The Palace Hotel—General McDowell—Palo-Alto—The "Hoodlums"—The Real Sir Roger—Exiles in the Far West—The Chinese Population—For and Against them—The Sand Lot—Fast Trotters—The Sea Lions—The Diamond Palace—The Coloured Population—"Eastward Ho!"
The British Consul, Mr. Booker, who has been watching over the interests of the Queen's subjects for some thirty years here, and who is an institution by himself, met the train at a place called, I think, Porta Costa, and welcomed the Duke and his friends. There had been for some days an infusion of the Chinaman in the general element of life along the line, but here it became concentrated, and then ceased to attract much attention. As the train approached the wide expanse of muddy water from the Sacramento, which charges down with impetuous volume, and colours the bay with its turbid stream, we could form an idea of some of the advantages in the expanse of navigable river, that had, however, lain long without appreciation but for the bright red gold possessed by San Francisco. The bay is animated; white canvassed craft stud its waters, and the smoke of steamers pollutes the clear, bracing air. Italian fishermen are busy with line and net, and flights of ducks and squadrons of gulls and cormorants show that the waters are well stocked. It was too late in the year to see the country in the full affluence of its wealth of fruit and crops, of hay and corn, and the hillsides and fields are now disappointingly brown. Presently we arrived at Oakland, where the train was run out on a pier 3500 yards long, to the steam ferry-boat which was to convey us across to San Francisco. The ferry-boat was crowded, for Oakland is a city of some 50,000 people; and of course it had once on a time, not very remote, only a few sheds and insignificant houses. From this side of the bay the city of the Golden Gate, some miles away, was now visible in all its pride of place—pride but not beauty, now at least—for the city presents no great attraction to the eye. The streets, running in parallel lines at right angles to the quay right up the sandy hillside, look like the ribs of some stranded monster, "lank and lean and brown." The most prominent object is the hotel to which we are going, which towers far over the general level of house-top, steeple, and factory-chimney.
There is a little pamphlet, crammed with statistics and with an array of figures and superlatives enough to daze one, given to the guests of the Palace Hotel; but those who are in that happy category scarcely need the information, and those who are not could not derive any idea of the building from the repetition of the ciphers which are to be found in the guide-book. The drawing on the outside affords the best notion of the size, but only actual purview can enable one to judge of the excellent arrangements, the service, the table. For once the American idol "Immensity" is not overlaid. "'Tis blinding bright—'tis blazing white! O Vulcan! what a glow!" Electric lights flooding the court with brightness beyond description. And what a court! Sweetness and light indeed! In the great quadrangle, 144 feet by 84, there are fountains playing, groups of statuary, and exotic plants, and, tier after tier, rise the pillared terraces outside the seven storeys of which the main building consists, painted a lustrous white, shining like purest Parian. There are 755 rooms, abounding in conveniences, and comfortably luxurious. Each is provided with high-pressure hot and cold water, and there is an elaborate system of ventilation, alarms, conductors, pneumatic tubes, telephones, and "annunciators" for fire, letters, servants, &c. The beds are excellent; the furniture admirable; and this vast structure, 120 feet high, 275 feet broad, and 350 feet deep, is not only fire, but—listen—"earthquake proof"; so says the bill of fare, and so says ex-Senator W. Sharon, the proprietor. I have not the least desire to test the truth of the averment, but if I must be in a hotel when an earthquake visits the city in which I am, let me be in the Palace, San Francisco. A man may live here in the enjoyment of a pretty continuous series of meals and one of the best bedrooms for four dollars a day, and there is a lower tariff of bed and board at three dollars a day.
June 8th.—Our first day was rendered exceedingly pleasant by the kindness of General McDowell. The weather did its very best to prevent our enjoying it, and was signally defeated. San Francisco is perhaps the windiest city in the world, and at this time of year there is almost always a storm in the harbour, and a steady, powerful, and somewhat chilly blast, setting in a little before noon, and lasting throughout the day until nearly sundown, up the streets. The General's aide-de-camps came over early to the hotel, in full uniform, in honour of Major-General Green, but General McDowell appeared in mufti, which eased us down a little. A powerful steamer, the "General Macpherson," was prepared for the party, which was swollen by a considerable number of gentlemen invited by our host to meet the Duke, and the gentlemen from Topeka, who were included in the invitation. The excursion afforded a favourable opportunity of inspecting the city defences. From Alcatraz Fort, Point and Presidio Island batteries, which would not be considered very formidable as far as armament is concerned, although their position affords great advantages for torpedo defence, salutes were fired in honour of Sir Henry Green. But in the case of some of us the sight was marred by the rising sea, which increased to an inconvenient height as the steamer reached the Seal Rocks, close to the entrance to the bay. Of the seals I shall give an account farther on. They did not seem to mind the steamer very much until she blew her whistle, when many of them splashed into the sea. At the termination of the trip, which lasted some four hours, General McDowell entertained the party at his official quarters, which are beautifully situated on a bluff overhanging the water of the bay.
June 9th.—We spent, in some respects, an abortive and deceitful day; not, indeed, that there was anything disappointing about our entertainment at Belmont, under the auspices of ex-Senator Sharon; but that we started full of enterprise, and intent upon inspecting the great works of the Spring Valley Reservoir, and of making an excursion through what was described as a very beautiful county whence is brought the water supply of the great city in which we were sojourning. However, though we were baulked in the object of our expedition, the day passed, and not in the least degree unpleasantly, and instead of going to the Lakes we drove about the neighbourhood of Belmont, and visited several country seats.
No one who visits San Francisco should omit taking an early opportunity of going to Palo-Alto to inspect the stock of General Stanford's thorough-breds, and the breeding establishment, which as a sample of perfect order and management cannot be surpassed. I cannot answer for the figures, but I was informed that the owner spends 25,000l. a year upon the maintenance of his stud and stables, and that he has not as yet sold a colt or filly, or parted with a single animal; sires, mares, and young brood now amounting to about 700 head. They are beautifully housed in detached stables fitted up with every convenience that a horse of the highest pedigree and most luxurious taste can desire. I was particularly struck with the perfect silence which prevailed throughout the stables. No shouts to "stand over there," and none of that "——" (groom's expletive) which is so common in our country. And partly owing perhaps to that mode of treatment, and to gentleness in handling, all the horses without exception seemed tractable and sweet-tempered. High-bred stallions stood out in the open for our inspection, and allowed themselves to be rubbed and felt without even laying down their ears or raising a hind-leg from the ground. In reply to a question respecting a remarkably beautiful animal, which seemed to have a little more fire in him, the head groom said "You may walk under his belly if you like," and then and there he told one of the grooms to do so, which the man did, without attracting any unusual degree of attention from the animal. Outside one of the large blocks of stables there is a kind of testing arena, in which we were told it was the pleasure of General Stanford, when he was at home, to sit watching the performance of his young horses. It is an ellipse, like a large circus, bordered with a hoarding, and in the centre there is a raised stage for the visitors, on which are revolving chairs. The riding-master, with an attendant, performing the functions of the late Mr. Widdicombe, sets the animal in motion, checking him when he breaks into a gallop. The speed at which the animal trots the ellipse is known by the time marked on a chronometer, and the fact is recorded for the information of the inspectors, who can turn round their chairs and follow the action of the horse as it trots round the ring.
