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Afoot and Lighthearted . : : : : . eee 8 A Little Journey to the Yellowstone . : 5 : : 15 See America First : ; ; : : : : : . 48 Some Things I Saw : We : 2 : , ; : i The Age of the Auto . 5 : . ; ; : : . 74 Arkansas and Hot Springs . ; : : : ; ; 83 The Golden Rule in Prison : : : : f : = 00 Western Big-Heartedness j : : A P 3 : 97 The Wisconsin Idea . : ; : : : ' : elo} Niagara Falls . , ; ¢ ; . : ; : : 106 Alaska . ; : ; , : : : : : ais WHE The Oregon Idea : : : : : ; , ; WAS A Little Journey to Knoxville . : ; 2 : . 130 The Spring in the Desert : : : d : : volo? Beautiful Backyards . : , : : : : ; . 138 The Value of Travel ; : : : ; ; ; . 141 Down in a Butte Copper Mine . : ; ; : . 146 Genoa and Beggars . : : : : . : : : iby English Monuments . : é : : : ; melo The Raisin Country ; : : ; ; : me AOL A Barn-Storming Tour ; F ; P ; , ; 2165

Land o’ Goshen , ; , ; : : ; F ; 178


A Little Journey to San Diego A Visit to Boston

The Custer Battlefield

A Little Journey to Delaware Above the Rabble

A Forgotten Freak’of Nature Legislators vs. Life Members A Little Journey to Servia . San Francisco and the Fair Me for Texas

The Misson Inn

Thomas Paine Lecture Northeast vs. Northwest Getting a Start in Vaudeville A Little Civic Pride Winnipeg

In Colorado

The New Canada

In The Copper Country Texas Siftings



. 202


. 222


. 240


. 260


. 282


. 303






. 346


. 388


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¢ Asoo and light-hearted I take to

the open road, Healthy, free, the world before me,

The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I my- self am good-fortune;

Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing;

Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,

Strong and content I travel the openvoad.

As sang Walt, so sing I. Here will we walk and talk together—very plainly, very frankly of life and its lessons. Nothing

_ that is human shall be alien to us. Out

under the blue sky, fanned by the lazy breeze, interrupted only by the chirrup of birds in the hedge-rows, we will talk as friend to friend. Nor shall the gibing call of guineahens us disturb.


Bary ek) Ma @ ; Wy A 4

§ ot a hee ii


> =

ittle Journey to the Yellowstone

TONS this: Jumbo was getting so fat, and Terese was 1/J [OM getting so lean, that I saw that something must S (te (Sy, be done. As for myself, I am the Impeccable : 8 One. I am always well, always happy, always at

work se se Nevertheless, I had reached a point where nothing seemed to taste like that which mother used to make. @ We held a consul- tation of war, and decided we would abandon our proposed Euro- pean trip for sufficient reasons.

And then the Infant Prodigy said, ‘“‘ Yellowstone Park!”

I had been everywhere else in the United States—Niagara Falls, Mammoth Cave, Coney Island,Grand Canyon—but Fate had made me miss the Yellowstone. But now was the opportunity, and Jumbo-Mumbo mumbled, “‘ The Route of the Great Big Baked Potato! ”’

And Terese echoed, ““And the Roman Emperor Titus, who took Jerusalem and discovered the Murphy Maximus.”

And the Infant Prodigy, who is strong on facts, and is at that age where she sets every one straight, supplying accurate data, said, ** But the potato is an American product!

** I thought it was Irish, ”’ I ventured.

““ No,” she said; “‘ it saved Ireland from starvation. That is all. But the best potatoes in the world are raised in America. The great potato districts are in Maine, Michigan, Wisconsin, and parts of Minnesota, where the lumber has been cleared and the stumps burned out. And as a potato district next comes the irrigated land in Montana, Idaho, Colorado and Utah.”

