THE PICTURESQUE REGION OF PIKE'S PEAK "And ever the spell of beauty came And turned the drowsy world to flame." Emerson In the picturesque region of Pike's Peak there is grouped such an array of scenic wonders as are unrivalled, within the limits of any corresponding area, in the entire world. To this region Colorado Springs is the gateway, and the poetic little city is already famous as one of the world resorts whose charm is not exclusively restricted to the summer. The winter is also alluring, for Colorado is the land of perpetual sunshine. One turns off the steam heat and sits with open windows in December. The air is electric, exhilarating. The cogwheel road up Pike's Peak is stopped; but almost any of the other excursions one can take as enjoyably as in summer. The East is, apparently, under the delusion that the land is covered with snow up to the very summit of Pike's Peak. On the contrary, the ground is bare and dry; the birds are singing, the sun shines for all, and the everlasting hills silhouette themselves against the blue sky in all their grandeur. One easily slips into all the charm and fascination of Colorado days through these resplendent winters, when there are two hours more of light and sunshine in Colorado, on account of its altitude, than in any state to the eastward. The climate of Colorado Springs has a perfection that is remarked even in the Centennial State, where, in every part, the climate is unsurpassed in sunshine and exhilaration. Especially, however, is Colorado Springs a summer resort, as is Saratoga or Newport or Bar Harbor. Its season is increasingly brilliant and crowded. People come to stay a day and prolong it to a week, or come for a week and prolong their stay to a month. The driving is fine, the motor cars are abundant, the excursions are delightful, and the air is as curative and exhilarating as is possible to conceive. The inner glories of the Rocky Mountains, with their vast caÑons and giant peaks; their waterfalls dashing over precipices hundreds of feet in height; the fascinating glens and mesas for camping excursions, or for scientific research and study, are all reached by this gateway of Colorado Springs. Pike's Peak, this stupendous continental monument, dominates the entire region. The atmospheric effects around its summit offer a perpetual panorama of kaleidoscopic changes of color and cloud-forms. Looking out on the Peak from Colorado Springs, three miles from its base, there are hours when it seems to be actually approaching with such swift though stately measure that one involuntarily shrinks back from the window in irrational alarm lest the grim monster shall bear down upon it, with a force inevitable as Fate; disastrous as a colossal iceberg wandering from Polar seas and sweeping down with irresistible force against the side of a transatlantic liner. In a lightning flash of instantaneous, unreasoning vision, one beholds in imagination the impending destruction of a city. It becomes a thing endowed with volition; a weird, uncanny monster, the abode of the gods who have reared their monuments and established their pleasure-grounds in their strange, fantastic garden at its foot. Again, the Peak enfolds itself in clouds and, secure in this drapery, retires altogether from sight, as if weary of being the object of public view. It is as if the inmates of a house, feeling an invasion of public interest, should turn off the lights, draw the curtains, and close the shutters as a forcible intimation of their preference for privacy and their decision to exclude the madding crowd. Sometimes the Peak will flaunt itself in glorious apparel and gird itself in strength. With light it will deck itself as with a garment. It surprises a sunrise with the reflection of glory transfigured into unspeakable resplendence. It is the royal monarch to which every inhabitant of the Pike's Peak region, every sojourner in the land, must pay his tribute. The day is fair or foul according as Pike's Peak shall smile or frown. All the cycles of the eternal ages have left on its summit their records,—the silent and hidden romance of the air. The scientist alone may translate this aËrial hieroglyphic. "Omens and signs that fill the air To him authentic witness bear." This monumental peak of the continent shrouds in oblivion its mystic past, and still the handwriting on the wall may be read by him who holds the key to all this necromancy. The record of the ages is written on parchment that will never crumble. The mysteries of the very creation itself,—of all this vast and marvellous West,—of infinite expanse of sea and of volcanic fires that swallowed up the waters and crystallized them into granite and porphyry,—this very record of Titanic processes is written, in mystic characters, in that far upper air where the lofty Peak reigns in unapproachable majesty. For while there are other peaks in the Rocky Mountains as high,—and Long's Peak even exceeds it in altitude,—there is no other which rises so distinctly alone and which so supremely dominates an infinite plateau that extends, like the ocean, beyond the limit of vision. There is one glory of the moon and another glory of the stars, as well as the glory of the sun, in this mountain region of Colorado Springs. The sunsets over the mountains are marked by the most gorgeous phenomena of color before whose intensity all the hues of a painter's palette pale. The gates of the New Jerusalem seem to open. Great masses of billowy clouds in deepest, burning gold hang in the air; the rainbow hues of all the summers that have shone upon earth since the first rainbow was set in the heavens, reflect themselves in a thousand shimmering cloud-shapes. It is one of the definite things of the tourist's day to watch from the western terrace of "The Antlers" these unrivalled sunset effects; and when, later (still in compliance with the unwritten laws that prevail in the Empire of Transcendent Beauty), dinner is served at small tables on the terrace,—where the flowers that form the centrepiece of each table, the gleam of exquisite cut glass and silver, and the music from an orchestra hidden behind the palms and tall roses that fling a thousand fragrances on the enchanted air all blend as elements of the faËry scene whose background is a panoramic picture of mountains and sky,—the visitor realizes an atmosphere of enchantment that one might well cross a continent to gain. SUMMIT OF PIKE'S PEAK, COLORADO Again, there is the glory of the night. A young moon glances shyly over the mountain summit and swiftly retires to her mysterious realms on the other side. Each ensuing night she ventures still further afield, gazing still longer at the world she is visiting before she again wings her flight down the western sky, pausing, for a tremulous moment, on the very crest of the mountains ere she is lost to sight in the vague distance beyond. The stars come and go in impressive troops and processions. They float up from behind the mountains till one questions as to whether the other side is not a vast realm of star-dust in process of crystallizing into planets and stars. Has one, then, at last arrived at the Land that is the forge of the gods who create it? May one here surprise the very secrets of the Universe? Perhaps some dim, mysterious under-world lies over that colossal range in which celestial mechanism is at work sending forth and withdrawing the shining planetary visitants, so continuous is the procession of stars through all the hours of the night. Each star, as