evada, east of California, is a wretched waste, and like Arizona, described some pages back, mostly, if not all, desert. True, in both cases, I only saw the parts traversed by the rail, but it is absurd to suppose, were any part otherwise, it would not have been selected for the line. The whole distance across the state is, say, by rail, 350 miles, and certainly 250 of that is a sandy waste. Then came the state of "Utah," famous as the abode of the Mormons, and part of this was also bare sand, but not like Nevada, for where irrigated, as California, it seemed fertile.

This was the last I saw of the American Deserts, and recalling the hundreds of miles of such I had traversed in my two journeys, I wondered greatly at the ignorance of Western nations on this head. It may be so, because, if you look at the map, you will see the parts described by me as desert are far out west, and that few Europeans go there. Of course Americans do, but even with them it is the exception, and quite in keeping with national characteristics to keep it quiet. The day will come that we shall know how many square miles of desert there are in the States. When it does many, not I, will be surprised.

In "Utah" we skirted the north side of the Great Salt Lake, but saw nothing of the Mormons. Salt Lake City, their abode, is perhaps 100 miles south, at the southern end of the lake. The next state we entered was "Wyoming," which differs much from either "Nevada" or "Utah." Here are great rolling plains of grass, such as hold in Texas, and cattle raising is carried on over the whole state, at least so I was told. It is a large country, about 350 miles long east and west, and 250 broad. The line of Rocky Mountains runs through it, and some of the scenery is superb. As far as abundant food in the shape of grass goes, Wyoming must be a good ranch locality. But the winters are very severe, and the snow lies a long while on the ground. At such times, of course, cattle have all to be more or less sheltered and fed, which diminishes profits, and great losses are experienced from the extreme cold, which kills many. Here in England we think it very cold if the quicksilver shows 10° (Fahr.) below freezing-point, that is 22°. Zero there is not thought cold, and the thermometer varies between that and 35° below zero, for two or three months. Fancy 35° below zero which is 67° below freezing-point! I have experienced similar cold in Norway, and recall how acutely painful it was. The English climate is far from perfect, but in our immunity from extremes of temperature we are blessed.

Tempting, therefore, as the grassy plains of Wyoming looked in a ranch view after the bare Californian ground, the long snow-sheds we passed through told me much, which inquiry confirmed, as regards the cold in winter, and neither my sons nor I cared to stop short there.

I had never seen snow-sheds over rails before. They are simply long wooden tunnels, erected above ground over the line in spots where snow is likely to drift and block it.

The next state we entered was that of our destination, viz. Colorado, and what I saw of it, in the 120 miles we traversed before arriving at the capital, "Denver," I liked well. Grass and to spare everywhere, well-wooded in parts, some exquisite scenery, and so on. "This is the country," I said to my sons; "glad you brought me here."

We reached "Denver" in due course, a good-looking town, and put up at an hotel near the rail. After the journey accomplished, about 1700 miles, and sitting up two nights, we were pretty well knocked up, so had a hurried dinner and went to bed. But alas! not to sleep. The creatures that attacked us were not fleas, something worse. I have such a horror of the little black thing, we all have, I need not define it. They were in swarms. We had turned in confidingly, we jumped out of bed horrified and lit the candle. They were in dozens on the whitewashed walls, and running all over the beds. To remain was impossible, but it was too late to seek fresh quarters, and we spent the night on tables and chairs below in the bar!

Next morning I complained to the landlord.

"Never heard of such a thing. You must have brought them with you, I guess."

"What, hundreds of them? Come upstairs and look."

He did so, but he did not give in. "Well, it may be some of them belong to the place, but I guess you brought most of 'em."

He was of the true Yankee type—the worst type on earth. So I cared to say no more, but paid the bill and went elsewhere, finding cleanliness, comfort, and as much courtesy as you look for in America, in the next hotel.

"Denver" is a clean, commodious, and pleasant town enough. There are many of the Yankee type there, but also some very nice people. We spent some days inquiring about ranches, and then made trips out to inspect them. I need not drag the reader with me on these little journeys; we mostly travelled in a light one-horse van, taking our food with us, and, as the weather was charming, camping out at night. Except in the winter, when it is far too cold, at night in any case, Colorado is just the country for this gipsy life. The atmosphere is wonderfully dry, and there is no danger whatever in sleeping outside without any shelter. This free kind of life has always had a great charm for me, and, except in winter, Colorado is just the place for it.

After some time I found a ranch to suit me. I bought it, the cattle, and everything on it. The former owner and his family were not long ere they left, and then my sons entered on their duties. They understood the work, I did not, but I used to potter about and help in any way I could.

The profits on a ranch are derived by breeding cattle and horses, and selling the surplus stock, also from dairy work. Firstly, as to breeding cattle. The procedure is different in different parts. Climate principally regulates it. In Texas, a low latitude (33°), the winters are very mild, and the cattle there are never housed, they wander over the vast plains the year round. In Wyoming, and Montana and Dakota which join it, the cold in winter is intense, and the snow lies long. When the land is snow-bound, cattle, of course, can find no food for themselves, and during such time they have to be sheltered (scarcely housed) and fed. To do this costs money, and it goes without saying that in this respect the warm sites are the better. More, in the cold localities many cattle are lost in hard winters, simply frozen to death. But there is compensation as in most of the actions of nature. The cold localities have better grass in the summer.

In latitudes like Texas there is no necessity to grow crops for winter food. In the cold localities much has to be done in this way. Colorado is between these two extremes, latitude about 38°, nearly the same as San Francisco. But it is far warmer in summer, much colder in winter, than that capital. This is in a great measure due to its being so far inland, and also to the fact that most of the state is high table-land. Thus in Colorado (the snow seldom lies there more than three or four days at a time) the cattle are only sheltered and fed for short periods.

As a rule they calve in the spring. If it is required to increase the stock, only the male two and three years old and any worn out old cows are sold yearly. There is always a market for them; in fact, in spring and summer dealers travel round to the ranches and buy. If the above plan of keeping all the young female stock is followed out, and the mishaps are few, the cattle on a ranch double themselves in three or four years. When the limit a run will carry is attained, all the increase can yearly be sold.

