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VOL. XXVIII. INDIANAPOLIS. IND. DEO., 9, 1893. NO. 49. THE FABMEB. [The following neat little poem was composed by Benj. 8. Parker, of New Castle, for the World's Congress auxiliary Department of Agriculture, and read by his wife before that body at its session Oct. 17th. It I? an eloquent tribute to the farmer's high calling and fittingly portrays its superiority to other employments.] T ie Food-compeller Is the flrst of all: He sows to hope, reaps opportunity, And bears his sheaves, that b'.ossom as they fall Into the fragrance of the fruit to be, To man the savage; and the savage turns His beastly features upward to the light. And lo! within his bosom dimly burns The fire Promethean that shall conquer night. From his brown furrows waiting empire springs. And genius plcds uahonored till his hand Unbars the future, and unbinds his wings For flights he knows not of. HU toils command All flags, all commerce; peace asserts his power; ■ Qrlm war devours its vitals when he fails, And stormy conquerors bide th' auspicious hour When far and wide the farmer's skill prevails. Kings are not kings until he bills them be, And man's republic, an undreamed of dream, Lie* in some cell ot plasmlc energy Until his plowshare, tonched by morning's beam, With light and gladness fecundates the earth And gives to hope and love and art's emprise Their fragile nascence, their expanding worth,— The fruit of time, the ripeness of the skies. Laugh at his plowman's gait and mn-browned skin, If laugh yon must, but he laughs best ol all: In debt to him all ranks and states are kin:. Let him but totter and yonr kingdoms fall; Palsy his arm, and all the vibrant strings Of tbougbuuid-pn-pose Into discord break, And art and song, distraught, on pulseless wings Lie groveling where he bade tbem first awake. To dwell with Nature in her many moods, To plow her fields, direct her grazing herds; To garner wealth from all her vernal woods, Know the sweet comradeship of flowers and birds; Feel ou. the secret that np At ts the grass, ' Or tints the lily, or adorns the rose, Or, through the ripening seasons as they pass. Behold how toll to golden largess grows: Taese are the farmer's rights, his j.ys, that make All joy of art subsidiary bliss. The brook that ripples tt rough the tangled brake, The corn that blossoms to the summer's ki_s, The bourgeoned bough, the nectar-laden fruit, The autumn's glory and the winter's rest, Are Heaven's own bonntles to his rare pursnft, Purveyors of peace that wait on his behest. There is no learning that has gr ,wn too great. No art too perfect and no thought too wise To find employment, empire, home, estate And honor's court and love's diviner prize In the Bwart farmer's life amid the fields, Where, Clnclnnatus like, he guides the plow. And knows th» largest strength that Nature yields To fortify the heart and crown the brow. Seem no profession, calling art or trade Higher than his that ls the first of all! Let science delve for him, let truth invade The realms of error, superst>t!ons fall Before the light that gladdens bis domain! Let fortune reach her jeweled band to him, Fame on her temple set his harvest wain And honor fill his beaker to the brim! Wherefore, O, winner of tha golden fleece! Brown Argonaut who takes from earth her dower Ot youth and strength and beauty and Increase Of manifold sweet harvests, hour by h ur, "" Bearer of life to the expectant world. Lift up thy head! the future waits for thee; On thought's Olympus are thy flags unfurled And on thy steps wait law and destiny. - Mobk than 1,200 men have filed their applications for work with the relief committee of this city. Many of the applicants are entirely destitute,not h%ving had work for weeks or months, and the prospects for employment are not improving. The situation is the more distressing in view of the fact that winter has only just begun. If our readers who live anywhere near the city have work of any kind they can give these starving laborers they ought at once to notify the relief emmoit- tee of the fact. Address Secretary Wm. Fortune. Governor Peck, of Wisconsin, and his military staff.. spent Sunday last on the Gogebic range, furnishing relief to the suffering miners, several thousand of whom have been out of work for many months and are almost ln a staving condi. tion. Many pitiful sights were witnessed. Wonders of the Yellowstone Park—Impressions of a Farmer Visitor. EOITOBS I-mlANA FAKMKB*. We entered tlie park from the west, having come through Idaho and Southeastern Montana by Henry Lake, throngh Tyhee Pass, through a wild upland region. Our first view of the park did not fill our glowing anticipations, yet the scene was full of interest and wonder. Several hundred columns of steam and smoke were rising from among the rocks, trees and hills; in the naked valley many jets of steam curled and swayed in the evening sunlight; the whole scene was surrounded by a background of grand pine forests. In the foreground was Madison river, a broad, rapid stream running northward, sending up from its surface a light