Vilas County news. [volume] (Eagle River, Vilas County, Wis.) 1896-1927, 1914-04-08

of life reserved for one until
maturity of thought and a de-
velopment of the appreciative
faculties insure an understs nding
point of view upon it.
AS Theodore Dresser has said,
apropos Of his recent first visit to Lon
don, I'VE can only do one thing sign1-
ficantly once. The first time Of any
important thing sticks and lasts; 1T
comes back at times, and haunts you
with it's beauty and its sadness.
1--WE can do anything but once for
the first time" was the thought had
persistently in mind as l reached for
ward in prospect to my first glimpse
of the Grand Canyon of the Yellow
stone, writes Meta Marquis in the
Los Angeles Times. 1t was not only
to be my first vision of this canyon
but of any Grand Canyon in the world,
and l ached with the sense of what 1t
was going to mean to me.
All the way I had abstained from
guide books with almost religious
earnestness, lest other travellers i'm
pressions taken beforehand might
blur my own when the time came for
their forming ALI the freshness OF
first wonderment must be reserved for
my own eyes. Beauty filtered through
another's consciousness is good, II 1t
can be had in no better way. But this
was my opportunity for a better
way.
Stream Teemed With Fish.
It had rained during the night, but
that had only quickened the mountain
air and laid the dust on the long gray
roads. Starting from the Antwerp-blue
lake, our journey followed first along
the Yellowstone river, a clear cold
green stream teeming with fish, which
leaped and frolicked in it's transpar-
ent tide.
Pine forests doomed dark beside the
road, and the sky above was thick and
soft with brooding rain clouds.
The forests receded as we advanced,
and before long the way opened out
into the famous Hayden valley, lush
with grass and rich in colors Of gold
en- green, reddish brown, mauve and
tan and pink. The green river flowed
through the middle of 1t, taking fan
tastic shapes at times around the
quaint little grassy islands which
broke the continuity of it's flow.
We halted to make detour on foot
to gaze upon the Mud Geyser. 1t was
a weird, almost sickening sight-a
hole under mountain side forever
and forever belching forth thick
black liquid permeated with the odor
Of sulphur.
There was somewhat primordial in
the uxliness of it. 1t repealed while
It fascinated me. It depressed me to
think that year in and year out,
through all the blue and green beauty
of June and the snowy loneliness of
December, there is no cessation to the
motion or to the slop, slop sound OF
the Shiny mud in it's heavy splashing
1t was the monster Caliban in realm
OF enchantment-the one unlovely
thing we saw III the park.
A few feet away from this Caliban
was the Miranda Of the Isle, small
and beautiful clear water geyser
sparkling forth from under a little
sheltering gable-roof of golden and
green formation. And the black
stream and the clear one could not
but meet as they flowed down to a
common level
1t was good to be driving for miles
through the sweet, placid, rain-wet
valley after we left this point
We approached from the rear the
falls which mark the head of the
Grand Canyon, and we had no intina
ton OF their nearness in the steady