Lawrence Bruner

Sketches and Notes Taken From My Notebook of 1878


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Sketches and Notes Taken From My Notebook of 1878

[Hand-drawn image of grasshopper]


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From Omaha to Ogden.

Noon on the 2nd day of August 1878 found me seated in one of the elegant cushioned seats of a western bound coach of the Union Pacific Railroad. I had to determined to spend a few months among the rock recesses of the "Backbone" of the continent, and had succeeded in "getting all aboard" in ample time to allow me to collect my scattered thoughts before the train pulled out from the depot. It must be remembered that I was a novice in travelling, and to get my baggage, luncheon and ticket matters arranged, was no small matter. All these seemed to occupy a great deal of valuable time, and caused not a little uneasiness on my part lest I be left: and I must confess, that I began to wish I had remained at home as the thoughts of bygone years with their horrors came up to my mind while waiting for the start. Suddenly, however, my revere was broken by the shrill whistle of the locomotive as it sounded "all aboard," and we were of for the "Wide West." As we steamed out of the depot I could not help but recall Horace Greeley's advice "young man, go west," and to think I was now following it; but perhaps with quite a different object in view than that for which he directed them to go west.


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There are times when one can think of the departed good, but they are not when he is just starting on his first tour across the continent and is brim full of imaginations and expectations. As this trip was contemplated soley for seeing and studying nature in its various phases and beauties, I had but little time to devote to meditations upon poor old Horace and what he had to say to the rising generations.

Immediately after leaving Omaha, the railroad passes through a stretch of county made up of gently slopping hills and beautiful valleys which, with their dress of emeraled grasses and gaily tinted flowers, remind one of Fairyland. As the train glides smoothly along, the ever changing scenery is like balm to the invalid and robust alike as they drink it in. The occasional beautiful groves with their sheltered cottages that ever and anon seem to come and go, remind one of the existence of happy fellow mortals who have come to this "Fairy Eden" to live. The hills too, were dotted with herds of sleek, fat cattle that quitely​ lay basking in the sunshine, or browsed upon the sweet and nutritious grasses that everywhere cover the earth like a carpet of green velvet. All nature seemed to be in its holiday garb, and every living thing appeared to be rejoicing on this fine summer day. I wonder how it will be on the Laramie plains? Is all so happy there where death overtook so many a one of the goldseekers in years gone by?


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All along we saw myriads of gaudy insects in their merry games of lieu as they chased one another from flower to flower, or skimmed over the sward. The numerous little feathered creatures too, which like so many animated music-boxes helped at gladdening us, and in enlivening the scene with strains of the richest, purest, sweetest music, were not less attractive. Still this was journeying along in what is, or used to be call, the American Desert!

I cannot tell why it is, but to me there is no country so beautiful as one composed of hills and valleys; and wherever these are present; my notion of the beautiful is realized. Even should they be entirely destitute of vegetation, as long as the hills and valleys with that ever attractive feature which I cannot describe is present, I will continue to look upon them with pleasure. It is true that; at times, one may become tired of even the mot beautiful and attractive scenery; but ere long he will again yearn to have another glimpse of it.

When we came to the Elkhorn River with is broad, fertile valley, the aspect changed, and for the remaining hours of the afternoon we were gliding over the famous Platte Valley, which is almost as level as a floor. To say that this valley is not attractive to the sight-seeing tourist would be an untruth. It is but another plan by which the beautiful can be illustrated. It is true


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that is does not contain so many nooks in which are hidden choice bits of scenery; nor is the diversity so great as is to be found among hills; yet there is a certain peculiar attraction in this wide expanse of undulating grasses that one can't well resist – neither does he desire to do so. In looking out of the car windows as he almost flies along, the tourist is reminded of a flying passage upon some great expanse of water; and yet a certain calm and contented feeling steals over him as he looks across the vast sea of waving grasses, with its islands of tress and ripening corn, that does not while sailing upon the bosom of the Mighty Deep; – there is more of the appearance of terra firma in it. Everything is so tranquil that it becomes contagious, and a feeling of contentment slowly steals over him. In straining one's eyes a little, he can see the bluffs on either side in the dim, blue distance, and thus has a picturesque back-ground to the panorama before him.