The district of the State in which Palo-Alto is situated boasts of several residences of the Californian millionaires. One house which we visited, I think belonging to Mr. Flood, furnished the most ornate and beautiful examples of woodwork that were ever seen by any of the party. The house, which was as large as a good-sized English country mansion, is constructed of timber of the finest quality, beautifully worked, painted and varnished; and with moderate care a mansion of this kind will last, in this climate, a couple of hundred years, which to the American mind is an eternity. There were artists from New York, and the staff of an upholsterer and decorator of great renown from the Empire City were still busily engaged in the place as we went through the rooms. The magnificent halls, reception-rooms, billiard-rooms, library, bedrooms, all fitted up with extraordinary luxuriousness, but in a somewhat florid taste, were of wood, the doors of many of the apartments arresting attention by their extraordinary beauty and finish. The ceilings decorated in fresco by Italian artists, and bright windows filled with stained glass gave an appearance of light and grace to the whole residence. The kitchen arrangements were marvels of ingenuity, and one envied the butler who would have such a pantry as that which was displayed for our inspection. Some of the pictures which were ready to be placed on the walls were remarkable, however, only for the richness of their frames; and, indeed, we heard that the excellent proprietor was not a man of very cultivated taste; a child of fortune, in the prime of life and of money-making, spending a portion of his enormous wealth with an easy hand, but destitute of what is called book-learning, and leaving to some future generation the cultivation of the graces and the acquirement of accomplishments which the circumstances of his early life had denied him to effect.
It had been arranged that we should return to San Francisco to dinner, but Senator Sharon had in his secret heart resolved that we should do nothing of the kind, or at least, that if we did so, it should only be after we had partaken of such a feast at Belmont as would very much indispose us to test the capabilities of the chef of the Palace Hotel. From Palo-Alto accordingly we were driven to the charming country house, some miles away, of the ex-senator of Oregon, and we were regaled there, after some delay, at a very elaborate déjeûner, sent out from San Francisco. It was nigh 8 o'clock ere we got back to the city; and the night ended by what might well be called "an excursion" to the Baldwin Theatre, which was at the time the most attractive of the places of entertainment of that sort open in the city. As some of us were walking back, after the play was over, with an American friend, talking of the "hoodlums," famous rowdies, who, we were assured, had been of late days utterly broken up by the vigilance of the police, our attention was attracted to a number of lads smoking at the corner of the street. Our friend said "Hoodlums broken up! There they are—don't you believe it. That's a lot of them, and if you were alone you might find out very unpleasantly that there are plenty of them."
The San Francisco journalists possess astonishing powers of imagination. I rubbed my eyes when I read that I had described "with eloquence the similarity between a marsh at San Bruno and a patch of jungle in the north-west of Scinde, where I had the felicity of spending three weeks with General Green while the natives were arranging a plan to capture the party and cut our throats." I never was in the north-west of Scinde in my life, and, although I had the pleasure of passing a longer time in his company in the United States, and of being on the same plateau before Sebastopol when he was there, for a still longer period, many years before, I never spent three weeks there with General Green. The Duke was described as "professing, but showing, little enthusiasm." However, these matters are of very slight interest or importance; only one wonders how many of the readers of this sort of literary work believe in it. One of our party has, according to a local paper, become a clergyman, and now rejoices in the style and title of "the Bishop," by which he is universally addressed by the party.
While in the train, on our way to Belmont, I had the pleasure of being introduced to a gentleman who, although a lawyer in very large practice, is General of the State Volunteers; and in the course of conversation, I heard that he had papers containing the statement of a gentleman who had visited, and which convinced him that the real Roger Tichborne was living not very far from San Francisco. General Barnes, whose name and character stand high in the city of the Golden Gate, and whom I found to be a gentleman of great intelligence, seemed perfectly satisfied by the story told by this new "claimant"; but what he mentioned to me did not at all tend to create in my mind any notion that he was not an impostor, and especially were my doubts confirmed by the quotations which General Barnes made from some of the narrative, in which there was a ridiculous jumble of French and English, in order to justify, apparently, the stress placed by the "claimant" in his story on that part of his life which was passed in France. He spoke of his uncle as "mon oncle," and of Thursday as "Jeudi," and so on. However, General Barnes appeared to be so impressed by the truthfulness of the man's bearing, and by the full details he gave him at an audience in which he supplied the facts for the consecutive narrative which I was promised, that I expressed a desire to read it. General Barnes subsequently sent me a long written paper containing the heads of the claimant's story, a perusal of which strengthened the conviction I had previously entertained. I only mention this circumstance because there was a report spread throughout the Press, by the agency of one of the great telegraphic associations which furnish the American public with intelligence, that the Duke of Sutherland and myself had interviewed the real Roger Tichborne at San Francisco, and had satisfied ourselves that he was the man; and innumerable "headings" were invented for this supposed interview, of which I was soon made aware on my return westward in every newspaper that I read. I promptly denied the statement that the Duke or myself had seen the new claimant, and although the denial appeared in print I was exasperated day after day by being asked questions afterwards with regard to this supposed conversation with Tichborne at San Francisco, and by inquiries as to my real impression; so it would appear that no one had seen or paid any attention to the refutation of the story which had brought down on my devoted head communications from friends of other Tichbornes, of whom there are several living, some in poverty and others in comparative affluence, in various cities and districts of the United States. I had further the mortification of seeing it stated in print that I had used disparaging words in alluding to the credulity of General Barnes, which was an entirely baseless fabrication. With all the extraordinary keenness of the American mind generally, there is associated with it a considerable amount of the Anglo-Saxon quality which is termed "gullibility," and the land swarms with impostors who make a living out of the easy faith of the population. I do not speak merely of spiritualists, quacks, and professors of peculiar religions or medical dogmas, nor of the preachers of eccentric forms of faith or unbelief, but of the mass of persons who contrive to get an existence by representing that they are "someone else." Although their tricks are well known, the trade still flourishes. They are always the "sons of peers," who have got into disgrace with their families, but who will eventually be owners of castles of historic fame and of enormous estates; "distinguished soldiers"; "Maids of Honour to the Queen," who for some unknown reasons are living in small out-of-the-way villages in the West; or political conspirators who have played a great part on some distinguished stage and have saved themselves from the consequences of defeated enterprize by taking refuge in the States. And then there are hordes of persons who are known by the title of "confidence men," who travel about on the trains or in the steamers, looking out for victims, or lounging about the bars and saloons, waiting for their prey in the shape of some facile and easy-eared stranger, who in consideration of their merits and distress shall give them temporary assistance. Sometimes, doubtless, there are cases of very real suffering, sorrow, and poverty, to which exile in the United States affords a melancholy refuge. I was obliged to hear in one great city of a gallant soldier who, reduced to poverty by no fault of his own, had quitted England and given up the society of his friends, and lived in a small suburb of a town on the coast of the Pacific, his secret known only to one or two officials, shunning all contact with his countrymen and evading as far as possible all inquiries of his friends. In San Francisco, where there is a poor-house open to strangers and to native-born Americans alike, there are, I am told, to be met with extraordinary exemplifications of the "downs" of fortune. Adventurous and daring spirits, and pioneers of civilisation, at one time probably possessed of wealth which was wasted in dissipation, or lost in unfortunate speculations, are there, talking of the days that are gone, in all languages of the world, and awaiting their end; while others who started with them in the same race are building their palaces or revelling in the enjoyment of wealth, compared to which our greatest fortunes are, if figures can be trusted, a mere bagatelle. How rapidly some of these fortunes can be made was illustrated by numerous stories connected with some of the richest men in California. I was told by an eminent tradesman of San Francisco that one day a miner came into his establishment to buy a watch, which he said must be cheap and good, for he wanted something he could trust to in the matter of time, as he was going off with a party on an exploring expedition after gold. This was in the early time of the great "booms" in the West. He selected a watch, for which he paid $40, and departed. The following day he appeared in the shop and asked to see the proprietor, and then, producing the watch, he said he would like to have $30 for it, as he had lost all his money in a "spree" the night before and must have something to start with. The jeweller said, "Well, I will return you what you gave me for the watch, as it has suffered no harm, and you shall have your $40 back again." The man went away exceedingly rejoiced, and the incident was forgotten. Some eighteen months afterwards a man came to the establishment, and looking at rings, gold chains, and jewellery of the most costly character, and asking for the best of everything that they had got, gave orders which occasioned the attendant to have some doubts as to his sanity, or certainly as to the means he had of paying the amount, which was rapidly running up to tens of thousands of dollars. So he sought out his principal. The strange customer said, "I suppose you don't know me?" which was admitted to be the case. He went on buying all the same, making the remark, "You need not be uneasy about the money, for So-and-so (the bankers) will tell you I am all right, and when you send the things home you shall be paid. I am Joe Smith, from whom some time ago you took a watch he bought from you when he came to your store, and gave him the full value for it when he was in want of money," and so departed, having shown his gratitude by buying 6000l. worth of jewellery. This worthy miner is now one of the wealthy pillars of the State.
