minister in some degree to the home-sick longing of his Median bride. The story of their magnificence has reached us, and through all the centuries since, men have sought to imitate them. Our park is older than the parks of Babylon, so that we can not be imitators of the Indian king. Nor would the classical Academia, adorned as it was with all the richest tokens of ancient Athenian civilization; nor Pliny's Tusculan villa, with its careful artistic formality; nor Windsor, with its historic forests; nor the war-swept Bois-de-Boulogne; nor the everpopular Prater of Vienna,―tempt us into any effort at imitation. While it has been the artist's study for many generations, in the construction of parks, to get as near as possible to nature's forms and methods, to improve the broadest scenes, and open up the widest distances to the eye, none have yet attained perfection. Recognizing the difficulties which have perplexed the artist, we have avoided them all, by going direct to the source of all beauty and grandeur, and have adopted en masse, and in detail, the completed handiwork of the Great Artist. Let him, whom the dread of human enactment will not deter from profaning the precincts of the park, pause before laying sacrilegious hand where the Divine Architect has so plainly affixed his seal.

To reach this wonderful spot, we ought to be transported in some wonderful manner; and, in truth, you shall be, for the greater portion of the route. When the great Northern Pacific line is completed, its trains will carry visitors to a point within eighty miles of the park, and it is the intention of that company to construct a narrow-gauge line into the park. It will be some years, however, before that route is completed; and, as we can not wait so long, we must try the other line.

For fully nine-tenths of the distance we will be carried in sumptuous palaces, where men and women may eat and sleep, make calls, and enjoy social converse, at thirty miles the hour. Could we but continue to the end in this style, our trip were a luxury indeed; but we must leave them all, in the basin of the Great Salt Lake, and nerve ourselves for the hundreds of miles of rugged privation, and toilsome climbing, which still intervene between us and our great national pleasuring-ground. Some of our party will, no doubt, be loath to forego the pleasures and the comforts of the palace-car, to enter upon the hardships, dangers, it may be, of more primitive methods of travel. That hesitation may be increased by the certainty of witnessing well-known curiosities among the Sierra Nevadas, and in the California valleys and vine

yards, and a lingering doubt that, after all, the Yellowstone region may be only a myth.

But we will assume that a few, at least, will turn their faces northward from Ogden or Corinne, and push on to the end of the contemplated journey. It is not the design of this paper to detail the route after leaving the railroad. It will be sufficient to say that, before reaching the park, all wheeled vehicles must be abandoned, trunks left behind, and needed supplies securely fixed upon the backs of horses or mules; for there is, as yet, no royal highway to our national reservation, and no rumble of wheels, save only those of the odometer, have ever been heard within its precincts.

Having reached the spot, the writer feels how utterly weak are words to convey any accurate conception of the scenery of the region round about. Any attempt to do so, while it can not but fall far short of the reality, may, at the same time, seem like fulsome exaggeration to those who have never beheld any of the great western mountain ranges of the continent. But an examination of the photographs brought back by the exploring party, one of which is now,* and others of which will be, reproduced for the readers of the REPOSITORY, may serve to prepare the reader, in some measure, to read a feeble attempt at description. Those pictures which, of course, neither flatter nor exaggerate, and the fossils and other specimens, will prove as convincing as were the rich clusters of Eshcol of the wonders of the Promised Land.

Yonder, in the distance, as we near the confines of the park, towers one lofty peak, as if it were the monarch of this kingdom,

"On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds,

With a diadem of snow."

We would fain placate the ruler of so rich a domain, and a profound salam in that direction is almost involuntary, ere we dare to invade the sacred quiet of the realm he rules.

The first attraction we notice, is the great cañon through which the Yellowstone River foams and tosses its waters between lofty volcanic walls more than a thousand feet in height. Far beneath where we stand, the river plunges with fearful velocity; but the distance is so great that not even a quiet murmur, as of a hidden brook, reaches the ear. The silence is so oppressive that yonder stream, so far below, might be a ghostly river flowing between immaterial walls. In the course of the river, and within the park, are water-falls, in comparison with which Niagara is dwarfed, and must hereafter cease to be one of the world's great

* See steel engraving.

est wonders. Over the lesser falls the greenish waters are dashed into myriads of prismatic drops, the waves are capped with snowy foam, while in all the quiet eddies leaping trout rise promptly to the tempting wiles of the angler.

