It was the 15th of May when we returned to Victoria, and without any waste of time we proceeded to Seattle, and there made hasty preparation to continue our work along the northern lines of road towards the east. A little change was made in our original plans, by a brief diversion from the routes we had marked out, in order to view and take some pictures of the marvelous scenery along Fraser River, on the line of the Canadian Pacific Railroad. This stream is as wide as the Ohio, but generally of great depth, and being confined within perpendicular walls, often rising to a height of 500 feet, it is a rushing flood, too swift in places for the most powerful steamer to make head against. The road follows the bed of this torrential stream for a distance of 150 miles, through the Cascade Mountains, and in sight at times of the Okinagan Range. Beyond these eastward are the Gold, Selkirk and Rocky Mountains, and in between and about these are glaciers of extraordinary proportions, which in summer feed tearing cataracts and plunging waterfalls, and furnish nature pictures that thrill the heart with wonder. Beyond the valley of Thompson River, where the Golden Range begins, the scenery is quite as grand, though scarcely so sublime as that in the caÑon of the Fraser; but the mountains are surprisingly beautiful, and variegated with patches of snow, clumps of evergreen, and sheets of soft blue water that invite the angler. Louise, Agnes and Mirror lakes lie one above the other, high up upon the mountain sides, where they are often hidden by clouds, and are accordingly called the “Three Sisters of the Sky.” Castle Mountain may be seen from this point, which is only a few miles from Banff, famous for its hot springs, and for being the chief resort in the Canadian National Park, with a hotel capable of accommodating 800 guests.

The side-trip which we took on the Canadian Pacific occupied only one week, and though not originally contemplated in our plan of photographing American scenery, more than compensated for the change, for we are thus enabled to present some British American scenery equal to the most magnificent, imposing and attractive that our own country possesses.

Had the time been at our disposal, we would have made our scenic journey extend to the Sandwich Islands, after our return to Victoria, particularly as there was some political agitation in the government at Hawaii at the time. Indeed, while in San Francisco, we were earnestly urged to visit the islands with our cameras, so as to include them in our Wonderland book; and to the other inducements offered, we were presented with some views of the Hawaiian palace, the palmetto embowered walks, cocoanut groves, and pictures of the charming native girls, which latter was a particularly powerful persuasive. But the islands, charming though they are, do not belong as yet to the American domain, and cannot therefore be properly included, though on account of the annexation sentiment, and President Harrison’s message urging their acquisition, the views given to us are here reproduced.

Returning to Seattle, we proceeded directly eastward again, by the Northern Pacific Railroad, crossing for a third time the Cascade Range and viewing again the white and sunlighted crests of Mounts Hood, St. Helens, Adams and Ranier. The route is along the Yakima River, through charming scenery all the way to Spokane Falls, where the beauty of the landscape, as well as the might and awfulness of the falls, arrested us for a time. Palouse Falls is within nine miles of the junction of the Snake with Columbia River, and are a part of Palouse River, which, after flowing through a deep caÑon thirty feet wide, pours over a precipice that is a sheer height of 125 feet. The surrounding rocks exhibit many unique forms, ranging in terraces to a height of 2,000 feet, and then assuming the shape of pinnacles, chimneys, columns and needles, as if the region had one time been the work-grounds of giant sculptors.

Snake River is interrupted by enormous falls, the most important of which are American and Island Falls, the former having a drop of thirty feet; being very wide before taking the final leap, the river flows over a series of ledges that break the water into cataracts. Further up the stream, about fifty miles from Shoshone Falls, are Lost Falls, which leap down from a height of two hundred feet, and then the river, of which they are a part, disappears under the lava-covered earth, but reappears again several miles beyond and resumes its impetuous and erratic course.

