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Show 162 TALES OF THE COLORADO PIONEERS. Twenty miles from Denver we entered Platte canon through an imposing gate-way of rocks, rising fully one thousand feet above the stream on either side, and breaking into all sorts of fantastic shapes at the top. Our train makes some marvelous turns. Suddenly a projecting angle seems to threaten ruin and destruction, and while this thought is upon one the engine glides gracefully around it into new surprises. On the opposite side from the road-bed an English company has constructed a flume which conveys water to an irrigating canal, that waters and fertilizes countless acres south of Denver. This ditch is so large, and involves consequences so vast, one irresistibly cranes the neck to catch a glimpse of the boats and sails which should ride its waters like those of the rivers we knew in former times. Platte river, which gives the name to this canon, is as clear as crystal. Its waters have not yet been soiled by the working of mines and stamp mills in the mountain camps beyond. . It rushes over miniature falls, breaking into feathery foam as it dashes against rude boulders, and leaps on as if flying from some mighty pursuer. This stream is full of speckled trout, the gymnast of the cascade, the most beautiful of the finny tribe, the delight of the epicure. The conductor said, " they had only to throw out a line while the train was rolling along, and haul them in as fast as they could count." That seemed almost as miraculous as some stories told by Matthew and Mark, but Hal. said he was bamboozling me. On looking up, I saw coming toward me, with his hand extended in a pleased-to-see-you manner, Mr. Jake Scher- |