The Chinese quarter of San Francisco has been described, I will not say ad nauseam, but as often as any book has been written which contains an account of a visit to the city of the Golden Gate. Of course we went there, and saw all that was to be seen under the best possible auspices, for Mr. Bee, whom I have already mentioned, was our guide and companion, assisted by an exceedingly intelligent officer of the police force; and on the occasion of our second visit, when we went to the theatre, we had the advantage of being under the protection of the gentleman who represents law and order, on behalf of the municipality, in connection with the Chinese population and the arrangements for theatrical performances.
The inspection of the dreadful den in which the opium-smokers were to be seen suggested to my mind a train of thought in connection with the traffic which I would not willingly have communicated to my American friends. It will seem incredible some day to the awakened conscience of the nation that we should have ever sanctioned such a frightful crime as the opium traffic. "It only poisons about two millions of people," is the excuse, "and brings in one-sixth of the whole revenue of India." If ever it were justifiable to utter the exclamation "Perish India!" it would be, I believe, in regard to that disgraceful source of revenue, and the necessity that is imposed upon us, as it is alleged, to raise it, in order to maintain the government of our Indian empire. Here in San Francisco the State has nothing to do with the sale of the poison, and it is very questionable whether the police regulations should not be applied to it, just as they are to persons who have tried to commit suicide, or to the inebriates in public-houses, or to places where intemperance is carried on to an extent injurious to the public peace. Death is the inevitable result of continued indulgence in opium-smoking, although it is true that in some cases the victim lingers on a few years, utterly indifferent to all the business of life except the one—the means of supplying himself with his only source of enjoyment. I was in one of the shops where they sell the drug, and was much struck by the cadaverous, sunken faces of the unfortunate customers, with bright dreamy eyes, trembling limbs, and wasted bodies, who came in to buy it. It is cheap enough, in all conscience, as a very small quantity suffices to produce what is called "the desired effect"; but for its bulk it is exceedingly dear, and indulgence in it must consume a considerable amount of the earnings of the best-paid artisans when they are no longer able to earn sufficient to keep them with a full supply. "Then," as our informant says, "they will commit any crime to get it."
The general impression made upon me by the appearance of the Chinese population was most favourable. I do not now speak of what one might see in going through the haunts where the police regulations assign exclusive possession to certain classes of the population, which, sooth to say, seemed numerous enough; I refer to the business quarters, and to the crowds of cleanly, intelligent, well-behaved people of both sexes in the streets. General McDowell, and many other persons, for whose opinion the greatest respect must be entertained, look with apprehension on the effect of the Chinese immigration, and have, indeed, declared that it will destroy the Union if it be not checked; and these apprehensions are based upon the possibility that in time millions on millions of the swarming population of China will inundate the United States, gradually overrun town after town, usurping all the fields of labour, and beating down the white man to the greatest misery by competition in every branch of trade, industry, and labour. This party has successfully, I believe, impressed its views upon a considerable number of senators and representatives in the Eastern States, who can exercise pressure on the Supreme Government; and the treaty recently signed between the Republic and China contains provisions which enable the authorities at the western seaports to exercise considerable control over the current of emigration. But, on the other hand, it is alleged that the fears which are expressed of a rapidly increasing exodus of Chinese from China, and an anabasis into the United States, are purely imaginary—in fact, unreal and pretentious. The pro-Chinese party allege that the emigration comes from only one port in one province, and that you may go all over the West, and ask any Chinaman or Chinawoman where he or she comes from, and you are met with the invariable answer, from the one port. The friends of the Chinese—arguing, moreover, that the State at large is benefited enormously by the accession to its resources from the Celestial Empire, and that the labour was attacked, not because it was cheap, but because it was good; that it is now indispensable, for without Chinamen and Chinawomen it would be almost impossible to carry on the ordinary life of these cities—allege that the agitation which has been so violent in San Francisco is mainly encouraged by those who want to secure the Irish vote. Colonel Bee represents these views very strongly. He argues that Canton, not larger than the State of New Hampshire, is the sole source of emigration. He insists on it that there are no more than 100,000 Chinese in the whole of the Union, and that for the last ten years the emigrants have not sufficed to fill the places of those who had gone home with money, never intending to return, or who had died. He maintains, indeed, that the Chinese are decreasing rather than otherwise; and with all the power of figures, which he has at his fingers' ends as Consul, demonstrates that a very large proportion of the Chinese who are entered as arriving at San Francisco and other parts are the same men and women as those who came some years previously and went back to their native country, returning to gain more dollars.
The principal enemies of the Chinese are the Irish, who, having monopolised the whole of the work of bricklayers, plasterers, carters, porters, and general labourers until their arrival, have been forced to reduce their rates of labour steadily by the competition of the Chinaman.
The part of the population of San Francisco denominated the Sand lot, and especially those connected with the political associations of the city, do not by any means share Colonel Bee's views; but the agitation is dying out, and the meetings, which were of weekly occurrence, to excite the people against the Mongolians have decreased in number, importance, and interest. The directors of public companies, and the contractors for public works, are all in favour of the Chinese workman, who is sober, industrious, and orderly; and although the trade combinations among them are exceedingly subtle, and their powers of association for trade purposes remarkable, being moreover the most ancient in the world, the Chinese in the Western States have not as yet taken to indulge in the luxury of strikes. As domestic servants, nurses, and attendants on children, they appear to be affectionate and careful; and nothing could be better than the service of the hotel in which we were lodged, the great portion of which was carried on by Chinamen and women.
