The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1889-07-03
ACROSS THE CONTINENT.
SCENES AND INCIDENTS ON THE WAY.
Hearing Byron Reed Preach at Denver-A
visit to Brigham Young's Grave
The Gunnison-Black Canyon-The
Noted Currecanti Needle. Etc.

Francisco as our point OF destination.
A night over the prairies of Nebraska and
Colorado brought us TO Denver, the
Queen City of the Plains" Here we
spent the Sabbath, and everywhere we
note signs of cultivation, wealth and lux
ury. Denver's elegant buildings, together
with the imposing grandeur of its noun
talns and its pure atmosphere makes it
an ever attractive place.
We stop awhile at the union depot at
tracted by the panorama made by the con-
slant change of travelers-here comes a
party off for Sundays excursion; then
here the tourist" making up a train load
for the Union Pacific; then here comes
two car loads of emigrants whom the Off
| Gals hurry through to some less comfort
able shelter in the rear. These foreigners,
old and young, feeble and strong
some gay some discouraged, sur
rounded by scenes all fresh and
new and no doubt longing with aching
hearts for the old, and things sacred left
behind. At II O'Clock we are seated in a
| pew of the spacious church, over which
the Rev. Myron Reed presides, and we
| find plain-looking man who reads SER
mon written in short, pithy sentences-a
string Of epigrams proving that man is
only great when he is kind, and that the
renowned Beecher was more grand when
stopping his carriage and receiving poor
old bewildered woman therein, taking her
safely to her home, than when enhancing
thousands by his eloquence.
At 10 o'clock we take the train over the
Rio Grande road and of course see Col
orado Springs and Manitou by electric
light only. Then after time we know by
the alternate rise and fall of our side of
the car that we are winding along the
] tortuous path through the Grand canyon
| OF the Arkansas, and standing on the plat
| form Tor moment, we see far above us
| just narrow strip of blue sky and the
| stars. AT day-break we find ourselves in
place of charming attractiveness, climb
| ing a green valley where the clear noun
! tain streams sparkle and ripple, then bub-
bic and foam, and over huge powders
| plunge and dash; and then soon we leave
| the high, huge powders, and our train,
with its two putting engines, winds around
among the evergreen trees-rounding one
cone, then, higher up, rounding another,
until we seem to be almost among the
clouds. This is Marshal pass, and we
! puzzle our brain to conceive if this be a
| pass what in the world it would be to cross
| the mountains themselves. At the sum-
NIT we alight from the train. and our feet,
for moment, rests upon ice that never
mets. Then soon one of the engines is
Embossed, and away we 60 with it,
always in sight about half a mile
ahead, winding around in long loops,
until here and there il almost comes back
| to meet us. On our way we fall in COM
| pany with tiny stream which, they tell
| us, is the beginning of the Gunnison.
| Then we wait with anxiety our arrival at
the noted Black canyon of this wonderful
river. By invitation of the conductor we
! take seat in the open observation car,
| but with the wind blowing a hurricane
and eyes full of cinders, we have a hard
| time observing and gathering up with
much inconvenience the information
| given here. The tiny narrow-gauge road
| bed is blasted from the solid rock just on
| the brink of the stream, and the rugged
walls on either side are from two to three
thousand feet high. Here the old earth
seems turned inside out and lies open to
| our view, the strata sometimes systemat-
| ically arranged, then again tilted, then
| there a stream pitches from dizzy hight
into the foaming basin below. At the very
| center of the canyon rises till it seems to
| touch the clouds, the noted Currecanti
needle-a barren rock and without SOIL
| yet from a crevice in the very summit
grows an evergreen tree-not twisted,
| gnarled affair either, but tree of sym
etry and grace-gTowing there in the cold
and the blasts and the storms; no nurs-
ing, no fostering, lacking every condition
OF warmth and moisture-a perfect and
exalted example of true grit
AS night draws on we leave the "gran-
tie pillows" behind, and are glad to find
ourselves amid more restful scenes.
The next day we spent at Salt Lake
City and, like all tourists, we visit temple
square. The grand Temple of which we
have heard so much is very unfinished
piece of architecture, and the tabernacle a
very great affair, very like beehive, with
wonderful organ, and seats worn so
sleek from mormon worship that it looks
as though, if the saints continue so de-
vout. they will hardly hold out till they
get the temple finished. Then we hunt
the lion house, Brigham Young's resi-
dence; and then in park by the road
side, his grave. AS he is buried in the
furthermost corner, we view it with great
difficulty. But not to fail IN an undertake
ing we meander down a pig alley, then
holding on to the pickets of the iron fence
we climb along a high stone wall till at
last we stand within ten feet of slab under
which the renowned hero sleeps What
a place for meditation Holding on for
dear life to the pickets, because we are at
least twelve feet from terra-firma below
we imagine the scene of the burial there
eleven years before. Weimagine lovely
Sabbath morning. We can see the patient
face lying amid the smiling garlands of
flowers. We can see the twenty-three
carriages bringing to this spot twenty
three disconsolate widows. Then farther
on in the procession the line OF street
cars conveying here the 132 bereaved
children. Holding on to the pickets, we
imagine the amount OF desolatiOn
and anguish, and can almost
hear the pitiful wall that rends the peace
full morning air from the family OF one
hundred and ffty-fve stricken widows
! and fatherless children, when upon the
coffin-lid of the husband and father fall
the clods of the valley. We are so over
come with emotion as almost to lose orr
equilibrium, but our sympathy all goes
out to the lone widows and orphan chill
dren. AS for our hero Brigham, after a
cruise of so many squalls we are only
thankful that he rests here so serenely
under the azure sky and the eternal stars.
In the afternoon we take a train of open
cars for Garfield beach on Salt lake, eigh-
teen miles from the city. Here, from its
density, you may lie upon the water with