fleecy mist or cloud which marked its entire course through the. valley. A few miles to the southeast was a hill covered with smoke that seemed to come from a great field of fire, so rapid was the ascent and whirling evolutions; southward a large column of steam rose from the great Excelsior geyser high into the clear ratified air, marking the location of "Hell's Half-Acre." Descending the mountain we ford the river and are prepared for the startling and terrible. Soon we see jets of steam, boiling pools, extinct geysers, broad belts of glistening white deposit and are conscious of increasing heat in the air, and a hot steam seems to rise from the ground everywhere. We arrived at the hotel tired and worn with 90 miles staging through wild upland valley s, over giant mountains and wild mountain passes, where civilization has scarce dawned upon the scene. The next morning the whole valley and mountains were covered with a dense fog or mist that seemed to forebode a bad day, but at sunrise it began to lift and float away in fleecy clouds, and soon every thing shone in the bright sunlight with a distinctness seen only in high altitudes, among mountain ranges, approaching the line of perpetual snow. We were first attracted by a roaring as of a mighty wind and the rushing of many waters. The sounds came from the hill southward, which was rapidly becoming enveloped in steam and smoke, through which a jet shot high above the cloud. Before we were conscious of it we were nearly on a run making for the hill, nor did we slacken our pace when a man stepped out of the smoke and called out: "Just in time, she's going to play," and play it was. On arriving on the scene we found the "fountain" in a state of active eruption. It was a cavern 10 feet in diameter throwing out floods of scalding water by violent, irregular explosions, from which clouds of smoke and steam ascended and fell in showers of mist for many yards. This violent commotion continues about half an hour and is decidedly sensational to new arrivals, then it subsides to a boiling, blubbering pool to repeat itself about every two hours. When our wonder and awe somewhat subsided and we got breath and looked around, we found ourselves in the midst of a group of active roaring geysers and shrill screeching steam jets, coming from fissures of all sizes and shapes, making it dangerous to walk about while the steam and smoke hung near the earth. As we stood amazed, looking at the terrible evidence of hidden fire, we saw not far away a singular column of smoke differing from all the others. Going over a low ridge we found a large pool of boiling, blubbering mud or fluid lime, mixed with many colors, yellow predominating. It is called the Paint Pot and reminds a farmer of a vast kettle of apple butter. The ! bursting of the blubbers throws great splotches of mud high in the air and far around, blistering naked hands and spoiling the tine clothes of those who venture near. From a knoll near the Paint Pot I counted near 200 jets of steam and smoke scattered all around, that were in constant activity. At one time we were fortunate in seeing one of the grand concerts that happen at irregular periods. There was a simultaneous eruption of a hundred or more, and sounds like suppressed thunder, shook the earth and seemed to vibrate the air, vast columns of water, steam and smoke were vomited forth which for a time darkened the air and hid the mountains. To the uninitiated it seemed that the hour of doom had came and the eclipse of nature was at hand. After witnessing this grand display we were ready for any and all things, either terrible, sublime or beautiful. From the fountain it is a mile or more across Madison river to Hell's Half Acre and the place is well named though its milder name is the Excelsior Geyser. It is the largest of the kind now or ever known in the world. It is a fearful crater of boiling water near 200 feet across, and of unknown depth. There is a vast cloud of steam that shoots to the skies, like a blast furnace; it Is so very rare that one can see into the fearful gulf; but the water is thrown about in great waves, with such violence that it sounds like the waves of an angry sea dashing against a rocky coast. Once in three years it is in a state of active eruption and discharges a river of scalding water, once in 24 hours for five to eight months. During these eruptions the deep thunder is heard miles away, the very mountains tremble, and Madison river is turned into a torrent of hot water for many* miles, too hot for fish or reptiles, and even birds avoid its vicinity. Less than 200 feet westward from this fearful geyser is Sunset Lake, a broad pool of water, almost motionless yet scalding hot. Its walls and irregular sides are encrusted by a deposit that reflects the sunlight far more beautiful than any sunset cloud ever seen by human eye, any wavelike motion sends up a thousand flashes of dazzling light, that is wonderful in effect when seen at various angles, or reflected up from the crystal walls far down below. A little to the southward is anothar pool Emerald Lake that