June 10th.—In the spacious courtyard of the Palace Hotel, at 7 o'clock this morning, there might have been observed three well-appointed waggons (as Americans call the vehicle more appropriately termed "spider" at the Cape), each with two horses of race, fast trotters, panting for a spin through the city and the Park out to the shores of the Pacific. The Duke and Sir H. Green and Mr. Stephen were driven by Mr. Howard. Mr. Wright was "personally conducted" by Mr. ——, and I was put behind a pair of as handsome chestnuts as could well be seen anywhere, of which the owner and driver (General Barnes) was very reasonably proud. The streets of San Francisco, like those of most of the American cities we have visited, are atrociously paved; the torture of driving over boulders is aggravated by the sharp ribs of the tram ways, so that it is not pleasant, if, indeed, it be possible, to drive rapidly till the limit of municipal incompetence or fraud be passed. But once out on the suburbs the chestnuts were invited to step it, and were bowling along at a good fourteen miles an hour on our way to the Park, over as good a road as horse or man ever felt under hoof or foot. The Park not long ago was a waste of sand, it is now swarded and planted with shrubs, and luxuriant with flowers. Notices that it was unlawful to do more than ten miles an hour were posted up, but the General did not pay strict attention to them till he came near shady places, where experience warned him that policemen might be lying privily in ambush. The pace was quickened till the waggon seemed to fly through the air rather than move over the ground. It was the perfection of travelling on wheels—almost as buoyant as a headlong gallop. The waggon weighed but 180 lb., the powerful animals "scarcely felt it more than their tails." I had a turn at the reins by "kind permission" of the General. The art of driving trotters needs practice. You must keep a strong, steady pull on the head, or they "break." Very soon I had the satisfaction of making the chestnuts break the law with a vengeance, and of hearing the General say, "We are just within the three minutes! not ten seconds inside it!"—that is, of trotting at the rate of just twenty miles an hour. Up hill and down hill, and along the flat out of the Park and over the smooth road, and in half an hour the Pacific was in sight, and the murmurs of the surf rose above the rhythm of the regular beat of the eight hoofs in front of us! Cliff House was in view. Seal Rocks, in their setting of foam, lay before us, and in forty minutes from the time we left the hotel, despite policemen, miles of bad pavements, and tramways, we drew up at the steps of Cliff House, nine miles from San Francisco, and the trotters had not turned a hair. From the verandah at the sea front of the hotel, we enjoyed for half an hour a spectacle which is, as far as I know, unique. At the distance of 500 or 600 yards from the beach at our feet there is a group of four very rugged rocks, with serrated edges and tops, the sides broken here and there into ledges and small platforms. They are too small to be called islands, the largest being, as it seemed, not 100 yards wide. The slopes are not, I think, so steep as they looked on the land side. On the two largest of these rocks there were herds of sea-lions, so close that we could see, through very poor opera-glasses, with the greatest ease, their eyes, teeth, and whiskers, as they reposed or played with each other. Some had clambered to the highest ledges, escalading the sides by a series of painful-looking struggles with their flappers; others were fast asleep in cosy nooks; some were tossing their heads about and making believe to bite each other in sport; the younger ones were bent on teasing their fathers and mothers by uncouth gambols. As they played or moved they uttered cries between a bark and a roar; now and then the noise was like that of a pack of hounds in full cry, and the effect of the strange sound mingling with the tumult of the surf and the beat of the waves was most singular and "eldrich." Those fresh from the sea were shining black, but became lighter as they dried. The older ones were not darker than cinnamon bears or unwashed sheep. As many of those on the rocks had not long left the water the general effect of the herd put one in mind of a gathering of enormous slugs on cabbages—not a poetic simile, but a just one, I think. Occasionally a sea-lion, hungry or bored by his companions, threw himself with a splash into the wave, and it was interesting to watch the rapidity and actual grace of his movements in the sea compared with his laborious efforts on the land. One could see them quite clearly through the body of the heavy billows; occasionally a bold one would glide close on shore and fish in the edge of the surf, raising his head and shoulders clear above the surface, and then diving out of sight. They were cruising about in every direction. You remember the sea-lion at the Zoo, of which the French attendant was so fond? Well, the creatures below and before us were most of them double the size of that fellow, and several exceeded the largest ox in size. The monsters are quite well known; one is named Ben Butler, "because he is such a great beast." They were formerly protected by law, but some one thought they killed too many fish, and the law was repealed. They are safe all the same, for there is a law against the discharge of firearms within 300 yards of an inhabited dwelling; Cliff House throws its ægis over the sea-lions in that wise; but the quantity of fish which must be devoured by these mountainous phocæ (an they be so) daily would maintain a decently-sized city. The hide furnishes the "sealskin" used to cover trunks, and the body yields oil fat, and the tusks are close, white, and hard. These sea-lions breed far away up north, and come with their young regularly every year to the same resorts; but incessant war is waged upon them by the sealers and whalers, so that the chances are against the beast where he is not protected by law, and their numbers do not increase. Altogether, the spectacle was one never to be forgotten. A hotel, with oysters awaiting us for a forebreakfast refection in the background, waggons from Michigan, horses from Kentucky, all the apparatus of civilised life close at hand, the Pacific and its strange wild denizens at our feet! "Let us turn in and have an oyster." "What! oysters in June?" "Yes, and good ones too." In this favoured land oysters are in season all the year round. There are no oysters found on the coast, I am told, and they will not breed. They are brought all the way from the Atlantic coast when they are mere oysterlets, and they are laid down in the Pacific, where they grow fat and large, but are not "crossed in love," and therefore are fit to be eaten from January to January. They are about the size of a spring chicken, and need some courage on the part of an assailant who desires to dispose of them as he would a native.
This was our last day in the city of the Golden Gate, and the photographers were masters of the situation; and there was much débris of sight-seeing to sweep up—visits to be made, shops to be inspected, among which I must mention specially the Diamond Palace of Colonel Andrews, one of the handsomest jeweller's "stores" in the world, though it is not as large as the establishments of the principal firms in London, Paris, Vienna, or as Tiffany's in New York. The distinctive feature of the interior is the decoration of the paintings of fair women, on the ceiling and the walls above the cases, by necklaces, diadems, zones, and other feminine ornaments of real diamonds, emeralds, rubies, and pearls. The pictures are the work of an Italian artist of merit, and the general effect is very striking; but I doubt whether it is a good way of inducing people to buy the articles which bedeck the ideal beauties. At Bradley and Rulofson's we saw photographs of many of our friends, and had one more proof of the smallness of the world. Every one we knew seemed to have visited San Francisco. There we all submitted to inevitable fate, and left our negatives behind us, but the Duke was captured by a rival photographic institution, and had a sitting all to himself.
The aspect of a crowd in a large American city differs from that of the passers-by in the street of an English town, most of all in the appearance of such a large proportion of coloured people. Here it may be said, however, that they are colourless, as the prevailing hue of the foreign population is that of the Chinaman. In Canada the number of negroes, or of persons of negro descent, of varying gradations of colour, is remarkable, considering the circumstances, but they probably may be accounted for by the emigration in the olden times of those who were escaping from slavery, or who went with their masters and employers into the Dominion. In the cities on the Lakes I was very much struck by the persons of undoubted African descent who are to be met with in the streets in great numbers; and in Chicago there is a quarter nearly exclusively occupied by them—honest, industrious, hard-working people seemingly, given to stand about at the street corners, however, a good deal on Sundays, and cultivating a bright attire, especially on the part of the ladies, whose bonnets and shawls were things to wonder at. There are loafers amongst them, as there are amongst their betters; but, taking them all in all, in the Northern, Western, and Atlantic States, they are a decidedly useful element in the population, easing the burden of labour to the white man, and following many occupations, such as those of waiters, barbers, bricklayers, and labourers in the less skilled sort of work, for which it would be difficult to find American substitutes. One peculiarity, which may be accounted for by some wiser person than myself, seems to be their recklessness as to what they put on their heads. Whether it is merely a compliance with the custom of the white man, which impels them to cover the highly effective protection against sun and cold which Nature has given them, or not; or whether it is that the canons of taste in such matters have not yet settled down to those accepted by people in civilised life in the Western world, the male negro has the most extraordinary indifference as to the quality and shape of the thing which he calls a hat or cap, and it would not be easy to find out of the gutters of some Irish country town anything more dilapidated, battered, and utterly incoherent than some of the hats which one may see on the heads of people of colour, especially down South. Whatever other virtues they may have, neatness is not amongst them; for, with all their affectation of finery, their clothes are generally ill-kept, their houses are unkempt, and, where they are cultivators of the soil, the operations are performed in a slovenly manner. The traditions of the old plantation have descended upon them, and influence them.