During our journey over this green sea of vegetation we were frequently witnesses of what the tourist imagines to be large crystal lakes, with their rocky shores and wooded islands. These, however, are not marked upon the maps, and often puzzle such tourists as are not versed in the optical illusions of prairie countries in our crystalline atmosphere. They, like the weary wanderers of the Sahara, are made victims of "mock grandeur" by the refraction of several strata


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of variously heated atmosphere. They have not yet learned that there are frauds in nature as well as in art; and that these seemingly beautiful bodies of water are the productions of idle Fancy with which to while away her time and deceive unwary man. Thus, in traversing this level and seemingly unattractive region, one is not only witness of its own particular beauties, but also those of California and Switzerland.

The country thus far is pictured here and there by farms and villages which bespeak the existance of happy and prosperous fellow travelers to the "Bar of Justice​ who have come here to live, and have cast their lot upon the sea of prairies. These mortals appear to be doing well, and thus prove to the world the great riches of Nebraska's idle soil, of which hundreds of thousands acres can still be obtained for a mere bauble.

Just at nightfall a thunder-storm came up from the west, and during its progress the sight was magnificent and awe-inspiring in the extreme. Every now and then the angry clouds discharged their firey contents which lit up the surrounding country for miles as it darted to the earth. Then all seemed chaos, and the train seemed to be flying in space until the another flash restored it to terra firma. This battle of the elements continued for several hours in all its fury: yet occasionally we


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obtained many glimpses of the surrounding prairies during the short intervals of light. The thought has occurred to me that electriciy was designed as the true source of light — especially in great darkness. It is so bright and so very soft and pleasant to the eye. And why should it not be? The Ruler of the day and night manufactures it for His own use. The din of nature's artillery was terrible, while the shriek of the locomotive, as we drew near to the various stations brought to mind Tim O'Shanter's wild night among the demons of the earth and air.

At about 2 o'clock in the morning the clouds cleared away and permitted the gentle moon to shine upon one of the most enchanting scenes that I was ever permitted to look upon. Just at this moment we came close up to the waters of the trecherous​ Platte, at this place exceedingly picturesque — at least by moon-light. For a distance of six or eight miles the river is quite wide and literally crowded with beautiful green islands. These vary from a few feet to several hundred yards in circumference, and appeared like so many emeralds set in the midst of a broad, still lake of liquid silver; while the moon seemed to be some great fairy conveyance that silently skimmed along its smooth surface, it was reflected so perfect. Such superb grandeur as this is not often seen by a person during his limited stay in this world; and if Paradise


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is half so beautiful it certainly is to be sought after! What earthly use can these little sports of meadow be, stuck out in the waters as they are, if not to please man? Was this the first time they made such a pleasing impression upon the minds of a few insignificant human beings that were on their way toward the mighty Pacific, or had the often gladdened others as they did us? Setting aside such questions as these, we know for a certain that there was an object in making such a beautiful picture of this precise locality. It gave us something pleasant to think of while crossing the monotonous plains, as well as to sooth our exceitment from the past storm.

After leaving the Platte we first struck what might be called the eastern boundary of the plains. It was here where we first saw the wonderful plant known as the Leaf Cactus or Prickley-pear, a plant so varied and abundant throughout the West; also, in certain localities where the species are large, it forms almost impassable barriers to man. The Sage or artemesia is first seen here, though it is only upon the boundless plains and rocky fastnesses of the far-west that it attains the greatest perfection. Here too, the first Antelope, cayotes​ and other denizens of the plains were seen.

It always was a mystery to me to know how so many animals could exist on


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the almost desert plains; but now it is no longer a mystery. Almost the entire area between the Platte River this side of Sidney, and the mts. at Cheyenne is coverred​ with Prairie dog towns in which millions of these peculiar little rodents live and flourish and sustain the large army of parasites that always hang about the premises of these sociable marmots.