rivals in some respects the former. Its incrustations throw back a dazzling emerald light far more lovely than the most vivid imagination ever pictured. We turn away from this wonderful spot with feelings that are oppressive, for it is doubtful if there is another place on earth where there is so much of the horrible and the Isubllmely beautiful in such striking contrast. We recrossed the river with a feeling that we had seen the greatest of the wonders and that all the rest would be tame and uninteresting; but no, before we go a mile on our road to the Upper GeyBer Basin, we see new features, at every turn there are boiling pools, sprouting fountains, screaming steam jets, low rumbling sounds beneath our feet, throbs and pulsations off among the rocks, hollow booming among the forests, and clouds of steam rising above the hills and up the mountain side. Sometimes we come alongside a pool of boiling water, clear as a crystal with scarcely any steam or vapor. Near by will be a fissure emiting a colorless, poisonous vapor with a jaring, deafening scream. At one point we passed a dark chasm, apparently an extinct crater, and were curious to peer into its dark throat; on the retnrn trip its was a raging rushing geyser full of scalding water thrown violently in all directions. We cross the river on a bridge near which a magnificent geyser was throwing water 90 feet high, just in the edge of the stream; on the return the river was flowing quietly onward as though no fire raged below. There is not a space of one hundred yards between Firehole and Upper Basin but indicates some kind of activity down in the region of fire. When we came in sight of the open space of Upper Basin the already wonderful surroundings present another change; we are surprised to see so many columns of steam going up on every side. Far and near there is a deep rumbling sound coming from we know not where; under our feet is a tremendous jar with sudden jolts, as if a cog were broken in the vast machine that was furnishing the motive power below. A turn in the road brings us in sight of the hotel, and a mile away Old Faithful is roaring in grand style, throwing a column of hot water near 100 feet high, with clouds of steam that float away or descend In mist for many rods around. It is one of the most popular geysers in the park, but not the most wonderful. It erupts at regular intervals of 55 to CO minutes, continues active five to seven minutes and goes on night and day forever, is easy of access and never disappoints the tourist. From the hill formed by the sediment of its water we can see several other columns of steam larger in volume and more rapid in ascent, showing that there are others equal if not superior in real, terrific grandeur, which we afterward verified, but it takes labor to climb the hills, scramble over the rocks and face the hot steam. Across the river northward from the hotel and Old Faithful there was a hill that seemed to be enveloped with a cloud of steam, through which came sounds of rushing and roaring water'and steam jets, but not one of our 50 tourists could tell or seemed to care to know what was over there. They came to see Old Faithful and cared nothing for aught else; some of them seemed too lazy to walk from the hotel 300 yards even to see it; to walk a half mile among rocks and smoke seemed too horrible to think of. Crossing the river on a narrow foot bridge my traveling companion and I found ourselves in the midst of an area of near 40 acres, almost covered with active geysers, fire holes, steam vents roaring crevices and gaping fissures, making up a scene truly grand and almost fearful. The hill seemed to be in a state of constant vibration. There was 100 active geysers and fire holes in tae area. Twenty geysers threw columns of water four to six feet in diameter, twenty to thirty feet high at short intervals, varied by concerted activity that shock the entire hill. The most noted one was Old Lion, which erupts at short intervals, with a loud bellowing roar, ending in a growl very similar to that of an irritated lion. Near by is the lioness and two cubs; in the same vicinity is the Sponge, so named from the color and texture of the deposit left by its overflowing waters for many yards away. There is also a steam jet called the Model from its annoying whistle much like that of a locomotive signal; there are many jets that are continuous, others are intermittent but more rasping and violent; many have large jar-shape dcraters, standing up three to six feet, so symmetrical in form they seem fashioned by art. Jn the northeast corner of the area is a succession of clear, sparkling pools, with a surface smooth as a mirror yet scalding hot; far down beneath them is a thumping, jarring sound, singularly hollow and drum like in its vibrations. We spent two hours in exploring the interesting hill before the intense heat and fumes compelled us to retire. No one who visits the park can afford to miss that wonderful spot, for without it the knowledge of that wonder land is incomplete. On the return trip from Upper Basin we Continued on.vaoe la.