Before such a broadside of potato-salad I abdicated. And so it was the Route of the Great Big Baked Potato! se On the route

16 SECE Ch Dewi ct so

of the Northern Pacific Railway potatoes were produced that weighed a pound. The biggest potatoes we raise in New York are about this size. Then it was discovered that water applied to land in the right proportion and in the right way and in the right place would produce potatoes that weighed two pounds. And the Emperor Titus, Dining-Car Superintendent of the Northern Pacific Railway, began serving great big baked potatoes, each one on a platter. This platter is eight inches long. Sometimes the potatoes will be nine inches long and four inches in diameter. Bringing in one of these potatoes and placing it before a hungry man makes him look, and then he laughs, and everybody else in the vicinity looks and laughs too! And then Titus conceived the idea of never serving a big baked potato that weighed less than two pounds. It is several times as much as any one can eat, but the idea of bounteous service, of generosity, is bound to make an appeal Sse se»

And behold Titus capitalized the idea, and the world knows the Northern Pacific Railway as “‘ The Route of the Great Big Baked Potato.”

His Majesty, the Emp Spud, was once requested, in a letter, by an enthusiastic patron, to send him a bushel of those great big potatoes in order that he might use them for seed, and the Emp wrote back a brief, businesslike letter thus:

“T would be glad indeed to send you a bushel of the great big Northern Pacific potatoes, but the fact is we never cut a potato for anybody.”’

Following this he sent the man a puslel of the big potatoes with his compliments.

“It does n’t take many of these potatoes to make a dozen,” said an astonished Milesian. This great big baked potato, the spud superbus, set a standard.

The motto of James J. Hill is:

“Trust in the Lord and haul no empties.” Titus has simply


appropriated the slogan of the empire-builder, and he too makes it a rule to haul no empties.”

His business is to feed the people, and that he performs this service in a kingly manner is beyond dispute.

The Northern Pacific Railway follows the route taken by Lewis and Clark in Eighteen Hundred Five.

It is the first proposed railway across the continent, although it was the second transcontinental line to be built.

The original intent was that it should be owned by the Govern- ment, because it was the belief that no railroad across the con- tinent could be operated at a profit.

The first proposition to build this railroad came up in Congress in Eighteen Hundred Forty-three.

This railroad follows the line of least resistance. Its grades are low, its curves gentle, and the entire route is through a habitable COUNtTY Se Se

There is no desert, and practically no mountain ranges to chal- lenge the way.

Let the truth be told, for the benefit of all feminists, that it was a woman, Sacajawea, with her babe upon her back, who led the way for Lewis and Clark, and Lewis and Clark led the way for the Northern Pacific.

The Northern Pacific Railway has passed through its stage of infancy and youth, and has now reached maturity.

Like every aspiring, growing youth, it had its troubles in its day, but it has passed out of them, and is now out on the broad tableland of success.

No one man looms large in the making of the Northern Pacific Railway. Behind it is a long line of presidents and general man- agers of quiet, earnest, dignified quality.

The Northern Pacific Railway represents character.

It stands for manhood, courtesy, strength, intelligent human SETVICE Se Se

18 SELECTED WRITINGS ioc Rae a en I ne Sei ed ak Sed ail law dg olla. NY ghia dod ee

We have been told that corporations have no souls. This in a statement that listens ’’ good, but that will not bear analysis. Anything without a soul is dead and disintegrating. The Northern Pacific is very much alive; it is a going, growing railroad.

The Northern Pacific Railway is a friendly railroad. It co- operates with its patrons along the line. It has no enemies— certainly none that it recognizes as such.

It is in touch with the little red schoolhouse, the high school, the business college, the university, the farm, the factory, the bank, the elevator, the department store.

It takes a hearty interest in the welfare and success of its patrons. It has passed out of the pioneer stage. It has the ripe experience of forty years of successful operation.

Along its line are many beautiful, prosperous towns and cities. And as these have prospered, so has prospered the Northern Pacific se se

It is a noble property, superbly managed. It is a credit to all America; to its employees; and to its patrons se To live along the line of the Northern Pacific is a thing of which to be proud. @ When you ride over the Northern Pacific Railway you are a distinguished guest. At least you feel distinguished. A trained corps of servants meets you at every turn. They are out of sight until wanted, and when needed they are at your elbow.

The difficulties of reaching Yellowstone Park are of ade luxe kind. There is a special Pullman car leaving Chicago at ten o’clock every night over the Northwestern Railway, running through the Yellowstone over the Northern Pacific from Saint Paul. Also, the Burlington Route offers a similar luxurious accommodation.

