The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1896-10-21
An Interesting Letter Written by James
b. Arnold.

Taking u carriage we began our pill
grimage through the Garden Of the
Gods. OF this wonderful garden could
write pages; thoughts come faster than
lean place them on paper Rare, indeed,
would be the art that could picture to
the soul, unaided by the sense of sight,
the unapproachable magnificence and
magnitude Of the view that now greets
the bewildered eye. My pen fails me
and give up in despair in trying to
give you a description that would be
worthy of the scene in this wonderful
garden, but pass on to a little descrip-
tion of Williams Canon. A splendid
roadway winds its way through the
canon, and towering far above us are
the giant mountains. At last we reach
the top and are at the Cave of the
Winds, but there are 80 many steps
leading to IL that father is unable to
make the trip, so give up seeing the
wonderful formations the cave contains.
We now turn our faces toward the val
ley and begin the dangerous journey
down. Our guide points out to us Il
grave far up the mountain side, Miss
Crawford, aspiritualist, having request
ed that she be buried there. How they
ever got the body up the mountain side
was a mystery to me, until the guide
informed us that they had to use ropes.
| suppose she is happy among the Rip
Van Winkle spirits on the mountain
top. Night had settled down on the
city when we arrived at the hotel. We
retired early as | had to be up before
daybreak TO go to North and South
Cheyenne Canon. My time was limited
as had to get back in time to take the
1l.25 A. NJ. train for Cripple Creek. On
account of so much walking and noun
tain climbing father could not go. |
arrived at the mouth of South Canon
and before you can enter you have to
pay fee, but was too early for the
sleepy gate-keeper and passed through
free. walk rapidly for the tick
of my watch tells me that | must hurry.
| pass between two immense pillars
called the Pillars of Hercules, silent
sentinels to the beauties beyond A
little farther and am standing in an
immense amphitheatre. The first blush
of the morning is just beginning to ap-
pear over the mountain top. High
above in the heavens is the dying moon
in l.a ~ Il,
as silent as the grave, Towering above
me many hundreds of feet are the noun
tains, their tops seeming to want to
kiss the very heavens and hold COM
munion with the morning stars. We
talk about the wonderful works of man,
the beauty of his creative genius in the
form of architecture, but it fades into
insigniticance compared to the creation
of God, and as stand within this won
derful creation | can't help but think
what rend,ng OF mother earth there
must have been when she gave birth to
these mountains. II was minister
of Christ, l would come here and bow
in deep humility at the feet of the
Pillars OF Hercules and then climb yon
mountain top for inspiration, and by so
doing / would become better man and
more fit for the preaching of His word.
1t seemed TO me / could feel the very
presence Of the Great Creator In every
dew drop that sparkled in the morning
brightness; in the trees, now dressed in
: their autumnal beauty, and, above all,
in these majestic walls, on which the
storms OF untold centuries have beaten,
and which even time, with her chisel,
has not changed. But I must hasten,
and walking rapidly | come to the foot
OF the Seven Falls. Winding around
the rough mountain side is wooden
stairway and to reach the top I have to
climb 243 steps. "Tiresome?" Yes,
but well repaid is one for the extra
effort. To the right of you are the
falls, with their water as pure as the
morning dew. | arrive at the top tired
out, but refresh myself in drink
ing OF the cool water. Again wonder
full panorama is spread out before me.
look far down the rugged mountain
sides and every glance Of the eye reveals
the great beauty OF the Creators hand.
Another grave in this lonely mountain
attracts your attention, that Of Helen
Hunt-Jackson, friend of the Cheyenne
Indians, having requested that here
should be her last resting place, as it
was to this spot she came for inspira-
tion. The body has since been removed
and taken to Colorado Springs, where
her husband now resides. begin the
weary decent and once again pass
through the gateway, but am still too
early for the sleepy gate-keeper. An
other long tramp brings me to the
North Canon, and here again the eye
bebOlds the wonderful creation Of the