I can see no reason why such inoffensive little creatures, as are the prairie-dogs, should have their domestic tranquility broken by such obnoxious intruders as snakes, weasels, skunks, badgers, wolves and owls: yet it is a fact that wherever these pretty little creatures assemble, many other species — as the above — hang about. Neither are their intentions always peacable. Everyone of these animals are carnivorous and the flesh of marmots is delicious to such gastronomes as they are. I cannot be persuaded that the "Sage owls​ nurse the younger dogs, while the young and less wise owls take care of the older dogs that creep about and play along the galleries of the under-ground passages which lead from one house to another; neither do I believe that, "Where it is could the friendly rattlesnakes gently coil themselves about the tender young dogs to keep them warm." These owls and rattlesnakes, of which we hear to much, must surely at time feel the need of nourishment, and when it can be had so near, they certainly do not go abroad


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in search of it, but they occasionally gently "take in" a young dog. No, these different animals do not live together in the "the greatest harmony." The owls and snakes are guests self appointed and would gladly and thankfully be dismissed by their hosts, if such a thing were possible. They are parasites, and as such hang about to the final destruction of their unwilling hosts.

The only animal, however, that is at home on the plains wherever night overtakes him in the jack-rabbit. This peculiar amalgamation of gray hair, long ears and short tail, can be seen at almost all points along the Union Pacific between Sidney and Ogden, and from thence as far north and south as sage-brush grows. As the train glides by he will start out from his napping-place in some cluster of bushes or grass near by, and hop away in the most complacent manner imaginable. This movement is performed by a succession of graceful bounds varying from a few feet to fifteen or twenty yards in length, and with such seeming grace and ease that a looker on imagines he could do the same with a little practice. He forgets that Mr. Jack is going in the same direction as the grain and that when he imagines him to going at but a gentle speed it is but that much faster than 30 miles an hour. Confidentially, he is the only thing that cannot be out done by "double-geared​ lightning.

Between the place where we last saw the


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muddy waters of the Platte and Sidney, the earth on both sides of the railroad was rendered less monotonous by the various species of flowers that grew up among the stray cactuses and short grasses. One of the most beautiful of these is a species of bush morning-glory. It grows upon a bushy plant, which reminds one of a tumble-weed with clusters of beautiful large deep red flowers upon it. It is altogether unlike all our others morning-glories with its pinnated leaves and absence of climing​ habits. One never suspects that there are one fourth the part of the queer departures from the ordinary types among animals or plants that there are, until he sees them; and then very often it is hard to believe his own eyes.

In passing along over the plains, the scenery varies but little; and, as a rule, is made up of an almost level surface composed of a sort of clayey soil mixed with sand and gravel, and covered by a short growth of grasses, cactuses and sage brush, with here and there a stray primrose, poppy or dandelion. These flowers are some of the most popular varieties, yet in the absence of the more beautiful ones they have a tendency to render less monotonous this vast region of scorched grasses and herbs, besides cheering the weary traveller as he plods along day after day over this gray monotony of nature. I often think


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that the most deserving receive the least amount of homage. So it is with these little gems of the distant prairies. Why is it? Is it because they along will condescend to open their joyful countenances to the commonplace objects of the plains? Yes, that is just why these little beauties are so much sneered at. They are too common-place in their ways of life and in choosing their associates, nevertheless they were made and are watched over by the same wise Ruler. Because the proud, stiff beauties of flower-gardens, cannot put up with such an ordinary mode of existence as life on the plains these less assuming little flowers have taken their stand where they can do the most good. Like true missionaries they brave the rigors of a desert country to spread truth and happiness. They know that even a little dandelion, when growing by the wayside can do much toward brightening the the​ weared mind of the almost succumbing traveller and infuse new life into his wearied limbs.

At Pine Bluffs this almost endless monotony is partially broken by the cliffs of limestone that rise above the surrounding country. These are dotted by a few sickly looking dwarfed pines; but otherwise there is little else to occupy one's mind, unless he revert to times past when emigrants had many


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a fight at this place with the dusky savages that roamed over this unbroken waste and subsisted upon what spoils they obtained by waylaying solitary pioneers.