Great numbers of horses are bred on ranches, and it is a question whether these or cattle are the more profitable. Horses are hardier than cattle, stand both heat and cold better. They consequently require less shelter, and also less food in winter, for horses will paw up the snow and find food when cattle cannot do so. They "rustle" better for themselves, as the Americans forcibly express it.

There are no natural enclosures in ranch countries like hedges, though I see not why, in time, there should not be such. In vast plains, such as are found in Texas, I believe ranches are not fenced in at all, and the cattle wander where they will. But in countries like Colorado, where pretty well every acre has an owner, fences are a necessity. The usual one is a barbed wire-fence. This is thus constructed: at distances of 30 or 40 feet, sometimes more, strong poles, 3 feet in the ground, and say 5 feet above it, are set up. Three wires, the lowest say 18 inches from the ground, the second and third, a like distance from the first and second, run from pole to pole, and are attached thereto by iron cleets. This alone, however, would not suffice to keep cattle in the enclosures, for they often charge the fences in great numbers at a time, and would thus easily break through. But the wires are studded at every 18 inches with sharp spikes, which soon teach the cattle that they cannot run against them with impunity. This is why it is called a "barbed wire-fence," and it is a very efficacious one.

On the ranch I had purchased (I called it the Water Ranch as it was exceptionally well watered with two streams running through it), the snow never lies long, not usually more than two or three days after a fall; thus it is only during these short intervals the cattle require to be fed, and in a measure sheltered. But this occurs again and again during the winter, and the food necessary has to be provided and grown during the summer months in the shape of Alfalfa (a peculiar and productive American grass), hay, turnips, and rye. Besides, as all the food the ranch workers require has to be produced at home, there is thus plenty to do in the kitchen-garden, in growing potatoes and other things. Then there is the poultry-yard. Geese, ducks, and fowls are bred in large numbers, and require much attention. Ranch-men naturally live well, for, besides meat and poultry, there is the produce of the dairy, which, in all its shapes—milk by the bucket, cream ad libitum, and butter in abundance—they can revel in. I never was better fed than on the Water Ranch.

The dairy work is very profitable. Either the cream is sent away and sold to butter and cheese factories established for that purpose in ranch localities, or such are manufactured at home, and sent to the market-town for sale. But it will readily be conceived that milking thirty to forty cows, and the dairy-work in all its shapes, gives plenty of work.

I was convinced, after a little experience, that my two sons, alone, could not do all necessary, and as it does not pay to hire labour in the States (wages are so high), and as the cost of the Water Ranch was more than I could afford to give in its entirety to my sons, after my return to England I sold to two young gentlemen the half-interest on the condition that they should at once go out and work there. This they did, and there are thus now four partners with equal interests in the Water Ranch, and working there together.

I think the reader can now, in a measure, appreciate what sort of existence ranch-life is. Early to bed and early to rise, the latter four a.m. in the summer, breakfast at seven, dinner at one, tea at six; work of some kind or the other all day, but not as a rule hard manual work; many interests, absence of care, good food and sound sleep. It is a placid, if not a very intellectual existence; the charms of society, the ameliorating influence of woman, are wanting, but on the principle some hold, though unjustly, that "she" is at the bottom of all calamities, to such, at least, this latter want is not much felt! Civilization, society, has many charms, but their absence is not an unmixed evil. The freedom entailed thereby, the non-existence of social restrictions, are at least advantages ensured.

I had intended to make my home with my sons on the ranch. The roughness of the life in no way disgusted me, for I am accustomed to such, having experienced it in many countries, and in various occupations. But the want of intellectual pursuits, the absence of society, the lack of woman's influence, and the many charms connected therewith, wearied me sadly. In two words I found I was too old for the life, and that I could not, at my age, adapt myself to such great and violent changes. I was happy while there, but I felt it would not do as a continuance, and thus determined, having started my sons and provided for them, to return to Europe.

"Colorado Springs," the great health resort of Western America, is some twenty-five miles only from the Water Ranch. It is, in many respects, an unique Sanitarium, and should therefore be better known than it is to Europeans. Its climatic and soil advantages (the latter no mean factor), as a cure-place for consumption, asthma, bronchitis, and all pulmonary diseases, are perhaps exceptional, for I doubt if any spot on the earth's surface, owing to weather, temperature, elevation, locality, and soil, possesses so dry an air.[8] When we consider how many thousands of young lives, often the flowers of the household flock, here in England alone, succumb to these maladies, how neither age nor sex is spared, it is surely well that such an exceptional cure-place as Colorado Springs existing should be made known far and wide.

I should be quite incompetent myself, from lack of medical knowledge, to dilate on this point satisfactorily, were it not that during a visit of a week to the place, I made the acquaintance of an English physician there of high repute, Doctor S. Edwin Solly, who went there years ago to seek relief himself from some pulmonary complaint (I forget what), found it, and eventually settled there. He gave me a book descriptive of Colorado Springs and Manitou (the latter is the spot, five miles distant, where the medical springs are), which is in two parts. The first is a prize essay by a Mrs. Dunbar, a resident at Colorado Springs, and deals with the climatic, social, and scenic conditions of the Sanitarium as set out in the following notice to her work:—

"In the spring of 1883 a prize of one hundred dollars was offered by a committee of the citizens of Colorado Springs and Manitou for the best article upon these two towns as places of residence and health resorts. Numerous articles were presented and several were of marked merit. Rev. Willis Lord, D. D., and Rev. James B. Gregg, the examining committee, adjudged the prize to Mrs. Simeon J. Dunbar, a resident of Colorado Springs for the past two years, and a correspondent of the Boston press. Mrs. Dunbar has sought to prepare such a statement of facts as she would have welcomed (and believes others desire) when she contemplated making a home in the New West; in this endeavour she has been eminently successful. It is believed that this is the most complete, compact and accurate body of practical information in print concerning these two places, which are becoming more popular every year; and that it will be of great and permanent value to all persons seeking a change of climate or proposing to visit or settle in Colorado."

