The country east of Helena, along the line of the Northern Pacific, presents no variation of apparently boundless prairie land, until the Bad Lands of Northern Dakota are reached, which will be hereafter described. One hundred and fifty miles east of the city, however, is the town of Livingston, at which point Yellowstone Park visitors change cars to a branch line that runs fifty miles due south to Cinnabar, which is within a mile of the Wyoming State line, and three miles from the northern boundary of the National Park. We are now upon the borders of the most wondrous region of the earth, the curiosities of which we will now attempt to briefly describe, though words seem to lose their significance when they are used to portray the marvels that exist in this real wonderland. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Illustration: PULPIT TERRACE, MAMMOTH HOT SPRINGS.—The photograph above admirably represents this beautiful and surprising example of Nature’s wonder- working. The projecting terrace in front was on one occasion used as a pulpit, which it greatly resembles, from which fact the name is derived. These remarkable formations are beautiful beyond all the efforts of imagination to picture. Even a fine photograph like the above cannot do them full justice, as the exquisite coloring is wanting. They must be seen in all the glory of sunlight reflection to be fully appreciated. ] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Illustration: RAINBOW FALLS, GRAND FALLS, MONTANA.] At Cinnabar, tourists take the stage for a seven miles’ ride to Mammoth Hot Springs Hotel, which is the first and principal hostelry within the park. This ride prepares the visitor for remarkable surprises, for it is through an erratic district of soaring pinnacles, dizzy walls and chaotic formations, stranger and more weird than the gate-way that Cerberus guarded. Away up on the apex of the first tall spire of stone that has broken away from the cañon walls of Gardiner River, is seen an eagle’s nest, an aerie so lofty that the clouds play about it; so far- reaching skyward that it is tipped with the waking beams of sunlight before day, and is bright with lingering rays when evening shades have descended. By aid of glass the eagle may be seen demurely surveying the world, or in her absence the straining necks of her ambitious brood, watching the neighboring crags for their royal parent’s return. Nothing that I saw in Yellowstone Park impressed me more than this nest of eagles in the azure depths of that perilous peak.