There are times when one becomes so completely enwrapped in what he sees that he is totally unconscious of all else. This was true with reference to myself when we first came in sight of the grand old Rockies, and I do verily believe that the train might have been ditched without my knowing it, so completely was I absorbed in the dream-like vision before me. So different did they appear from anything I had ever seen before, or from what I had imagined they would that I was at a loss to find the proper language to express my feelings — so overcome was I by the grand spectacle before me that all I could do was to sit still and stare in amazement. I was wondersticken.

To give a description of the Rockies as they appeared to me in the distance would be impossible; nor do I consider myself capable of doing them even passable justice by trying. No one can describe a scene in nature so acurately as to convey a correct idea of it to another, and for me, one altogether ignorant in the art of descriptive


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writing, to undertake to sketch in words this magnificent panorama of beauty would be madness.

I have been much interested in all the various works of Nature since childhood, and have gazed with admiration upon various sights that I considered without parallels; yet, when those grand old monuments of bygone ages loomed into sight, all these vanished into the background of dim recollection, and appeared as trifles when compared with those huge rock masses whose summits were lost among the clouds and crowned with perpetual snow. To call them mere piles of rock and earth, with here and there a tree to give variation might satisfy some; but to me they were more, and as such must at least receive a passing notice.

For three long hours they were a strong magnet from which I could scarcely withdraw my gaze for more than a moment at a time, and then only to notice some picturesque ledge of rocks with its decorations of ferns, mosses, and lychens; or, perhaps to view some gently sloping hillside with its garb of velvety grasses interlaced with flowers of the most brilliant hues and fascinating forms; or it may be, to notice the ghastly skeleton of some wreck of life that lay whitening in the sun and relating volumes of doleful tales of hardwhip and woe.


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At Cheyenne we lost sight of the magnificent view, and were given a short time for reflecting upon what we had just seen. How very much it seemed like awakening from a pleasant dream of a journey through sunny fields and among beautiful scenery to find one's self surrounded by desert sands and the burning rays of an unshrouded sun! Again we were among the same dreary looking hills that line the rout​ from Sidney westward, and again reminded of records of hardship and toil to those who came in search of the hidden treasures contained in the recesses of those great monuments which but a few moments appeared to us as if in a vission​.

Presently two strong looking locomotives came out of a "stable" near by and backed up to our train to which they were coupled and stood in readiness for the signal to start. Now for a climb! We are winding about among the eastern foot-hills of the range of mountains known as Black Hills. How the great iron horses pant and blow! Are they going to "play out" ere we reach the summit?

It is absolutely marvelous how many varieties of flowers grow among the eastern foothills of these mountains, and of what great beauty some of them are. Many of them, according to my notion, far out vie anything I ever


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saw under cultivation; and in their rich tints and delicate forms would put to shame the choicest roses and lilies of our flower gardens in the East. There are verbenas, geraniums, roses, bluebells, pinks, violets, convolvuli, phloxes, asters, frost lilies, hairbells and an almost endeless​ variet of others that I did not take the time to classify or did not know, all growing in the greatest profusion and unrestrained. The primroses, however, comprise the largest and richest tinted group and contain many beautiful forms. I must have noticed at least two or three dozen species of this beautiful group of flowers while going from the river near Cheyenne to the summit. Some of them were quite large and others small, and the different species varied in color. — some being of a bright lemon yellow, and others of a pure waxen shite, while still others were of a delicate pink or rose tint. For mere curiosity I stood out upon the platform to count the varieties of flowers to be seen with the limits of a single mile, and to my surprise I noted upward of a hundred species, besides a few such as are common about home.

We struck the mountains proper at about 2 o'clock in the afternoon, and in ascending toward Sherman had many excellent views of the plains to the north, east and south.


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As far as the eye could reach in these directions was stretched out one vast plain without a tree upon its entire surface to cheer one with its refreshing look, or to pursuade one that it might be a pleasant thing to roam across these trackless wastes until almost overcome with fatigue and heat, then to lie down under the leafy boughs and partake of one of those peaceful and refreshing sleeps from which we seldom wish to wake. Yet this vast expanse of country has been crossed by thousands of pioneers who came West years ago — long before the Union Pacific Railroad was dreamed of — and endangered their lives and that of their teams for a few ounces of Gold.