The second part is written by my friend, Doctor Solly, and treats of the place from a medical point of view. I can, therefore, by giving extracts from the said book, state with very good authority all that is necessary to tell, in the author's own words.

But before I do so, I would, in gratitude to the said Doctor Solly and another, say a few words. My sons, previous to joining me in California, had been several times at Colorado Springs, staying with a Mrs. Garstin, an English lady I had known in London, who has now finally taken up her abode there. Her kindness to my poor boys (who were living a hard life, working as common labourers for ranch and farm owners in the neighbourhood, and who, it goes without saying, had no spare cash) was excessive. She was as a mother to them, and being far from rich herself the doing so often entailed personal privations. Both my sons, while with her, fell ill, and at her kind instance Dr. Solly attended them gratis. This was no exceptional case, he is one of those "who do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame." When, therefore, I went from the Water Ranch to Colorado Springs, partly to see the place, partly to get cured of a sprained back which some farm work had entailed, I went straight to Doctor Solly, both for medical aid, and to thank him for his kindness to my boys. I was, indeed, pleased to make his and Mrs. Solly's acquaintance, and they both, thinking I must be dull all alone at the hotel, insisted on my dining with them daily during my stay. The doctor soon put me all right, and I spent a happy week wandering in the neighbourhood, climbing the Rocky Mountains, and enjoying society at his house in the evening. Surely one may dilate, even in print, on the qualities of individuals of the fair sex if it be all praise. Mrs. Solly is an American lady, and her, among others, I had in my mind when I dilated on the intellectual and broad views, with charitable tendencies, of the best class of our transatlantic sisters. With a high order of intellect, and a capacity for appreciation such as is granted to few women, Mrs. Solly was, in two words, one of the most charming companions I have ever met. On dit, and the idea is a nice one, that in many married lives the wife strives to, and often attains the husband's level. Sometimes, more rarely, it is the other way, and the woman's intellect soars above the man's, while he may, or may not, try and climb so high. In either case, if even perfect success is not attained, the intercourse between the two benefits the weaker vessel, be that male or female. But the above theory did not, in either form, hold good in those I wish to portray. Both were highly intellectual, yet were they quite different. Their individuality had not been affected, as far as I could judge, by marriage. Perhaps the companionship begotten thus is the most charming of any in marital life, but it is rare.

Of the daughter I need only say that she was a fit daughter for such parents, and seemed to me to partake of the individual excellences of both, while the English ideas received from the father, the American from the mother, made a very charming diversity in her individual character.

Doctor Solly has an extensive practice in Colorado Springs and the neighbourhood, and is reputed to be, I should think justly, the first medical man there. What he says, therefore, on the advantages of the Sanitarium deserves every attention, the more so that he honestly points out, in more than one place, the individual conditions which are more likely to receive harm than good from a residence on such high, dry table-land.

I will now proceed to make extracts from the combined book of Mrs. Dunbar and Doctor Solly, and as, in a medical point of view, it explains much, I will first set out the preface to Doctor Solly's work in extenso.

"A committee appointed by our citizens having requested the County Medical Society to select one of their number to write an article, for general publication, upon the qualities of this locality as a health-resort, the choice fell upon me, and the following pages have been written to comply with this request. The opinions therein expressed are set forth upon my individual responsibility, and not as being the combined outcome of the views of the County Society at large. I am, however, indebted to my colleagues for several valuable suggestions and points of experience, but with respect to a subject so complicated as Climatic Influences the saw applies 'Tot homines, tot sententiÆ.' Nine years ago I resigned the practice of medicine in England to try the influence of the Colorado climate upon my health, with satisfactory results, and the opinions and statements here advanced are founded upon my experience and observation as a practitioner of medicine in this locality for the last nine years. The article being limited did not permit the publication of clinical records or extended discussion of the many interesting problems referred to, but is put forward as an effort to assist physicians and their patients in answering the often recurring question of the wisdom of a change to Colorado, from some safe standpoint and not merely from hearsay reports unsupported by evidence or reasonable inference. Viewing this subject of Climate as resting upon a scientific basis, and not alone upon empirical knowledge gained in particular regions, I have followed the plan of first stating the facts and opinions that are generally known or accepted concerning the features and essentials of climates in general, and their influence upon the healthy body; secondly, giving the general features of elevated climates and their effects both in health and disease, and finally, comparing these general effects with the special effects observed in this particular locality. Thus I have endeavoured to show good reason for the faith that is in me, by connecting this fragmentary study of climate with the whole great subject of climatology."

"S. Edwin Solly."
"Colorado Springs, 1883."

Colorado Springs is thus described by Mrs. Dunbar.

"Pike's Peak Range is the most eastern spur of the Rocky Mountains, taking its name from the Peak itself, which rises high above the rest, viz. 14,150 feet above sea level. This eastern sentinel of the vast Rocky Mountain system has its advance-guard directly in front. Cones, peaks, and great shapeless masses of rock, terminating to the south in Cheyenne Mountain, and in the north in a long chain of lower mountains. Twenty-five miles north from base of Pike's Peak, a ridge of hills, 8000 feet high, called the Divide (the water-shed between the Arkansas and Platte river), shoots out into the east for seventy-five miles, its blue-black outline cut sharply on the northern sky. Nearly 100 miles away the sharp eye will detect the outline of the Spanish Peaks almost upon the New Mexico line.

"Out from this semi-circle of hills and mountains stretch the great plains beyond the distant eastern horizon; not suddenly and in one smooth slope, but foothills and small broken mesas end in scattered and irregular bluffs, these gradually blending and losing themselves in the billowy rolling country, which makes up the eastern plains of Colorado.

"On one of these small mesas, close to the foothills and within the first line of bluffs, is situated Colorado Springs, on a level with the summit of Mt. Washington, in New Hampshire, 6000 feet above the sea.