Object Description
Title | Indiana farmer, 1893, v. 28, no. 49 (Dec. 9) |
Purdue Identification Number | INFA2849 |
Date of Original | 1893 |
Subjects (LCSH) |
Agriculture Farm management Horticulture Agricultural machinery |
Subjects (NALT) |
agriculture farm management horticulture agricultural machinery and equipment |
Genre | Periodical |
Call Number of Original | 630.5 In2 |
Location of Original | Hicks Repository |
Coverage | United States - Indiana |
Type | text |
Format | JP2 |
Language | eng |
Collection Title | Indiana Farmer |
Rights Statement | Content in the Indiana Farmer Collection is in the public domain (published before 1923) or lacks a known copyright holder. Digital images in the collection may be used for educational, non-commercial, or not-for-profit purposes. |
Repository | Purdue University Libraries |
Date Digitized | 2011-01-24 |
Digitization Information | Original scanned at 300 ppi on a Bookeye 3 scanner using internal software. Display images generated in CONTENTdm as JP2000s; file format for archival copy is uncompressed TIF format. |
Description
Title | Page 1 |
Subjects (LCSH) |
Agriculture Farm management Horticulture Agricultural machinery |
Subjects (NALT) |
agriculture farm management horticulture agricultural machinery and equipment |
Genre | Periodical |
Call Number of Original | 630.5 In2 |
Location of Original | Hicks Repository |
Coverage | Indiana |
Type | text |
Format | JP2 |
Language | eng |
Collection Title | Indiana Farmer |
Rights Statement | Content in the Indiana Farmer Collection is in the public domain (published before 1923) or lacks a known copyright holder. Digital images in the collection may be used for educational, non-commercial, or non-for-profit purposes. |
Repository | Purdue University Libraries |
Digitization Information | Orignal scanned at 300 ppi on a Bookeye 3 scanner using internal software. Display images generated in CONTENTdm as JP2000s; file format for archival copy is uncompressed TIF format. |
Transcript | VOL. XXVIII. INDIANAPOLIS. IND. DEO., 9, 1893. NO. 49. THE FABMEB. [The following neat little poem was composed by Benj. 8. Parker, of New Castle, for the World's Congress auxiliary Department of Agriculture, and read by his wife before that body at its session Oct. 17th. It I? an eloquent tribute to the farmer's high calling and fittingly portrays its superiority to other employments.] T ie Food-compeller Is the flrst of all: He sows to hope, reaps opportunity, And bears his sheaves, that b'.ossom as they fall Into the fragrance of the fruit to be, To man the savage; and the savage turns His beastly features upward to the light. And lo! within his bosom dimly burns The fire Promethean that shall conquer night. From his brown furrows waiting empire springs. And genius plcds uahonored till his hand Unbars the future, and unbinds his wings For flights he knows not of. HU toils command All flags, all commerce; peace asserts his power; ■ Qrlm war devours its vitals when he fails, And stormy conquerors bide th' auspicious hour When far and wide the farmer's skill prevails. Kings are not kings until he bills them be, And man's republic, an undreamed of dream, Lie* in some cell ot plasmlc energy Until his plowshare, tonched by morning's beam, With light and gladness fecundates the earth And gives to hope and love and art's emprise Their fragile nascence, their expanding worth,— The fruit of time, the ripeness of the skies. Laugh at his plowman's gait and mn-browned skin, If laugh yon must, but he laughs best ol all: In debt to him all ranks and states are kin:. Let him but totter and yonr kingdoms fall; Palsy his arm, and all the vibrant strings Of tbougbuuid-pn-pose Into discord break, And art and song, distraught, on pulseless wings Lie groveling where he bade tbem first awake. To dwell with Nature in her many moods, To plow her fields, direct her grazing herds; To garner wealth from all her vernal woods, Know the sweet comradeship of flowers and birds; Feel ou. the secret that np At ts the grass, ' Or tints the lily, or adorns the rose, Or, through the ripening seasons as they pass. Behold how toll to golden largess grows: Taese are the farmer's rights, his j.ys, that make All joy of art subsidiary bliss. The brook that ripples tt rough the tangled brake, The corn that blossoms to the summer's