Near by, the Devil's Slide attracts the visitor, forming a striking land-mark for a great distance. It is the immediate result of volcanic action, which has heaved up an enormous mass of material that still remains, consisting of alternate layers of limestone, sandstone, and quartzite, raised into an almost vertical position. No doubt some softer material originally filled in the spaces between the rock now standing; but the storms of centuries have washed it all away, leaving nothing but the unyielding rock, which appears as if reared by the hand of man, "with level and plumb-line; with compass and square."

Here, on every hand, the evidences of volcanic action are continuous and striking. The craters of extinct volcanoes, whose lurid flames, in ages past, lit up these solitudes with a terrible glare, and attested the tempests of fire which rage beneath the surface, are now quiet lakes fringed with ferns and mosses, the homes of the speckled trout and water-fowl. These hills, on either hand, are but the congealed waves of a once fiery sea.

The pandemonium of the park is the valleys of the Fire-hole River, of Iron-spring Creek, and of the east fork of Madison River. There the hot-springs, the geysers, and the mud-geysers boil and bubble and toss in continual fer

ment.

Now, geysers are no new thing, and we do not, for that reason, call special attention to

ours.

But they so far surpass in magnitude and power any similar springs, that we fear not to institute a comparison, and will, therefore, briefly allude to the most noted geysers of other localities.

The geysers of Iceland have hitherto been regarded as the most interesting of this class of volcanic manifestations; and to them pilgrimages have been made for more than two centuries, as to the greatest natural curiosities. The largest of those, known as the Great Geyser, is from fifty to sixty feet in the outer diameter of its walls, while the well, or inner diameter, is but ten feet. The height of the jet has been variously estimated at from sixty to two hundred and twelve feet. Its discharge continues but about five minutes, when its waters entirely subside, and the boiling ceases. The Great Stroker, in the immediate neighborhood of the Great Geyser, is but eight feet in its

inner diameter. Its eruptions occur twice a day, and continue some three-quarters of an hour each time. At the same time the eruption of the Great Geyser occurs, indicating a subterranean connection between the two springs. Near the latter spring is a quiet well, once known to fame as the Roaring Geyser, but an earthquake, in 1789, cut off its steam connection and put a stop at once to its roaring and its spouting.

The most interesting, if not the only known phenomena of this character in our own country, were those in the Napa Valley, California, until the recent discoveries in the Yellowstone Valley. In a lateral gorge of the Napa Valley, known as the Devil's Cañon, there are quite a number of small spouting geysers. The cañon is quite a narrow ravine, from the bare, scorched walls of which the volcanic vapors come forth in eddies. The face of the hill is red, as if parched with intense heat. The waters from the various sulphur, alum, and salt jets unite and form a small stream, which flows through the valley; and probably a viler compound of horrible stuffs was never brewed. There is great variety of color and temperature in these waters, cold, warm, hot, and boiling-blue, red, yellow, white, and transparent. In the "Sorcerer's Caldron," a black and horribly offensive mud bubbles up, fully vindicating the propriety of its name, as it must be nearly assimilated to the contents of the "witches' caldron" in Macbeth.

It is to these localities that men have gone heretofore to witness what was regarded as the most interesting manifestation of the volcanic thermal spring. Now they may visit our park, and witness similar phenomena on a grander scale. In the valleys of the Fire-hole River, of Iron-spring Creek, and Madison River, the spouting springs, or geysers, are found. From a distance, as the visitor approaches, light vapors are seen floating over the valley, indicating the locality of the springs. The geysers have formed about themselves basins, or silicious walls, varying in size and thickness, from the small circle, no larger than a hand-basin a few inches in diameter, up to the lofty mound, forty feet in height, closed in at the top, under which the waters are at rest in a sarcophagus of their own construction.