You leave Chicago and awake within sight of the Mississippi River in the morning. At ten-thirty you are in Saint Paul. There is half an hour to spare here. You walk up and down the platform and behold the most luxurious train that you have ever seen— artistic, solid, substantial, complete.


We moved slowly out of the beautiful and prosperous city of Saint Paul. We move with a dignity that becomes our royal station, for this empire of the Northwest is ours if we want to go in partnership with it, and the Emperor Titus is at the head of the commissary.

The train fills up comfortably at Minneapolis.

We pass out into the great wheat country. Then we reach a belt of timber land, interspersed with lovely little lakes, stretching for a hundred miles.

To this district I came in the year Eighteen Hundred Eighty, a traveling man, parting my hair in the middle, wearing spring- bottom pants, pointed shoes, a warm vest and a fetching smile, embellished with side-whiskers.

Here were the lumber camps. Practically no wheat was raised north of Minneapolis. When the lumber was cut off, we said that would be an end of this country. But how wrong were our prophecies! se se

‘We pass through the timber belt, and see vast acres devoted to wheat and oats, just wheat and oats and nothing else.

Shocks of wheat as far as you can see! Then you take a field-glass, and five and ten miles away you still see the shocks, like soldiers in a vast army. We see men running reapers. Others are operating threshing-machines. As night came on we could see straw stacks burning in every direction. Straw which would be worth ten dollars a ton in New York, we saw being fed to the flames. Freight-trains of a hundred cars were carrying foodstuffs to the East—cattle, hogs, sheep, wheat.

Then there were express-trains loaded with potatoes, vegetables, melons, fruits. Going Westward were similar long lines of freight- trains with cars loaded with manufactured goods of a thousand shapes and kinds.

“Trust in the people and haul no empties.”

The railroad that hauls loaded trains both ways, prospers.


We slept soundly, sweetly and securely. If there were any grades or curves on the road we were not aware of them. We were mov- ing—not at any terrific rate of speed, but surely, steadily, right on the schedule, Westward se There is only one night on the road between Saint Paul and the Yellowstone. It is just as easy to go to New York City from East Aurora.

We awakened in Montana and looked out on fair fields of alfalfa on every side. Upon the hillsides we could see the white-faced cat- tle, the Herefords, hardy, strong, healthy cattle that winter easily, are great foragers, and make the rancher’s bank-balance appear in five figures in black.

We had passed out of the wheat country into the cattle country and the land of irrigation.

Miles City, named after General James A. Miles, is the chief horse-market of the United States. Just now horses seem to be in demand as never before.

The law of compensation never rests, and while all Europe is aflame with the red torch of death, America prospers as never before. Europe will look to America for the next decade for food- stuffs, for manufactured goods, for building materials in ten thousand forms and shapes. No American had anything to do with bringing about this fearful scourge of war, which has put back European civilization a hundred years.

Nevertheless, this is America’s opporturiity. At Miles City we saw five thousand horses, more than I ever saw at any one time before, and the prices, I was told, for the best animals, were high —this in spite of Henry Ford, with his minimum wage of five dollars a day.

We passed through the ranch where Roosevelt got his first taste of the wild and woolly. Here we saw a sign on the village tavern reading thus: ‘‘ The Rough Riders’ Hotel.”? And another sign nearby, on a little print-shop, ran thus: “‘The Weekly Bull Moose—One Dollar a Year.’’


From Miles City to Billings you pass through the horse and cattle country, with smiling fields of alfalfa on one side and vast acres of pasture on the other. Always and forever you see the white- faced cattle and the droves of horses.

Then you reach Billings, a city that has a bigger banking facility in proportion to its population than any other city in the world. What makes it? Oh, just three things—wool, horses, cattle. The banks of Billings bulge, and the deposits in the banks of the various prosperous little cities of Montana are the property of the people of this vicinity. It is not money sent here from the East. It is money mined out of the mountains, plowed out of these pro- ductive, irrigated farms, and comes from the sale of horses, cattle and sheep that roam over a thousand hills and feed in the lux- urious bottom lands, where the grass grows lush and lusty. Number one reaches Livingston at two-thirty, and here your car is switched off and attached to a train for Gardiner, fifty-four miles away s@ se

On this train is an observation-car with just a canopy top, open on all sides. It is a flat car with a college education. You can remain in your Pullman or ride on this observation-car, as suits your own sweet will.

