In the morning we could see how Denver looked by daylight. The little city is a beauty that need not fear the day. One gets such an agreeable impression of Denver from the very first. The great Union Station is attractive, and when one leaves it for home or hotel, one is greeted by a garden of living green, and by trees and shrubs in flourishing verdure. These gardens which greet one on emerging from the station, are like the beautiful initial letters one sees on old manuscripts, all glittering in gold and colors, inviting one to peruse and value the precious pages. We had two lovely days in Denver, and our party scattered about at will. Some went to call on old friends, and cemented anew the ties which might rust, but could never break. Some went shopping, while others lounged in delicious idleness, without helm or oar, just drifting. To visit Denver and not see Dean Hart at the Cathedral would be an irreparable loss. We called upon him, and found him, as he always is, genial, animated, and brimful of good humor and hospitality. Busy as he also always is, he yet found time to call at the "Lucania," and to tell more than one of his good stories. Some of our party attended a missionary meeting of ladies, held in the Cathedral, and brought from thence impressions of earnest workers, of bright, telling speeches, and of much hospitable good cheer. The Cathedral at Denver is a Romanesque structure, of quite stately proportions, with an effective interior; some very good stained glass; a choir screen of wrought iron, interesting in workmanship; and the whole place has a comfortable sumptuousness quite attractive. It is the intention to face the outside, some time or other, with native sandstone, and the interior also with some suitable material of more ornamental character. I have a memory of a service held in that Cathedral, which in sad solemnity I have never seen surpassed. It was the funeral of a gentleman who lost his life in the wild waters of the Grand Canon of the Colorado. He was with a railroad surveying party; the boat he was in was upset, and the waters were so violent, that his body was instantly sucked down in the boiling depths, and never more was found. His dear wife was in London, when the news reached her. At once she returned to Denver, and hoped that once more she would lay eyes on her beloved dead. But all in vain. No human hand could reach the depths, where all that was mortal of her love, was forever hidden. In this sad condition of circumstances, it was determined to hold the funeral services, as if the body were present, to his wife and friends, as it was to God, Whose All-Seeing Eye beholds all depths.