place called Hell's Half
Acre. It is rightly named. Rough, perpendicular ledges project over a
monstrous gulf of unknown depth, from which great clouds of steam are
constantly emerging. When the wind draws back for a moment a portion
of this sulphur-laden curtain, the visitor perceives a lake below,
seething and boiling from internal heat. For years no one suspected
this to be a geyser; but suddenly, in 1881, the underlying force
hurled the entire lake up bodily to the height of two hundred and
fifty feet, and even repeated frequently. After some months the
exhibition ceased, and all was calm again for seven years. In 1888,
however, it once more burst forth with prodigious energy, ejecting at
each explosion more boiling water than all the other geysers in the
Park combined. Even the surrounding ledges could not withstand this
terrible upheaval, and tons of rock were sometimes thrown up, with
the water, more than two hundred feet. It is not strange, therefore,
that this is called Excelsior, the King of Geysers. It is the most
tremendous, awe-inspiring fountain in the world. When it will be
again aroused, no one can tell. Its interval would seem to be from
seven to ten years. Said an enthusiastic traveler to me: "If the
Excelsior ever plays again, I will gladly travel three thousand miles
to see it."

[Illustration: HELL'S HALF ACRE.]

[Illustration: THE EXCELSIOR, IN 1888.]

[Illustration: EVENING IN THE UPPER BASIN.]

I have a vivid remembrance of my last night at the Upper Basin. The
hush of evening hallowed it. Alone and undisturbed we looked upon a
scene unequaled in the world. Around us liquid columns rose and fell
with ceaseless regularity. The cooler air of evening made many shafts
of vapor visible which in the glare of day had vanished unperceived.
So perfect were their images in the adjoining stream, that it was
easy to believe the veil had been at last withdrawn, and that the
hidden source of all this wonderful display had been revealed. No
sound from them was audible; no breeze disturbed their steadfast
flight toward heaven; and in the deepening twilight, the slender,
white-robed columns seemed like the ghosts of geysers, long since
dead, revisiting the scenes of their activity.

[Illustration: THE MORNING-GLORY POOL.]

[Illustration: PRISMATIC LAKE.]

But geysers do not constitute the only marvels of these volcanic
basins. The beauty of their pools of boiling water is almost
inconceivable to those