I therefore embark on the train of the Boulder Valley
Railway from Denver to Boulder, which leaves in the
afternoon, and arrive at my destination at about a quarter
past six in the evening. I now feel very much disin-
clined to take any notes or do any writing, as 1 want to
give myself entirely up to the enjoyment of the lovely
scenery and other attractions and novelties that I meet
with at every turn; and having found a description of
the Boulder Canon written by a correspondent of the
Rochester (N. Y.) Democrat and Chronicle, I give you
the benefit of his superior descriptive powers. He
says:

“This is the Yosemite of the Rocky Mountains, and,
like its prototype, it beggars the power of pen or pencil.
No description can do justice to it. The stream, truly
Alpine, plunges in foaming torrents down its rocky way,
amid scenery as wild and grand, apparently, as nature
could group along its banks. We were reminded of
the New River Canon -in West Virginia, but more by
contrast than by similarity. There, also is the foaming
mountain brook amid landscapes wild and picturesque,
but sylvan beauty overspreads and crowns all. Here,
it is massive grandeur alone. The rocks frown defiantly
from their lofty battlements down upon the puny trav-

 

eler as he winds his way along among them. A few
scattered evergreens here and there stand out from their
crevices, as if to soften their shadows a little, and light

26 BOULDER.

the last two years been so loudly heralded through the
| land. The first on my programme is Boulder and the
| Boulder Canon.

© nd