it rises over the mountains or sets behind them, pauses for an instant on the crest for a preliminary survey, or a parting glance, of the world it is entering or leaving. It is still in the realms of doubt as to whether there may be discovered a royal road to learning; but a royal road to the summit of Pike's Peak, more than fourteen thousand feet above sea level, has been, since 1890, an accomplished fact in the Manitou and Pike's Peak cogwheel road, starting from Engleman's Glen, one of the famous resorts of Manitou. This lovely town, that dreams away its summer at the base of Pike's Peak guarded by precipitous mountain walls, is connected with Colorado Springs by electric trolley, and the little journey of four miles is one of the pleasure excursions of the region. The route lies past the "Garden of the Gods," where the curious shapes of red sandstone loom up like spectral forms in some Inferno. Like Naples, Colorado Springs is the paradise of the tourist, offering a new excursion for every day in the season; and there are few of these whose route does not include lovely Manitou, which is also the objective point from which to fare forth on this journey above the clouds, into those mysterious realms where he who listens aright may hear spoken the words which it is not lawful for man to utter. The journey into aËrial spaces opens in a defile of one of the deep caÑons, the train on the one hand clinging to the wall, while on the other one looks down a vast precipice, at the foot of which dashes a river over gigantic boulders. The route is diversified by the little stations on the way,—Minnehaha, whose waterfall indeed laughs in the air, and is given back in a thousand ghostly echoes; the Half-Way House, nestling under the pinnacled rocks of Hell Gate—must one always pass through the portals of Hades on his way to Paradise? Strange and grotesque scenery companions the way. On the mountain-side one finds—of all things—a newspaper office, where a souvenir daily paper is issued with all the news of that new world above the clouds, Pike's Peak. The ascent is very steep in places. The verdure of the foothills vanishes, the trees cease to invade this upper air, and only the dwarfed aspen shivers in the breeze as it clings to some barren rock. New vistas open. The world of day and daylight duties is left behind. Gaunt, spectral rocks in uncanny shapes haunt the way. The air grows chill; car windows are closed, and warm wraps are at a premium. But the scene below! The sensation of looking down on the clouds, the view of Lake Moraine, an inland sea high in the mountains; the new sensations of the rarefied air,—all these seem to initiate one into a new world. From the summit, reached in a journey of ninety minutes, the view can only be described as that of unspeakable awe and sublimity. An expanse of sixty thousand miles is open to the gaze. To the west rise a thousand towering peaks, snow clad, in a majesty of effect beyond power of portrayal. To the east the vast plateaus stretch into infinite space. Below, the sun shines on floating clouds in all gleams of color. In the steel tower of the new Summit Hotel is a powerful telescope that brings Denver, eighty miles distant, into near and distinct view. In Colorado Springs, fourteen miles "as the crow flies," the telescopic view even reveals the signs on the streets so they may be plainly read. In close range of vision appear Pueblo, Cripple Creek, Victor, Goldfield, Independence, and Manitou. The surface of the top of Pike's Peak comprises several acres of level land thickly strewn with large blocks of rough granite of varying size,—blocks that are almost wholly in a regular rectangular shape, as if prepared for some Titanic scheme of architecture. The highest telegraph office in the world is located here, and the usual souvenir shop of every summer resort offers its tempting remembrances, all of which are closely associated with the genus loci, and are all a very part of the Colorado productions. A powerful searchlight was placed on Pike's Peak during the summer of 1906, adding the most picturesque feature of night to all the surrounding country. Denver, Colorado Springs, Pueblo, the Cripple Creek district, the deep caÑons of the Cheyenne range, the silvery expanse of Broadmoor, whose attractive casino is a centre of evening gatherings,—all these points in the great landscape are swept with the illumination from the highest searchlight in the world to-day. A century has passed since Major Zebulon Montgomery Pike first discovered the shadowy crest of the mountain peak that immortalizes his name. It was on November 13, 1806, that the attention of Major Pike and his party was arrested by what at first looked to them as a light blue cloud in the sky, toward which they marched for ten days before arriving at the base of the mountain. The story of this journey is one of the dramatic records in the national archives. Major Pike and his men left St. Louis on July 15, 1806, on his trip to the Rocky Mountains, or Mexican Mountains as he called them at the time. He pronounced the country through which he travelled to be so devoid of sustenance for human beings that it would serve as a barrier, for all time, in the expansion of the United States. In vivid contrast are the conditions to-day. Major Pike could now make his journey from St. Louis to Pike's Peak over either of several grand trunk railways equipped with all the modern luxuries of travel. Where he passed great herds of buffalo, he would now see cattle grazing in equal numbers on the prairies. The vast plains that paralyzed his imagination by their desolate aspects are now dotted with prosperous farms or ranches. The mountains that appealed to him only for their scenic grandeur have been found to be the treasure vaults of nature that were only waiting to be conquered by the hardy frontiersmen who followed him nearly half a century later. The great white mountain that he declared could not be ascended by a human being is now the objective point of a hundred thousand tourists annually, who gayly climb the height in a swift trip made in a luxurious Pullman observation car. The first attempt of the Pike party to ascend the peak was a failure, and Major Pike expressed his opinion that "no human being could ascend to its pinnacle." In 1819 Hon. John C. Calhoun, then Secretary of War, sent Major Long and a party on an expedition to the Rocky Mountains, then almost as unknown as the Himalayas. This exploring party camped on the present site of Colorado Springs, and on July 13 (1819) started to ascend the peak. On the first day they made only two miles, as the ground was covered with loose, crumbling granite. On the second day, however, they succeeded; the first ascent of Pike's Peak thus having been made on July 14, 1819. A chronicle of this ascent describes the point above which the timber line disappears as one "of astonishing beauty and of great interest as to its productions." The first woman to stand on the summit of Pike's Peak was Mrs. James H. Holmes, in August of 1858. General Zebulon Montgomery Pike achieved distinction both as an explorer and a brave soldier. He was but twenty-seven years of age when he was chosen to lead the most important military expedition of the day, and eight years later, as Brigadier-General, he commanded the troops that captured the British stronghold at York (now Toronto), Canada, and here he met his death, which has been compared to that of Nelson. The captured flag of the enemy was placed under