At the surface of these volcanic springs the cold air lowers the temperature; but descending, it rapidly increases up to an intense heat. Bubbles form in the depths, rise to the surface, and burst when they reach the air. All the phenomena of boiling occur, the temperature of the entire mass reaches the boiling point, the surface swells in billowy heaps, the surrounding

earth trembles and emits a muffled roar. Suddenly the resistance of the superincumbent mass of water is overcome, and the jet leaps forth, a column of crystal upreared into the air twenty, fifty, a hundred, two hundred feet. Other jets follow, or the first seems to be held motionless by a mysterious cohesion. But they last only a short time, the water cools, recedes within the basin or overflows its sides, and is quiet until the struggling demon of the depths shall again force an exit, when the magnificent display is repeated.

Some of these geysers are of almost incredible force, and deserve special mention. The "Grand Geyser," for example, situated in the Fire-hole Valley, is the largest and most powerful of any in the park. During the stay of the party in its neighborhood, it was in action but once in thirty-two hours, but while it was in action, which was for about fifteen minutes each time, the appearance was most striking and wonderful. It throws into the air a compact column of water, eight feet in diameter, to a height of not less than two hundred feet. The mighty force which operated to project this immense column of water to so great a height, held it there so steadily and evenly as to give it the appearance of a solid pillar of crystal. High above the capital of the lofty column an immense cloud of steam rises a thousand feet and floats away, condensing quickly in the crisp mountain air.

Another geyser, in the same group, was named by the Washburn party "Old Faithful," which name Dr. Hayden retains. It is destimed to be more popular than its larger neighbor on account of the frequency of its eruptions, which occur at intervals of about one hour, and last about fifteen minutes. This geyser sustains a column of water six feet in diameter and one hundred and fifty feet in height, with great steadiness.

Compare one of these jets of water with the stream thrown by the most powerful steamengine, and then attempt to conceive the power which must lie at the base of the jet. Yet it is the same power which is being utilized all about us in our every-day life, and which we have taught the most delicate manipulations of art and the exertion of the mightiest force. From the polishing of the eye of the cambric-needle up to driving the Great Eastern, this power is utilized. But the steam-power of the "Grand Geyser" is to the same power in the steamengine, what the wild mustang of the plains is to the ambling palfrey of a child. It is the demon of the water in either case; in the depths of the geyser the might of an army may not resist its force; yet under the taming influ

ence of the human intellect, the finger of a child can guide and control it.

In

The hot springs differ from the geysers in that the former send forth no jets of water. temperature they are at or near the boiling point, and boil over gently; but every thing is done decently and in order, and no boisterous or unbecoming outbursts are ever permitted. These hot springs must become one of the most attractive features of the entire park, for several reasons. In appearance they are most beautiful and interesting; their surroundings are singular in formation, and their medicinal properties are supposed to be of great value. Judging from the descriptions of Oriental travelers, these springs must surpass in beauty and extent the famous thermal springs of the ancient Ionian city of Hierapolis, and also of New Zealand, which have been heretofore regarded as the most wonderful on the globe.

In the Fire-hole River Valley there are from twelve hundred to fifteen hundred of these springs, varying in diameter from a few inches up to three hundred feet, and in temperature from one hundred up to the boiling point, which, at that great elevation, is about 195°. Approaching the locality of these springs, from a distance the eye is arrested by something resembling a lofty mountain of snow, or a vast cataract frozen instantaneously in its fall. This is formed of the calcareous sediment precipitated as the water flows over the slopes. It is not known how rapidly this sediment is deposited; but if we may believe Strabo, who wrote of the Ionian baths, where the waters were similar to these, the formation must grow very rapidly. He states that when a citizen would inclose his grounds, he simply constructed a conduit for the water on the line of his possessions, and beautiful walls of jasper, carved into a thousand fantastic shapes, grew up in a. year.

This frozen cascade is about one thousand feet in height, and the surface covered by the deposit is about three or four square miles in extent. The more active springs are comprised in a space of about one square mile, the remainder of the space being covered by the remains of springs which have ceased to flow.

