nearly as miscellaneous an assortment as the preceding. And now, bidding our friends good morning, we will saunter down-town.

Denver is situated on the south fork of the Platte, some fifteen miles from the base of the Rocky Mountains. It is on the prairie which has here a gentle slope toward the river, except at the point of union between the valley and the plain above, where the ascent is quite sharp. The soil is gravelly and of a peculiar character, that makes the streets always excellent. There is too much gravel to allow the soil to adhere to one's feet, and enough finer earth to make the roads 'tread' well. Nature has done every thing in the way of paving this city of the west. Occasionally the wind raises a cloud of dust, but it is nothing in comparison with the same in Eastern Kansas or Western Missouri.

In one respect Denver differs from Washington; the latter is a city of magnificent distances, the former one of magnificent expectations. Denver was originally laid out to contain twelve hundred and eighty acres, an area sufficient for its growth in a long time. Its western boundary was the famous Cherry Creek. But very soon some enterprising gentlemen laid out the town of Aururia on the opposite side of that stream, containing just as much of the earth's surface as its older rival. A few weeks afterward the town of Highland, located on the north bank of the Platte, and separated from Denver only by that river, saw the day. That also contained the same amount of land as Denver. Recently the three have been united under one management, and are known as the city of Denver. The grand consolidated city has, therefore, an area of six square miles, beside numerous additions that have been made by enthusiastic speculators. The landed property has not been held in peace and quietness. On two or three occasions portions of the town have been 'jumped' or forcibly seized, by men who were desirous of owning without the formality and inconvenience of buying. This jumping led to collisions between the authorities and the jumpers, and in the settlement of their disputes, the rifle and the revolver acted as judge and jury. The holders of land have as yet no title, as the country still belongs to the Indians; but it is hoped the aboriginal claim will soon be extinguished, and in that case the squatter principle of 'first to occupy' will be good. Larimer, Blake, Ferry, and F, are the principal business streets. The first, named after one of the early settlers, boasts of several brick and a goodly number of frame buildings, occupied by merchants, mechanics, groggery-keepers and land-speculators. Parallel with it is Blake-street, its name perpetuating that of an enterprising youth from the Bay State. Here are the same classes of buildings as on Larimer-street, but they are far more numerous. The latter is comparatively quiet, while Blake-street is ordinarily a scene of bustle and confusion. At mid-day one sees there freight and emigrant-wagons, ambulances, horsemen, footmen, loose cattle, Indians, 'greasers,' dogs, hogs, gamblers and auctioneers, all mingled together in most admired disorder. Above the din of the crowd are heard the mellifluous tones of the last-named gentry crying their wares. Until the enforcement of a late city ordinance prohibiting the practice of their vocation in the streets, gamblers were accustomed to gather on the side-walks

and take in' the verdant ones. 'Who bets on the ace of clubs; the ace of clubs, gentlemen, is the winning card. The ace, the ace; whoever turns the ace wins the twenty dollars.' Such is the style in which they court the fickle goddess. They have also a harmless little game wherein a strap is rolled in such a way as to present three loops, and the bystander is at liberty to bet his money and put a small stick in the loop that he thinks will catch when the strap is unrolled. The beauty of the operation is, that not one of the loops will catch, and the better is sure to be the loser. With such and similar amusements do the sporting gentry of Denver while away their time.

Before the United States mail reached this city, all the letters to Pike's Peak were brought by the Overland Express Company, and in June or July last a double line of men, reaching oftentimes nearly to the corner of the next block, could be seen on the arrival of each tri-weekly coach. As many as twelve thousands letters have been received at this office in a single week. The manager of the postal department was once post-master of Sacramento, and has served in the same capacity in two or three cities of the East. He is famous for his memory of names and faces, a quality quite essential for a good post official. The coaches for St. Joseph start from this office, and it is amusing to hear the parting words to those bound States-ward.

'Good-by, old fel. Have you got whiskey enough?'

'I say, Jack, you'd better crop your har before you get to Cottonwood. The Injens thar jest love a scalp like yourn.'

'Tell Dave's wife that he 's married to a squaw, and she need n't come out.'

The superintendent hands up the way-bill; the passengers reach from the coach and give a final hand-shake, take a parting drink to good luck, the whip cracks, and off go the mules on their way to the rising sun. On the arrival of each coach from the States, a crowd gathers to witness the debarkation of passengers and the unloading of express matter. In fact, one of the standard amusements of Denver is a visit to the express-offices on the arrival and departure of the coaches.