the head of the dying general to ease his pain. The cheers of his soldiers aroused the young commander, and on being told that the fort was captured, he closed his eyes with the words, "I die content." In his notebook were found the maxims that had guided him through life, dedicated to his son, among which were "Preserve your honor free from blemish," and "Be always ready to die for your country." General Pike was buried with full military honors in the government plot at Madison Barracks, New York. A modest shaft marks the resting place of the heroic soldier-explorer, and on Cascade Avenue in Colorado Springs, directly in front of "The Antlers," there is placed a statue of the heroic discoverer of the mighty Peak which forever perpetuates his name. No adequate life of Pike has ever been written; but with the monumental majesty of the mid-continental mountain peak that proclaims his name to all future centuries, what room can there be for biographical record or sculptured memorial? The archives of the Department of War, in Washington, contain his diary, kept from day to day in this march from St. Louis to Colorado. After his discovery of the Peak, Major Pike returned to the place where now the city of Pueblo stands, continuing his journey into the mountains, thence to New Mexico, where he was captured by the Spaniards. Hardships of every description were suffered by the party before being placed in captivity at Santa FÉ; but even the capture of his papers by the Spaniards at Santa FÉ did not serve to destroy the records of the astute young soldier, who had carefully concealed duplicates of his papers in the barrel of his big flintlock rifle, and he was afterward able to restore them to original form. Major Pike was as tender and humane as he was brave. In the capture of the party by the Spanish two of the men had to be abandoned and left to their fate in the hills. They were given a small supply of provisions, with the assurance that they would be rescued if the rest of the party found a haven of safety and rest. Major Pike kept this promise and, more nearly dead than alive, these men were brought into Santa FÉ by the Spanish soldiers. Well might it have been of Zebulon Montgomery Pike, in his first eager march toward this "blue cloud" that beckoned him on and proved to be a vast mountain peak,—well might it have been this hero that Emerson thus pictured in the lines: "The free winds told him what they knew, Discoursed of fortune as they blew; Omens and signs that filled the air To him authentic witness bear; The birds brought auguries on their wings, And carolled undeceiving things Him to beckon, him to warn; Well might then the poet scorn To learn of scribe or courier Things writ in vaster character; And on his mind at dawn of day Soft shadows of the evening lay." In his diary, kept during the march from St. Louis, Major Pike thus pictured his first impressions of Colorado: "The scene was one of the most sublime and beautiful inland prospects ever presented to man; the great lofty mountains, covered with eternal snow, seemed to surround the luxuriant vale, crowned with perennial flowers, like a terrestrial paradise."
The memory of this hero cannot but invest Colorado Springs with a certain consecration of heroism that becomes, indeed, part of the "omens and signs" that fill the air. In the early autumn of 1906 Colorado Springs and Manitou celebrated the centenary of the discovery of Pike's Peak with appropriate ceremonies. One of the interesting features was the rendering of an "Ode" by a chorus of one thousand voices, of which the words were written by Charles J. Pike of New York, the well-known sculptor, a great-nephew of General Pike, and for which the music was composed by Rubin Goldmark. WILLIAMS CAÑON, NEAR MANITOU, COLORADO One of the noted excursions of the Pike's Peak region is the "Temple Drive,"—a carriage road beginning in Manitou, traversing Williams CaÑon, and, climbing its west wall. The drive offers near views of the Temple of Isis, the Cathedral of St. Peter, the Narrows, and of St. Peter's Gate in the Cathedral Dome. It is fairly a drive in elfland, and is as distinctive a feature of Colorado Springs life as is the famous drive from Naples to Amalfi and Sorrento a feature of the enchantment of Southern Italy. Manitou Park is easily reached by motor or carriage drive from Colorado Springs through the picturesque Ute Pass, and aside from its beauty it has an added interest in having been presented to Colorado College by General William J. Palmer and Dr. William A. Bell, to be used as the field laboratory of the new Colorado School of Forestry. Manitou Park contains cottages and recreation halls, so that all sorts of hospitalities and entertainments can be there enjoyed. Of the "Garden of the Gods" who can analyze the curious, mystic spell of the place? A large tract of rolling mesas is covered with these uncanny monsters of rocks in all weird and grotesque forms. The deep red sandstone of their formation gives it the aspect, under a midday sun or the slanting rays of a brilliant sunset, of being all on fire—a kind of inferno, foreign to earth, and revealed, momentarily, from some underworld of mystery. Cheyenne CaÑon is one of the most poetically touched places in all the Pike's Peak region. Of Cheyenne mountain Helen Hunt Jackson wrote: "By easy slope to west, as if it had No thought, when first its soaring was begun, Except to look devoutly to the sun, It rises and has risen, until glad, With light as with a garment it is clad, Each dawn before the tardy plains have won One ray, and after day has long been done For us the light doth cling reluctant, sad to leave its brow." Poets and artists have embodied it in song and essayed to transfer it to canvas; but the grandeur of South Cheyenne CaÑon eludes every artist while it impresses the imagination of every visitor. It is fitly approached through the "Pillars of Hercules,"—sheer perpendicular walls of rock looking up over one thousand feet high, with a passage-way of only forty feet. Once within the caÑon and one might as well have been translated to Mars so far as utter isolation can be realized. In the dim green twilight from the lofty wooded cliffs toward the Seven Falls one enters on "the twilight of the gods," not dark, but a soft light, the sun shut out, the air vibrating with faint hints of color, the colossal granite walls rising into the sky, the faint dash of waterfalls heard splashing over hidden rocks and stones; a rill here and there trickling down the mountain side; the far call of some lonely bird heard far away in the upper air; and the soft, mysterious light, the dim coolness and fragrance, the glimpse of blue sky just seen in the narrow opening above—was anything ever so enchantingly poetic? It is here one might well materialize his castle d'Espagne. Winding up the caÑon, one comes to "Seven Falls,"—a torrent of water rushing down mighty cliffs on one side of a colossal amphitheatre, and the precipitous cliffs show seven distinct terraces down which the foaming torrent plunges. SEVEN FALLS, CHEYENNE CAÑON, NEAR COLORADO SPRINGS, COLORADO In North Cheyenne and in Bear Creek CaÑons the grandeur is repeated, and in those the people find a vast free recreation ground. This privilege is again one of the innumerable ones that are due to the gifts and grace of General Palmer, who has had this sublime locality made into a practicable resort, with pavilions where tea, coffee, lemonade, ices, and sandwiches are served; a rustic