For bathing purposes, there is nothing to compare with the pools near these springs, in the world of nature yet discovered. Nor can the most costly structures of art, with all their gaudy ornamentation, their marble basins and perfumed waters, equal these natural baths. Passing out from the spring, the waters flow down the slopes from one reservoir to another, at each descent losing some degree of their

heat, so that the bather can be suited in temperature from the boiling point to an ice-cold douche. Many of these basins are from four to six feet in diameter, and from one to four feet in depth, with their sides or walls elaborately carved and most delicately colored. So soon as improved methods of transportation deprive the trip of its present hardships, these baths must become a most popular and desirable resort for invalids. Indeed, it may be that in some of these richly sculptured basins will be found the long-sought Fountain of Youth, which so many languishing mortals have dreamed of ever since the fascinating story of Ponce de

Leon.

The level on which the most active springs are found is about half-way up the side of the snowy mountain. The weird and fantastic shapes, the vivid and diversified coloring, and the sparkling waters, ever flowing, ever creating new designs of beauty, unite to form a scene almost painful in its exquisite variety of combinations, and which thousands of people must visit, in the coming years, with never wearying zest and enjoyment.

This spot has other attractions almost equal to those described. It lies about one thousand feet above the valley of the Yellowstone, and you may enjoy a very extensive view up and down the valley. In the distance, to the north, the lofty masonry of the Devil's Slide is plainly visible; and, on either hand, two thousand feet of frowning mountains sentinel the valley. Higher still, a rear rank as it were, the basaltic peaks rear their columns to the clouds. Away to the eastward rises a precipitous wall fifteen hundred feet in height, a joy to the geologist; for it reveals, as if traced on a map, a perfect geological section.

If you would extend your view, and do not object to a little sharp work, climb to the dome of Mt. Everts, and you may have a view embracing a radius of from fifty to one hundred miles in every direction, where the eye can take in at a glance more than the entire area of the park.

The lake must always be one of the most attractive features of the park, excelling all other points, as it does, in its picturesque beauty. The Yellowstone River runs through the lake, entering it at the south-eastern arm near the Bridger Mountains, and leaving it at the north-west angle of the northern arm, between the mouth of the Pelican River and the Elephant Mountain. On the east side of the lake numerous streams empty, and near the north-eastern angle of the lake, hot springs are found near the shore. In fact, one of these

springs is actually in the lake, where it has formed its own basin, rising above the level of the waters of the lake. Here we have the singular spectacle of a spring of boiling water emerging into a lake, the waters of which are almost icy cold. One of the party utilized the phenomenon in a curious manner by catching a trout in the lake, and, without changing his position, he suspended the fish from the line in the boiling waters of the spring, where it was thoroughly cooked in a very few minutes. A photograph shows the spring in the lake, and all the members of the party will vouch for the truth of the incident.

On the west side, the shores are more precipitous; but no streams empty into it on that side, excepting Bridge Creek. The shores are heavily timbered, with here and there grassy bottoms, while the fallen timber in many places is so thick as to be almost impassable. Between the two south-east arms of the lake, and when looked at from the north, seeming like an island mountain, Promontory Mountain casts its dark shadow far into the lake.

The surface of this lake is 7,490 feet above the sea-level; and the mountains in the background are from 1,800 to 2,000 feet above the level of the lake.

Launching their little canvas bark, Annie, which was

"The first

That ever burst
Into that silent sea,"

the explorers made a thorough survey of the shores, and took many soundings of the waters. The shore-line is about one hundred and seventy-five miles in length, and the greatest depth discovered was three hundred feet. The waters are clear, pure, and cold, the temperature in the Summer months averaging 40°. There are but few animals in the neighborhood; among them, however, is a tailless rabbit (Lepus cuniculus), the cony of the Psalmist: "The hills are a refuge for the wild goats and the rocks for the conies."

As this is not intended for a guide-book, it will not be expected that any thing like a detail of all the beauties and wonders of the park will be given. I have referred to but a few of its chief attractions. There are many others of equal, perhaps superior, interest. There is the great water-fall on Tower Creek, one hundred and fifty-six feet in height, with its sentinel towers overlooking the descent; and Cascade Fall, where the waters leap from step to step in the basaltic stair-way. These and many other beauties must pass unnoticed.

Dr. Hayden is, probably, not a man of suffi