"Neither nature nor art could design and lay out a more finished and beautiful spot for a town. Nature has made the grading perfect for streets and sidewalks, for drainage and for irrigating ditches. The whole town appears perfectly level, but the mesa has just enough descent towards the south and east to take water from the main irrigating ditch as it enters the town from the north-west, and carry it freely throughout the whole city on each side of every street; four of the main streets and avenues have twelve miles of open boxed ditches about two feet wide running in absolutely straight lines. The lawns and gardens are graded and laid out to correspond with the grade of the ditches, from which they are flooded once a week by a box ditch running under the sidewalk.

"The town was founded in 1871 by a colony composed mostly of gentlemen from Philadelphia who were then projecting and building the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad from Denver. The town plat is three miles long and two wide, laid out in blocks four hundred feet square, separated by streets one hundred feet wide, and every third street an avenue one hundred and forty feet wide. These streets and avenues are bordered by rows of flourishing cottonwoods, twenty-five feet apart, that greedily drink the water running over their roots through the spring and summer. The grass on the sides of these small irrigating ditches is green all summer and sprinkled with bright blossoms, and, with the grateful shade of the cottonwoods, makes pleasant walks through the city, which is full of beautiful homes.

"The houses are built of wood, stone, and brick, put together in all styles, varieties, and combinations of architecture, there are hardly two houses alike in the city, and with combinations of colours as various. Everywhere are well kept gardens and beautiful lawns, for the people like pleasant and large yards as well as wide streets and walks. Each householder takes pride in keeping up his place, even the plainest, and it is a rare thing to find a shabby house and yard. More than half of the dwellings are cottages, but there are many large and handsome houses, notably in the north part of the city, which has been built up rapidly within the last two years. There are several elegant stone residences costing from twenty to forty thousands dollars.

"The public buildings are remarkably fine for so young and small a city. The new hotel, The Antlers, the El Paso Club building, the High School building and Colorado College are built of a fine, beautifully pink-tinted stone taken from the Manitou quarries. The City Hall and business blocks are substantial structures, and the Opera House a fine brick building, is a gem inside, perfect in its arrangements, and fitted and furnished with exquisite taste."

The above description is accurate enough, but it is not right to our ideas to speak of Colorado Springs as a "city." It is only a decent-sized, picturesque town. But the Americans name even five or six houses cities, e.g. the City of Lancaster, in the Antelope Valley, which consisted of an hotel, a rail station, and two or three shops! The Antlers Hotel, alluded to, seemed to me, while I was there, to be a very perfect one.

Doctor Solly, on his part, thus describes this charming town and health resort.

"Colorado Springs is situated upon a plateau 6023 feet above sea-level, latitude 39°, longitude 105°. It is about five miles from the foothills in which the eastern slope of the Rocky Mountains terminates and from which the great plains stretch 800 miles east to the Missouri river, south to the Gulf of Mexico, and north to the Black Hills.

"Colorado Springs cannot strictly be called a mountain health-resort, for it is actually situated upon the first plateau of the great plains, but is surrounded on three sides by a semi-circle of hills. Immediately to the west is the great mountain of Pike's Peak, 8000 feet above it and to the summit on an air-line ten miles distant from this the shoulders spread, to the south-west, terminating abruptly in a much smaller but very picturesque mountain named Chiann, while to the north they merge into a spur called the Divide, which melts away eastward into the rolling prairie, first throwing off, some four miles to the east, another spur, this breaking into the irregular shapes of bluffs curves towards the south, extending the shelter that the mountains on the west afford sufficiently to break the force of wind from the north-east, and leaving the plateau open to the plains in its southern and south-easterly aspects.

"The barriers from the wind and weather that this semi-circle just described affords, being an average distance of four miles from the edge of the plateau upon which the town is spread, do not detract from its openness or free exposure to the sun. The Peak lying to the west robs it of the direct effect of the last beams in setting but gives a longer twilight than is usual on this continent. The value of this semi-circle as a protection from storms is especially in the attraction it affords to the clouds that form upon the Peak, drawing the storms along its ridges to the north-east on one side or the south-west on the other, and thus frequently leaving the plateau free from the rain or snow that forms upon the mountains."

Again he thus remarks on the soil, the drainage, and the water-supply, all of them so important in a sanitary point of view.

"There is a top soil of about two feet, below which sand and gravel are found to an average depth of sixty feet, when a clay bed is struck which follows the slope of the surface and the fall of the water-shed to the south. The soil, therefore, is naturally absolutely dry beyond what little moisture the top soil can hold to feed the grass, and with as perfect drainage as could be devised.

"The drainage is into leaching pits which have ventilating pipes in them and in the connecting soil pipes. As no water is taken from the soil and the ground is extremely dry and porous, this system works without danger. The smaller and older houses, however, mostly have earth-closets.

"Irrigating ditches supply the lawns and trees with water, and are further supplemented by that which is conveyed in iron pipes for drinking and domestic purposes. This supply is brought a distance of seven miles from a pure mountain stream, taken at a point among the foothills, above all danger of contamination. The pressure is sufficient to throw the water above the highest houses without the need of fire-engines, and the amount of air bubbles confined in the water gives it a most refreshing taste, but a milky appearance when first drawn, which, as the air escapes, leaves it beautifully bright and clear. The supply is ample, so that baths and water-closets can be well flushed."

Mrs. Dunbar remarks as follows on the water supply, how the town is lighted, and the scenery.

"A complete system of water-works supplies the city with the purest water, brought seven miles in pipes from Ruxton's Creek, beyond Manitou, a clear, pure stream, abundantly fed by the springs and melting snows of Pike's Peak. The same pipes passing through Manitou supply that town and its hotels with water.

"A distributing reservoir on a mesa, considerably higher than the city mesa and two miles distant, receives the water. This gives a fine head and good protection against fire. Hydrants are placed a few hundred feet apart, and three efficient fire-companies have only to attach the hose to throw water over any building.

"Besides the temperance provisions for the social benefit of the town, the colony at the same time wisely provided for its permanent improvement and beauty by setting apart the proceeds, above cost, of a large portion of the lots first sold, for the construction of an irrigating canal, and the planting of trees throughout the city; for trees and vegetables do not grow on these mesas and plains without irrigation. This ditch takes water from the Fountain a short distance below Manitou, and, winding round the foothills and mesas to keep its grade, extends for a distance of thirteen miles before it reaches Colorado Springs. From this point, as already stated, branches extend to all parts of the city, and to the vegetable-gardens on the outskirts.