We stuck to the observation-car and voted it an innovation that well might be put on every train in the United States when we do away with the steam-locomotive and put on the electric motor, which Edison says is bound to come.

The thrills that come from close proximity to changing Nature are yours from Livingston to Gardiner. There are the distant white-capped mountains, the foothills, the dashing mountain- streams, the little irrigated farms, the vast stretches of mesa, and suddenly you see a great triumphal arch like unto the Arc de Triomphe in Paris.

And as you gaze at this arch, Great-Big-Baked-Potato Titus quietly informs you that this arch is placed there in honor of the


Roman Emperor Titus, who raised potatoes, but never a dis- turbance. This was the first intimation that the Emperor of the Northern Pacific Dining-Car Service was with you. He had come all the way through, but had kept himself out of sight, fading into the landscape, just as William Jennings Bryan plays second fiddle in the Administration Orchestra, a thing which we all prophesied he would never be able to do.

But here was the Emp at our elbows, and perhaps this explained the flowers along the way, the dainty dishes and a thousand little courtesies, even to an invitation to ride with the engineer.

When you get off the train at Gardiner the thrills await. The whole thing is staged with the skill of a Damrosch, co-operating with Maurice Beck, Luther Burbank, John Burroughs and Teddy da Roose se se

The first thing you see at Gardiner is the most exquisite, peculiar and unique railroad-station you ever saw in your life. It is built of logs, with overhanging eaves, after the manner of the Swiss. Slab benches are along the platform. A swinging siab with the name of the station is over the door. Roycroft copper trimmings are in evidence. Great hand-wrought iron hinges and doorlatches are to be seen. You enter the station and there are Navajo rugs. Instinc- tively you take off your hat. You think you are in a private parlor, or are getting a little glimpse of Frank Miller, his tavern, where the “‘ din ”’ is taken out of dinner arid the rest is put in res- taurant. This station has lavatories, a ladies’ parlor, writing- rooms, a reading-corner, and is built and managed in a manner that all railroad-stations will reveal in the year Two Thousand and One se se

Instead of being a place for bugs and bacteria, it is a place for ladies and gentlemen, business people, working people, people with one intent, and that right.

Thus your first glimpse of the Park is this railroad- tation where art and science have used the materials at hand, and we find


geologic strata blending with the trees, subdued and adapted by human genius.

“Who is the man that built that station? ’” I demanded of Titus, for I have lived long enough to know that things never just happen se se

That station,” said the Emp solemnly, was built by Robert C. Reamer, who is the architect for the Yellowstone Park Hotel Company. Please apologize for your ignorance in not knowing who Robert C. Reamer is.”? And I apologized. __

And as we walked out on the platform to get a better look at this model station, thrill Number Two was thrown on the cosmic screen. Six white horses attached to a great yellow stagecoach came swinging in on a rapid trot.

The driver wore a twenty-five-dollar Stetson. A linen duster covered him from collar to heels. Double rows of big yellow but- tons were on the duster. This was the only mark of livery. The hat was tilted at that self-confident angle which men of ability assume. The man wore gloves and handled his reins with an easy grace. His shoes were russet and matched the yellow buttons and ‘tthe yellow of the stage s»» The harness of the horses was bespangled with silver ornaments and there was a multiplicity of ivory rings. The horses were as proud as the driver.

““Why wasn’t the stage waiting?’ asked Terese. Bless your soul! A band has to be marched in order for you to get the effect. Literature always casts a purple shadow. The first note in a piece of music written by Wagner carries with it a premonition, a sug- gestion of what is coming.

That stage was waiting up the side of the hill for the passengers to get their composure and their grips.

You were not kept long enough to be impatient. You can not enjoy an avalanche of thrills. Send them along gently, please, good Spirit of the Universe, lest we die of joy and be suffocated with delight. There is a way of doing things. Tempo is the most


important thing in music, as well as in dramatic art se The men who manage Yellowstone Park are artists in catering to the public. When you enter Yellowstone Park your stage swings through the great triumphal arch.