In speaking of this branch of business, the office of Hinckley and Company on the same street should not be forgotten. They have lines to the States, to all the mining districts in the mountains, to Colorado and Cañon Cities on the Arkansas River, and to Taos and other parts of New-Mexico. Wherever there are people enough to make it desirable, Hinckley and Company are sure to establish an express. In the months of June, July, August and September of the year 1860, this company transported sixty-three thousand one hundred and fifty-two letters between Denver and the mining region alone. From this office a coach starts weekly for St. Joseph via Fort Kearney and Omaha, Nebraska, under the auspices of the Western Stage Company, a gigantic concern that has its lines throughout nearly all the great West. It is the intention to make the service on the Denver and St. Joseph route a tri-weekly one. A short distance from the express office is the mint and banking-house of Clark, Gruber and Company. The only money coined in Pike's Peak is from this establishment. Several gentlemen of the press, among whom the author was physically con

spicuous, witnessed the first coinage of Rocky Mountain gold in the basement of that three-story brick. Well does he remember with what politeness Clark produced a bottle, labelled 'Old Bourbon,' and with what eagerness the press (present company excepted) expressed its contents. He has in mind the gravity with which a youthful journalist propounded the following:

'Why are we now unlike our friends at the East?'

No one in his auditory could tell, and after a due pause the young man gasped faintly:

'Because, while they take mint in their whiskey, we take our whiskey in the mint.'

He survived, and is now doing well.

This firm has already coined upward of a half-million dollars, and sent to the East large amounts in gold-dust. Their coin is a great benefit to the country, obviating as it does the necessity of weighing gold-dust in commercial transactions. Those who do not appreciate the convenience of coined money should live a year in a country where unwrought gold is the circulating medium.

The crowds in this street, like all gatherings in a new country, are of a motley character. We will pass the 'great unwashed' without notice, and fix our attention on that mulatto-visaged man arrayed in a rough suit, and with feet covered with moccasins. He is portentously known as Captain Beckwourth. A few years ago he published a book giving an account of the scenes and incidents in his life, and especially of nine years during which he was head chief of the Crow Indians. Engage him in conversation, and you will find him ready to launch upon his favorite topic and recount marvellous stories of his past career. He tells us he was the happy husband of eight dusky wives when he was 'big Injin' in the Crow nation. He has lately taken to his bosom a ninth bride, and the charming couple are enjoying the saccharine period, yclept 'the honeymoon,' in a small cabin about three miles above Denver. That tall, fine-looking man, with a form like Adonis, is an ex-fillibuster. He served in Nicaragua under the 'grey-eyed man of destiny;' was a prisoner of state in Mexico, and worked for a year on the roads of that land of aguardiente and frijoles. He has been in numerous fights on the frontier, bears the scars of a dozen wounds inflicted by sword and bullet, and is yet good for a dozen more. That smooth-faced and smiling personage by his side has likewise been a fillibuster. He visited Central America at the time of Walker's first expedition, and in the haste of his departure left behind a splendid law library. He is now editing a Pike's Peak newspaper, is also in the practice of the law. That slender-framed and modest-appearing man who shrinks from the gaze of the crowd, is one of whom you have often heard, but whose name it will be difficult for you to guess. You might take him for a Pennsylvania farmer at first glance, but there is something in his features indicative of character. He is none other than Kit Carson, the famous mountaineer, around whose name so much of romance is clinging. He resides in Taos, New-Mexico, three hundred miles south of Denver; and is here merely on a visit. That personage behind the small bar facing the street, and engaged alternately in selling whiskey and dealing

monte, was once professor in an Eastern college, and afterward minister of the Gospel in Western New-York. Near him is the stand of a former Kansas deacon, now a dealer in whiskey and other like commodities. But notice that slight frame and womanly face, from which a huge cigar protrudes. John Phoenix, when in charge of the San-Diego Herald, advertised for a small boy to work about the office, and added as postscript: 'No young woman in disguise need apply.' This would seem a superfluous appendage to a public notice, but it would be necessary in Pike's Peak, for 'female women' in male attire are occasionally seen; and the specimen now under contemplation is 'one of 'em.' Lastly comes a 'greaser' or New-Mexican native, clad in the sombrero and serape of his region, with a pair of enormous spurs attached to his heels and jingling at every step. He would not be seriously injured if held under a pump for the space of half-an-hour.