On my way from Messrs. Donahue and Kelly, the bankers in Montgomery Street—I believe the former of these gentlemen has had the privilege of giving his name to steamers and cities, leastways railway stations—I saw a party of sailors belonging to the United States steamer "Rodgers," now about to proceed in search of the "Jeannette," and I was much struck by their resemblance to our own bluejackets in general "cut of the jib," dress, face, and figure. They were in charge of a smart-looking officer, and had been paying a farewell visit to the fruit and vegetable markets—one of the sights of the city. They were in high good-humour, laughing and chatting loudly, more than is the wont of Americans, and I could not but contrast their fine physique with that of the soldiers we had seen at Sir Henry Green's parade when General McDowell took us round the harbour. The detachment at the Fort, consisting of infantry and artillerymen, and squads of different regiments, had some weedy veterans in the ranks, who had lost their setting up and did not look fit for much work; but the sailors, probably a picked lot, were good all round.
À propos of Messrs. Donahue and Kelly, the number of wealthy men in San Francisco of Irish origin or nationality is remarkable. Millionaires with names of Milesian prefixes and terminations are phenomenal. We had intended to return to the East Coast by way of Utah, and to stay a day or two at Salt Lake City, but the railroad company did not consider it expedient to give the party the facilities which had been accorded in every other instance by the American authorities to the Duke and his friends. To have gone round Salt Lake City would have cost a couple of hundred pounds more for haulage, and we were much more interested in seeing Leadville and Denver than the City of the Mormons; the game was not thought to be worth the candle, and it was resolved that we would go back as we came, in charge of the representatives of the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fé Railroad Company. It was only one item more in the long list of things we ought to have seen if we could, and I can safely say that we had a large share of the common experience of travellers in regard to the relations between the possible and the impossible in the course of a journey in a strange land, where there are for ever cropping up representations that "you really ought not to leave without seeing" so and so. The evening of our last day was passed in the society of General McDowell, Mr. Morgan, the English Consul, Colonel Bee, and others, who had done so much to make the visit to San Francisco all that could be desired, and whose courtesy and kindness will ever be remembered by every one of us most gratefully. Like Sir Charles Coldstream, we "had seen everything, done everything," but, unlike him, had found there was plenty in it. The street railway—most ingenious and successful, invaluable in a hilly city like Lisbon—the Chinese Theatre, the Joss houses—shops, eating-houses, opium dens of the Chinese quarter, the clubs, the principal buildings, the streets, the shops, the markets, the harbour, the suburbs, and country round about—all had been inspected, and yet each day we were told that we were doing positive injustice to ourselves and to the objects which were perforce neglected. In the morning there was a levée in the hotel to bid the Duke good-bye and see the party start on their return journey. At the very last moment a gentleman came forward with a proposal to take us to the North Pole by balloon, but there was not time to consider it in all its bearings and the offer was declined with thanks. We started at 10 A.M., and the Duke was attended to the boat and to the station across the water by a large body of San Franciscans, who took leave ere the train started. The gentlemen who were with us on the journey westwards attended the Duke on his way towards the Eastern States. All day we travelled through California—"the hot furnace"—which at first, however, proved to be only very warm, and the coloured servants had constant supplies of iced compounds to be drunk for the solace of the homeward bound, and had laid in a stock of San Franciscan luxuries to soothe the way.
Los Angeles—Mud-geysers—"Billy the Kid"—General Fremont—Manitou, the Garden of the Gods—Desperadoes—Bob Ingersoll—Denver City—Leadville—Grand Cañon.
June 12th.—The train stopped at Los Angeles at six in the morning, and, drawing up my window-blind, the first person I saw on the platform was our good friend Colonel Baker, who had come to meet us, intent on the good offices which he could render during our stay. These were exhibited in the form of a beautiful bouquet for Lady Green, baskets of limes and oranges, and great bunches of grapes. In this happy valley there are cares as in the rest of the world. The Colonel told us he was in the midst of a great litigation affecting his claim to a large tract of land in which there are said to exist the richest tin-mines in the American Continent. Yet why should he care about his tin-mine? There were rolling acres rich with corn and fruit, and there were flocks and herds and vineyards, and a charming home of his own. Nevertheless, if the want of that tin-mine made him at all unhappy, I am sure those who were indebted to him, as we were, for so many kindnesses, will wish his claim to be triumphantly asserted, and long possession of all that is to follow.
I dreaded the passage of the Desert to Yuma; and indeed the heat was intense. No wonder that with the thermometer ranging from 100° to 104°, all the blinds in the car were pulled down, and we sprawled listlessly on the cushions. Our excellent attendants put forth all the resources of art in the shape of ice and preparations of limes and cocktails; but the temperature would not be baffled. We could just read, and were aware that we were living, and some of us had strength enough now and then to execute forays against flies with napkins to drive them out of the carriages. How could people live out in the open, and work in the mines, or pursue any out-of-door employment in such torrid heat? Nevertheless, there was a marked distinction between it and the heat to be endured with the mercury at an equal height in India.
The speed of the train was very respectable—somewhat over twenty miles an hour—and at that rate we ran from San Gorgonio and Banning on to Cabazon, through a flat plain, dry and burnt up, very like the desert around Suez, and fringed, like it, with rocky and rugged hills, save that there was a great growth of Spanish bayonets and cactuses of all kinds among the stones and sand, and that snow was to be seen on all the hill-tops in the distance. For 107 miles there was no water to be met with going along this plain; but the mirage, of which I have spoken in the account of our journey to San Francisco, was frequent and beautiful; and again I was fascinated by the sight of lovely lakes embowered in trees, with stately cities on their shores, changing and shifting and melting away, only again to assume apparent substance to cheat the senses.
Once the train stopped to allow the passengers to visit the mud-geysers, which were not more than 150 yards on the left of the line, and with commendable curiosity most of us got out and walked over the baked earth to the spot. There was no mark whatever of smoke or vapour to indicate the place; and it was almost startling to come suddenly upon a kind of pond of semi-liquid mud, fifty or sixty feet in diameter, on which huge bubbles, varying in size from an orange to a hogshead, were continually forming and bursting. There was a faint sulphurous smell, and the ground around the liquefied portion of the surface, where the bubbles were breaking, was hot and cracked. The conductor said that all attempts to reach the bottom of the holes through which the bubbles arose had failed. Two of these geysers were in active operation, and the plain away to the left of the rail was said to contain a great number of them. After all it was very unsatisfactory to see this ebullition going on without being able to account for it; and, generally, I think we thought less of each other and of our information after visiting them, and finding out that not one of us had any theory on the subject which would bear either fire or water.