hostelry, "Bruin Inn," is also provided as a place of refuge and entertainment, providing against any disasters in the sudden storms that are so frequent in these caÑon regions; and the bridle paths, the terraced drives on the mountain walls, and the glades where games may be played, all make South Cheyenne the most unique pleasure resort of that of any city in the United States. In all these caÑons the massive, precipitous granite walls, which seem to rise almost to the sky, are also rendered more arresting to the eye by their richly variegated coloring. These ragged cliffs rise, too, in pinnacles and towers and domes that proclaim their warfare with the elements for ages innumerable. Visitors familiar with all the Alpine gorges and with the Yosemite agree that in no one of these are there such majesty of effects as in the Cheyenne caÑons. Manitou, the Indian name for the Great Spirit, is an alluring place in a nook of the mountains at the foot of Pike's Peak, reminding one of the Swiss-Alpine villages. Ute Pass; Williams CaÑon, in which is the noted "Cave of the Winds"; the famous "Temple Drive"; Cascade, Green Mountain Falls and Glen Eyrie are all grouped near Manitou, and it is here that the cogwheel road ascending Pike's Peak begins. The Mineral Springs are approached in a pavilion with two or three large rooms; the auditorium, where an orchestra plays every afternoon, seats some two hundred people, who can listen to the music, sip their glasses of mineral water, and chat with friends, all at one and the same time. There is a foreign air about Manitou. The little town consists of one street extending along the caÑon, following its curves, with a few cottages perched on terraces above, and the hotels, boarding-houses, and the little shops, with the hawkers of curios at their street stands, make up a picturesque spectacle. The shop windows glisten with jewelry made from the native Colorado stones, the amethyst, opal, topaz, emerald, tourmaline, and moonstone being found more or less extensively in this state. The native ores are exposed; Indian wares, from the bright Navajo rugs and blankets to the pottery, baskets, and beaded work; photographs and picture cards of all kinds, and trinkets galore, of almost every conceivable description, give a gala-day aspect to the little mountain town. The surrounding peaks rise to the height of six and eight thousand feet above the street, which looks like a toy set in a region designed for the habitation of the gods. American life, however, keeps the pace, and in this mountain defile at the foot of Pike's Peak were the signs out announcing a "Psychic Palmist," a "Scientific Palmist," and a "Thought Healer," by which it will be inferred that an up-to-date civilization has by no means failed to penetrate to Manitou. Each year the accommodations for travellers multiply themselves. Each summer the demand increases. There is a fascination about Manitou that throws its spell over every visitor and sojourner. The Grand Caverns are on the side of one of the picturesque mountains, reached by a drive through the Ute Pass. Beyond Rainbow Falls, and entering the vestibule of these caverns, the visitor finds himself under a lofty dome from which stalactites hang, and in which is a pile of stones being raised to the memory of General Grant, each visitor adding one. No form of memorial to the great military commander, whose character was at once so impressive and so simple, could be more fitting than is this tribute. From the vestibule one wanders to Alabaster Hall, where there are groups of snow-white columns of pure alabaster. In a vast space sixty feet high, with a dome of Nature's chiselling and two galleries that are curiously wrought by natural forces, there is a natural grand organ, formed of stalactites, with wonderful reverberations and with a rich, deep tremulous tone. To reveal its marvels to visitors a skilled musician is employed, who renders on it popular selections, to the amazement of all who are present. Another feature of the Grand Caverns is the "jewel casket," where gems encased in limestone reflect the glow of a lamp. There is also the "card room," with its columns and its pictorial effects; the "Lovers' Lane" and the "Bridal Chamber," filled with translucent formations in all curious shapes and hints of color. The marvellous achievements of the engineer in encircling the mountains with steel tracks on which cars climb to the summit are seen, in perhaps their most remarkable degree of development in conquering the problems of mountain engineering in Colorado. Of all these achievements, one of the most conspicuous triumphs is that known as the "Short Line" between Colorado Springs and Cripple Creek, a distance of only forty-five miles, and the time some two and a half hours; but within these limits is comprised the most unspeakably sublime panorama of mountain scenery. As the train begins to wind up the mountains one looks down on the flaming, rose-red splendor of the Garden of the Gods,—with its uncanny shapes, its domes and curious formations. Climbing up, the vast plain below—a plain, even though it is six thousand feet above sea level—looks like a sea of silver. The railroad crosses Bear Creek CaÑon on a narrow iron bridge and threads its way again on the terraced trunk of the opposite mountain up to Point Sublime,—a gigantic rock towering on a mountain crest. A landscape unfolds that rivals Church's wonderful "Heart of the Andes" in its fascination. Entering South Cheyenne, the beauty and grandeur of the eastern end of the caÑon are seen by following the narrow course between its rugged granite sides hundreds of feet in height, reaching a magnificent and most impressive climax at the wonderful Seven Falls. No visit to the Pike's Peak region can be considered complete without this trip through South Cheyenne CaÑon. The usual feature of the situation as trains circle around the rim of these caÑons is that their beauty is seen from above. A short stroll and one finds himself between walls towering a thousand feet above his head. The beauty is all around and above. The tops of the mountains seem very far away, and lost in clouds. But in the train the situation is reversed; for, seated in a luxurious observation car of the "Short Line," the tourist is carried above the peaks and caÑon walls, which from below seem inaccessible in their height, and from this startling elevation one looks down on an underworld of strange and mysterious forms. St. Peter's Dome, as it is called, looks down from its towering height with the national colors flying from its summit,—a huge mass of granite that seems to stand alone and to guard the secrets of the depths below. ST. PETER'S DOME, ON THE CRIPPLE CREEK SHORT LINE APPROACHING DUFFIELD The ascent of St. Peter's Dome is a triumph of engineering skill. As the train glides along, and glory succeeds to glory, vista to vista, and caÑon to caÑon, in ever changing but constant charm, the dizzy height is climbed apparently with so much ease that the traveller, absorbed in the entrancing surroundings, reaches the top before he is aware of it. It seems impossible that the track seen on the opposite side of the caÑon hundreds of feet above should be the path the train is to follow; but a few turns, almost imperceptible, so smooth is the roadbed, and one looks down on the place just passed with equal wonder, and asks if that can be the track by which he has come. As the train climbs the side or rounds the point of each mountain peak, the matchless