting, Mr. W---- came upon the fresh trail of
one and its unfinished meal of a gophir not very far from where we
lunched; only fancy what a stampede there would have been had the
bear appeared. We are always looking out for thin trees round
which a bear's claws would overlap, and therefore they could not
climb, to take refuge up in case of danger; but they very seldom
attack, unless wounded or a she-bear with cubs. In the spring and
autumn these parks abound in deer; but in summer they go above
timber line to graze on the succulent bunch grasses and to be free
from flies. There are also mountain-sheep, coyotes, and foxes, and
along the streams several beaver; but we never have seen any
animal bigger than a prairie-dog, or smaller than a coney.
Chipmunks and the mountain-rats disturbed our slumbers at night,
running about the cabin, and I do not at all think we should like
our dormitory were we not watched over during our slumbers by a
cat, the most sociable of beasts, who as a rule sleeps between us,
and protests loudly if we either of us move or wake him.
* * * * *
September 7th.
By degrees we are learning something of the mines and miners; also
are beginning to know all the packers who daily go up and down the
trails, each with a train of ten donkeys carrying the ore from the
mines. The men's appearance is of the roughest, but they, one and
all, are most civil, both of speech and manner. Women are rare in
these districts, the wife of the manager of the Wheel of Fortune
Mine being the only one living up here. She has been here two
years, and is quite idolized by the miners and trappers, as she
has never been known to refuse hospitality to any. We were much
amused, whilst going through the Wheel of Fortune tunnels last
Saturday, to hear one of the miners ask who we were, and when told
with the ready answer, natural to this country, that "we were
Duchesses," he wished much to know if that was not something like
the Prince of Wales.
We went into a lower shaft whilst two fuses were fired in an
upper. The anticipation of the shock was worse than the
realisation. Each of us carried a candle, and the concussion blew
them all out; but beyond that, the smell of gunpowder, and smoke,
we experienced no harm, and as we had matches and the candles were
soon relit, we had not to grope our way back in darkness.
We have been into several of the tunnels on the eight well-defined
lodes in this basin, also into some in Sneffels; these veins may
be all traced through into Red Mountain Valley, which seems to be
the volcanic centre of this neighbourhood. The porphyry vein
matter or ore-bearing quartz, having decomposed more readily than
the trachyte of the mountains which they intersect, in some
instances, as in the peak just above our cabin, they have cut deep
notches in the summit of the ridges, making the outline very
jagged and rugged looking.
The mineral wealth around us is astounding, hundreds of rich mines
have been discovered in all the surrounding mountains, and are
being discovered now. Three men, whilst at dinner a month ago in
Red Mountain Valley, in picking round with a small axe where they
were sitting, knocked off a piece of rock which, when analysed,
proved to be so valuable a lode, that they have since then sold
their claim for 125,000 dollars.
Any man can stake a claim of 1,500 feet on a vein if not previously
done; but he has to expend 100 pounds on it in the first five years to
enable him to obtain a patent from Government, which secures the
property to him for ever.
There must be a certain amount of excitement to miners as to what
treasure will be produced after every blast of gunpowder; but oh!
how I should hate the life, living underground in these
subterranean passages, which are all more or less wet from the
water percolating through the rock, and never able to see the sun
or the beauties of nature. The wages of the men are enormous, able
miners getting four dollars a day; sorters, or the men who break
and turn over the stone, three and a half.
Mr. W---- had a hard life when he first came out here in 1877; as
he and his partner worked with no other help for four years
underground mining, besides having to build their cabin, being
their own blacksmiths, assayer, cook, &c., and he declares he
enjoyed it immensely, with the exception, perhaps, of the first
winter, when, getting in their supplies very late, they had to
live on bacon (and that rancid) and flour, but little else.
Stores for the winter have to be brought up in October, as the
trails early become impassable, and all outer communication can
only be kept up on snow-shoes. The snow averages about seven or
eight feet, though in this basin it has been known to be thirty-
eight deep, but in the Uncompaghre Valley and down by Ouray it
averages only a few inches. Animals are left out to graze there
all the winter.
* * * * *
THE RANCH, UNCOMPAHGRE PARK, September 16. Ten miles below Ouray.
