Pete

. GARDEN OF THE GODS. 63

place, and its deep chasms and lofty sides, and great
stone, of every hue and shape, amaze the beholder.
The deep, narrow dell is completely walled in, and the
little gateway through which we entered was made by
nature, that mountain torrents might have access to the
exterior world. A bright, sparkling stream rushes per-
petually from the second and larger garden, which is
full of wonders. There are towering crags and lofty
stones set upon end, some inclined like the leaning
tower of Pisa, and others erect as was Cleopatra’s
Needle or Bunker Hill Monument, all rising to dizzy
heights, and each having its own peculiar color. Eagles’
nests are visible along the summit and within the pali-
sades, and there is a plateau covered with bright under-
growth; and five hundred yards from this mightier than
Chinese wall is a residence at the base of the mountain.
Through a deep, narrow gorge flows the brawling
brook, and along its bed we rode beneath overhang-
ing cliffs, until weary of wonders and of the contempla-
tion of amazing precipices and mighty overhanging
stones, shutting out the sky. These, now and then,
almost kissed one another, and so far above our heads
that we could hardly have heard it if the rugged oscu-
lation had been accompanied by a thunder-clap. To
the broader garden one finds access through a double
gateway, each wide enough for a dozen horsemen
abreast. The stone fence on either hand is a solid wall
of red sandstone, very thin in comparison with its fright-
ful altitude. It was painted red, perhaps that it might
endure and gratify the taste of savage red men. It is

 

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