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Show 136 TALES OF THE COLORADO PIONEERS. to learn," and accused her of spoiling my golden opportunity. We didn't have time to quarrel long, for our attention was attracted by the rocky sides of the canon, where great masses of granite rocks, like Ossa on Pelion piled, seemed to pierce the very heavens, and in striking contrast to the blue sky above was the turbid stream below, beating itself in mad fury against the boulders in its course. Clear Creek, so called, from the original transparency of its water, now turgid from the dust and other residuum of many quartz mills, reminded me of Longfellow's poem: " I am the Wave of Life, Stained with my margin's dust; From the struggle and the strife Of the narrow stream, I fly To the Sea's immensity, To wash from me the slime Of the muddy banks of Time." Luxuriant evergreens grew straight up out of the rocks. The same evergreens, if taken to Denver, carefully tended, watered and petted, would be sure to die. Just so with some people, they droop and die, or are dwarfed, (which is worse) amid the luxuries of life, and the hard paths develop them into bright and shining lights. The conductor put a stop to my sermonizing by inviting me to the rear end of the car to see the " Old Man of the Mountains." When viewed from that distance he looked natural enough to flirt with. We cheered him and waved our handkerchiefs as we glided by, but the stony-hearted old fellow did not even smile in return. How long he has been there none know. In ages past the earth rocked with volcanic fires, in frienzied throes, gave him birth, |