Amidst many tears and regrets, we have torn ourselves away from
the cabin, where we could have spent another month or six weeks in
perfect contentment; but a storm being predicted, and duck-shooting
and fly-fishing being part of our Colorado programme, we accepted the
loan of a house on a farm down in the valley, and are installed in it.
It wanted a certain amount of pluck, on first seeing our
accommodation, to come down. Our house is one room, thirty feet long
by about eighteen wide, an open roof with plenty of air-holes, and no
partition whatsoever, excepting what we have made by hanging three
blankets from a rafter, behind which is our bed (or lounge in
day-time), the washing-stand, a box set up longways, and a tin bason,
an arm-chair which consists of two pieces of wood, and an old
wolfskin, much worn, and a rickety table, at which I am writing now,
lighted by a candle stuck into a bottle. On the other side of the
blanket-partition is the kitchen stove, big table, store shelves, a
pile of saddles, &c. Mr. W---- sleeps in a tent outside; Henry in a
waggon: he, poor man, is not at all happy, as he imagines bears and
coyotes are nightly intending making their evening meal off his portly
form. He is the greatest coward I ever saw, and came in horror
confiding to me that he had seen a snake, yards long, which Mr. W----
killed the day following, and it proved to be a small water-snake,
hardly ten inches.
Henry affords us a great deal of amusement; he does not at all
presume, but, in his quaint way, wishes to tell, and asks so many
things, queries which often are almost unanswerable. The day we
spent in Ouray on our way down from the cabin here, we much
distressed him by not "striking a show" in the street, and not
wearing smart clothes which had a "tong," if it were only to show
that we consider Mr. W---- a "big bug."
He left his wife in the South eleven years ago, and, in spite of
all our protestations and lectures, informs us he is going to
marry again, as in the Bible he reads "that it is wrong for man to
live alone."
It is a matter of infinite surprise to him how we can remain out
of doors with no covering to our heads, he could not stand the
rays of the sun as we do; and why our complexions in consequence
are not as dark as his is a mystery to him.
* * * * *
THE RANCH, UNCOMPAGHRE PARK, September 24th.
Although this house does consist of only one room, is situated in
a stony field, with not a tree near us, and that we are not having
good sport, either trout-fishing or duck-shooting, we should be
quite happy and contented were it not for the B flats which
abound, the first we have come across, which, Henry assures us,
are not from dirt, but grow in the pine-wood. Why are they not,
then, in the log cabins which are entirely built of pine? We have
not disclosed the fact to Mr. W----, he is so thoroughly enjoying
his holiday, as we know that we should be instantly ordered back
to Ouray, where he would have to begin his work. Whilst he is out
shooting, we make expeditions, exploring over all the foot-hills.
One day, after wandering up a beautiful valley, we came upon a
Park or "Mesa," and I do not ever remember having seen such a
view: miles of grass on which wild cattle and horses were feeding,
with clumps of trees artistically dotted here and there, and for
background the orange and scarlet tinted foot-hills, pines on
higher regions, and a glorious panorama of snow-capped mountains
beyond. But for the mountains, one might almost fancy oneself in
some English park, and at every turn we felt we ought to come upon
an Elizabethan House. There were many tracks of deer, but none
were visible. We overtook a man driving a team of ten oxen with
lumber, and of him asked our way, as one might very easily lose
oneself in these rolling park-like glades, intersected with deep
canyons, with no trails or roads, excepting here and there one
made by lumberers. In coming down the hill again, close to a large
saw-mill, we watched a man breaking in a horse of five years old.
He had secured a dozen, all wild, in a corral or fenced enclosure,
and had thrown a noose over this one's head. He was trying to draw
it up by means of a thick rope to the fence, the rope getting
tighter and tighter as the animal backed or tried to gallop round
with the other horses. Finally, when the poor brute was almost
choked, and perspiration was streaming down him, he allowed the
man to go up to him, who very dexterously and quickly slipped a
halter over its head. The horse then was tied up to the post, the
others turned out, and the man intended keeping him there until
the following morning without any food, when he would put a saddle
on, and ride him, and hoping to sell him as broken for eighty
dollars.
Many of these horses are not broken at all; we were shown a
good- looking mare of thirteen years old who had never had a bit
in her mouth.