view of the plains is unfolded before the enraptured gaze. All description is baffled; any attempt to reproduce in words the glory of that scene is impossible. Every tourist in the Pike's Peak region regards the "Short Line" trip as the very crown of the summer's excursions, or, in the local phrase, one whose sublimity of beauty "bankrupts the English language." These forty-five miles not only condense within their limits the grandeur one might reasonably anticipate during a transcontinental journey of three thousand miles, but as an achievement of mountain engineering, railway experts in both Europe and America have pronounced it the most substantially built and the finest equipped mountain railroad in the world. It was opened in 1901, and, quite irrespective of any interest felt in visiting the gold camps of Cripple Creek, the "Short Line" has become the great excursion which all visitors to Colorado desire to make for the sublime effects of the scenery. A prominent civil engineer in Colorado said, in answer to some question regarding the problem of taking trains over mountain ranges and peaks that, given the point to start from and the point to reach, and sufficient capital, there was no difficulty in carrying a railroad anywhere. The rest is, he said, only a question of time and skill. The construction of the "Short Line" reveals the achievement of carrying a railroad around the rims of caÑons and over the tops of mountains rather than that of following a trail through the bottom of the caÑons. As a scenic success this feat is unparalleled. The bewildering magnificence, the incomparable sublimity, as the train winds up St. Peter's Dome, are beyond the power of painter or poet to picture. Leaving Colorado Springs, the tourist sees the strange towering pinnacles of the Garden of the Gods, in their deep red contrasting with the green background of trees; Manitou gleams from its deep caÑon; the towers and spires of Colorado Springs appear in miniature from the far height, and the great expanse of the plateau looks like the sea. It is difficult to realize that one is still gazing upon land. The ascent is more like the experience in an aero-car than in a railroad train, so swift is the upward journey. The first little station on this route is Point Sublime, where the clouds and the mountain peaks meet and mingle. North Cheyenne CaÑon is seen far below, and in the distance is fair Broadmoor with its Crescent Lake gleaming like silver. The Silver Cascade Falls sparkle in the air hundreds of feet up the crags. At Fair View the North and South Cheyenne CaÑons meet,—those two scenic gorges whose fame is world-wide,—and from one point the traveller gazes down into each, the bottom depths so remote as to be invisible. These precipices are wooded, so that the aspect is that of sheer walls of green. St. Peter's Dome almost pierces the sky, and as the train finally gains the summit a vista of incomparable magnificence opens,—of caÑons and peaks and towering rocks,—and through one caÑon is seen Pueblo, over fifty miles distant, but swept up in nearer vision with a mirage-like effect in the air. It is a view that might well enchain one. The Spanish Peaks cut the sky far away on the horizon, and the beautiful range of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains offers a view of wonderful beauty. The road passes Duffields, Summit, Rosemont, and Cathedral Park, at each of which stations a house or two, or a few tents, may be seen,—the homes of workmen or of summer dwellers who find the most romantic and picturesque corners of the universe none too good in which to set up their household gods for the midsummer days. Nothing is more feasible than to live high up in the mountains along the "Short Line." The two trains a day bring the mails; all marketing and merchandise are easily procured; and the air, the views, the marvellous spectacle of sunrise and sunset, the perpetually changing panorama, simply make life a high festival. The little station of Rosemont is a natural park, surrounded by three towering peaks,—Mount Rosa, Big Chief, and San Luis. Clyde is a point much frequented by picnickers. The "Cathedral Park" is an impressive example of what the forces of nature can accomplish. Colossal rocks, chiselled by erosion, twisted by tempests, worn by the storms of innumerable ages, loom up in all conceivable shapes. They are of the same order as some of the wonderful groups of rocks seen in the Grand CaÑon. Towers and arches and temples and shafts have been created by Nature's irresistable forces, and to the strange fantastic form is added color,—the same rich and varied hues that render the Grand CaÑon so wonderful in its color effects. This "Cathedral Park" is a great pleasure resort for celebrations and picnics, both from Colorado Springs, Colorado City, Broadmoor, and other places from below, and also from Cripple Creek, Victor, and other towns in Cripple Creek District. PORTLAND AND INDEPENDENCE MINES, VICTOR, COLORADO The district of Cripple Creek includes a number of towns,—Victor, Anaconda, Eclipse, Santa Rita, Goldfield, Independence, and others, each centred about famous and productive mines. The first discovery of gold here was made in 1891 by a ranchman, Mr. Womack, who took the specimens of gold ore that he found to some scientific men in Colorado Springs, who pronounced it the genuine thing, and capitalists became interested to develop the mines. In 1891, the first year, the total value of the gold produced was $200,000; 1905, the fourteenth year, the value of the production was $47,630,107. The total value of the gold produced in the fourteen years of the camp's existence, to December 31, 1905, was $141,395,087. There are about three hundred properties in the camp which produce with more or less regularity. Of this number the greatest proportion are spasmodic shippers, making their production from the efforts of leasers. There are thirty large mines in the district, each producing $100,000 or more annually. Dividends paid by the mining companies in 1905 amounted to $1,707,000. Total dividends paid to December 31, 1905, $32,742,000. There are employed on an average some six thousand three hundred men in the mines, and the monthly pay-roll runs to about $652,189, exclusive of large salaries paid mine superintendents and managers and clerks in offices. The lowest wage paid in the camp is three dollars per day of eight hours, while many of the miners receive more than that. The average wage per day paid for labor amounts to $3.44. There are twelve towns in the district, with a population of fifty thousand people. During the period of excitement the population was about seventy thousand. The social life of the people is much the same as in other towns. There is a free school system, with an enrolment of nearly four thousand pupils, with a hundred and eighteen teachers under a superintendent with an assistant. There are thirty-four churches, representing almost every variety of faith. VIEW FROM BULL HILL, RICHEST GULCH IN THE WORLD Cripple Creek, the largest of these, lies in a hollow of the mountains, whose surrounding ranges are a thousand feet above the town. It consists mostly of one long street, with minor cross-streets, and there are little shops with chiffons, "smart" ribbons and laces, and all sorts of articles of dress making gay the show windows, and one sees women and children in all their pretty and stylish summer attire. There are two daily papers and an "opera house." Cripple Creek is a rather