Some fifty miles east of Spokane, on the line of the Northern Pacific, is Hauser Junction, where the road branches southward, through the Coeur d’Alene Indian Reservation and a great mining region, while the main line runs around the north shore of Lake Pend d’Oreille, the most beautiful sheet of water in the northwest, and destined sometime to become a popular resort. Beyond the lake is the Flathead Indian Reservation, and at Missoula the two lines of road unite again. This city is a place of much importance, and admirably situated near the Junction of Hell Gate and Bitter Root River, a district of great scenic beauty. Flathead Lake lies sixty miles to the north, an emerald sheet of crystal water reposing within a bed of lofty cliffs, and belted in the center by a chain of wooded islands, while its waters are discharged into the Pend d’Oreille River, that dashes away through deep gorges in tumultuous flow. Forty miles from this picturesque lake are the Two Sisters’ Cascades, which pour over the opposite walls of a colossal amphitheater 2,000 feet high, and then unite to journey through gorge, over waterfall and across lovely meadows, catching perfume and inspiration on their way to the Pacific.

The way thence from Missoula is over a comparatively level stretch of country, until just west of Helena the road strikes the Main Divide of the Rocky Mountains, and to cross this broken region it is compelled to pursue a winding way.

Helena is reputed to be the richest city of its size in all the world, a claim well supported by appearances, for while having probably 15,000 inhabitants, it has all the conveniences of our largest cities, and in no other place of equal population are the public buildings and residences so magnificent and palatial. But aside from its wealth and beauty, the place is the center of a region as remarkable for its scenic attractions as for its silver mines. Eighteen miles north of Helena is the caÑon of Little Prickly Pear, where precipitous walls rise to a varying height of 500 to 1,000 feet, and are gorgeously colored by strata of different formations, blending with hues of trees, shrubs, and vines that tenderly cling to their faces. Near-by is the portal through which the headwaters of the Missouri go madly careening, making a deep roaring sound as they dash between walls 1,000 feet high. Atlantic CaÑon is only three miles further down the river, and next in quick succession appears the Bear’s Tooth, two monoliths that may be distinctly seen from Helena, twenty miles away.

The Montana Central and Great Northern Railroad convey travelers over a good road eighty miles further, to the Falls of the Missouri, three in number, which are scattered over a distance of twelve miles, where the river flows through a caÑon with vertical walls 200 to 500 feet high. We first meet a cascade called Black Eagle Falls, where the entire river drops over a ledge twenty-six feet high, a precursor of the more terrible waterfalls that are to come. The next one to appear in view is Rainbow Falls, where the river, 1,200 feet wide, hurls itself down a perpendicular descent of fifty feet. Six miles further down are the Great Falls, that have a leap of ninety feet, and whose terrible roaring can be heard a dozen miles away. At this point the river has a volume greater than the Mississippi, but is narrowed to 300 feet by walls 200 feet high. An island divides the rushing waters, the half next to the right bank dashing down with such tremendous effect that clouds of spray are sent 200 feet high, which, struck by bright sunbeams, are converted into rainbows, or at times glow with prismatic hues like giant soap-bubbles. That part of the stream flowing to the left passes over a succession of ledges, forming a magnificent cataract of fleecy foam, 200 feet in width and 90 feet in perpendicular elevation. But though these are the principal falls, there are twelve others within a distance of ten miles, having a total descent of 400 feet, and these interruptions in the channel continue, though in a lesser degree, as far down as Fort Benton, which is the head of navigation.

The country east of Helena, along the line of the Northern Pacific, presents no variation of apparently boundless prairie land, until the Bad Lands of Northern Dakota are reached, which will be hereafter described. One hundred and fifty miles east of the city, however, is the town of Livingston, at which point Yellowstone Park visitors change cars to a branch line that runs fifty miles due south to Cinnabar, which is within a mile of the Wyoming State line, and three miles from the northern boundary of the National Park. We are now upon the borders of the most wondrous region of the earth, the curiosities of which we will now attempt to briefly describe, though words seem to lose their significance when they are used to portray the marvels that exist in this real wonderland.

At Cinnabar, tourists take the stage for a seven miles’ ride to Mammoth Hot Springs Hotel, which is the first and principal hostelry within the park. This ride prepares the visitor for remarkable surprises, for it is through an erratic district of soaring pinnacles, dizzy walls and chaotic formations, stranger and more weird than the gate-way that Cerberus guarded. Away up on the apex of the first tall spire of stone that has broken away from the caÑon walls of Gardiner River, is seen an eagle’s nest, an aerie so lofty that the clouds play about it; so far-reaching skyward that it is tipped with the waking beams of sunlight before day, and is bright with lingering rays when evening shades have descended. By aid of glass the eagle may be seen demurely surveying the world, or in her absence the straining necks of her ambitious brood, watching the neighboring crags for their royal parent’s return. Nothing that I saw in Yellowstone Park impressed me more than this nest of eagles in the azure depths of that perilous peak.