"The city is lighted by gas; the principal business street has a line of herdics, and telephone wires connect all parts of the town.

"The scenery about Colorado Springs, embracing the mountains and the plains, is grand and beautiful. On the western side the mesas skirt the foothills, these swell to mountains which rise one above another till the magnificent dome of Pike's Peak stands alone above them all,

For ever to claim kindred with the firmament,
And be companioned by the clouds of heaven.

The whole mountain is one barren mass of rock as we see it from the town, for the eastern face is open to us almost down to the foothills; deep perpendicular gorges and terrible ravines reveal themselves by narrow white rifts, snow overlappings mark the caÑons and the course of streams. A dense black moss, as it appears to the naked eye, covering some of the slopes and delicately fringing summits and sharp ridges, is in reality a heavy growth of timber, the sturdy pine, the tree beloved of Shakspeare. They cling mostly to the southern slopes, leaping the northern ones to climb the south slope of the next fold, sometimes leaving behind in their hurry a few stragglers whose scrawny branches seem pitifully beckoning their companions to wait."

Of the population and death-rate Dr. Solly writes:—

"The town extends over four square miles, upon which the houses of the 6000 inhabitants are widely scattered. The residence lots are mostly 50 × 190 feet; and the streets and avenues vary from 80 to 125 feet in width. There are therefore none of the objections of a city in respect to overcrowding, and no manufactories or smelters to pollute the air. The death-rate, exclusive of death from consumption, is only 5·6 per 1000; from zymotic diseases, 1·6 per 1000."

There is a very extraordinary and I think an objectionable feature in the town. No alcoholic liquors are allowed to be retailed. Thus if you want even a glass of beer you can't get it. But you can have what you will at home, or, if I remember right, in the principal hotels if you are living there. Temperance in all indulgences is a grand thing, and drunkenness is a beastly habit, but the parental legislation described below by Mrs. Dunbar, scarcely recognizes the liberty of the subject, and is a very strange fact in what is supposed to be the freest country on earth.

"There are no saloons and bars in the city, for this is a temperance town. The colony, after receiving the United States title to the town plat, incorporated the following strong provision into the deed of every lot and piece of ground thereafter sold:—

"'That intoxicating liquors shall never be manufactured, sold, or otherwise disposed of, as a beverage, in any place of public resort, in or upon the premises hereby granted.'

"Provision was also made in all deeds that if these conditions were violated, the land and buildings thereon should revert to the original owners. There have been violations of this clause, and the courts of this state, and the Supreme Courts of the United States, having decided in favour of the provision, valuable property has been lost to the owner."

Colorado Springs is a misnomer, inasmuch as the medical springs are not there but at Manitou, five miles off, in the heart of the mountains, and in superb scenery. Mrs. Dunbar thus describes it:—

"Five miles west of Colorado Springs, in the midst of the hills, lies Manitou, at the foot of Pike's Peak, in the beautiful valley of the Fountain, out of whose banks bubble the mineral springs that have made this place the most fashionable summer resort of the West. It is a small and quiet town in itself, of about five hundred inhabitants, with churches, and schools, and pleasant residences, and four large, first-class hotels. During the summer months it swarms with life; its hotels overflow, and private houses take in the strangers; summer cottages and tents are perched like birds' nests on the hillsides, among the rocks and in the caÑons, and in every available place.

"The Fountain is a stream of clear, swift-running water that comes from high up among the mountains, through Manitou Park and down through the Ute Pass, forming there the beautiful Rainbow Falls. Ruxton's Creek, flowing down Engleman's CaÑon, joins the Fountain at Manitou. In this caÑon of remarkable beauty are several iron springs, the best known and oftenest visited being the Iron Ute. On either bank of the Fountain are scattered the other springs. Their abundant waters overflowing into the Fountain have coloured the rocks and earth with the mineral matter which they contain. Rocks near the Iron Ute look like huge blocks of iron. About the Shoshone, rocks and earth are clothed with a yellow, mosslike crust. Down the sides of the Navajo and Manitou the water trickles over rocks that are white with soda, and striped with green and peacock blue.

"There are six or seven springs in all. Their Indian names and legends are all that remain to remind us of our red brothers, whose offerings to the 'Manitou' of the 'medicine waters' filled the basins of the springs and hung from the neighbouring trees and bushes when the 'pale face' invaded this their favourite camping-ground. The springs differ much in their properties of iron, sulphur, and soda. Some of the waters are taken as a pleasant draught; others should be used only as a medicine, taken when needed and then discontinued; their temperature varies from 43° to 56° Fahr.

"Pipes convey the water from some of the springs to the bath-houses. A large bath-house has just been completed, fitted with every modern convenience and aid to health and comfort. It is two stories high, with wide piazzas and balconies. On the first floor are the bathing-rooms, parlours, and dressing-rooms; above are reading and reception-rooms and the physician's office. No expense has been spared in making it complete in every particular.

"The surroundings of Manitou are particularly charming, and even without its mineral springs it would be a favourite resort. Mountains high and low shut it closely in. Joined hand in hand like a company of eager children, they press and crowd around the lovely spot, those outside peering over the heads and shoulders of their companions. Calmly the grand old peak looks over them all down into the loveliest places."

Dr. Solly writes thus of Manitou and its springs:—

"The statements concerning the climate of Colorado Springs applies to Manitou, with important modifications owing to its being in a valley instead of on a plateau. The general modifying influences of valleys are confirmed by our local experience. The summer is somewhat cooler and damper, while the winter is slightly less dry and warmer, being more sheltered, the only wind blowing with direct force being the west, which though it comes from the mountains is usually warm. The hours of daylight are shorter.