favorite point with dramatic companies, as the entire town, the entire district, turns out, and the audiences do not lack in either enthusiasm or numbers. Mr. William Caruthers, the district superintendent, estimates that this region has become one of the greatest gold-producing regions in the world; and in rapid development, and in the richness of its ores, nothing like it has ever been known before. In fifteen years the cattle ranges have been transformed into a populous district with fifty thousand people, and with all the modern conveniences of Eastern cities. The electric trolley system connects all the towns in Cripple Creek district and passes near all the large mines. This trolley line is owned and controlled by the "Short Line," and is greatly sought for pleasure excursions both by visitors and residents. Electric cars convey the miners up and down the hills to their respective mines. The class of laborers is said to be greatly improved of late years, and Mr. Caruthers informs the questioner that no problematic characters are longer tolerated in Cripple Creek. It has ceased to be the paradise of those who, for various unspecified personal reasons, were unable to keep their residence in other cities, or had left their own particular country for their country's good. When such characters appear, Mr. Caruthers and his staff guide them with unerring certainty to the railroad track, with the assurance that these intruders are wanted in Colorado Springs, and that, although there may be no parlor-car train, with all luxuries warranted, leaving at that moment for their migrating convenience, yet the steel track is before them, and it leads directly to Pike's Peak Avenue (the leading business street of Colorado Springs), and they are advised at once to fare forth on this mountain thoroughfare. The persuasion given by Mr. Caruthers and his assistants is of such an order that it is usually accepted without remonstrance, and the objectionable specimens of humanity realize that their climb of several thousand feet up to the famous gold camps was by way of being a superfluous expenditure of energy on their part. The special entertainment in Cripple Creek is to make the electric circle tour, on electric trolley cars, between Cripple Creek and Victor, going on the "low line" one way, and the "high line" the other. The high line is almost even with the summit of Pike's Peak, that looms up within neighborly distance, and the splendor of the Sangre de Cristo range adds a bewildering beauty to the matchless panorama. On this round trip—a trolley ride probably not equalled in the entire world—one gets quite near many of the famous mines, whose machinery offers a curious feature in the landscape.Taking the trip in the late brilliant afternoon sunshine along this mountain crest, offers the spectacle of an entire landscape all in a deep rose-pink, gleaming, in contrast with the dark green of the cedar forests, like a transformation scene on a stage. The tourist who regards this life as a probationary period, to be employed, as largely as possible, in festas and entertaining experiences, may add a unique one to his repertoire, should he be so favored by the gods; and sojourning in neighborly proximity to the "Garden of the Gods," why should they not bestir themselves in his favor? At all events, if he has contrived to invoke their interest, and finds himself invited by Mr. MacWatters (the courteous and vigilant General Passenger Agent of the "Short Line") to make the return journey from Cripple Creek, down below the clouds to Colorado Springs in a hand car, he will enjoy an experience to be treasured forever. For the hand car runs down of its own accord, by the law of gravitation, and is provided with an air-brake to regulate its momentum. To complete the enchantment of conditions,—and it need not be said that in a Land of Enchantment conditions conform to the prevailing spirit and of course are enchanting,—to complete these, let it be a partie carrÉe, with Mrs. MacWatters, and with Ellis Meredith, the well-known Colorado author, to make up the number; for the keenest political writer in Colorado is a woman, and this woman is Ellis Meredith. It is a name partly real, partly a literary nom-de-plume, and which is the one and the other need not be chronicled here. The name of Ellis Meredith has flown widely on the wings of fame as the author of a most interesting story, "The Master-Knot of Human Fate," which made an unusual impression on critical readers. "The Master-Knot" is an imaginative romance, whose scene is laid on one of the peaks of the Rocky Mountains. It presupposes an extraordinary if not an impossible situation, and on this builds up a story, brilliant, thoughtful, tantalizing in its undercurrent of suggestive interest, and altogether unique. THE DEVIL'S SLIDE, CRIPPLE CREEK SHORT LINE In her connection with a leading Denver journal Miss Meredith wields a trenchant pen, and one reading these strong and able articles could hardly realize that the same writer is the author of poems,—delicate, exquisite, tender,—and of prose romance which is increasingly sought by all lovers of the art of fiction. With such a party of friends as these, what words can interpret the necromancy of this sunset journey winding down the heights of majestic mountains, amid a forest of towering peaks, and colossal rocks looming up like giant spectres through the early twilight that gathers when the sun sinks behind some lofty pinnacle! The rose of afterglow burned in the east, reflecting its color over the Cheyenne caÑons, and even changing the granite precipice of the "Devil's Slide"—a thousand feet of precipitous rock, through which the steel track is cut—with a reflection of its rose and amber. Cathedral Park took on a new majesty in the deepening haze. At the foot of one of its tall spires is an ice cavern, which holds its perpetual supply all summer. The solid roadbed, uniformly ballasted with disintegrated granite, built on solid rock for its entire extent, and totally devoid of dust, gives to the hand car the ease and smoothness of a motor on level ground. No one can wonder that this road, built originally to convey coal and other supplies to Cripple Creek, and to bring the ore from the mines to the mills and smelters (a transportation it serves daily), has also, by its phenomenal fascinations, achieved a great passenger traffic made up of the tourists and visitors to Colorado. Even travellers going through to the Pacific Coast make the detour from La Junta to Colorado Springs to enjoy the "Short Line," just as they go from Williams to Bright Angel Trail for the Grand CaÑon. With this aËrial journey through a sunset fairyland, where the mysterious caÑons and gorges lay in shadow and the Colorado sunshine painted pinnacles and towers in liquid gold, what wonder that our poet, discovering her lyre, offered the following "Ode" to the "Short Line": COLORADO SPRINGS AND TUNNEL NO. 6, CRIPPLE CREEK SHORT LINE Ellis Meredith has often pictured in song the charm and romance of Colorado with the vividness and power that characterize her poems which are essentially those of insight and imagination; but in the opinion of many of her admirers she has hardly laid at the shrine of the muses any more felicitous votive offering than this little impromptu. A summer in Colorado Springs is one that is set in the heart of fascinating attractions. Nor is the Pike's Peak region a summer land alone, for the autumn is even more beautiful, and the winters are all