Mammoth Springs Hotel,
Yellowstone National Park, June 23, 1892.

LEAVING Livingston at 9 a.m., we travelled by rail forty-two miles to Cinnabar, the entrance to the National Park. We passed along the valley of the Yellowstone River, now a much swollen, turbulent, and rushing stream, hemmed in by mountains reaching their lofty heads thousands of feet high. In one place there had been a land-slide some hundreds of feet long, which had carried down all the earth and trees into the valley, leaving the rock bare, and presenting a very rugged appearance. There were numerous farms and ranches on the route, with cattle and cultivated fields. The road bed was in good order, the cars excellent, and the trip exceedingly interesting and enjoyable. At Cinnabar, we took a stage for eight miles to this hotel. The road is a very good one, passing over rushing streams and along the bases of great mountains, amidst magnificent scenery. Beautiful flowers line the way and are in the fields, while the mountains are partly covered with snow. We hear that the road to the lake is blocked with snow, and impassable. This hotel is an excellent one, the food, attendance, and rooms are good, and for a day we are resting preparatory to commencing the tour of the park. Here are located the barracks for the United States soldiers in charge of the reservation, these being now two hundred mounted men, who act as police, and constantly patrol the roads, watching for poachers, and generally keeping everything in order. From the front of the hotel we look upon the hot springs, which have been throwing out hot water and steam, no doubt for ages, and have formed a large terraced hill of soda or lime-like material, the surplus water finding its way, partly through subterranean passages, to the river.