ki_s, The bourgeoned bough, the nectar-laden fruit, The autumn's glory and the winter's rest, Are Heaven's own bonntles to his rare pursnft, Purveyors of peace that wait on his behest. There is no learning that has gr ,wn too great. No art too perfect and no thought too wise To find employment, empire, home, estate And honor's court and love's diviner prize In the Bwart farmer's life amid the fields, Where, Clnclnnatus like, he guides the plow. And knows th» largest strength that Nature yields To fortify the heart and crown the brow. Seem no profession, calling art or trade Higher than his that ls the first of all! Let science delve for him, let truth invade The realms of error, superst>t!ons fall Before the light that gladdens bis domain! Let fortune reach her jeweled band to him, Fame on her temple set his harvest wain And honor fill his beaker to the brim! Wherefore, O, winner of tha golden fleece! Brown Argonaut who takes from earth her dower Ot youth and strength and beauty and Increase Of manifold sweet harvests, hour by h ur, "" Bearer of life to the expectant world. Lift up thy head! the future waits for thee; On thought's Olympus are thy flags unfurled And on thy steps wait law and destiny. - Mobk than 1,200 men have filed their applications for work with the relief committee of this city. Many of the applicants are entirely destitute,not h%ving had work for weeks or months, and the prospects for employment are not improving. The situation is the more distressing in view of the fact that winter has only just begun. If our readers who live anywhere near the city have work of any kind they can give these starving laborers they ought at once to notify the relief emmoit- tee of the fact. Address Secretary Wm. Fortune. Governor Peck, of Wisconsin, and his military staff.. spent Sunday last on the Gogebic range, furnishing relief to the suffering miners, several thousand of whom have been out of work for many months and are almost ln a staving condi. tion. Many pitiful sights were witnessed. Wonders of the Yellowstone Park—Impressions of a Farmer Visitor. EOITOBS I-mlANA FAKMKB*. We entered tlie park from the west, having come through Idaho and Southeastern Montana by Henry Lake, throngh Tyhee Pass, through a wild upland region. Our first view of the park did not fill our glowing anticipations, yet the scene was full of interest and wonder. Several hundred columns of steam and smoke were rising from among the rocks, trees and hills; in the naked valley many jets of steam curled and swayed in the evening sunlight; the whole scene was surrounded by a background of grand pine forests. In the foreground was Madison river, a broad, rapid stream running northward, sending up from its surface a light fleecy mist or cloud which marked its entire course through the. valley. A few miles to the southeast was a hill covered with smoke that seemed to come from a great field of fire, so rapid was the ascent and whirling evolutions; southward a large column of steam rose from the great Excelsior geyser high into the clear ratified air, marking the location of "Hell's Half-Acre." Descending the mountain we ford the river and are prepared for the startling and terrible. Soon we see jets of steam, boiling pools, extinct geysers, broad belts of glistening white deposit and are conscious of increasing heat in the air, and a hot steam seems to rise from the ground everywhere. We arrived at the hotel tired and worn with 90 miles staging through wild upland valley s, over giant mountains and wild mountain passes, where civilization has scarce dawned upon the scene. The next morning the whole valley and mountains were covered with a dense fog or mist that seemed to forebode a bad day, but at sunrise it began to lift and float away in fleecy clouds, and soon every thing shone in the bright sunlight with a distinctness seen only in high altitudes, among mountain ranges, approaching the line of perpetual snow. We were first attracted by a roaring as of a mighty wind and the rushing of many waters. The sounds came from the hill southward, which was rapidly becoming enveloped in steam and smoke, through which a jet shot high above the cloud. Before we were conscious of it we were nearly on a run making for the hill, nor did we slacken our pace when a man stepped out of the smoke and called out: "Just