crystal and sunshine and full of exquisite exhilaration and delight in mountain regions that take on new forms of interest. Colorado Springs is not merely—nor even mostly—an excursion city for pleasure-seekers; it is a city of permanent homes, whose residential advantages attract and create its phenomenal growth.To open one's eyes on the purple line of the Rocky Mountains, with Pike's Peak towering into the sky, in a luminous crystal air that makes even existence a delight, is an alluring experience. To look over the beautiful city of Colorado Springs, with its broad streets and boulevards, and lines of trees on either side; its electric lights, electric cars, well-built brick blocks, churches, schools, and free public library; its interesting and enterprising journalism; to come in contact with the intelligence and refinement of the people,—is to realize that this is no provincial Western town, but instead, a gay and fashionable city, with the aspect of a summer watering place. Manitou, which lies six miles away at the very base of Pike's Peak, and Colorado Springs are connected by electric cars running along the mountain line, and there is a great social interchange. It is simply a whirl of social life in the late summer, and the rapidity with which the guest is expected to flit from one garden party, and tea, and reception to another, within a given time, reminds him of a London season. In the morning every fashionable woman drives to Prospect Lake, and from her bathing in its blue waters to the informal "hop" at night, she is on a perpetual round of gayety if she so desire. The wide range and freedom of life in Colorado Springs is equally enjoyable. The artist, the thinker, the writer, finds an ideal environment in which to pursue his work. This beautiful residence city, founded by General Palmer in 1871, has now a population of some thirty thousand, and although lying at the foot of Pike's Peak, it is yet on an elevation of six thousand feet above the level of the sea. Adjoining Colorado Springs is Colorado City, a manufacturing town of five thousand inhabitants, and Manitou, the little town at the immediate base of Pike's Peak, with some two thousand residents, to which, in the summer, is added an equal number of visitors, who bestow themselves in the attractive hotels and boarding-houses or who occupy cottages or camps in the foothills. Colorado Springs was founded in a wise and beneficent spirit. Every deed in the town contains a clause prohibiting the sale of intoxicating liquors, and by the terms of the contract any violation of this agreement renders the deed null and void and the property reverts to the city. Education is made compulsory, and on this basis of temperance, education, and morality the town is founded. It is laid out with generous ideas and with unfailing allegiance to municipal ideals of taste. The avenues are one hundred and forty feet wide and the streets are all one hundred feet wide. Lying midway between Denver and Pueblo, the two largest cities of the state, Colorado Springs is within two hours of the former and one hour of the latter. Colorado College, a co-educational institution, is largely endowed, and it has from eight to nine hundred students. Rev. Samuel A. Eliot, D.D., of Boston, the president of the Unitarian Association, was invited to deliver the Commencement Address at this college in 1905, and on this occasion Dr. Eliot said: "Nothing can surpass the academic dignity of a commencement at a Western State University. The perfection of the discipline would make our elegant, but often distressed, 'master of ceremonies' at Harvard green with envy. At our Eastern Colleges there are still individual idiosyncrasies and perverse prejudices and traditions of simpler days to be considered. There are some old-fashioned members of the faculty who just won't wear the academic gown or the appropriately colored hood, and there are always some reckless seniors who will wear tan shoes or a straw hat. Not so in Kansas and Colorado, in Iowa and Nebraska. There every professor and every senior wears his uniform as if he were used to it; each one knows his place and his part and performs it impressively. The academic procession, headed by the regents in their gowns and followed by the members of the various faculties with their characteristic hoods and stripes, and by the senior classes of the college and the various professional schools, is perfect in its orderly procedure, and the commencement exercises themselves are carried through with a solemnity which is sometimes awesome. I caught myself almost wishing that some senior would forget to take off his Oxford cap at the proper time or trip on his gown as he came up the steps of the platform to get his sheepskin, but no such accident marred the impressiveness of the occasion."
Dr. Eliot playfully touches a fact in the social as well as in the academic life of the West in these remarks. The informalities so frequently experienced in recognized social life in the Eastern cities are seldom encountered in the corresponding circles of life in the West, all observance of times and seasons, as calling hours, ceremonial invitations, and driving being quite strictly relegated to their true place in the annals of etiquette. In his Commencement address before Colorado College in 1905 Dr. Eliot said, regarding the several educational schools of Colorado: "Thus in Colorado the State University is at Boulder, the Agricultural College at Fort Collins, the Normal School at Greeley, the School of Mines at Golden, and so on. The result is not only an injudicious diffusion of energy, but real waste and sometimes deplorable rivalry. Doubtless it is now too late to rectify this mistake. Provincial jealousies and a sense of local ownership are too strong to permit of desirable concentration, and these states are probably permanently burdened with the necessity of sustaining half a dozen institutions which must often duplicate equipment and courses of instruction."
Leading authorities in the Centennial State do not wholly agree with this view. The distribution of an educational centre in one city and part of the state and another in a different part, contributes to the building up of different cities and to a certain concentration on the part of the students on the special subjects pursued. President Slocum of Colorado College, President Baker of the State University, President Snyder of the State Normal College in Greeley, with other college presidents and their colleagues and faculties, are devoting their lives to the interests of higher education in its broadest and most complete sense; and with their own splendid equipments in learning, their patience and ability in research, their zeal for teaching, and their intense interest in the problems of university life in a new state, they are making a record of the most impressive quality. They are the great pathfinders of the educational future. Colorado has the advantage of a larger percentage of American population than any other of the Western inland states, there being only twenty per cent of foreign admixture in the entire six hundred and fifty thousand people,—a fact that is especially to be considered in educational progress. The high school building in Colorado Springs; the court house, costing a half-million dollars; the new city library of Colorado stone; the thirty-five miles of electric railway; a water system costing over a million of dollars; the admirable telephone system,—these and the fine architectural