In turning my attention again to the mountains which we were now fairly among, I was kept in one continual surprise; for who would have imagined that so much and such beautiful and picturesque scenery could be crowded into so small a scope of country? Every small valley and every knoll was a picture, which, were it transferred on canvas, in itself would give the artist a world-wide fame. There were numerous small valleys through the centres of which little rivulets of crystal water wended their tortuous ways, and looked like silver wires interlaced in beds of moss of the softest green. At short intervals


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they trickled over the edges of huge granite boulders that lay in their course and glistened in the noon-day sun like diamonds, and then hurried along their mossy courses to refresh the tall, drooping, fairy-like ferns that line their margins upon either side, and also to pay their tributes of liquid crystal to the large brook at the foot of the mountain toward which they were hurrying and dancing and singing as they went. These beautiful little valleys are mostly enclosed between almost perpendicular walls of granite, that has been worn into fantastic shapes fantastic shapeswhich that remind one of castles that might have been built during the "Dark ages" by chivalrous knights, and are now all overgrown with lychens, mosses and ivy. These knolls are formed of rock masses of various kinds and colors, and are so arranged that with the few pines and firs that grow out from among them, there are rendered scenes, which for beauty and picturesqueness cannot be surpassed even by famous Switzerland

On approaching closer to the summit the entire scenery changes, and the beautiful, green valleys are replaced by deep cragged cañon and towering pinnacles which inspire one with a peculiar wild and enchanged feeling of awe and admiration as he glides along among them at the rate of fifteen or twenty miles an hour.


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He seems to be journeying through a new and higher world where life goes on with its various functions of its own accord. There is no difficulty experienced in breathing; and the pressure which is so often felt upon the lungs in the lowlands of the Mississippi Valley is removed, — in fact everything is more etherial and elevated. But, as someone has remarked, "It requires a great deal of air to do a little breathing with."

As we drew near the summit the wind came through the open windows cold and piercing, reminding me of an April day when the breath of retreating winter winter​ is still felt as it sweeps over the starting vegetation, and causes the early Pulsatilla to shiver in its dress of snowy petals and downy leaves. Here the vegetation is dwarfed and huddles into clumps as if to seek protection from Jack Frost. There was a dreary far-away look in the air like we often see in late fall after nature has been dismantled and winter is approaching. Everything looked bleak and dreary.

At Sherman, the most elevated point along the line of the Union Pacific Railroad, the view is truely grant. It matters not in which direction one glances, for his vision is uninterrupted for miles. Looking to the east, he beholds a vast portion of that country lying between the Rockies and the Missouri known as the Plains. But little does he think as he thus stands and


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gazes afar off upon this sea of dreariness, of the manly hardships which had to be endured, of the long and tedious journey to be made by team or foot, the fights with roaming savages, that had to be passed through but a few short years ago by the westward bound tourist of emigrant ere he could take his stand at the same place, — no, none of these thoughts come to his mind as he scans the beautiful panorama about him, for but a very few hours before he was at home with his friends. How much different it is to travel now that it was then, and how much easier to ride in a palace than to walk and shove a hand cart over five hundred miles of plains. To the west and southwest are situated several ranges of snow capped mountains that in the distance can hardly be discerned from the fleecy mantles of clouds that hover about their summits as snowy veils. These ancient, hoary-headed monarchs are at least fourty or fifty miles distant, though they do not appear more than half that distance.

There is no relying on appearances for distances in the crystalline atmosphere of mountaintops; for often when an object seems to be but a couple of miles away, it is in reality all of fifteen or twenty.

Oh! how I would liked to have gone over and shaken hands with those ancient patriarchs!


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I am sure there would have been much for me to have learned from them. What grand and interesting stories of the decades of years gone by they might have related; and what wonders them​ could have presented! But as Fate, the rule of Man's destinies, would have it I was obliged to continue my journey towards the setting sun, and leave this pleasure for another time. Thus are we mortals continually being robbed of pleasures about to be realized. Fate steps in and rules for the time, and we are obliged to bow down and obey. Yet, have we a right to complain for is not the law of Fate a Divine institution?

