Berthoud's Pass (Clear Creek to head of Middle Park,) Velie's Peak (north-northwest of Long's Peak,) 13,456 Parry's Peak (northwest of Empire City, named by Gen. 13,133 Mt. Flora (a detached peak east of Parry's Peak,) 6. MIDDLE PARK. Three-fourths of a mile from summit of Berthoud's Pass, western slope, Head of Middle Park, Hot Springs of Grand River, 25 miles from head of Park, 7. TIMBER LINE. North slope of Pike's Peak, On the Range at Berthoud's Pass, Eastern slope of ridge leading to Gray's Peak, Eastern slope of Mt. Engelmann, Southern slope of Mt. Flora, On Snowy Range, Mt. Audubon, Long's Peak, Wind River M'ts., A peculiarity of the Range is its tortuous course. Rising gradually from the Laramie Plains in latitude 41° 30', north, and longitude 30° 30', west, (from Washington,) it assumes its average altitude 12,000 feet-upon crossing the 41st parallel, pours off north-eastward the waters of the North TORTUOUS COURSE OF THE SNOWY RANGE. 31 Platte, and westward those of Green and Bear Rivers. It soon changes its course a trifle, striking east-southeast for about seventy miles, dividing the North and Middle Parks, and abutting squarely on the Plains in Long's Peak. Here it breaks sharply to the south-southwest, shedding from its eastern slope the numerous affluents of the South Platte, and from its western the Grand River Fork of the Rio Colorado. Pursuing this course perhaps thirty miles, it suddenly makes an ox-bow curve, forty or fifty miles in length, to the west, round the more immediate heads of Clear Creek. Thence it resumes its southerly course for twenty or thirty miles, starting eastward Bear Creek and the north fork of the South Platte, and westward the Snake and Swan Rivers, affluents of the Blue, the latter a tributary of the Grand about sixty miles in length, and emptying into that stream just before it escapes from the Middle Park. It is only on the Blue and its tributaries that mines have yet been worked west of the Range. We are now at the north-east corner of the South Park. Here the Range breaks suddenly to the west, presenting in a distance of twenty miles three wagon-road passes—the Georgia, the Breckenridge, and the Ute*—and culminating soon thereafter in Mt. Lincoln. This, in the words *The hight above the sea of half a dozen practical passes through the Range in Colorado varies from 11,000 to 12,000 feet; and the average descent to the parks or elevated valleys of streams below is 2000 to 3000 feet, in a distance of eight to twelve miles. They rarely attain an elevation above the limit of trees, but usually show a near approach to it in a stunted growth of timber and the occurrence of various alpine plants. of the Hon. Wm. Gilpin, "is a supremely grand focal point of primary mountain chains, primary rivers, and parks." It is in the same latitude as St. Louis and San Francisco (39°), is about one thousand miles from each and in the center between them. Soon after the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, the Hon. Wilbur F. Stone, then temporarily editor of the Denver Gazette, wrote and published the following article: “Movements have been set on foot in various parts of the Union to erect suitable monuments to the late President of the United States. Columns of granite and obelisks of marble will soon be scattered over the land by the gratitude and munificence of the American people, making their mute appeals to the memory of the nation, throughout the generations to come, until these works of art shall crumble to dust in the far-off time. While these praiseworthy efforts are exciting the interest and admiration of all true lovers of the good and great dead, it may not be generally known that here in Colorado we have a monument to the memory of Abraham Lincoln, already erected by Nature's great Architect, outstripping in grandeur, endurance, and beauty, all the works of art the skill and wealth of the world can conceive and adorn. "At the elevated northwest corner of the South Park, at the very head of the three great riversthe Platte, the Arkansas, and the Colorado-where these mighty streams, flowing to the two oceans, begin their journey in the eternal snows of the dividing Range a corner stone of the three great counties MT. LINCOLN THE LORD OF THE MOUNTAINS. 33 of Park, Lake and Summit, the two latter much larger each than the State of Massachusetts-the focus of the gold mines of the Territory, and overshadowing the picturesque little village of Montgomery as the pyramids overshadow the tents of the Arab-stands Mount Lincoln, this mighty monument of the Almighty's handiwork. "One warm day in August, three summers ago, the writer of this, in company with a gentleman from Omaha, made an ascent of this peak, for the purpose of taking its altitude. Starting early in the morning, we slowly wound our way from the village up through the dense pine forests until we reached the limit of timber, where the pines dwindle into dwarfs a foot in hight, twisted into fantastic contortions by the storm blasts of winter. Then came the carpeting of grasses and flowers, of a vegetation which terminated at the snow-line in moss and lichens. Stopping every few minutes to rest the lungs, tired of their expansion inhaling the rarified air, and clambering over blocks of granite and porphyry, fragments of quartz, lava and scoriæ, and beds of ice and snow, all mingled in wild confusion, we reached the top, and about the middle of the afternoon sat down upon the very apex of this lord of the mountains. The sky was clear, the temperature 50° Fahrenheit, and adjusting our instruments we took the measurement of altitude. We made the hight to be over 15,000 feet above the level of the sea. The summit is a conical peak, which rests on the base of the mountain like 'Pelion on Ossa piled'—the apex terminating in about a square rod of level rocks and ice. In the centre of this area, stones have been piled up by prospectors climbing up at different times, until a monument-like pile has been formed, ten or twelve feet in diameter and about fifteen feet high, but which is altogether invisible from the foot of the mountain. A long slope reaches from the summit eastwardly to the valley of the Platte. The other sides are precipitous, and rent with yawning chasms hundreds of feet deep, into which the light of the sun never penetrates. At the end of an hour after our arrival, a storm approached from the west and swept over the mountain. In less than ten minutes from the time the clouds struck us, the mercury fell from fifty degrees to zero. Fierce blasts. of wind roared and shrieked among the crags and snow darkened the air. In the midst of this, we commenced our slippery descent. We soon became charged with electricity so that the hair of our heads stood on end, sparks flew from the ends of our fingers and cracked at every step with a hissing sound that could be heard a distance of a hundred feet. Forked lightnings leaped from rock to rock and played about our heads, almost blinding the sight, but as our bodies were charged equally with the clouds and mountain, there was of course no danger. Black clouds rolled and tumbled over each other a mile below us like the uncouth gambols of terrible monsters in this upper ocean. Descending through the strata of clouds, we at last reached sunlight and entered the village at darkthe whole distance along the slope, from the valley |