art would render it a desirable residence city even aside from the group of scenic wonders which has made it famous all over the world.General William J. Palmer, the founder of Colorado Springs, is one of the great benefactors of the state of Colorado. "General Palmer has always been a builder for the future," says a local authority. "His remarkable foresight was best exemplified in the construction of the Rio Grande railroad,—the road which made Colorado famous. Colorado Springs is another monument to his prophetic vision. With an ample fortune he has retired from business life, but is busier than ever with his many philanthropies, all of which have an eye to the future. "At great expense he has abolished Bear Creek toll-gate, and has constructed a wonderful carriage road through this beautiful caÑon, and will give it to the people as a permanent blessing." This Bear Creek CaÑon lies north of Cheyenne CaÑon—about five miles from Colorado Springs. The road winds back and forth in a zigzag elevation, with new vistas of enchantment at every turn,—towering mountains, the Garden of the Gods,—that strange, weird spectacle, St. Peter's Dome, Phantom Falls, Silver Cascade, Helen Hunt Falls, and other points of romantic beauty. Colorado Springs has a great park system at a cost already of three hundred thousand dollars, and with the buildings and other features projected the cost will be hardly less than half a million. There are to be floral gardens, an Italian sunken basin with a fountain rising in streams, after the fashion of the fountains of Versailles,—and an art gallery is soon to be added to this lovely and enterprising city. Already the city has Palmer Park,—comprising eight hundred acres, donated by the generous and beneficent General Palmer,—a park that contains Austin's Bluffs, from which a magnificent view is obtained. It is to General Palmer that all the charming extension of terraced drives and walks in North Cheyenne CaÑon is due,—the road often terraced on the side of the mountain; and here and there little refreshment stands, where a sandwich, a glass of lemonade, a cup of tea may be had, are found in these wild altitudes. In Palmer Park one portion has been appropriately named Statuary Park, from the multitude of strange forms and figures that Nature has chiselled in the sandstone. Gray's Peak, like a dim shadow on the far horizon to the north, and the faint, beautiful outline of the Spanish Peaks to the south, are seen from this park, while the massive portals of the "Garden of the Gods" in their burning red are near, and at one side the rose pink rocks of Blair Athol. General Palmer's residence in Glen Eyrie is one of the poetic places of the world. The romantic environment of mountain caÑons, towers, and domes of the fantastic sandstone shapes, and overhanging rocks that loom up thousands of feet on a mountain side, impart a wild charm that no words can picture. The architectural effects have been kept in artistic correspondence with the romantic scenery.Monument Valley Park is the latest of General Palmer's munificent gifts to Colorado Springs. It was a tract of low waste land some two miles in length and covering an area of two hundred or more acres, but its transformation into the present beautiful park is the realization of an Aladdin's dream. An artistic stone drinking-fountain; a wide vista of trees relieved by a low Italian basin with fountains; Monument Creek, made to be sixty feet wide between its banks; the creation of artificial lakes; and there are included in the scheme conservatories, rustic pavilions, and botanical gardens. This park is one of the most extensive improvements in decorative effect, that is known in any city. Monument Park is distinctive from Monument Valley Park, the former lying some ten miles from the city, and it is picturesque beyond words. The "Garden of the Gods" has achieved world-wide fame. The "Gateway," the "Cathedral Spires," "Balanced Rock," and other singular formations fascinate the visitor and draw him back again and again. A local writer thus describes the majestic "Gateway": "Two immense slabs of red sandstone, soft and beautiful in their coloring, tower over three hundred feet high on either side and seem to challenge the right of the stranger to enter the sacred portals. Napoleon, at the Pyramids, sought to impress his soldiers with the thought that from that eminence four thousand years looked down upon them. But from here geological ages of untold length look down upon the beholder. In close proximity may be found limestone, gypsum, white sandstone, and red sandstone, each representing a different geological era, and each, in all probability, representing millions of years in its formation."
The "Garden of the Gods" represents one of those inexplicable epochs of Nature's creations as does, only in a more marvellous degree, the Grand CaÑon and the Petrified Forest. A scientist says of these grotesque shapes that "their strangely garish colors, red and yellow and white, in enormous masses, lofty buttresses, towers and pinnacles, besides formations of lesser size, in fantastic shapes, that readily lend themselves to the imagination, are sedimentary strata, which once lay horizontally upon the mountain's breast, but that some gigantic convulsion of nature threw them into their present perpendicular attitude, with their roots, as it were, extending hundreds of feet underground. The erosion of water, when this was all the Gulf of Mexico, accounts for the shaping. "The gateway to the Garden is really the grandest feature, rising perpendicularly on either side twice the height of Niagara, and framing in rich terra cotta a most entrancing picture of the blue and tawny peak, apparently only a little way on the other side." GATEWAY OF THE GARDEN OF THE GODS, COLORADO SPRINGS, COLORADO CATHEDRAL SPIRES, GARDEN OF THE GODS, COLORADO SPRINGS, COLORADO Any writer on Colorado Springs is embarrassed by the fact that the great founder and benefactor of the city has requested that his name is not to be recorded in connection with his great and constant gifts to the municipality; and while it is far from the desire of any one to disregard the expressed wish of a man whose modesty is as great as is his munificent generosity, it is yet impossible to tell the story of Colorado Springs without perpetual references to her distinguished citizen, her great and noble benefactor and founder. It is not too much to say that there is probably not, in the history of the United States, all instance parallel to the story of General Palmer and Colorado Springs. Yet beyond this bare mention, in which one even thus records that which General Palmer has wished to have had left without reference, one is under bonds not to go. The Recording Angel may not be so plastic to the expressed preferences of the wise founder and the munificent benefactor of the charming city; and the vast and generous gifts, the noble character of the citizen whose life and example is the most priceless legacy that he could bequeath to Colorado Springs, however priceless are his long series of gifts,—these are inevitably inscribed in that eternal record not made with hands, on whose pages must ever remain, in shining letters, the honored name of General William J. Palmer, whose energy and whose lofty spirit have invested this beautiful centre of the picturesque region of Pike's Peak with the spell of an enchanted city lying fair in a Land of Enchantment.
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