Denver Hall, a notorious gaming and drinking-saloon, deserves a passing notice. It is a building some twenty-five by sixty feet, and its single apartment is nightly thronged by an eager multitude. Around the hall are ranged tables, behind which are seated professors of 'the art of making money by easy process.' Grouped around these tables are those who trust their fortunes on the turn of a card or the revolving of a wheel, and it is interesting to watch the countenances of the betters as the games go on. A band of music occupies an elevated position, and the bar on the left-hand corner has a most liberal practice. The air is vitiated with tobacco-smoke and the odor of bad whiskey. Oaths and ribald songs and jests are heard, and a fight is looked upon as an occurrence scarcely deserving of notice. In addition to the above disagreeables, the frequenters of the place have a way when drunk of letting off revolvers, sometimes selecting a mark, and at others making only a general and miscellaneous shot. To a nervous and quietly-disposed individual these non-particularized bullets are not at all agreeable, and he is glad to get out of their range as speedily as possible.

The drama is not unknown in Denver. A theatre is in nightly operation in a hall on Larimer-street, where tragedies and comedies are enacted, to the delight of the two or three hundred that compose the audience. In constant attendance, and occasionally on the stage, can be seen the famous 'wheel-barrow man,' a plucky printer, who came to this country in the early times, trundling a fine specimen of an 'Irishman's coach' all the way from Kansas City. With him usually appears a sedate foreigner, known as Count Murat, who asserts with great vehemence that he is nephew to the King of Italy. How are the mighty fallen! The audience that assembles there is composed almost entirely of the sterner sex. It is rude and boisterous, and gives vent to its feelings in a most demonstrative manner, but the visitor will seldom hear expressions absolutely coarse and indecorous. One dollar is the price of admission to this temple of Thespis.

The architecture of Denver is exceedingly varied. The most modest habitation that met my gaze during numerous perambulations through the consoli dated city, was a wagon-body removed from the wheels, and furnished with a stove and other house-keeping comforts. In this snug domicile lived a Missouri

native with his wife and three children. One degree above this is the tent of canvas which has served for shelter on the plains, and is now used as a local habitation. Next is a small frame or log basement, some four or six feet in height, with an upper part, or roof, of canvas -a style of architecture quite popular with the keepers of one-horse groggeries. Better than this is the logcabin, with a floor of mother earth: a roof of poles, covered with dirt; a rude chimney, composed of sticks, stones and mud, but with no mode of lighting the domestic retreat, save through the opened door. The early settlers considered such accommodations quite palatial. Then come frame-buildings of all grades and descriptions, and last on the upward scale are the fine three-story brick warehouses that adorn the principal business streets. Stone has not yet come into use as a building material. Nowhere, in a city of five thousand inhabitants, can be shown such a diversity of architectural taste as in Denver.

A two-story frame building in the middle of Cherry Creek (which, by the way, is a mythical stream, being destitute of water) attracts the attention of the curious. It faces in no particular direction, and its corners are of the geometrical order of angles known as acute and obtuse. It is the place whence emanates the Rocky Mountain News, as a huge sign on the roof proclaims. The senior editor will tell you that his office was thus oddly shaped to ward off the force of the severe winds, but the Recorder's books show that the lot on which the building is located is of just such shape as the domicile indicates. In the spring of 1859, before the country had become convinced of the reality of Pike's Peak, a press and printing materials were started from Omaha for these western gold-fields. Arriving in the month of March, the owners went immediately at work, and in a few days thereafter appeared the initial number of the Rocky Mountain News. It is now by far the best daily and the most attractive weekly newspaper west of St. Louis. Its editors are human curiosities, and worthy of niches at Barnum's. The senior was 'raised' in Ohio. He has been a pioneer settler in Iowa, Nebraska, Oregon and Pike's Peak; has acted as Government surveyor in all those territories, excepting the last; has been four times over the plains; was once shot and badly wounded in an attempt to quell a riot; and on numerous occasions has listened to the pleasing whistle of a bullet in close proximity to his head. 'Moving accidents by flood and field' he can relate without number. The junior, an ardent admirer of a huge meershaum, is by birth a New-Yorker. He has published papers in Buffalo, Chicago, Melbourne, New-Zealand, Peru and California. Australia and adjacent lands, many isles of the Pacific, South-America, and all parts of the United States, have received the impress of his restless foot, and where next he may turn up, it is difficult to imagine. A novelist might make a fine two-volume romance from the history of these two men. If he had, in addition, the career of each of the workmen in the composing and press-rooms -no less than four of whom have been editors of daily papers in various parts of the Union - the 'Scottish Chiefs' would be a mere nothing.

Journalism at Pike's Peak, like the course of true love, does not run smooth. Repeated shots have been fired at the News office by indignant 'roughs;' the editors have been assaulted at various times, and on a few occasions their lives