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      On the morning of September 19th, we awakened at Empire City to find that we were in the midst of a Rocky Mountain snow-storm. The weather for several days previous had been delightful—even on the day before, during our visit to Berthoud Pass, not a cloud had bedimmed the sky until after sunset, when thin, hazy clouds began to settle below the mountain tops around us, all which, we were told, foreboded a storm.

      As our venerable driver had not succeeded in his attempt to impose his old mules upon our worthy host of the Empire House, in exchange for a pair of horses, we were compelled to address ourselves to our return journey behind these much-abused animals; and he to resume his powerful persuasives of the previous two days. The snow had not accumulated to any great extent upon the roads; but it was falling fast, and prudence enjoined us to be early on our way. Our hitherto guide, and most intelligent and agreeable travelling companion, Mr. Brown, remained at Empire, for the purpose, when the storm abated, of rejoining his surveying party in the neighborhood of Boulder Pass.

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      Starting out at eight, we reached Idaho at ten in the morning, and stopped a few minutes to say some parting words to our friends of the Beebe House. We then commenced the ascent of the Virginia Cañon, and the descent of Russell Gulch, a distance of seven miles to Central City, which we reached at twelve.

      I should not omit to mention, that in driving from Idaho to Empire the previous morning, we had met Messrs. Gukin and Ford, artists from Chicago, who were engaged in taking some mountain views; and were on their return from the Parks, where they had been spending the summer months. At their invitation we had promised to call at their camp as we returned, and look over their pictures; but the morning was so stormy, and their quarters looked so uninviting, that we contented ourselves with a passing salute, and a promise to visit their studios in Chicago on some future occasion. The place where we met these gentlemen is but a few miles from the Chicago Lakes, the scene of Bierstadt's great painting of the "Storm in the Rocky Mountains."

      The snow had fallen to a depth of from six to eight inches on our arrival at Central City; and we were fully conscious of having lost, by reason of the thick-falling snow, as we passed down Russell Gulch to Central City, many fine views, as well as a passing inspection of some of the finest and most extensive quartz mining and crushing operations now being carried on in this part of the Territory. The result, however, was unavoidable, and we were obliged to content ourselves with such information as our venerable driver could give us, he being familiar with the country, and part owner of some of

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      the mines around us, as well as of the outfit in which we were travelling

      Central City seems to be situated at the confluence of several gulches, which, united, form the north branch of Clear Creek; and the streets are made to follow the windings of the beds of the streams. The houses are generally built upon benches cut in the side hill for the different stories, with basements upon the streets; so that, in order to reach the cellar or back-yard, you are frequently compelled to ascend one or two pairs of stairs from the office or dining-room of your hotel. I mention this fact, not so much the result of my own observation, as from information derived from my esteemed friend and travelling companion, Mr. Williams, who spent at least a half hour in an investigation of the subject, immediately upon our arrival at the hotel. Central City boasts of several thousand inhabitants, or, at least, as many as Denver. We noticed several fine blocks of brick and granite buildings, two or three large banking houses, and also the "Big Barn," situated directly in the centre of the city, and which seems to be the general corral for all the town and surrounding country.

      After partaking of a very good dinner, and giving such attention to our surroundings as the gloomy state of the weather would permit, we held a consultation as to our future movements. It had been our intention, on leaving Denver, to spend the present afternoon and night here, which would give us an opportunity to examine many of the mines, as well as quartz mills in the vicinity. Mr. Chaffee, Senator-elect from this forthcoming State, whom we had met in Denver, had very kindly promised

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      to meet us here and show us about; but the violent storm had evidently prevented his coming.

      It had also been our desire and intention to spend the one or two following days in an examination of the Boulder Valley and Pass, under the guidance of Mr. Rawlins, whose works are situated on the Boulder; and whom we had met in Denver; but he was nowhere to be found. The storm was still raging and the weather growing colder. Icicles a foot in length were hanging from the eaves of the houses. Our venerable driver and more venerable mules also became objects of our deepest solicitude—the driver claiming that the outfit was unfit to go further this stormy day; but if we would let him and the mules rest till to-morrow morning, he would then drive us to Denver (forty miles), or perish in the attempt.

      We finally concluded that, as the main object of our journey had been accomplished; and as the state of the weather rendered a further examination of mountain passes and scenery exceedingly unpropitious at the present time, we would turn our faces toward Denver, with a view of reaching there on the following night. To insure this result, it appeared important that we should accomplish a portion of the distance during the present afternoon. We therefore set out again in the storm at four P. M., with the intention of reaching the Junction Ranch, nine miles distant, before nightfall.

      On our way down the valley of North Clear Creek, we passed through the town of Black-Hawk, about two miles below Central City, where we stopped an hour to examine two of the largest quartz mills now in operation in this valley. One, the Black-Hawk mill, which adheres to the

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      old method of stamping and washing the ores from the quartz; and the other, the Lyons mill, in which the new process of decomposing the quartz and separating the ores by the action of heat, is being carried on.

      This matter of separating the precious metals from the quartz, is one of vast importance to the mining interests of Colorado; and he who shall first succeed in economically and successfully accomplishing the object, will be entitled to the lasting gratitude of "all the world and the rest of mankind." The exact and proper process seems yet to be hidden in the womb of the future; and many an alchemist is now racking his brain, and experimenting in his crucible over his midnight lamp, in the hope of first discovering this great secret in chemical science, which the Almighty has, for some great and wise purpose, thus far withheld from us.

