photography; it cannot be represented faithfully by the artist’s skillful touch in oils, because, like the vivid beauty of a sunset on the ocean, the light and shade are momentarily changing, while the prismatic hues gently dissolve into each other’s embrace. If possible, let the visitor witness the magic of the spot by moonlight. It is then fairy-like indeed, shrouded in a thin, silvery screen,— “mysterious veil of brightness made,”—like the transparent yashmak of an East Indian houri. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER II. Nature in Poetic Moods.—Is there Lurking Danger?—A Sanitarium.—The Liberty Cap.—The Giant’s Thumb.—Singular Caves.—Falls of the Gardiner River.—In the Saddle.—Grand Cañon of the Yellowstone.—Far-Reaching Antiquity. Obsidian Cliffs.—A Road of Glass.—Beaver Lake.—Animal Builders.—Aborigines of the Park.—The Sheep-Eaters.—The Shoshones and other Tribes. How unapproachable is Nature in her poetic moods! how opulent in measure! how subtle in delicacy! No structure of truest proportions reared by man could equal the beauty of this lovely, parti-colored terrace. It recalled—being of kindred charm—that perfection of Mohammedan architecture the Taj-Mahal at Agra, as seen under the deep blue sky and blazing sun of India. Since the late sweeping destruction by earthquake and volcanic outburst of the similarly formed pink and white terraces in the Hot Lake district of New Zealand, at Tarawera, these of the Yellowstone Park have no longer a known rival. We may therefore congratulate ourselves in possessing a natural formation which is both grand and unique. In the far-away southern country referred to, there were no more symptoms foretelling the awful convulsion of nature which buried a broad, deep lake, together with an entire valley and native village, beneath lava and volcanic ashes, than there is exhibited in our own reservation at this writing. What signifies it that the Yellowstone Park has probably remained in its present comparatively quiet condition for many, many ages? The liability to a grand volcanic outburst at any moment is none the less imminent. History repeats itself. It has ever been the same with all great throes of Nature. Centuries of comparative quiet elapse, and then occurs, without any obvious predisposing cause, a great and awful explosion. The catastrophe of Pompeii is familiar to us all, which, in its turn, repeated the story of Herculaneum.