in time, she's going to play," and play it was. On arriving on the scene we found the "fountain" in a state of active eruption. It was a cavern 10 feet in diameter throwing out floods of scalding water by violent, irregular explosions, from which clouds of smoke and steam ascended and fell in showers of mist for many yards. This violent commotion continues about half an hour and is decidedly sensational to new arrivals, then it subsides to a boiling, blubbering pool to repeat itself about every two hours. When our wonder and awe somewhat subsided and we got breath and looked around, we found ourselves in the midst of a group of active roaring geysers and shrill screeching steam jets, coming from fissures of all sizes and shapes, making it dangerous to walk about while the steam and smoke hung near the earth. As we stood amazed, looking at the terrible evidence of hidden fire, we saw not far away a singular column of smoke differing from all the others. Going over a low ridge we found a large pool of boiling, blubbering mud or fluid lime, mixed with many colors, yellow predominating. It is called the Paint Pot and reminds a farmer of a vast kettle of apple butter. The ! bursting of the blubbers throws great splotches of mud high in the air and far around, blistering naked hands and spoiling the tine clothes of those who venture near. From a knoll near the Paint Pot I counted near 200 jets of steam and smoke scattered all around, that were in constant activity. At one time we were fortunate in seeing one of the grand concerts that happen at irregular periods. There was a simultaneous eruption of a hundred or more, and sounds like suppressed thunder, shook the earth and seemed to vibrate the air, vast columns of water, steam and smoke were vomited forth which for a time darkened the air and hid the mountains. To the uninitiated it seemed that the hour of doom had came and the eclipse of nature was at hand. After witnessing this grand display we were ready for any and all things, either terrible, sublime or beautiful. From the fountain it is a mile or more across Madison river to Hell's Half Acre and the place is well named though its milder name is the Excelsior Geyser. It is the largest of the kind now or ever known in the world. It is a fearful crater of boiling water near 200 feet across, and of unknown depth. There is a vast cloud of steam that shoots to the skies, like a blast furnace; it Is so very rare that one can see into the fearful gulf; but the water is thrown about in great waves, with such violence that it sounds like the waves of an angry sea dashing against a rocky coast. Once in three years it is in a state of active eruption and discharges a river of scalding water, once in 24 hours for five to eight months. During these eruptions the deep thunder is heard miles away, the very mountains tremble, and Madison river is turned into a torrent of hot water for many* miles, too hot for fish or reptiles, and even birds avoid its vicinity. Less than 200 feet westward from this fearful geyser is Sunset Lake, a broad pool of water, almost motionless yet scalding hot. Its walls and irregular sides are encrusted by a deposit that reflects the sunlight far more beautiful than any sunset cloud ever seen by human eye, any wavelike motion sends up a thousand flashes of dazzling light, that is wonderful in effect when seen at various angles, or reflected up from the crystal walls far down below. A little to the southward is anothar pool Emerald Lake that rivals in some respects the former. Its incrustations throw back a dazzling emerald light far more lovely than the most vivid imagination ever pictured. We turn away from this wonderful spot with feelings that are oppressive, for it is doubtful if there is another place on earth where there is so much of the horrible and the Isubllmely beautiful in such striking contrast. We recrossed the river with a feeling that we had seen the greatest of the wonders and that all the rest would be tame and uninteresting; but no, before we go a mile on our road to the Upper GeyBer Basin, we see new features, at every turn there are boiling pools, sprouting fountains, screaming steam jets, low rumbling sounds beneath our feet, throbs and pulsations off among the rocks, hollow booming among the forests, and clouds of steam rising above