I do not think I ever saw a sunset more beautiful than that which marked the close of this day—certainly not in India or South Africa, nor on the prairie, for which they make claims of surpassing beauty in the matter of sunsets. As it died out, I felt that "thing of beauty" could not "be a joy for ever," for it was a combination of colour and of form, including sky and mountain, that it would be impossible to see again.
The kindness of which we have had so many proofs, has followed, accompanied, and preceded us all unremittingly and unweariedly. A rough with some Bourbon on board mounted to-day the steps of the car at a station, and insisted on seeing "this Duke." When he was told that the object of his attention was engaged, he said, "This is a land of liberty (as in his case it was), and he doesn't want a bodyguard with him!" But the conductor sent him away about his business without trouble. On the platform at Benson a few miners asked "the Duke to come out and show himself." The people at the stations were generally satisfied with a quiet peep; now and then an enthusiastic Scotchman claimed a shake hands, which was always accorded to him. A sleeper placed across the rails (accounted for by the officers on the hypothesis that some loafer without a ticket had been turned off by the conductor, and had put the sleeper in the way of the train to wreak his vengeance—a thing which has occurred nearer home) was the only substantial danger to which we were here exposed.
The heat (June 13th) was intense. The thermometer rose to 105 at one o'clock in the day, and it was little comfort to us to be told that at Deming it had been up to 110 the day before.
For some days we have been supping full of horrors, indeed breakfasting and dining on them, for the papers contain accounts of the extraordinary homicides all about this region. Tucson, Benson, Wilcox—all these places were resounding with the exploits of "Billy the Kid." Now at Tucson there is, I believe, a man whose name was once amongst the very foremost in the United States. Who some twenty years and more ago had not heard of General Fremont, "the Pathfinder," the adventurous traveller, the energetic politician, the dashing soldier? He had gone at the outbreak of the war to take up the chief command in the west with all the pomp and circumstance of glorious war. I was somewhat astonished to find that he was at Tucson, the governor of the Territory, on a humble salary, apparently the world-forgetting and the world-forgot, while "Billy-the-Kid" was perpetrating numberless atrocities under his nose, and Mr. Pat Garrett was dressing up his loins with his revolver-belt, and about to go forth with a chosen band of citizens and seek the redoubtable William.[A]
A person who has only seen settled States in Europe, or the Eastern States of the North American Continent, cannot form any notion of a territory which has become a centre of attraction to all the wild adventurers and daring spirits which society, in the process of formation, throws out as a sort of advanced guard. In Arizona, in 1870, according to the American Almanac, out of a total population of 9658, 2729 could not write and 2690 could not read. Of the total population, 2491 were foreign born, and 2753 were natives, the rest being coloured or under ten years of age. In New Mexico, out of 91,000 people, 48,000 over ten years of age could not read, and 51,000 whites over ten years of age could not write. It may be inferred from such figures what is the general condition of the labouring classes in these States and Territories. The inhabitants of these States have doubled in the last ten years. They are filling up at a rate inconceivably great—so great, indeed, that American newspapers are fairly bewildered and American statesmen appalled by the rush across the Rocky Mountains and down the rivers, although as yet but a small proportion of the immense stream of immigrants has flooded the outlying territories. "At this rate," exclaims a Western editor, "the old monarchies of Europe will soon be depopulated." When Mr. Lincoln, in 1861, addressed his inaugural to the expectant States he expressed his confident belief that there were children then born who would live to see the flag of the Union floating over no less than 100,000,000 of human beings. The recent census of the United States gives a return of 51,000,000 of people, but the most eminent statisticians have arrived at the belief that the progress and increase of the States will not be at the same rapid rate as that which marked the history of the Republic since the cessation of the great civil war. It may be fairly inferred, however, that at the end of this century the population of the United States will greatly exceed that of Russia, or that of any empire except China and Great Britain, including Hindostan. The population, on each period of ten years, has increased at an average of more than 30 per cent.; in fact, nearer 33 per cent., and the centre of it has travelled westward at the rate of more than fifty miles every ten years, till the centre of population is now eight miles west by south from Cincinnati. In 1800 the Union extended over only 239,935 square miles. Its flag now floats over 1,272,239 square miles of States and over 1,800,000 square miles of Territory governed by the central power at Washington. "We cannot think," exclaims a Republican writer, "that the war of rebellion settled all our troubles and made us secure in our Republic. This enormous growth of the practically unknown West reveals to us the grave dangers that threaten our nation. We meet there the tremendous influences of alien races and alien religions." The Americans of New England and of the Eastern States do not feel anxious on that score, because their institutions are thoroughly founded, their character formed, and they trust to the great power of accomplished facts to assimilate the alien elements and sustain the fabric of the Republic. The bugbear of a great Chinese immigration has ceased to practically influence Californian politics, and it may be safely assumed that the bulk of the future immigrants from the Celestial Empire will only come from the same sources as those which have hitherto supplied the stream. No wonder, however, that thoughtful Americans—and there are many who think of the future of their country as something quite apart from dollars—are filled with grave anxieties when they see such floods of purely foreign material, which will in all probability exercise a preponderating influence over the politics of the Great Republic, surging into the States. Particularly have the home missionary clergy, as they are styled, been struck by the enormous influence which this foreign immigration has exercised. According to one authority, the Rev. Mr. Stimson, of Worcester, "it is not a question of spreading any particular form of Christianity or of Church government, but a momentous struggle of American institutions with alien civilisations and religions for the control of the great Western country. The problem is not a matter of cleaning door-yards, but of saving a continent for freedom." The Chinese Question and the Indian Question are, they think, as nothing compared with the Irish Question and the German Question. "The Republic," we are told, "stands on a foundation as broad as humanity itself," whatever that may mean, "but its condition of existence is a universal regard for the interests of all." Often during the course of the Duke of Sutherland's excursion it was our good fortune to fall in with men of great political and social knowledge. The future of the Republic is, in the mind of these men, clouded with uncertainty and doubt. They are apprehensive of some unknown danger. It may be corruption of political life leading to want of faith in free institutions; it may be the rival energies and the opposing interests which Washington foresaw as likely to array the East against the West—the Atlantic States against the inland States, and it is calculated by some sanguine people that before this century is over there will be eighteen, or possibly twenty, States admitted into the Union formed out of the Territories which are now under the central Government at Washington. Upon such influences as these alien immigration may be expected to act with prodigious power. At a recent meeting in Springfield a clergyman gave as an illustration of the absolute indifference of the foreign immigrants to Republican institutions a conversation he had with a Norwegian minister in Minneapolis. "There is nothing," said this gentleman, "in America which we Norwegians regard as of value except your land and your money. We do not want to learn English: we do not want to know the Americans around us; we have certainly no notion of becoming Americans, but we intend to remain as we are—Norwegians." The Mormons control Utah. They boast that they will soon govern five of the most important territorial regions beyond the Rockies. But if Utah becomes a State, as she hopes to do, she will found a Mormon code of laws and institutions beyond the power of the United States to control. New Mexico may be considered as a Roman Catholic State under the control of an excellent archbishop. Of course all prophecies may be falsified by events, but judging by the eighty years which have elapsed of the present century, and from the ratio of increase in that time in the United States, the most liberal construction may be placed even upon the bounding estimates of American politicians and statists. When we look to the Far West and see, for instance, how Winnipeg has become the centre of a great network of river navigation, 300 miles in one direction, 600 miles in another, and that the Mackenzie River passes for 1200 miles through what is declared to be the future wheat region of the world, we may easily comprehend the anxiety with which the patriotic American is filled lest the future of such a State should fall into hands antagonistic to the principles in which his beau idéal of government has been founded and has prospered.