* * * * *
THE RANCH, September 29th.
This is the country I should like to have a farm in, were I bound to
emigrate. In this valley every sort of grain and vegetable seem to
grow in the most luxuriant way, and we have been feasting on tomatoes,
cabbages, beets, lettuces, etc. The butcher, who is also greengrocer,
sent a potato twelve inches long by nine round, "hoping the ladies
would take it in their trunks to England as an average specimen." Then
on the "Mesa" or parks above the foot-hills, large herds of cattle can
always graze through the winter. We have had jelly made of
squawberries and the Oregon grape, which is excellent. There are also
wild gooseberries and black currants, both of which we have found.
This ranch is 160 acres; the only buildings the owner has put up are
the dwelling-house and one shed as a stable and implement-house. Hay
last year was selling at 10 to 12 pounds a ton, potatoes 3d. to 6d. a
lb., oats 4d. a lb., and everything in proportion; eggs 3s. to 4s. a
dozen all the year round, milk 6d. a quart; so that any man ought to
make a very large profit, the land originally costing him nothing,
and, excepting in hay or harvest time, very little labour required.
Oats are cut very green and stacked for winter fodder. These fertile
valleys are very limited in number, and as the consumption must be on
the increase, mines being discovered and opened out, some time must
elapse and the railway come nearer, ere competition reduces the
prices, or the farmer's profits are lessened.
The people round are most kind and friendly, and would be more so
had they received the slightest encouragement; but Mr. W---- gave
out we wanted to know no one, that we were not to be in Ouray, and
that all our time was to be taken up seeing the country. We went
one day up Bear Creek, as Mr. W---- was asked to see a mine, and
dined with the manager and his wife. They gave us a sumptuous
repast, and tried to persuade E---- and I to remain the night,
though we were only about four miles from home; but even we two
are not enough un-Englishified as yet not to object to sleeping
with two other people. They had only one room for kitchen, bed,
sitting-room, &c.; and it is curious how little one now thinks of
the bed standing in one corner, the washing-stand in another,
whilst kitchen-stove, and scullery fill up a third. I suggested
that when strangers did sleep there they gave them the adjoining
cabin; but was told that a trussel bed put alongside of the host's
"took no room whatsoever." Mr. W---- tells a funny story of a
picnic party in the mountains in an old cabin of his, which only
contained one room, and where five women and six men had to sleep
the night, the women occupying the bunks, the men (after
promenading outside whilst the women were getting into bed)
sleeping on the floor. They all laughed and talked so much that
daylight almost appeared before any of them got to sleep, and
there was a regular stampede under the blankets among the ladies
when a match was struck, one of the men objecting to his neighbour
lying alongside of him with all his clothes on.
* * * * *
October 3rd.
How the time flies! in forty-eight hours from now we shall have
said good-bye to the most fascinating of regions, and Ouray and
the Rocky Mountains, with all the glorious scenery, will only live
in our memories and be things of the past.
I fancy one could never tire of it, and wish so much I could describe
the view we had from our Ranch looking up the Uncompahgre.--the valley
bright yellow with the grasses and aspen trees turning colour from the
frosts, the scarlet dwarf oak on the foot-hill, and the mountains lost
in the blue distance. During our six weeks' stay we have tried all the
different phases of life. The cabin life in amongst the mountains and
miners, the Ranch, and town, and certainly give the palm to the
first-mentioned. As we anticipated, our Ranch life was brought to an
abrupt end the moment we owned to Mr. W---- how our slumbers were
disturbed with the B flats; we had to return into Ouray, and have been
living here some days.
Mr. W---- found such an accumulation of work on his return, that,
excepting at meals, we never see him; and have to content
ourselves wandering and exploring on our ponies all the different
trails, and we shall soon be acquainted with every one within
miles. The only ride we do eschew is the Toll Road up the park,
the only piece of flat ground anywhere about, and fit for
cantering along. It is the favourite resort of the ladies of the
town, who are smartly arrayed in very long-skirted habits
ornamented with brass buttons and velvet jockey-caps, and who must
naturally look down upon us as disgracefully turned out in our
every-day gowns and broad-brimmed hats, which, to say the least,
have seen better days.