the hills and up the mountain side. Sometimes we come alongside a pool of boiling water, clear as a crystal with scarcely any steam or vapor. Near by will be a fissure emiting a colorless, poisonous vapor with a jaring, deafening scream. At one point we passed a dark chasm, apparently an extinct crater, and were curious to peer into its dark throat; on the retnrn trip its was a raging rushing geyser full of scalding water thrown violently in all directions. We cross the river on a bridge near which a magnificent geyser was throwing water 90 feet high, just in the edge of the stream; on the return the river was flowing quietly onward as though no fire raged below. There is not a space of one hundred yards between Firehole and Upper Basin but indicates some kind of activity down in the region of fire. When we came in sight of the open space of Upper Basin the already wonderful surroundings present another change; we are surprised to see so many columns of steam going up on every side. Far and near there is a deep rumbling sound coming from we know not where; under our feet is a tremendous jar with sudden jolts, as if a cog were broken in the vast machine that was furnishing the motive power below. A turn in the road brings us in sight of the hotel, and a mile away Old Faithful is roaring in grand style, throwing a column of hot water near 100 feet high, with clouds of steam that float away or descend In mist for many rods around. It is one of the most popular geysers in the park, but not the most wonderful. It erupts at regular intervals of 55 to CO minutes, continues active five to seven minutes and goes on night and day forever, is easy of access and never disappoints the tourist. From the hill formed by the sediment of its water we can see several other columns of steam larger in volume and more rapid in ascent, showing that there are others equal if not superior in real, terrific grandeur, which we afterward verified, but it takes labor to climb the hills, scramble over the rocks and face the hot steam. Across the river northward from the hotel and Old Faithful there was a hill that seemed to be enveloped with a cloud of steam, through which came sounds of rushing and roaring water'and steam jets, but not one of our 50 tourists could tell or seemed to care to know what was over there. They came to see Old Faithful and cared nothing for aught else; some of them seemed too lazy to walk from the hotel 300 yards even to see it; to walk a half mile among rocks and smoke seemed too horrible to think of. Crossing the river on a narrow foot bridge my traveling companion and I found ourselves in the midst of an area of near 40 acres, almost covered with active geysers, fire holes, steam vents roaring crevices and gaping fissures, making up a scene truly grand and almost fearful. The hill seemed to be in a state of constant vibration. There was 100 active geysers and fire holes in tae area. Twenty geysers threw columns of water four to six feet in diameter, twenty to thirty feet high at short intervals, varied by concerted activity that shock the entire hill. The most noted one was Old Lion, which erupts at short intervals, with a loud bellowing roar, ending in a growl very similar to that of an irritated lion. Near by is the lioness and two cubs; in the same vicinity is the Sponge, so named from the color and texture of the deposit left by its overflowing waters for many yards away. There is also a steam jet called the Model from its annoying whistle much like that of a locomotive signal; there are many jets that are continuous, others are intermittent but more rasping and violent; many have large jar-shape dcraters, standing up three to six feet, so symmetrical in form they seem fashioned by art. Jn the northeast corner of the area is a succession of clear, sparkling pools, with a surface smooth as a mirror yet scalding hot; far down beneath them is a thumping, jarring sound, singularly hollow and drum like in its vibrations. We spent two hours in exploring the interesting hill before the intense heat and fumes compelled us to retire. No one who visits the park can afford to miss that wonderful spot, for without it the knowledge of that wonder land is incomplete. On the return trip from Upper Basin we Continued on.vaoe la. |
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