"The Springs all contain a moderate quantity of carbonate of soda and minor ingredients, and some also iron and Glauber's salts. They are cold, and charged to saturation with carbonic acid, which increases the activity of their properties and makes them extremely palatable. They are peculiarly adapted for drinking and bathing in cases of anÆmia and in most chronic stomach, liver, and kidney affections occurring in debilitated persons with whom the climate agrees. A detailed account of these waters will be found in my pamphlet on Manitou, published by the Gazette Publishing Company, Colorado Springs."

Mrs. Dunbar thus describes one of the famous passes in the Rocky Mountains near Manitou.

"The Ute Pass, following up the course of the Fountain, was an old Indian trail into the parks and mountains higher up. Later on, in the gold excitement of 1859, when the rush was made to Pike's Peak, and later still, after the unprecedented excitement and the settlement of Leadville, before the railroad was built, the Pass was thronged with camp-trains pushing their way into the mountains. Now the tourist, the pleasure-seeker and the invalid go leisurely over a good road to pass a delightful summer among the beautiful parks through which it leads. One of these is Manitou Park, which is a summer camping-ground much frequented. The situation is very delightful and its summer hotel is good."

And again the beautiful seven falls in Cheyenne CaÑon, she thus speaks of:—

"South Cheyenne is deep and narrow, and nearly a mile long, with perpendicular walls of solid granite rising hundreds of feet and in places over a thousand feet, naked and smooth, with only occasional rifts. It is winding in its course, and narrows into gloomy rock-bound cells or widens into pleasant amphitheatres. A small stream runs quickly through the narrow rocky bed, pushing out around great boulders and leaping over the small ones, forming innumerable cascades that foam and gurgle and sing low quiet songs. At the head of the caÑon the water falls three hundred feet, vainly trying to find a resting-place in its seven leaps to the bottom. Stairs have been built to the top of these falls, where are grand views of the caÑon and the plains."

The society in Colorado Springs and Manitou is thus detailed by Mrs. Dunbar:—

"The society is the very best; people of culture and refinement, and many possessing much wealth, have been attracted here by the climate and surroundings, and these have drawn others of like tastes and habits, till on this little mesa where the mountains and the plains meet, there has grown up in a few short years a city of nearly six thousand people, 'the cream of eastern society.' Although Colorado Springs is pre-eminently a health resort, and the health resort of the West, and although 'wealthy invalids from the East make up a good part of the population of the city,' others besides invalids are settled here. Men of means from the East owning large herds of cattle and sheep that roam over the great western plains from Montana to Mexico have found it best to make a home for themselves nearer their business interests, and seeking the best place have come to Colorado Springs. Others interested in the mineral wealth of the Rocky Mountains, especially in Colorado, Utah, and Old and New Mexico, have also settled here.

"Unlike many of the towns and cities of the West, Colorado Springs is not cosmopolitan; it has scarcely any French, German, or Irish element. The people are from the older states of the Union, and from Canada, England, and Scotland; hence an entirely English-speaking community. The people as a whole are probably better educated and possess more wealth than those of an eastern town of the same size. It is more New-England-like in the general make-up of its social, religious, and educational characteristics than any town west of the Mississippi. The poorer people are a respectable class who have received some social and educational advantages; none but enterprising or well-to-do people would ever cross the plains to establish a new home in the West."

On the same point, education, and the accessibility of Colorado Springs, Dr. Solly writes:—

"There is an excellent college, good schools, and private teachers for those who have children to be educated, while for adults, attendance on one or more of the courses of lectures at the College offers the means of passing an hour or so a day in profitable and interesting study. Churches of all denominations are well supported. Two free reading-rooms and a library are open to visitors, and an attractive club welcomes strangers with a good introduction at moderate fees.

Colorado Springs is upon the main line of the Denver and Rio Grande Railway, which follows the course of the eastern slope of the Rocky Mountains, sending branches westward through the mountains in all directions and eastward connecting with nearly all the trans-continental routes, being seventy-five miles south of Denver, where it joins the Union Pacific, and Chicago, Burlington and Quincy, and forty miles north of Pueblo, where it connects with the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe. It is less than four days' journey to either the Atlantic or Pacific coasts, while Europe can be reached in fourteen days. For invalids it is wiser, however, to prolong these periods by frequent stoppages. Access is easy from this point to other desirable places of about the same elevation, so that the invalid can keep up the benefit that altitude affords and enjoy the pleasure and advantage of a change."

Of the climate at Colorado Springs, Mrs. Dunbar writes:—

"It is not the purpose of this article to encroach upon the subject-matter properly belonging to a physician, but a few general remarks concerning the climate and its effects upon lung diseases will not be out of place.

"The marked features of this climate are the dry atmosphere and clear sunlight for more than 300 days in the year.

"This year, in February and March for seven successive weeks, there were but five cloudy days, and during each of those five days the sun shone at times.

"Most of our cloudy weather, with threatening snow or rain, is in April and May; the most disagreeable element of the climate is the wind-storms in spring and fall, mostly in April and November. These dry storms of wind and dust, though unpleasant, are of short duration and not injurious to health.

"Statistics might be given concerning the state of the weather from day to day throughout the year, but it is unnecessary here, for they will be found in the weather reports accompanying this article.

"Generally speaking there is no rain from the 1st of September till the next May or June, and often not much till July. July and August are the rainy months, and during this time rain is liable to fall nearly every day. Very seldom is there a long rain-storm, but tempests and heavy showers for an hour or two each day and usually in the afternoon. In the mountains snows are frequent and heavy in the winter, and the higher ranges have snow upon them nearly every month in the year. But on the plains and in Colorado Springs and Manitou there is very little.

"In the early part of the winter, and usually in March and April, there are light snows which remain upon the ground only a short time, not longer than a day or two, and sometimes only a few hours. There is so little snow that cattle and sheep feed upon the plains through the winter with perhaps a few days' exception, on the short buffalo grass, which retains its nourishment in this dry climate like made hay, which it really is.

"The surface soil of Colorado Springs is a coarse, sandy loam, into which the moisture sinks rapidly. It is never muddy here for more than a few hours, so that our streets and walks are practically hard and dry.