The Infant Prodigy and I sat by the driver, who had evidently just read Emerson on Self-Reliance. As we passed through the arch, this driver, who was evidently a Roman emperor in disguise— bronzed, brown, strong, happy in the grace of his six white horses and of his great coach loaded with thirty-six people, all saying “Ah!” and “Oh! ”—this driver took all of his reins and his whip in his left hand, the horses still moving at a rapid trot, and with his right hand pointed out to us a herd of antelope feeding in the alfalfa. Then he reached into his pocket and took out a yellow silk handkerchief with which he brushed an ima- ginary fleck of dust from off his white coat.

The antelopes raised their heads as we passed by and looked at us out of their wondering eyes and then moved off twenty feet through the alfalfa, turning and watching us disappear at a turn in the road sa se

We approached the banks of the Gardiner River, a rippling, noisy, dashing stream, that goes tumbling over the rocks.

Above we saw a great winding roadway, the rocks on one side rising a hundred or two hundred feet in abrupt incline. To the left was the dancing, hurrying, scurrying stream.

The driver flicked the right leader’s ear with the whip, and the horse seemingly understood that it was all a part of the play. These strong horses carried their loads evenly, steadily, at an easy trot, on up the hill.

Thrill Number Three was an eagle’s nest perched on a needle. Titus, the Emp, explained that he built the needle, put the eagles on it and had them build a nest at the beginning of the season. Thus did he anticipate a gibe and a jeer from the jink- some Jumbo se se

OF ELBERT HUBBARD 25. peace hes a tee 5 at ae ik Ste lhe lobia Ea

In the Yellowstone Park the word “needle” always means an upright geological formation, worn by the water of a hundred centuries and more, rising abruptly from the mountainside, lift- ing itself to a hundred, two hundred or three hundred feet, like a great church-spire.

Right on top of thisneedle we could see the eagle’s nest, and as we wound around the hill, going up and up and up, we again saw the eagle’s nest, and this time we were right on a level with the top of the needle and could see the little eagles and could hear them cry for a fish-supper, for this was Friday.

Down below near the swirling stream we saw the mother eagle soaring, and then we saw her dart suddenly and dash into the waters and rise aloft triumphantly, bearing in her claws a fish. Above the needle she soared and then dropped gently down, and we saw the little American eagles scrambling unbecomingly for fish. And all the time the mother held the fish tightly in her claws, allowing the little ones to seize upon such parts only as they could tear off, not running the risk of allowing the law of gravitation to have its way either with the fish or with the baby eagles—mother- love manifest even in birds of prey!

The Emp explained to us that this eagle was trained to dive for a fish whenever a six-horse yellow coach appeared in sight.

At a turn in the road we saw a vegetable garden of perhaps ten acres, enclosed by the high, natural, rocky walls of the mountain at the North and West. The garden was open at the East and South, getting the first warm rays of the sun.

A ditch had been built from half a mile up the river and there was a perpetual flow of water through the garden, controlled by a turning of the wrist. The coach slowed up long enough for us to see that this garden was the handiwork of a little company of Chinese. Across the gulch Reamer had built an artistic wooden bridge,after the Chinese fashion. He had also built a house for the Chinese, with ample living-rooms and places to store their imple-


ments. This garden is an object-lesson in what skilful labor can do when it co-operates with water, sunshine, soil and Chinks.

The Yellowstone Park Hotel Company have seven hotels scat- tered throughout the Park, with facilities to feed three thousand people a day, and this wonderful garden practically takes care of the vegetable wants of this unique chain of hotels. Five miles from Gardiner is the Mammoth Hotel, and here we get our first glimpse of the gushing geysers. After the ride by rail this little journey of five miles in the open stage is most refresh- ING Se se

The main hotel might have been at Gardiner, but some good psychologist said, No. To take people directly from the train to the hotel across the way is to losea great opportunity. People get- ting off the train into the stage and riding up this marvelous high- way are in a mood to appreciate sights, scenes and supper.