Before going any further west allow me to turn aside and explore these beautiful little nooks of hidden beauty that abound among the rocky ledges and ravines on the eastern slopes of this picturesque range of mountains which I have just tried to describe to you. Perhaps I might find something of interest to tell you. I will go to yonder hillock and lie down in the shade of that huge, red granite boulder awhile, and look off across the country. Hark! what charming sounds are those that come floating across the flower covered earth and tingle in my ears like the notes of small silvery bells and harps? Are they the love songs of


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the numerous little creatures that inhabit this section of country, or are they the productions of happy spirits that have come here to dwell?

During infancy my chief delight was to listen to delightful tales of beautiful little fairies and elves, and oh! how often did I wish that at some day I might see some of these tiny beings. I was told that they lived in a far off country called Fairyland; but as much as I then desired to see this country with its myriads of pretty little inhabitants, I feared that the time would never come for I was told that only very good children were permitted to visit it and talk with the fairies. When small we believe all these stories and eagerly drink them in as they fall from the lips of older persons; but as we grow older we either forget all about them merry little nymphs of the air or discredit everything we ever heard concerning them.

Now, if there are fairies, — and there are, I will certainly see some of them as I lie here and meditate, for surely this country agrees with the descriptions of Fairyland. And perhaps, I will also be able to learn some useful leasons from them.

Whether reflections upon childhood, with all its pleasures, muddles one's mind I cannot say, but after lying awhile my meditations were interrupted by a sort of buzzing noise which ap-


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peared nearer and nearer, when lo! not more than an arm's length from my mossy couch I beheld a gaily dressed elf approaching a cluster of beautiful hair-bells. He was masked in such a manner as to resemble a pretty clear winged moth, but he was a fairy without any mistake. As his fairyship touched the delicate blue bells, & they swung to and fro there pealed forth and were wafted away with the gentle breeze silvery notes of glee. Now the entire district around began to thrill with the music of fairies. It had been the signal for operations to begin, — they were the rallying tune to bring each company to its post and duties and to keep them in good spirits while at work. Yes, I saw myriads of fairies — bright silvery and golden dressed fairies — not such as I used to read about in books, or to hear of from the lips of older persons as they sat beside my little cot waiting for me to enter Dreamland, but merry little feathered creatures and chirping insects whose lives are all sunshine and happiness. These were the fairies I saw; and they are the true and only fairies in nature.

Different forms of these little beings have received various names, and all of them have had a portion of their life history written; and all who would read about them should refer to works on Natural History — especially that portion relating to insects and molluses.


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Those which we call Bees and Butterflies are the marriage priests to gems of the vegetable world, which by the touch of their magic wand are transformed into vessels full of golden seeds that in turn are capable of producing new plants. Some of these numphs — now no longer imaginary beings of the air — are always engaged in making music for the others to work by. They are the musician fairies, and we call them Crickets and Katidids. Those which we call Spiders are almost always occupied in decorating Nature's propperty​ with silken festoons, and therby​ aiding in giving variety to the landscape. After night-fall this work of beautifying goes on much more rapidly than by day, and it appears that these little creature's sole mission is to put nature in order and to beautify it for the coming of each new day. Nor are they along occupied in this delightful task, but others — perhaps spirit fairies — are engaged in opening out the beautiful gems of the vegetable world, and in gathering the atoms of moisture from the air and depositing them in strings of crystal beads along every blade of grass and upon every object in nature that will not shake them off.

I learned that there are fairies for "grown up" people as well as for children; and that their homes are everywhere. I also learned that nothing is created without a purpose, and that everything has its mission to perform.


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After leaving Sherman the train began running down hill and we were approaching the Laramie Pplains:​ but little did I then think what a truely desolate region we were about to traverse for again were the small and picturesque dells of the eastern slopes repeated — only in a less grand scale.