This great National Park is a volcanic plateau some 10,000 feet above sea level, and embraces a territory fifty-five by sixty-five miles, or 3,575 square miles. It was first visited by John Colter, an attachÉ of the Lewis and Clarke exploring expedition in 1806, but it was not until nearly fifty years later that stories told of the region by old trappers and hunters were verified by a visit of members of the Geologic Survey. In 1880 it was made a National Park, since which time it has been under the immediate control of the Secretary of the Interior, who appoints a superintendent with headquarters at the Mammoth Hot Springs, and polices the park with a company of cavalry, whose principal care is the protection of game. So faithfully has this duty been executed that the park now abounds with deer, buffalo, elk, bear, and a few mountain lions, besides a great abundance of small game and water-fowl. Upon alighting from the stage at Mammoth Hot Springs Hotel, the first objects that attract the interest of visitors are the pink terraced springs and Cap of Liberty, which are in the front-yard, so to speak. The springs, fifty in number, cover an area of 170 acres and by a constant deposition of carbonate of lime have built up, terrace upon terrace, a mound fully 200 feet high.

The springs have their source somewhere within an active volcanic belt, and thus heated by internal fires they pour out their waters at a temperature of 112° to 163° Fahrenheit, which, acting upon the soft limestone, dissolves and converts it into what geologists call travertine, a semi-crystalline deposit that quickly hardens upon coming in contact with the air. When first observed, the terraces resemble a snow-bank, but by other writers they have been compared to the terminal front of a glacier, and again like a foaming cascade suddenly turned into stone. Streaks and patches of red, yellow and green seen upon the white slopes mark the course of overflowing water, while clouds of steam float lightly upward from the many springs, but only to quickly disappear.

There are in all eight well-defined benches, each with a more or less level surface, and terminating with vertical fronts to the next terrace below. Near the terraces, though on a bench of ground by itself, is Liberty Cap, a pillar forty-three feet high and twenty feet in diameter, with sphinx-like profile, the cone of a hot spring long since extinct. Close-by is a similar monolith, not so tall, called the Devil’s Thumb, a name readily suggested by the proximity of the springs to Pluto’s dominion, as some will have it, and the gossip that Satan’s hand is in all the region thereabout.

In wandering around the terraces the visitor is sure to have his surprise quickened by the brightly-tinted basins, and the red and orange slopes overflowed by the hot waters. These colors are due to the presence of minute algÆ, or water-plants, whose life is strangely enough supported by the hot water and the lime held in solution; for investigation has disclosed the astonishing fact that the chief work of these microscopic plants is the separation from the water of the carbonate of lime, which they cause by abstracting the carbonic acid.

The view from these mammoth terraces is picturesque beyond comparison: The dark and lofty summit of Sepulchre Mountain shows its drowsy head near-by on the north; while the upper valley of the Yellowstone, and the jagged peaks of Snowy Range, are seen to the northeast, between Sepulchre and the long face of Mount Evarts. In the southeast the eye dwells pleasantly upon the distant view of Lava Creek and Undine Falls, with many snow-white peaks, standing like sentinels around this wizard realm; while Bunsen Peak keeps watch towards the south, its dark slopes making an effective background to the white hills of hot spring deposit.

When we turn from viewing the surrounding scenery and begin to examine particularly each separate formation, we find near the center of this sublimated field a blue spring, brilliant as a sapphire, and clear as a diamond, with a deep and irregular rim all around it, as if nature had made an effort to retain its beautiful waters. This spring is fifteen by twenty feet in area, and is in a state of constant agitation. The sides and bottom of the basin are formed of pure white travertine, while the varying depths cause the water to appear all shades between a deep peacock-blue and a light nile-green. Issuing at a temperature of 165°, the water contains a considerable amount of gas, which escapes at the surface of the pool, thus causing the flow to rise in the form of a little dome, while a pulsating movement is imparted which sends out waves that ripple across the water and curl over the shallow rim of the bowl, filling other basins along its course. These terraced overflow basins, thus formed, are a most striking feature of the springs. No description can do justice to their beauty, for neither the delicate fretwork of their walls, the frosted surface of the glistening deposit, nor the brilliant colors of the pools and rivers can be adequately described.