June 14.—At Lamy, a station named after the good archbishop of Santa Fé, where we halted for a short time whilst the passengers of another train were breakfasting, a citizen came up to me on the platform and exclaimed, as if he were very much impressed by the news he was going to give, "If you look in there, sir, you will see Bob Ingersoll at breakfast!" I asked whether there was anything very remarkable about the fact. "Well, sir," he said, "he is Colonel Ingersoll, of whom you have heard. He is the most remarkable in-fidel in the United States, and I really think he believes what he preaches. A good man to look at, too, and, they say, first-rate in his family." I had a glance at the believer in unbelief, and saw a very presentable-looking person, of fine appearance and good features, busily engaged in making the most of his time at one of the tables in the refreshment-room. He was the observed of all observers, and appeared to like it; and I understood from one of the crowd that he had just returned from inspecting some mining ventures in which he was concerned; for, if he does not believe in the world to come, he is credited with very strong faith in the excellencies of the possession of wealth in the world that is. His lectures are attended by crowded audiences, but, as an astute American observed, "they won't come to much, for, after all, people who do not believe anything can never get up a great enthusiasm. It is in believing something that the populace has faith."
Once more our eyes were rejoiced with the sight of the lovely plains of Las Vegas, wide-spreading fields decked with flowers and dotted with flocks, bordered with ranges of softly contoured mountains, the courses of the water streams indicated by bright vegetation and by growth of trees of many kinds. From Lamy (170 miles) there is a gradual rise to Raton, which we reached at 6.30 in the evening. The appearance of the region we traverse as the train approaches the Raton Pass presents a strong contrast to the desolate country through which we have been passing. From Raton the train was drawn by two engines in front and shoved by one behind, and even then the pace was not very rapid, for the ascent is very sharp. All the more could we enjoy a very glorious sunset, as we slowly ascended the mountain. Then darkness came on rapidly, and we slid down towards La Junta into the night, and were all fast asleep long before we arrived there. In the very early morning, on June 15th, some two hours after midnight, we halted for a time at Pueblo. At 9 o'clock we had to leave our beloved Pullman and change the cars, for we were to take a fresh point of departure, starting from the Union Depôt upon the Denver and Rio Grande narrow-gauge railway for Denver, 119 miles distant, and making an excursion on the way to Manitou, to which we diverged from Colorado Springs: for to go within reach of that famous resort and not to see it would have been a great outrage on all the rules and regulations established for the observance of travellers. Certes narrow-gauge railways need an apology. Their raison d'être is, at the best, that they are better than nothing. "If you won't have us, you can have nothing else." And in such a mountainous region as we were about to visit, the difficulties and expense connected with a broad-gauge line would have been enormous, if indeed it could be constructed at all. The narrow-gauge carriages, with seats to match, with which we were made acquainted for the first time, were of course much less commodious and comfortable than those we had quitted, but far superior to those on the Indian lines of the same gauge, and Indian engineers had been over to take a lesson from the Americans for the use of their carriage-builders. Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fé Company and Denver and Rio Grande Company have been at daggers drawn and pistols cocked—ay, and fired—and at battles waged, in times gone by; and now our friends on the former line were, like ourselves, the guests of the latter, which was represented by several official gentlemen anxious to do the honours to the Duke. The scenery becomes grander and wilder every mile as the special hurries on as well as it can over the sinuous line, which is piercing a mountain region savage and sterile, and climbing by the sides of ravines and creeping upwards in rocky valleys with pine-clad hill-tops and frowning cliffs above. The engineer who designed the line is a Scotchman named McMurtrie—or at least of recent Scotch origin—and he seems to have a special gift for such aspiring work, and a gradient-compelling genius not to be baffled by altitudes. We were mounting towards the snows. Range upon range of whitened summits and hoary ridges came in view, all paying homage to the rugged crown of Pike's Peak, which can be seen from points more than 140 miles away. The fleecy cloudland which seemed to lie before us, as we looked away from Pueblo, was resolving itself into savage alps. And in these passes, which the eye caught for a moment, there might be El Dorados still undiscovered, for around us were cities springing out of the desert. Here the enchanter's wand is the explorer's pick, and no one could say where the precious ore might not be awaiting its touch. We were coming to the Land of Promises. The conversation of our new friends, among whom were some gentlemen of the press, related mostly to mines, and one of them had, as we discovered, a very certain investment at the disposal of the Duke, in the form of a mining-claim, which was worth, at the lowest computation, twice as much as he was willing to take for it. There was no reason to doubt his good faith, but it was felt that it was a kind of fortune which ought not to pass into the hands of strangers, and should be reserved for the people of the country; and I am sure all of the party who had the pleasure of the owner's acquaintance hope that he has "made his pile" out of it, and has more than realised his expectations.
Colorado Springs, forty-five miles from Pueblo, is nearly 6000 feet above the level of the sea. The character of the line to it is best described in the fact that the average grade per mile is 44·14, the maximum curvature 6°. There are "no Springs" here, but the little town, charmingly situated, is a halting-place much frequented in tourist-time by travellers, and reputed to be healthful. There are some pleasant houses visible from the station, at which we descended to take our places in the carriages provided to take us to Manitou Springs, five miles away. Mr. Palmer—if General, I beg his pardon—the President of the Railroad, had important business to attend to, but he was so well represented by Mr. Bell, the Vice-President, that no one regretted his absence, and it cannot be said in his case les absents ont toujours tort. He is reported to have made a very large fortune with much ingenuity, and to have business talents which even in this country excite admiration. Mr. Bell is an Irish gentleman, a member of the medical profession, who has a delightful villa embowered in a garden in the environs of Manitou, where the Duke and his friends found a charming interior and an Irish-American welcome, and discovered that strawberries and cream were almost as good in Colorado as in Covent Garden. A quaint, odd place, Manitou—an American Martigny, with Pike's Peak rising (14,300 feet above the sea) over it in the clear sky, inspiring regret that we could not make the excursion to the summit, which is rewarded, we were told, and I can believe, by one of the grandest views in the world—the usual service of guides, horses, and mules, and calèches—a naturalist's store with skins, minerals, feathers, and stuffed "objects"—detached wooden houses and villas in small plots of garden—a straggling street, and large hotels for invalids. But there was the unusual feature of encampments here and there by the roadside, and notices forbidding the pitching of tents within certain limits which were explained by the fact that the high reputation of the waters and air induces people to come from great distances for the treatment of consumption, and diseases of throat and lungs. Many of them find it cheaper to travel in horse waggons and pitch their canvas dwellings when they wish to make a halt, than to take up their quarters at hotels. Poor people! what pale, hectic cheeks and wasted forms we saw; little groups picnicking by the sides of the rivulets along the roads—each with a gnawing care—anxiety about some dear one's health in the midst of them. Our driver, an intelligent, chatty lad, was full of information, and we had to drive the prescribed road by the wells out to the Ute Pass, a mountain-gorge wild enough—a small Tête Noire—to points to which magniloquent names have been given.