"The temperature of this dry country is marked by sudden changes and extremes in summer and in winter. A noticeable feature is the decided difference between day and night, and sunlight and shade. Most of the days in winter one can sit out of doors in the sun, but even after our warmest days the nights are cold, especially towards morning, when the mercury will frequently drop below zero. Owing to the absence of moisture the cold is not more noticeable here with the mercury at zero than when 15° or 20° above in damp localities farther east.

"In summer when the sun shining through the clear, dry atmosphere is so hot, the evenings and nights are always cool and comfortable; also in mid-day it is cool and agreeable in the shade. On account of the absence of moisture in the air we never have any sultry or foggy days. Through the day the mercury seldom rises higher than 90° in the shade. But the heat is not oppressive as it is at this temperature in lower altitudes and damp climates. Such a climate cannot but be favorable to throat and lung diseases."

On the same subject (climate), the following is by Dr. Solly, and indeed so are all the following extracts (regarding Colorado Springs from a medical point of view) from his pen.

"People (invalids) sit on porches without extra wraps; so powerful is the sun's heat in winter that sunshades are grateful, and mid-day picnics are taken with enjoyment and benefit. It is at this season that the greatest improvement is noticed in the consumptives. On turning to the tables at the end of this chapter it will be seen that though the nights are often intensely cold, the days are seldom so. However, until we take thermometric observations, both in the sun and shade, and with continuous self-recording instruments, we cannot show what is the real temperature of the hours that especially concern the invalid. To a person unacquainted with physics or practically unversed in climates, the cold of the winter nights may seem a disadvantage; why this is but seldom the case is owing chiefly to the dryness. The proportion of sunshiny days is more remarkable at this resort throughout the year, and especially during the fall and winter, than at any other from which reports could be obtained.

"Sleighing is seldom possible, and only for a few hours at a time in occasional winters.

"Skating, however, is good on most days through the middle of every winter. The frosts at night make the ice so thick and hard, that the hours of sunlight are not long enough to melt it to any appreciable extent, and the dry air absorbs the moisture from the melting ice so rapidly that a smooth hard surface is usually presented for the skaters' enjoyment.

"Snowfall.—The total amount of snow that falls through the whole winter is so slight that there are very few days upon which it is seen at all. The snow when it falls rarely lies more than a day or two, for the reasons that the dry air produces rapid evaporation and the dry soil quick absorption, so that it disappears without evidence of melting, and there is not the danger to the invalid of wet ground with a bright sun overhead.

"The spring is undoubtedly here, as elsewhere, the least desirable season of the year, but it compares favourably with other climates, and there is no period of melting snow or special month to be shunned, and an invalid can on occasion change with advantage his location on the elevated ground of Colorado to New Mexico, for a few weeks, guided by the weather reports.

"Temperature by Day.—In the shade the heat is seldom over 82°. The air being dry, the heat is much less felt than a lower temperature in damper climates. But there being no solar temperature observations, the fact of the intense heat of the direct rays of the sun is not apparent.

"Evaporation.—This heat is, of course, to some delicate invalids, very trying, but sun-stroke is almost unknown, and if the head is protected harm is seldom done by exercising even during the hottest portions of the day.

"The temperature by night is almost invariably cool, as seen by the temperature tables, and two blankets at least are grateful to sleep under; while the mornings and evenings being cool, without dew or dampness, give sufficient daylight hours for exercise for those who shun the mid-day heat.

"The rainfall, which, with the melted snow, averages only fifteen inches for the year, occurs almost entirely between the middle of April and the middle of October, and falls chiefly in the three summer months.

"Thunderstorms, or rather showers, occurring in the afternoons and lasting about twenty minutes or half an hour, when much rain will fall at that one time, are the usual form in which the bulk of the precipitation occurs. These storms arise rapidly, are seldom preceded by the warning sense of discomfort that is usually felt in lower regions, and disappear as quickly, leaving a sense of refreshment after the heat, with few and rapidly evaporating signs of moisture upon the soil.

"The autumn is perhaps the most enjoyable season of the year, it is very dry and warm without heat and with few storms. Although there is no reason why patients suited to the climate should not begin their sojourn in any season convenient to them, perhaps September or October are on the whole best, because they then approach the cold nights of winter gradually.

Note.—Column A contains the highest temperature of the month or season; column B the mean of the highest temperatures of the several days.

Note.—Column A contains the highest, and column C the lowest, temperature of the month or season; column B contains the mean of the highest, and column D the mean of the lowest, temperatures of the several days.

"Skin.—'Its activity is increased; it is also better nourished and strengthened.' These effects are very markedly shown, the ruddy appearance of residents indicates at once the activity of the circulation, and the quickness with which the nerves of the skin respond to the impression of cold and heat; whereby, as has been shown, nature protects the body against cold-catching, and indicates its increased activity. These physiological effects are best demonstrated by a consideration of the influence of the climate upon the skin where there is some disorder or disease of it, or of some organ or function upon which it depends. As regards the skin itself, it is a common saying that Colorado is bad for good complexions and good for bad ones. This means that the beautiful pink and white complexion, that is so much admired, is destroyed, the burning of the sun and the vigour imparted to the circulation make fair maidens 'ruddier than the cherry and browner than the berry.' While the complexions of those who are sallow and marked with acne, are improved; the sluggishness and poverty of the skin is stimulated, the colour gets brighter and the glands acting freely again the pores cease to be clogged with the hardened secretion, and by these means the acne is removed.

"Circulation.—'Heart and blood-vessels are probably strengthened.' The frequency of the pulse is certainly increased in individuals upon first arriving in Colorado, being greatest in those most feeble. In well persons and those who regain their health, it also soon returns to its customary number of beats. That each separate beat is made stronger is probable, but hard to demonstrate; however the fact will be admitted by all physicians practising in Colorado, that hearts which are muscularly weak, even when there are bruits, greatly improve in tone, strength and steadiness; while those where from some disease or obstruction the muscle is increased in size and strength, the symptoms are almost always so alarmingly developed that they have to be sent away before there is time to observe what the secondary effects might be.