In many places the overflow is in thin sheets and little cascades, while yellow, sulphur-coated threads of algÆ are abundant, though they do not impart their color to the water, for the exquisite blues and greens of the hottest basins are due solely to the varying depths of water. On the other hand, the bright lemon, red and green shades of the cooler pools are entirely vegetable in their nature, and due to the presence of algÆ lining the basins and striping their outer walls.

The upper basins are generally shallow, because of the rapid deposit of lime, but this deposition occurs after the overflow, thus forming what is called the Marble Basins, after which, the water being somewhat cooled, the deposit is slower. Accordingly, we find that the lower slopes are exquisitely fringed with slender stalactites and pillars, forming the beautiful Pulpit Basins as shown in the illustration.

The Government has expended large sums of money in making roads through the most interesting sections of the park, and over these we pursued a greater part of our way in reaching the places which we desired to photograph. A stage runs through the park, in which visitors may make the tour in six days, but for manifest reasons we traveled by private conveyances, camping out as often as we took quarters at the several hotels located at convenient distances along the route.

Leaving the Mammoth Hot Springs terraces, whose incomparable beauties must ever remain as a delightful remembrance, we traveled southward by the Hoodoos, and entered the Golden Gate, where a part of the road is built over a caÑon and another part is carved out of the cliffs, along which there is a charm following every footstep. On the one side rise precipitous walls, while on the other is a gorge of almost infinite depth, through which plunges Gardiner River, broken and foaming with cascade and waterfall. Beyond the gates there is a brief level, then down again among fresh curiosities the route leads by the Devil’s Paint-Pots, Crystal Spring, pretty Beaver Lake, and along a mountain base covered with blasted pines. Then another ascent, until the altitude is so great that we found snow in considerable patches as late as July 1st. But besides the bubbling springs and sputtering sulphur vats, whose locations were marked here and there in the distance by their streams of vapor, our interest was chained by the obsidian cliffs on our left, a black mountain of mineral glass that sparkled with unnatural lustre because of the dusky background, while strewed about were broken bits that made the spot resemble the remains of a glass factory.

At every few paces we startled a woodchuck which, satisfying his curiosity with a glance, quickly disappeared among the stones. Deer were occasionally seen scampering through the dead pine forest, and as we reached Beaver Lake two solemn blue cranes crossed our road and tried to hide their brood in a patch of tall grass. The hoarse “konks” of the cock, the thin “peeps” of the young, and the peculiar motions of the hen in her great agitation, were extremely amusing.

Twenty miles from Mammoth Hot Springs Hotel is the Norris Geyser Basin, where we were entertained with our first view of the spouting volcanoes throwing up streams of hot water and great volumes of vapor. This is indeed the Devil’s Kitchen, for besides the hellish aspect of boiling caldrons, the air is charged with those sulphurous fumes that are said to certainly indicate his activity and immediate presence. There is no sign of soil thereabout, for the surface is incrusted with a deep deposit of lime, in which vents occur to allow the escape of gases and to give intimation of the fiery furnace which is raging beneath our feet. We counted eighteen geysers from the insecure position which we took; the most of them, however, were infantile and irregular in their action, sending up a shower of mud at occasional intervals, and then subsiding to gather fresh force; but steam poured out continually, and when we moved a little further south, the roar of Steamboat Geyser fell on our ears. It, too, acted spasmodically; but every few minutes there was a deep rumbling, followed quickly by a respiration, deep, powerful and awful as the rush of a hurricane, then a regurgitation, as if the earth were swallowing up again the gas and steam which she had poured out.

