pped peaks, sparkling
in the morning sun, seemed to soar and pierce the clouds of delicate
shades that floated in space about them, attracted, as it were, by a
heavenly magnet. It was a sight I had not dreamed of, and one that
made an impression on my young mind to last through life.

DENVER AT LAST!

When about ten miles from Denver--so we at least thought, and fearless
of danger, my chum and myself obtained permission from Mr. Perry to
walk to the city over the rolling ground. We tramped until the sun was
well up in the heavens. One would think it but a few miles to those
mighty and solemn mountains of rocks, so deceptive was the distance,
yet, they were twenty miles beyond the city. At noon we knew we had
made ten long miles and were completely tired out. We were on the
point of taking a rest when I urged my chum to cross the next knoll,
and if the city did not loom up we would halt. We did so and to our
surprise and joy were right in the city of Denver, the "Mecca" of
nearly all Western freighters and distributing point for the far
Western territories. It seemed to have risen beneath our feet. The
grand old range of mountains with their sky-soaring pinnacles and
scenic background of grandeur, together with the surrounding
landscape, made it the sight of one's life. Our sixteen mile walk and
previous seventy days' living on a diet of bacon, beans, and dried
apples, certainly placed us in condition for a civilized meal.

We were directed to a first-class restaurant, both in price and
quality of food. We were about famished, and to satisfy our hunger
seemed impossible. We ate and ate, and probably would have been eating
yet, had not the waiter presented us with a ticket demanding a five
dollar gold piece from each, when we decided we had better call a
halt, if we intended to remain in the city over night.

AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE

On walking up the street we stepped into the first hotel we came to,
the old "Planters," registered, paid for our supper, lodging and
breakfast. When about to leave the hotel, who should walk in but a
Genevan by name, Michael C. Pembroke, with his arm in a sling. He had
been propelled across the plains by mules, and one of the ugly brutes
had broken his right arm with one of his ever active hoofs. I asked
Michael why the mule kicked him? He replied, "Charlie, I may look
foolish but was not fool enough to go back and ask him." Never
approach a Missouri mule from the rear, for there certa