After Lunch, The - - -S In A Buggy, And I On Birdie, Left Colorado Springs, Crossing The Mesa, A High Hill With A Table Top, With A View Of Extraordinary Laminated Rocks, LEAVES Of Rock A Bright Vermilion Color, Against A Background Of Snowy Mountains, Surmounted By Pike's Peak.

Then we plunged into cavernous Glen Eyrie, with its fantastic needles of colored rock, and were entertained at General

Palmer's "baronial mansion," a perfect eyrie, the fine hall filled with buffalo, elk, and deer heads, skins of wild animals, stuffed birds, bear robes, and numerous Indian and other weapons and trophies. Then through a gate of huge red rocks, we passed into the valley, called fantastically, Garden of the Gods, in which, were I a divinity, I certainly would not choose to dwell. Many places in this neighborhood are also vulgarized by grotesque names. From this we passed into a ravine, down which the Fountain River rushed, and there I left my friends with regret, and rode into this chill and solemn gorge, from which the mountains, reddening in the sunset, are only seen afar off. I put Birdie up at a stable, and as there was no place to put myself up but this huge hotel, I came here to have a last taste of luxury. They charge six dollars a day in the season, but it is now half-price; and instead of four hundred fashionable guests there are only fifteen, most of whom are speaking in the weak, rapid accents of consumption, and are coughing their hearts out.

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