On the brink of this infernal pit, distributed over a considerable space, were transparent pools of water of the most brilliant hues, indigo, orange, carmine and emerald, down in whose depths are queer formations of petrifying algÆ, and bubbles that look like pearls. Near this beautifully colored and transparent spring is Mud Geyser, a basin full of mush, that lazily sputters as though it were hung over a slow fire, awaiting the spoon of a tardy diner. There is another mud volcano near Sulphur Mountain, the crater of which is thirty feet deep and twenty-five feet in diameter, and which is in a state of constant ebullition, throwing up great quantities of mud and steam to a height of 200 feet, and at times shaking the mountain with its terrible convulsions. Great as were the wonders which we saw in Norris Basin, it proved to be only the threshold of the colossal, the overpowering, the awful sights which we were yet to behold.

The well-constructed roadway leading south from the Norris Geyser Basin is along the Gibbon River, by Johnson Peak and Hot Springs, into Gibbon CaÑon, which, however, is distinguished for its gracefully sloping sides rather than for its cliffs and depths. A little way to the west the caÑon becomes wilder, and just below Beryl Spring is a high shelf in the river, over which the rushing waters plunge in a fall of ninety feet. But the descent is gradual, so that instead of torrential dash the waters, after breaking on the sharp projections of the rock face, slide into the river below and then speed away to join Madison River, into which is drained the overflow of the many active geysers. Though not precipitous, Gibbon Falls is a beautiful sheet of liquid crystals, rolling down terraces and ledges exquisitely colored by the presence of different minerals, and in the sunlight exhibiting a sheen and brilliance almost equal to that of Yellowstone Falls. The charm is enhanced by deep coverts of pine that are reflected in the placidly-flowing stream above and below the falls, and by the castellated bluffs that confine the waters. The prospect from the caÑon walls is also delightful, for towards every point there is a lovely panorama of remarkable diversity, including mountains, valleys, parks, rivers, and geysers, the latter showing themselves many miles north and south, while steam from boiling caldrons rolls skywards and gathers in volume until immense cumulus clouds are formed that hang ominously above the valley, or are drifted away to break upon the sides of the surrounding mountains.

Continuing our trip southward through Gibbon CaÑon and by Gibbon Falls, whence the landscape is more level, we came at length to Fire-Hole Creek and the Lower Geyser Basin. We were now in the region of giant geysers, in the visible presence of the most terrible manifestations of nature. In this pit of Acheron, this purgatory of ferment and explosion, covering an area of forty square miles, are almost countless geysers, distributed in seven groups, as if banded in rivalry. One of these groups is near the center of the basin and has one hundred orifices that spout steam and water, resembling from a distance an extensive manufactory. The most interesting feature of the Lower Basin is Fountain Geyser, which throws a column of water twenty feet in diameter to a height of fifty feet, though it plays only at intervals of many days. Near-by is Monument Basin, so called from the formations of every conceivable shape which distinguish it. Evangeline Geyser is another eruptive volcano that throbs and thumps violently when in action, but never casts up water more than a few feet above the surface; it has a beautifully scalloped rim, with small bowls of exquisite incrustations, resembling some of the basins in Mammoth Terraces. It is in the Upper Basin, eight miles further south, however, that the greatest of geysers are to be seen, though the area covered is scarcely three square miles, and the springs are less numerous. In this region, very near to Fire-Hole River, is a spot called Hell’s Half-Acre, a designation peculiarly appropriate by reason of the purgatorial wonders which exist therein, and the activity with which old Nick’s stokers stir the subterranean furnaces. The largest geyser in this fiery-haunted district, and indeed much the largest in the world, is Excelsior Geyser, which has a mouth two hundred feet wide and has been known to cast up a flood of water two hundred feet high, carrying with it large stones rent from the walls of its Plutonian caverns. Excelsior displays its power at very rare intervals, sometimes remaining quiet for years; but to our surprise and joy it was in a state of violent eruption during our visit, and thus gave us an opportunity not only to see but to photograph its immensity and awfulness.