It is not for want of what is called puffing that Americans neglect the resorts of health of their own country, and in the States far and wide the beauties and advantages of Manitou are blazoned forth on the walls of hotels and in guide-books to all who can read. I may confess now that, notwithstanding the magnificent altitude of Pike's Peak, and the eccentric forms of the rocks in the "Garden of the Gods," I was disappointed with Manitou. But then the visit was short, and the day was hot, and the way was long and dusty, and haply it might be that under different circumstances Manitou would deserve much warmer praise. It possesses indeed an abundance of curious springs, said to be full of health-giving properties; and in the course of our drive we halted several times to partake of drinks from various springs, out of one of which bubbled up very good soda-water, precisely like Schweppe's best in taste and appearance. At the large hotel, which put one in mind of the great establishments of the same sort in Switzerland, the water served at table to the guests—a sort of pleasant Apollinaris-tasting beverage—came from a natural fountain.
The "cataract" nearly made us angry, and there was no regret felt when the carriages returned to the hotel, where there was unwonted activity and bustle, as the "Denver Zouaves" had just descended in a friendly razzia on it, and were desolating the hearts and fireside resources of Manitou. The consequences might have been serious, as it turned out, to unoffending strangers. Those who needed it turned into the barber's shop of the hotel to be shaved, and after some delay a coloured man appeared, who began to try his hand on me. Fortunately it was not 'prentice, for it was very unsteady, and I became a little alarmed for my cuticle. "It will be all right, mister," quoth the barber. "I never cut any one. But I'm demoralised, dat's a fact, having to wait on dem Denver Zouaves. Lor a messy on any enemy dey has! My nerve's all gone to pieces wid their wantin' everting at once at the dinner!" The hotel seemed far more clean and comfortable than the caravanserais in the land of William Tell; but our stay was short, for we were put under orders for a sight which has the most inappropriate name that could be invented—a valley in which the most extraordinary-looking columns carved out in a plateau by the agency of water, have been left standing, detached and in groups, to which the visitor enters through a cleft in a barrier of rock passing round the base of a pillar of sandstone as high as a house. The "Garden of the Gods" contains 500 acres, and is surrounded by mountains and cliffs. The sandstone pillars generally taper from the base upwards to a short distance from the tops, which are flattened out or surmounted by slabs or blocks of sandstone of fantastic outline, and they are called by names derived from fancied likenesses to animals, birds, and men. The juxtaposition of the most brilliantly hued, dazzling-red blocks and strata, with masses of the same material of milky whiteness, gives the impression that the scene is the work of human hands; it seems too quaint and artificial for the hand of Nature, to which alone it is due; and the vegetation and the trees are in keeping with the character of the place. A trysting-place for geologists, and their happy hunting-ground, no doubt. But why "the Garden of the Gods," I pray?
From the valley or cup, emerging by another road, the driver took us to a ravine-like recess, almost girt in by high wooded mountains, in which Mr. (General?) Palmer is erecting a mansion of palatial importance—a picturesque site surely—cliffs, forests, and mountain all around, and in view one most singular sandstone pillar, named the Major Domo, 120 feet high and only 30 feet round—a mountain stream brawling through tangled brushwood glades—a garden. But the heat! That must prove a terror by day to the inmates of Glen Eyrie Lodge or Castle—which, by the by, was named, as one of us insisted, from a collection of rubbish on a ledge in the face of one of the cliffs, which was, he maintained, the nest of an eagle. It was now time to return to our train, and we were not sorry to get back to Colorado Springs.
From Colorado Springs to our destination at Denver there were still 75 miles of rail, and the line continued to ascend till we reached Divide (7186 feet), whence there was a gentle descent. There were sixteen stations named on the time-table. We stopped at very few of them, and travelled somewhat too fast to permit our placid enjoyment of the scenery, austere and vast, which indeed deserved more attention than could be given to it by passengers in a very lively train—endless alps on alps, not sheeted with perpetual white, but rather flecked with snowfields, which contrasted finely with the sombre pine-forests, and the rich hues of the rocks, touched by the rays of the setting sun, that, ere it slid behind the mountains, cast a rose-coloured mantle on their summit. The evidences of a bustling city were not wanting in the approaches to the capital of Colorado. There were tall chimneys vomiting out smoke in the distance, and near at hand trains of waggons were toiling over the dusty plain—still 5000 feet above the sea-level—fast trotters and people on horseback, beer-gardens, factories of all kinds, brick-kilns, and then a fringe of log houses and wooden shanties, before the train stopped at the imposing and substantial depot.
It was a quarter-past eight, nearly dark, when we reached Denver, and glad were we to get into the hall of the Windsor Hotel, which was crowded with a mixed multitude—miners, and speculators, and traders, and some travellers like ourselves—a very busy scene indeed. In the hotel were all human comforts nearly; hot and cold baths, and good rooms, and more appliances of civilised existence, for those who could pay for them, than could be found in many hostelries of approved reputation in venerable towns at home; moreover, exuberant offers of help and information. One goes to bed laden with obligations and heavy with the sense of favours which can never be repaid. There was now a soupçon of frost in the air, and notwithstanding the heat which we had endured the greater part of the day, fires were not ungrateful; and as we peered out of our windows over the roofs of the wide-spread houses of the town, we could see the snow on the lofty ranges of hills, watered by the South Platte River and Cherry Creek, which surround the cup in which Denver has been built in obedience to the impulses of the increasing population, which now numbers, I believe, 38,000 souls. There was a bright glare from the gas-lighted streets, sounds of music, and a tumult of life in the town which would have been creditable to an ancient metropolis. In the morning from the hotel windows appeared a beautiful and widespread panorama of the hills we had seen the evening before, peak above peak, none very densely covered perhaps, or presenting continuous snowfields, but extending in billowy sweeps far away to the horizon, all capped with snow, now bathed in a flood of fervent sunshine, the snow lighted up by the peculiar crimson tints common in Alpine regions. There were duties in the way of sight-seeing and exploration of no ordinary nature to be done. First there were interviews and receptions, and the inevitable drive through the place as soon as the ordeal of breakfast was over; and ordeal in some sort it was for the strangers to file in to the public room and take their places at their table, aware that the morning papers had subjected them to exhaustive criticism, which was being verified by those around us. The morning papers too had given some topics for reflection, indications that in the newly created capital of Colorado desperate men, overtaken by the march of law and order, had refused to accept service, and were vindicating their rights as wild western outcasts to take or part with life as of yore, in reckless encounters and deliberate assassinations. There were, perhaps, at that moment some hundreds, if not thousands, out of the population of 37,000 or 38,000 of the city, who belonged to the adventurous classes—sporting-men, betting-men, ring-men, bar-keepers, hell-proprietors, and their satellites, and the scum of the saloons attracted from the great cities of the States for hundreds of miles, by the prey which miners with belts full of gold, half mad with drink, and always fond of excitement, frequently are; and if to these be added the dissolute loafers and broken-down mining speculators, the strength of the army arrayed against the law may be estimated; and the wonder is that among a population armed to the teeth there are not more cases of such violent deeds as we were reading of at breakfast. To the stranger there was no evidence of the existence of these disturbing elements, unless the bearded and booted men with speculation in their eyes, in the hotel passages and halls, belonged to the dangerous, as they certainly did to the mining, classes. As to the resources of the city, although for rapidity of growth its wonders may be eclipsed by those of Leadville, Denver claims a very high place in the catalogue of these marvellous fungi of civilisation, of which the Western States present almost unique examples. There is everything that any one can want to be had for money in the place, and much more than most people need. Paris fashions and millinery are in vogue. There are fine shops, handsome churches, a theatre, breweries, factories, banks, insurance offices.