tion I submitted without complaint, or even question.

It chanced that on the second day of our stay the Ehrichs were due at a
garden party in "Glen Eyrie," General Palmer's palatial home in the foot
hills, and kindly obtained permission to bring us with them. That drive
across the mesa was like a journey into some far country--passage to a
land which was neither America nor England, neither East nor West. To
reach the Castle we entered a gate at the mouth of a narrow, wooded
canon and drove for nearly a mile toward the west through a most
beautiful garden in which all the native shrubs and wild flowers had
been assembled and planted with exquisite art.

People were streaming in over the mountain roads, some on horseback,
some on bicycles, some in glittering, gayly-painted wagons, and when we
reached the lawn before the great stone mansion, we found a very curious
and interesting throng of guests, and in the midst of them, the General,
tall, soldierly, clothed in immaculate linen and wearing a broad white
western hat, was receiving his friends, assisted by his three pretty
young daughters.

The house was a veritable chateau--the garden a wonderland of Colorado
plants and flowers, skilfully disposed among the native ledges and
scattered along the bases of the cliffs whose rugged sides enclosed the
mansion grounds. The towers (of gray stone) were English, but the plants
and blooms were native to the Rampart foot hills. In a very real fashion
"Glen Eyrie" bodied forth the singular and powerful character of its
owner, who was at once an English squire, a Pennsylvania civil war
veteran, and a western railway engineer.

Food and drink and ices of various kinds were being served under the
trees with lavish hospitality, and groups of young people were wandering
about the spacious grounds--grounds so beautiful by reason of nature's
adjustment, as well as by way of the landscape gardener's art, that
they made the senses ache with a knowledge of their exquisite
impermanency. It was a kind of poem expressed in green and gold and
scarlet.

Zulime greatly interested the Palmer girls, and the General, who
remembered me pleasantly, was most amiable to us both. "You must come
again," he said, and to me he added, "You must come over some day and
ride my trails with me."

As I mingled with that throng of joyous folk, I lost myself. I became an
actor in a prodigious and picturesque American social comedy. For stage
we had the lawn,