Ladies riding alone are required to pay no toll; a custom we think
ought very much to be encouraged all over the civilized world.
We have spent one more night at the cabin in Imogene, leaving
Henry in Ouray and "doing" for ourselves; and whilst Mr. W---- and
the "expert," for whom we went up, were inspecting mines, we two
fetched the water, made bread, and had a general sweep out. The
cat was supremely delighted to see us, and could not apparently
make enough of us when not allowed on our knees, stood up against
or walked round us.
The heavy snow-storm of last week destroyed all the grass and
flowers; they were so high when we left that a mule could hardly
have been seen whilst grazing, and now they are laid quite flat
with not a vestige of their beauty left. The wind was very high as
we went up the canyon, so we had to hurry past the patches of
aspens growing on the rocks and having very little hold for their
roots, which were being blown over unpleasantly near us.
This will be the last letter you will receive, as when once
started we shall go as fast as the stage-coach, rail, and steam-
boat can take us to England, I having had a telegram which hurries
us home.
Good-bye, we look forward immensely to seeing you all again; but
we have had such a pleasant trip throughout, without a single
_contretemps_, that we can but be delighted we came, and shall
always look back with immense gratification on our six months'
sojourn in the Western hemisphere.
* * * * *
LONDON, December, 1882.
Since arriving in England I have received the following letter
from my brother in Manitoba, and as I want this book to be a sort
of guide to colonists I think it well to add it:--
C---- FARM, November 14th.
I am writing now to send you a kind of statement of our farm
accounts; though it cannot be quite correct, this year's crop of
oats not having been thrashed out, so that the calculation can
only be approximate.
1st. _The Land_.--The cost of the land is taken as the first
purchase-money and the amount it has cost to bring 410 acres under
cultivation.
2nd. _The Buildings_.--They consist of two dwelling-houses and two
stables; one of the houses, being for the men, is also used as a
warehouse and granary.
The contract price was very low, and also the price of timber; now
both gone up, but put down at the original cost.
3rd. _The Horses_.--Valued, I think, rather low at 250 dollars a team;
500 dollars for the stallion. The 4,326 dollars include their cost;
the amount of oats and hay they have eaten.
_The Cows_.--Include their original cost, hay and percentage of keep.
The price of cattle now is high; we sold two cows this summer at an
average price of 75 dollars.
_Implements_ have been reduced about 35 per cent for their two years'
wear.
_Carriages_ being new, we have taken nothing off them.
_Pigs_ have the cost of their feeding added; the young ones taken at
an average of ten dollars.
_Furniture_.--A slight deduction for wear and tear.
_Oats_.--We are calculating 2,500 bushels off 181 acres.
_Hay_ is difficult to calculate; I do not think we have 400 tons. The
price now is very low; 5 dollars a ton, and it would cost us three
dollars to get it into Winnipeg.
_Potatoes_ are uncertain. They are worth one dollar a ton now, and if
we can manage to keep them during the winter they will be worth a good
deal more; but they are difficult to keep, although we have a good
root-house; If the frost happens to get to them they will all spoil;
and it is difficult to keep the frost out, going as it does twelve
feet into the ground.
_The Fence_ is quite worth the money; so you see that putting most
things at a low price, one has a certain profit, though not in hard
cash; and it is satisfactory to find that one hasn't been working for
two seasons for nothing. No one expects a farm to pay in this country
during the first two years.
Original Value. Dollars. Present Value Dollars
Land, 480 acres 4,110 worth 30 dollars an acre 14,400
Building 2 houses and 2 stables 4,814 4,814
Horses--2l horses 4,326 3,000
1 stallion
Cattle--84 cows 2,668 80 cows and 46 calves 3,700
Carriages 229 229
Harness 407 300
Implements 1,810 800
Pigs 125 Pigs and 29 young 350
Poultry 20 33 chickens 40
Furniture 495 400
Profit and Losses 10,681
Oats 2,500 bushels at 50 cents 1,250
Hay 400 tons at 5 dollars 2,000
Potatoes 1,000 bushels at 1 dollar 1,000
Flax 100
Wire Fence 500
______ ______
29,180 32,888
N.B.--The profit and loss comprises the wages to labourers and cost
of living of both masters and men.
This estimate is given after two years' farming.