"Lungs' Respiration.—'The number of respirations is increased at the beginning of the stay, but returns to the normal number after a longer time, and probably the depth of the inspiration is also increased.' This is in accordance with our observations. The greater expansion of the chest, and the frequency with which patients and others volunteer the statement that they can breathe deeper, confirms the opinion that the depth of respiration is increased; more bulk of air being taken in to give to the lungs an equivalent amount of oxygen, greater depth of breathing must needs follow. The increased chest development and the necessarily greater use of the respiratory muscles makes it tolerably certain that they are strengthened.

"Appetite and Assimilation.—'In most cases there is a transient or permanent increase of appetite and assimilation of nourishment.'

"There is certainly direct evidence of the former to be found in Colorado, but as change of scene and air produce it almost everywhere, where the general conditions are not unfavorable to health, and notably so at the seashore, and also on shipboard when the depressing effects of seasickness are absent or passed away, it is doubtful how far this may be taken as a special effect of altitude, except through the increased oxygenation produced by both sea and mountain air. It would appear that in those with whom Colorado agrees there is a greater consumption of meat, a good appetite, and probably an increased one. That there is also an increased assimilation of nourishment may be inferred from an increased appetite without dyspepsia, in fact the improvement that usually takes place in dyspeptic conditions, during residence in Colorado, is a good evidence of increased or, at least, more perfect assimilation.

"Nourishment.—'From this follows an improved formation of blood and nourishment of the organs.' The general vigour of the circulation with the ruddier colour, which has been dwelt upon, would show that the improved quality of the blood must be due not only to the causes previously pointed out, more oxygen absorbed, etc., but also to the more perfect conversion of food into blood; all this will likewise apply to the better nourishment of the organs which can be inferred from similar grounds.

"Sleep 'is usually improved.' This appears to be the case in Colorado in healthy persons, and in those invalids with whom the climate agrees; during their first few weeks of residence there is more or less tendency to nap, though between times they may be particularly wide awake. Later it would seem that less sleep is needed to sustain health, though it is especially profound. As regards the individual, the temperament probably largely influences this matter. The torpid generally are first made drowsy, and afterwards sleep well, the erethic or irritable are specially wakeful on arriving, and later their sleep is broken, exactly the reverse occurring on the sea shore. With respect to meteorological conditions, humidity undoubtedly is the first consideration, it being commonly observed that some sleep better in dry and some in rainy weather; though an increase of elevation without marked change in the humidity will add to the tendency to sleep in the torpid, and the contrary in the erethic, thus indicating that altitude, that is lessened atmospheric pressure, has its own especial influence.

"Asthma, when purely nervous, is almost invariably relieved, and sometimes cured permanently, though more often it reappears with a return to the atmosphere in which it was generated, the rest from attacks and improvement in the general health caused by the climate will, however, even then often ward off a relapse for some time. The elevation at which the greatest relief is afforded varies with the case. When there is much bronchitis and emphysema, or heart trouble, the asthma is often worse at first, though it may afterwards be relieved; where these complications exist their extent and character must be the guide about coming. When the affection of the heart is not very great or long existing, a relief of the asthma generally brings improvement in its tone. Where these complications exist, if a trial of this climate is advised, it is best for the patient to halt two or three times for a few days, at least while ascending the slopes, and avoid all exertion for the first few weeks after arrival, and be prepared to depart if improvement does not show itself at the end of the first month.

"The throat when affected with chronic catarrh is usually much benefited, probably locally, as indicated by Dr. Weber, by the readier separation of the mucus. I have also had cases of tuberculous ulceration of the larynx, in which the ulcers have healed under topical and general treatment, though Dr. Weber states such cases are not suitable.

"Chronic Bronchitis is also improved, though the cough at first is frequently increased for a time. When, as a result or complication of the bronchitis, there is much emphysema, considerable risk is run by coming to this elevation. However, when the emphysema is moderate in extent, and exertion is avoided for the first few weeks, the readier clearing of the bronchial tubes allows the sound portions of the lungs to be more perfectly used; the strain upon the emphysematous parts being thereby relieved, the patient ultimately breathes with greater comfort, and the bronchitis is in time removed. Where old, chronic bronchitis with emphysema exists there is frequently marked dilatation of the right side of the heart, in which case a patient should by all means avoid Colorado.

"Advanced Cases.—Where the disease is much advanced it goes without saying that no honest physician would recommend a change of climate, and especially so great a change as to an elevation of several thousand feet; but cases do often come of their own will, cheered by the delusive hope that is characteristic of the disease, and though the result is usually a hastening of the end, yet death is generally less tedious and harassing, the sick one frequently being out enjoying the sunshine up to the last day, dying quietly and quickly with a failing heart, instead of being confined to bed for days or weeks in a close, heavy atmosphere, which impedes the last struggling efforts at respiration.

"In cases of decided phthisical tendency, even in the first stage, the treatment should extend over some years, though whether the whole or a portion of each year should be spent on the mountains depends much upon the character of the individual and the place.

"That those cured of phthisis upon the mountains can never live again low down, is not the case; of course a cured consumptive will have to take care of himself for some years, and a return to the social and climatic conditions in which he got sick will always be dangerous, but this difficulty is usually much greater for those who have been cured in warm places than those who have been hardened by the mountains."

I have given all the above copious extracts, because it appeared to me while I was at Colorado Springs, that many people lived and enjoyed good health there, who could not live elsewhere. Some told me so much, and declared the place was full of similar cases. A part of these were English, of whom some had tried the Riviera, and they averred that Colorado Springs was much better for all pulmonary complaints than the northern shores of the Mediterranean. When we consider how easy it is to get to Colorado, seven days to New York, and three and a half days beyond by rail, with luxurious comforts, and no fatigue for invalids, it is, I think, well that sufferers in England, and on the Continent too, should know of the existence of this charming spot and health-giving locality.

But any one interested and wishing to know more should get the book alluded to. I could only in my extracts pick out what appeared to me the most important parts, and I need not say the above gives no idea of the excellence of the work both in a medical and social point of view. I know not if it is procurable in London, but its title is "Colorado Springs and Manitou," and it is for sale by P. Blakiston, Son, and Co., 1012, Walnut Street, Philadelphia.