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.