On a plateau, shut in on all sides by towering mountains, over- looking the Gardiner River, with the steam from the hot springs seen from your windows, a half-mile away, we experienced a sense of satisfaction unexpected. Here is a hotel, complete, roomy, satisfying in every appointment.

Quick-moving porters meet the stage and help the passengers alight, and take care of their luggage, and in half a minute you are ushered to your rooms. The telephone connecting Gardiner and the hotel has made everything easy for the clerk and the guest. You find yourself registered before you arrive, with rooms assign- ed, just as pleasant as if you had personally made the selection. Here is hot water in unending plenty. Titus tells you it comes from the geysers. We are a little suspicious of Titus by this time, but in any event modern plumbing is ours.

The rooms are high, light, well ventilated, beautiful, and the baths are most luxurious and refreshing. You have just an hour to bathe, change your clothing, cultivate your toothbrush and look out upon the wonderful panorama of mountain, valley,


gorge and meadow, with your field-glasses bringing up close a herd of buffalo five miles away, when the rubber-tired porter quietly tells you that dinner is ready. The only thing I found on the bill of fare to complain of was the fact that it advertised “‘ halibut.”” We ordered halibut on a fluke, and the waiter girl brought in a platter of rainbow trout, cooked to a luscious brown, gently sprinkled with watercress. These fish had been caught an hour before, just over the mesa, in the spark- ling cold waters of the river. The Emp said that if we would stay over the next day he would issue us a special permit to fish in the brook. This was so alluring that we accepted the proposition and the permit was duly issued. We discovered a little later, however, that this permit is like the ‘‘ driftwood contract ”’ which we used to hear about. The fact is any one may fish in the Park who wishes to, provided the fish are not to be carried away or sold. And so we remained over a second day at the Mammoth Hotel. One reason we remained was because Terese was anxious to inves- tigate the secret of the well-lubricated organization which we saw manifest and symbolized first in that six-horse team, next in the faultless housekeeping of the hotel and the very satisfying ser- vice se The big man in the Yellowstone Park Transportation Company and the Yellowstone Park Hotel Company, which for business purposes is practically one, is Henry W. Child. With the aid of Detective Burns, we located this modest gentleman. Mr. Child is somewhere between twenty and fifty years of age. He looks like a boy, but talks like a man. He is a miner, an engineer, a railroad official, a hotelman, an organizer, a farmer, a stock- raiser, and he could be at the head of the U. S. Army, or could - wisely act as Postmaster-General. Thomas Jefferson once wrote of Benjamin Franklin: “I knew Doctor Franklin for a space of forty years, seeing him under every possible exigency, political, commercial and social. I never heard


him speak more than ten minutes at a time, and then straight to the point, and about the matter in hand and nothing else.” @ This is H. W. Child. When he talks he says something. He is not in opposition to the geysers in the matter of gush.

I noticed the stages were booked to start at 7:45 a.m., and I dis- covered that the first stage pulled out at 7:45 to the second, and the other stages followed at five-minute intervals until every passenger had embarked and the last stage had disappeared around the turn of the road.

These stages start on schedule and they arrive the same way. Before the stages start, every vehicle is oiled, examined and inspected exactly as railroad-trains are.

Every harness on every horse is looked over for flaws and faults. No sick horse or lame horse is allowed to go. Drivers are all spick, span, sober, safe, efficient men. They are horse engineers and gazabo guides in one.

That first day we laid out a program for ourselves by riding horseback up the ‘‘ formation.”

Here at Mammoth Hot Springs we found acres of geyser forma- tion, and saw the bubbling water come boiling out of the earth se Then we rode on up the mesa, following a winding trail off the main road Sse se

At one point a deer crossed our trail. We dismounted, cameras in hand, and approached the quarry. Then we walked on, leading our horses down the trail to a point where we were told buffalo would be found, and we found them all right and used up quanti- ties of good film.

Two miles more, through the meadow where the wild grass grew, by occasional gushing springs, through the cottonwoods, and past the pines, we came to the shelving shore of the River.

Here the waters seemed to stop for a space as if to rest before plunging on their journey to the sea.