      Our journey up the long hill of four or five miles, between the valley of Clear Creek and Junction, was most tedious and uncomfortable. Like most other obstacles in this world, however, it was finally surmounted; and on descending one or two miles beyond the summit, we found ourselves in front of a most excellent and hospitable Ranch, kept by Mr. Boutwell, with a huge fire blazing from a large, old-fashioned fire-place, inviting us to comfort and repose.

      A hearty supper, good night's rest, and early breakfast, enabled us on the following morning to resume our journey with every prospect of reaching Denver before night. The storm had passed over, and the weather was clear and cold—snow one foot deep, ice one inch thick, and the thermometer sixteen degrees above zero. Our venerable

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      driver was also in high spirits at the prospect of a speedy termination of his arduous labors. He had frequently bemoaned his fate in having, at his age, and for the first time in his life, become reduced to the level of a common mule driver. The near sorrel mule, whose thick and unfeeling hide had, for three long days, been the recipient of unceasing wallopings from the driver's almost worn-out whip and nearly disabled arm, seemed to be inspired with the idea that he was approaching the end of his journey. His long ears, instead of flopping listlessly back upon his neck, suddenly assumed a rigid position a little forward of the perpendicular; and away he went over the almost trackless road, down hills, through caverns, gulches and gorges, at a rate which seemed to hazard the safety of our outfit, to say nothing of our own lives and limbs, till we reached the foot of Guy's Hill, which suddenly stretched its huge and uncouth sides directly athwart our path.

      The road up this formidable hill is located upon the zigzag principle—that is, it switches back and forth in the gorges, and along the rough mountain sides a distance of nearly two miles from the base to the summit. Fearful tales were told us by our driver, of the many accidents and hair-breadth escapes which had occurred here; and we were impressed with the idea that so important a thoroughfare, and one over which so large a traffic between Denver, and the heart of the mining regions about Central City, was necessarily carried on, should have been made to follow the equally direct, and far more gentle and uniform grades of the Valley of Clear Creek. This will, as a matter of economy, if not necessity, be done sooner or later, either by railroad or turnpike.

      Having safely reached the high summit of Guy's Hill, our descent through Golden Gate to Golden City, a dis-

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      tance of sixteen miles from the junction, was speedy and uninterrupted.

      Mr. Williams was desirous here, if time permitted, of making some further examination and notes of the coal and iron deposits; and also of the lower end of the Clear Creek cañon. Halting therefore, at eleven o'clock, at the Cheney House, we were speedily furnished with excellent saddle-horses, through the kindness of Messrs. Loveland and Fisher, the former of whom accompanied us some distance up the cañon; and also over a considerable extent of the outcroppings of iron-ore and coal, of which he is the principal owner. After which, and the partaking of a very good dinner, in company with the stage passengers from Denver to Central City, we resumed our journey to Denver.

      The snow had nearly disappeared from the surface at the foot of the mountain ranges; and had left in its place a deep salvy mud, which rendered the roads heavy and tedious. The near sorrel mule had evidently lost much of the interest in our progress which he had so satisfactorily manifested in the earlier part of the day; and his ears (that unfailing indication of a mule's thoughts) were manifestly tending considerably backward of the perpendicular. Our venerable driver's right arm, however, had become well rested, and he was able, by its constant use, to reach Denver by four o'clock in the afternoon.

      It was, however, at this last stage in our eventful journey, and when near its termination, that Mr. Williams'

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      commendable desire for further information, came near being the innocent cause of a most serious calamity to our venerable driver and outfit. Mr. Williams had intimated that he would like to approach, and enter the city, by another road from that by which we had departed, so that he might obtain a different view of its present extent and future resources. This induced the driver to take a road which, unfortunately, led past his stable, on the way to the Planter's House, where we were to stop.

      On passing the stable, the contest between the driver and mules was most spirited and exciting; business in town for the moment seemed to be suspended; and every one was anxiously awaiting the result of the driver's efforts to reach the hotel on the next block. It was in vain that I suggested that we had plenty of time to stop at the stable, and exchange our outfit before proceeding to the hotel—the driver swore that he would drive the d—n mules to the hotel or h-ll, and he did not much care which. And he came near succeeding in both; for, on finally reaching the hotel, and just as our venerable friend had taken the last article of baggage from the carriage, the pesky animals (if they may be dignified by that respectable name) started off suddenly on their own hook for a run-away. The driver was knocked down while closing the carriage door, but fortunately the wheels did not pass over him. And the outfit went sailing and crashing down the street, among the carriages, and herds of mules and cattle, towards the rivers.

      After recovering from a most improper, but uncontrollable fit of laughter, occasioned by the sudden and very unexpected turn things had taken, I assisted our venerable friend to his feet. He was covered with mud, his countenance was pale with rage and fright, and his lips and clenched teeth muttered curses low but deep against

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      the whole family of mules and their offspring, now, henceforth and forever.

      The mules and carriage, unimpaired, were soon brought back, however, by an intrepid horseman who had stopped them in their mad career; and the last I saw of our outfit, it was going at double-quick toward the stable, the head of the driver surging above and below the top of the carriage, as he administered to the refractory mules such merited punishment as his remaining strength enabled him to do.

      Thus ended our trip to Berthoud Pass, and the Snowy Range of the Rocky Mountains.