"Nature's laws meet all demands," is a saying not altogether without foundation. Who would, were he to make a world, always think of bordering every desert with stretches of the most beautiful landscape decorated by flowers of the sweetest perfume and prettiest colors? Who would have all nature to gather at the margins of wastes in such joyfull frolics. Yet is is an undeniable fact that these margins of desert placesare the receptacles of the grandest and most-attractive of Nature's works.

As we advanced the scenery grew more romantic and wild. We were winding about among fantastic boulders and ledges of granite rockes that reminded me of a journey in ancient Italy among the ruined castles of long forgotten crusaders, princes and lords. Are not these the wrecks of once magnificent castles and monasteries where their owners baricaded themselves against their wronged and infuriated subjects; or are they the downfallen abodes of giants who peopled these sections of yore?


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Dale Creek is one of the many attractions that cannot be appreciated unless seen. Imagine a small silvery thread winding along the centre of a narrow valley hemmed in by two walls of granite that are decked with clusters of sweet briar and and​ straggling evergreens, and variegated by patches delicate mosses and branching ferns, and you have a faint idea of this renowned stream. As we came down the mountain's side the train slackened its speed to four miles per hour, and as I looked ahead and saw the yawning abyss over which the the yawning locomotive seemed to be tenderly feeling its way, my heart almost stood still. In looking down from the car window to the small stream over 130 feet below, one can't help but feel a little "shaky​ about the knees.

All along the rout​ between here and Laramie the tourist iskept in a continual surprise by the numerous groups of queer shaped rocks that adorn the country to either side of the railroad, and that remind one of the relics of ancient cities. Ancient they are too; for, consider if you choose, the time it must have required for water to sculpture out these huge, uneven masses. Then add to this the time they have been standing "high and dry." Surely their age would startle us.


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One of these ancient cities — the City of No Man's Land — is situated on a plain at the foot of a series of long sloping, reddish hills about midway between Sherman and Laramie. As we were gliding along I was looking out of the window at some beautiful ledges of rock, when suddenly we ran out upon an extensive plain at the further end of which loomed up the turrets of what appeared to be several castles. Does it look like a city? you may ask. Yes; and an antique and grotesque one at that. No Man's Land, because it looks so quiet that it might readily be taken for the work and home of spirits — not men. Some of the structures of this "city" resemble castles, churches and towers. Most of them however, have seen their best days and are now on the rapid road to decay. Their walls are falling down and being covered with sands from the surrounding country, and the turrets are crumbling with ange​ and from the wear of the elements. Their proprietors, whethers spirits, witches or giants, have long since left them to the owls of night and other animals that love to revel among ancient ruins by moon-light. Oh! how miserably wretched must be their lives, and yet how fascinating! when we think think​ of bygone days with their deeds


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of horror and of kindness, and also of the deeds of greatness that are always connected with ancient ruins. We also think of mystery at the sight of these silent indexes that point back along the vistas of time.

After leaving Laramie the Union Pacific strikes off boldly across the Laramie Plains, just as if it were nothing to pass over several hundreds miles of desert. How different most different must the "Old Pioneers" have felt when launching their slow barks upon this vast sea of barreness, than does the western bound traveller of today!

Does Death have favorite haunts anywhere upon this globe of ours? If so, this country must be one of them; for nowhere else that I have been does the entire country with all its scenery present such a desolate and lifeless an appearance as here. The very rocks seem to bespeak his work, and the valleys to tell of his sole sway; while the winds seem ever to whisper his presence as they sigh through the shutters of the car windows and the little stars tremble as they silently cross this enchanted district — they look down upon you as if in fear lest they should again be compelled to witness the victory of Grim Death. You see hardly


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a living creature, or scarcely a twig of any kind, save the ever-present Sagebrush and geese- wood, which, in themselves, are the type of death in the vegetable kingdom. There are no clouds to hide the burning sun or to fringe the silvery moon with their snowy edges; no streams of flowing crystal to cool the parched tongue or refresh the drooping plants; no merry birds and gay insects to please the eye, or flowers to awaken in the soul thoughts of pleasure — nothing but dull, bare earth and rocks to greet the eye.