tent than those we have been considering, yet belonging equally with them to the link system. Within this link rise the Snake Fork of the Columbia (or, as we may properly say, the Columbia itself, the Snake deserving the honor of consideration as the main stream), the Yellowstone, and the Missouri. This link is the Delphi of our Continent's physical geography, the oupaλos yns, since from it, as a nodal tract, ομφαλος γης, flow the two chief streams of North America, the one sending its waters to the Gulf of Mexico, the other emptying into the North Pacific Ocean; their cradling fountains separated from each other by a narrow ridge, and their graves in the all-swallowing sea distant from each other 2,225 miles in an air line.

The link formation is exhibited everywhere in the Rocky Mountains. It is not only the type on which has been constructed every great tract of plateau or basin country like those just considered, but the traveller is constantly finding it repeated on a smaller or even a miniature scale. Thus, the famous goldleads of Colorado lie environed on the north and south sides by walls belonging to the transverse system of uplifts; their west boundary is the giant wall of the Middle Park itself; from the west side of this wall flows a tributary to the Blue River, the Colorado, and the Gulf of California; from its eastern face comes Clear Creek, the famous stream that, after supplying the mines, runs to the Platte, and finally reaches the Gulf of Mexico: the springs of the two streams are divided by a single snow bank. "Ogden's Hole " is a tract lying in similar environment among uplifts of the Wahsatch, differing so much between themselves in point of geological period, that immediately adjoining the granite and sandstone of the main

range are found much disturbed strata of the carboniferous series, which may become of immense value when the Pacific Railroad, with its locomotives, its machine-shops, and the increase of population following in its wake, shall demand and justify the development of Utah's internal resources.

In the mutual relations of the longitudinal and transverse systems of uplift lies a field of study no less important than interesting. Their relative ages; their conterminous points, or, where such cannot be made out, their tracts of transition into each other; the facts as to the existence of the precious metals in both or in one only, and if the latter, then in which one, these are merely passing hints for a line of investigation which cannot fail to be fruitful of most valuable results.

This episode upon the link formation has its close connection with our itinerary, though I seemed to wander away from it just after leaving Sulphur Springs.

Descending from the water-shed, we had emerged through the magnificent gallery of Bridger's Pass into a tract which forms another link, not until now mentioned by me as such, of the same type as all the others, and nearly the same longitudinal system as that of the South Pass plateau. From that plateau we were now divided by the Wind River Mountains, and their continuation on a smaller scale along the Sweetwater. This transverse range formed the northern segment of our link. The Uintah range, and its continuations along the line of the Yampah, formed a corresponding segment on the south. With these the Wahsatch range inosculated on the west, and on the east the parallel longitudinal range which we had

just penetrated by way of Bridger's Pass. The area thus bounded has but a single system of drainage it contains the source of the Colorado, and every drop of its water goes to swell that stream.

Fremont's Peak may be called the western cornerstone of the wall formed by the Wind River Mountains along the south boundary of the South Pass Plateau. From the southern base of this cornerstone, and thus separated only by a single range from the drainage area which begets the Columbia, the Missouri, and the Yellowstone, springs another river, as remarkable as either of the former two, and, although lacking their commercial importance, destined to traverse an extent of country surpassed by the Missouri alone among all the rivers of North America. This stream is the Rio Colorado of the Californian Gulf, here at its fountain-head called the Green. From its springs to the mingling of its waters with the ocean, the distance measured in an air line is, for the Columbia, 650 miles; for the Colorado, 850; and for the Missouri, 1,750 We have seen that the shortest distance between the Columbia's and the Missouri's junction with the sea is 2,225 miles. By similar measurement the waters of the Green or Colorado reach the sea 1,520 miles from those of the Missouri, and 1,140 miles from those of the Columbia. Yet it is not improbable that in the neighborhood of Fremont's Peak (or about 44° lat. N. 112° lon. W.) there exist, upon an area no larger than an ordinary Eastern States' county, springs contributing to each one of these great rivers. It will be evident from the extreme tortuosity of all three, that a measurement made "as the crow flies" gives but a very inadequate idea of their length, or the vast surfaces which they

lay under contribution. A juster conception of the Colorado may be acquired by observing that not only the entire area within this mighty link now surrounding us, but nearly the whole of the vast territory southward of us to the New Mexican line, and westward to the Sierra, contributes to this river all its water, with the exception of such streams as are swallowed out of sight by the "sinks" of the thirsty desert.

During the night, whenever I woke with a jerk from the feverish sleep of an Overland traveller, I could perceive the same features which characterized the landscape soon after we left the Sulphur Springs. The gray woolly-looking hills lay like the backs of a Cyclopean flock of sheep rounded in slumber and huddled as far as the eye could reach under a misty moonlight. Sometimes, though rarely, a wretched cedar, the victim of misplaced confidence, had established itself in a chink to struggle for life with sage brush and grease wood; but these latter and the gramma-grass ruled the arid region, dressing it out in one broad melancholy Quaker monotone which even the moon was not able to etherealize. The Florida moss is exquisitely beautiful in moonlight; indeed, when it festoons a circle of noble old liveoaks, it will make out of noonday a moonlight of its own for one inside the pavilion, by filtering the yellow glare through itself, and turning it to silver; but there one has at least some bright green for a contrast, and the moss, moreover, in its shape is graceful beyond all flattery. Fancy a world of moss and nothing else; fancy that moss formed like a dry haycock stuck raggedly on a gnarled stump three feet high; then you will have this sage brush, and a landscape which Genius itself could not beautify.

Fifty-one miles of rolling country, broken by nothing remarkable in the way either of scene or adventure, brought us about 8 A. M. to a station called La Clede. Upon consulting our itinerary we found that during the night we had passed our half-way mark between the Missouri and our California terminus at Placerville. For the benefit of future travellers I will state that this midway point occurred just half a mile west of the Duck Lake Station. We were now 983 miles from our journey's beginning, 930 from its end, and 272 from Salt Lake City.

While we were changing horses at La Clede, we loaded our fowling-pieces, and, after a walk of some forty rods into the sage brush, succeeded in starting up a flock of sage-fowl, and bagged three. They were in fine plump condition, but we had no desire to hazard the experiment of roast chicken with wormwood, even had there been time to stop and cook our game. Accordingly, we set about preserving the only part valuable to science, namely, the skins, leaving the meat for the coyotes. In this instance, as one among many, we had to return sincere thanks to Ben Holladay and Mr. Otis his superintendent, for the kindness shown us by an extension of courtesies in general, and an open letter in particular, calling on the drivers to halt half an hour at a time whenever we wished it to facilitate our scientific examinations and notes, the taking of sketches, and the collection and preparation of specimens. By the time our leave to halt was exhausted we had succeeded in getting a clean pair of skins (an adult cock and hen), without making a tear or losing a feather. Having rubbed them thoroughly with arsenical soap, we folded them as neatly as possible, tied them up in an India rubber bag, and