Titus told us that the penalty for catching more than twenty


fish was imprisonment for life. None of us exceeded the speed- limit, although every one was rewarded. To catch mountain- trout is an event. These fish run from a pound to four pounds in weight—“ about the size of a Great Big Baked Potato,” explained the Roman Emp, intent on doing a bit of quiet advertising.

We made a little bed of green rushes in a basket, packed in the fish, and made our way back to the hotel, arriving tired and hungry in time for lunch.

The sun had come out warm, and then hot. The thermometer at two o’clock marked eighty in the shade, which is only decently Warm Se se

There was a quiet snooze after luncheon, and then we had to make a further tour a couple of miles away where we were told we could see elk. We found the place where the elk were supposed to be, but only tracks were visible. No elk were in sight. However, we had the walk and the climb, and as we traced our way back the sun was setting behind the mountains.

Half a mile from the hotel, Terese made a noise like a militant suffragette, and twenty-five yards away we saw a black bear cub sitting up on its hind legs, paws in the air, looking at us. We all knew enough about bears to know that cubs do not go out alone and investigate their environment according to the Montessori method se-se

We backed away and the cub went up a slender tree hand over hand, foot over foot, and the way he put his legs and arms around that tall pine-tree exhausted our sincere admiration. Up, up, up he went, disappearing into a tuft of foliage. And as we looked, suddenly we saw another bear cub going up after him. Cubs are trained by their muddereens to climb slender trees, trees that will carry the weight of a big bear. Safety first! Such a sight in the vicinity of an Eastern buffet would have made us realize our condition, and we knew perfectly well there in the Yellowstone that we had seen two cubs exactly alike. We also knew better than


to chase them. But we stood and looked and watched, and we saw the two cubs away up in that tree swinging and swaying as if they were trying to break it off. Then we sat down on a big flat rock and waited for the cubs to come down, and as we sat and waited we heard two grunts from a big black charred log that we had seen over in the bushes only a few yards away. It did not take us very long to discover that what we thought was a charred log was the mother of the athletic boy scouts.

Down came the cubs on signal from the mother bear. They did not come down hand over hand. There was nothing underhanded about their descent. They simply let Sir Isaac Newton’s law of gravitation get in its fine work. They slid down the tree and brought the branches with them and struck the earth with a resounding whack, and the two cubs and the mother bear dis- appeared, swallowed by the deep, dark, protecting pines. Toward dark a cold wind came blowing down from the mountains, and we shifted from linen coats to sweaters. A crackling blaze in the big fireplace at the hotel looked very attractive.

We dined sumptuously on brook-trout and delicious vegetables supplied by the industrious Chinese.

A good many of the tourists I noticed simply stayed over night at each hotel, making the entire tour of the Park in five days se se

I would recommend, however, that every one who can possibly spare the time, stay at least two nights at each of the five principal hotels se se

There is much to see of interest to the botanist, geologist and zoologist everywhere. These hotels are located with intent to be at a place where items of interest abound.

The warm sunshine in the middle of the day and the cool nights make sleep especially refreshing, and where one exercises all day in the open and sleeps at night, digestion follows on good appetite and health on both.


Once inside of the Park you begin to refer, when you speak of it at all, as the great outside world.”

Inside the Park you see no newspapers, talk no business, discuss no vexing problems.

At every hotel there are telephone service and telegraph facilities. You register at the Mammoth Hotel and from there telephone- operators always know where you are, but if you are wise you will just tell the operator to forget it, and lose yourself in the valleys, the woods and the mountains, and abandon yourself to Nature as you can nowhere else in America.

After one busy day and tworestful nights at Mammoth we started away at 8:30 a. m.—half an hour after the regular stages.

We had an old-fashioned stagecoach all to ourselves. We could have gone on the regular stages, but Colonel Child thought pos- sibly we would want to loiter along the way at our own sweet will, and certainly he was right.

The Yellowstone Park Transportation Company owns a thousand horses, with two hundred fifty rigs, running from buckboards to stages that will carry thirty-six people. Anything you want, from saddle-horses to six-horse stages, is yours. The four-horse rig suited us all right. @ Our driver was Earl Bowman, evidently born in a sheep-wagon, an out-of-door man by prenatal tendency. He had carried mail horseback, on foot, on skis, on snowshoes, through this district at a time when tourists were a rarity.

