he river which we seek. Deep,
vast canyons, all trending westwards, lie in purple gloom. Pine-clad
ranges, rising into the blasted top of Storm Peak, all run westwards
too, and all the beauty and glory are but the frame out of which
rises--heaven-piercing, pure in its pearly luster, as glorious a
mountain as the sun tinges red in either hemisphere--the splintered,
pinnacled, lonely, ghastly, imposing, double-peaked summit of Long's
Peak, the Mont Blanc of Northern Colorado.[10]

[10] Gray's Peak and Pike's Peak have their partisans, but after seeing
them all under favorable aspects, Long's Peak stands in my memory as it
does in that vast congeries of mountains, alone in imperial grandeur.

This is a view to which nothing needs to be added. This is truly the
"lodge in some vast wilderness" for which one often sighs when in the
midst of "a bustle at once sordid and trivial." In spite of Dr.
Johnson, these "monstrous protuberances" do "inflame the imagination
and elevate the understanding." This scenery satisfies my soul. Now,
the Rocky Mountains realize--nay, exceed--the dream of my childhood.
It is magnificent, and the air is life giving. I should like to spend
some time in these higher regions, but I know that this will turn out
an abortive expedition, owing to the stupidity and pigheadedness of
Chalmers.

There is a most romantic place called Estes Park, at a height of 7,500
feet, which can be reached by going down to the plains and then
striking up the St. Vrain Canyon, but this is a distance of fifty-five
miles, and as Chalmers was confident that he could take me over the
mountains, a distance, as he supposed, of about twenty miles, we left
at mid-day yesterday, with the fervent hope, on my part, that I might
not return. Mrs. C. was busy the whole of Tuesday in preparing what
she called "grub," which, together with "plenty of bedding," was to be
carried on a pack mule; but when we started I was disgusted to find
that Chalmers was on what should have been the pack animal, and that
two thickly-quilted cotton "spreads" had been disposed of under my
saddle, making it broad, high, and uncomfortable. Any human being must
have laughed to see an expedition start so grotesquely "ill found." I
had a very old iron-grey horse, whose lower lip hung down feebly,
showing his few teeth, while his fore-legs stuck out forwards, and
matter ran from both his nearly-blind eyes. It is kindness to bring
him up to abundant p