The most interesting, because always reliable, is Old Faithful Geyser, which throws up a stream of hot water six feet in diameter 130 feet high every fifty-seven minutes, and sustains the flow for a period of five minutes. The amount of water thus discharged every hour is 100,000 gallons, or enough to supply a small river. The Bee-hive, located on the opposite side of the river, blows up a column of water three feet in diameter to a height of 250 feet, and plays, generally, for fifteen minutes, but at intervals of twenty-four hours. The Giantess is, for several reasons, the most interesting of all the 700 geysers within National Park. One may approach to the very brink of her crater, which is twenty feet across, and look down one hundred feet into her hot throat and hear the fierce gurgling of water, but none is visible until an eruption is about to occur. Then the sputtering increases, deep groans are audible, and a burst of steam is followed by a discharge of water that shoots upward in a succession of jets. The first main column sent up reaches a height of sixty feet, through which there are projected small streams a foot in diameter to a height of 250 feet, thus making a magnificent display for twenty minutes which nothing artificial can ever rival.

Giant Geyser is less pretentious than the Giantess, having a ragged cone that is broken on one side, and through a vent eight feet in diameter a discharge is made at irregular intervals, when a stream of water is tossed to a height varying from 90 to 200 feet, and the activity sometimes continues for two or three hours. Other geysers that make fine displays are the Sawmill, Turban, Grotto, Punch-Bowl, Soda, Grand, Fan, and Riverside, some of which are never quiet, while others play only occasionally. It has been found by experiment that foreign substances thrown into some of these craters create an agitation that frequently results in eruptions; the introduction of soap or lye is invariably attended by some manifestation even in the quiet geysers, while the active ones are by this means made to flow again almost immediately after an eruption has taken place.

After two days spent among the Upper and Lower Basin Geysers, with our cameras in constant service, for the sun shone brightly, we went a few miles further down to Lone Star Geyser, Hot Springs, and to the high lands above Grant’s Pass. From this latter point of observation a magnificent view was had and photographs obtained of the Great Teton Mountains and Snake River Valley, which fill the distance with lines of hazy grandeur. Turning then towards the east we crossed Norris Pass (8,350 feet altitude), and after twenty miles of travel emerged from the forest and reached the Thumb of Yellowstone Lake, as it is called. This magnificent body of water is fifteen miles wide by twenty-five in length, and is a basin of wonderful beauty, thus described by Mr. Langford:

“Secluded amid the loftiest peaks of the Rocky Mountains, possessing strange peculiarities of form and beauty, this watery solitude is one of the most attractive objects in the world. Its southern shore, indented with long, narrow islets, not unlike the frequent fiords of Iceland, bears testimony to the awful upheaval and tremendous force of the elements which resulted in its creation. Islands of emerald hue dot its surface, and a margin of sparkling sands forms its setting. The winds, compressed in their passage through the mountain gorges, lash it into a sea as terrible as the fretted ocean, covering it with foam.”

In several places along the shore, and even projecting from the lake, are several boiling hot springs, which flowing with clear water holding lime in solution, pyramidal cones are thus built around their outlets, giving to them the appearance of ant-mounds when seen at a distance. Professor Hayden startles us with the statement that he has caught fish from the ice-cold lake while standing on these mounds, and dropping them into the craters of hot water, had the novel experience of cooking the fish without removing them from the hook.

Traveling along the shores of Yellowstone Lake for a distance of something more than thirty miles, we came to Lake Hotel, and beyond that the cliffs, which, however, are scarcely deserving of notice when brought into comparison with the Columnar Cliffs of the Yellowstone CaÑon, soon to be described. Continuing our circuit of the park, we followed the main road, running along Yellowstone River, past Mud Geyser and Sulphur Mountain, until we found accommodations at CaÑon Hotel, the center of another district of wonders, where we tarried for three days, to employ our energies in taking views of the extraordinarily grand and awfully imposing natural objects which cluster hereabout in the CaÑon of the Yellowstone.

GENERAL VIEW OF THE NORRIS BASIN GEYSERS.—This beautiful photograph will give a good idea of the vast number of geysers in this locality, all of which emit boiling water and mud. Special attention is called to the accuracy and beauty of this superb photograph. Not only does it show the steam and water of the geysers as naturally as they would appear in reality, but all the other minutiÆ of the scene are perfect, even to the shadow of the trees on the roadway in the foreground.