And so we started away, bidding a fond farewell to the Mammoth Hotel. We felt that even if we had not gone beyond we would have been well repaid for the visit.

But before we started, Terese made a great discovery, and it was this: that the secret of the exquisite housekeeping, the dainty service, the thoughtful attention given to every guest at the Mammoth Hotel, was on account of the genius of Mrs. H. W. Child. As soon as we saw her we realized her high intelligence, her noble ideals, her far-reaching insight into human needs, and we


knew beyond cavil that the genius of Colonel Harry W. Child is largely in his wife’s name. The gray mare is the better horse. Let it go at that!

And on that beautiful sunshiny morning, as Earl Bowman held his reins lightly over the backs of the bays, when Terese asked, “What is the finest thing we have seen since we came to the Park? ”’ we all answered in chorus, “‘ Mrs. Child!”

Next, was the eagle’s nest, with the three little eagles being fed on trout by the mother eagle, the very eagle that might have been in the mind of the psalmist when he spoke of the eagle that beareth her young upon her wings.

The third thing we voted on was the herd of antelope feeding in the friendly alfalfa. Next, were the great lumbering buffalo. Then came the cub bears, black as night, obeying the mother when she grunted twice as a signal to “‘ beat it.”

Our argument was interrupted by Earl, who called our attention to a beaver-dam. There was a little stream running through a meadow that was perhaps a hundred yards wide, and the beavers had dammed up this stream until it wasa lake. We saw where they had cut the trees, where they were making their homes out of the mud and rushes and twigs. We stopped and looked, and presently a boss beaver, perhaps the business agent, gave the word and a dozen beavers were out flopping with their tails and fetching mud and sticks. We imagined we heard one yell, ‘‘ More mort! Others were cutting trees, sawing them up into convenient lengths se se

At the sound of our wagon the beavers took a lay-off, but they soon got used to our presence and they were at it hard.

Titus told us that every beaver had a union-card and that the beavers worked in three shifts of eight hours each.

Five miles out we overtook a woman whom we had met the night before at the hotel. She was trudging along alone. She was a Swiss naturalist, age seventy-five, comparing the floraand fauna of

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Yellowstone Park with that of her own Swiss mountains. This woman had written several books on natural history, and there she was camping in the mountains with a younger woman, who was companion, servant and secretary in one.

The dear old Swiss lady, whose name I could not pronounce, had walked seven miles down the mountain-trail in order to show Mrs. Child a specimen of a new and wonderful plant with a peculiar blue flower which she said had never been classified. She wanted to show Mrs. Child the specimen, so if it were really a new dis- covery the two women could then divide the honor fifty-fifty and make the shade of Linnezus jealous— only this earnest Swiss woman did not introduce any levity or persiflage into the dis- covery. She was concentrated, focused, intent, almost as fine as Mrs. Child herself. The old lady had started away with her pack on her back, at seven o’clock, and when we overtook her she only consented to ride with us just a little way in order not to be dis- COUrtEOUS Se se

We stopped at Norris for lunch. Here is a little hotel operated by the Child chain of taverns. The woman in charge at Norris is Mrs. Cook, a housekeeper plus, who introduces personality into her work, and makes every guest feel that he is somebody—all this after the manner of the dining-car service on the Northern Pacific se se

At Norris there are hundreds of geysers, and from here on for fifty miles the steam of these wonderful natural phenomena is never out of sight. At every mountain-gorge as far as you can see are the geysers. There may be thousands of these that have never been located or mapped. Some of these geysers are perpetual. There is a constant bubbling of the water. The heat is away above the boiling-point and we found no difficulty in boiling four-minute CZZS Se se

The geysers bring up specimens of the strata in solution. According to the Bunsen theory the water is boiled by a solid


mass of lava or perpetual fire which is in the heart of the moun- tains, perhaps five thousand or ten thousand feet below the sur- face se Sse

These geysers are situated at an altitude of from six thousand to seven thousand feet above the sea.

Yellowstone Lake, a wonderful body of water twenty miles across, is seven thousand, seven hundred forty-one feet above sea-level. The waters of this lake, according to