99

THE MEN OF THE MOUNTAINS

Mrs. Peattie Writes of Them and of the Capital of the Rockies

Denver as Seen With the Eyes of a Visitor
From the Frairies-Views and
Impressions.

Cities, like plants are the result of conditions; and the nature of those conditions determines the quality of the plant-or the city. That is to say, man makes some cities by force of attrition, production and competition. Human like itself is the soil grom which the city grows. The precious manure is prodigally exponded to keep in existence such hotbeds of effects civilization as Berlin and Paris. The necessities of man, the meeting of his demands, the catering to his pleasures, his education and his vices, are the causes of the city's prosperity and its continuence. It is like the sea, in which fish feeds upon fish, and some fishes seem born only that others may [?] upon them. Such cities are like coral reefs, which the builders build with their lives, making the voluntary sacrifice naturally, and in obedience to the instincts of their nature.

But here is the western part of this republic are cities which have come into existence, and which are sustained for different reasons. These are the cities born literally of the earth. They feed men and do not prey upon them.
Two such towns are Omaha and Denver. Both are the fruits of earth. Both the natural, healthful offspring of the vast mother. One is born of the plains; the other of the mountains. One is the result of corn, wheat, hay and the garden. The other of gold, silver, lead and coal.
One does not talk about one's own town any more than one puts his own portrait on his writing desks. As it is pleasanter to look at the [?] of another, so it as pleasanter to talk about another city than the one of which he is a part.

Denver is the miners' paradise. To earo-Denver considers that stupid. Like Timon of Athens it digs 'roots, roots, roots," out of the earth-roots which make the wealth of nations. The streets upon the streets of business blocks, residence, schools and churches are built literally out of the mountains. The many colored stone that architect and builder have used with exquisite art were quarried from the mountains. Giant powder, hydraulic machine, and miners' pick brought out the lead and silver that filled those homes with luxury and paneled the club houses with onyx, and wainscoted the hotel rotundas with marbles and carvings of wood. Minerva did not more triumphantly spring from the head of Jove than Denver has sprung from the mountains And above her those mountains hang always, inscruiable, terrible, beautiful, always changing, warred upon by the elements, making in tender mists a mask beblud which their sterness bides fascinating and inviting the beholder.

There is in Denver a peculiar class of men. They are essentially men of the mountains. They may have their weaknesses, but cowardice is never one of them. They are men with a peculiar development of certain faculties . They handle money as a farmer handles seed corn-only as a means of producing more. They are always spendthrifts. Misers do not live a mile above sea-level, where the either [?][?], and a hysteria of hope disturbs the emotions of even the best poised.
Physically, these men of the mountains are remarkable. Their chests average four inches more in breath than those of the men of the cast. They do not become giddy. They can walk all day. They can sleep anywhere. And they can eat anything, but are naturally luxurious, and the miner's cabin frequently knows finer viands than the dining room of the conventional and protentious citizen.

Denver has lived like a Monte Chrislo. Now suddenly, it is in the midst of poverty. The people who live in those [?] homes are many of them [?]. They are haunted by the sheriff, who follows them like a Nemesis. Yet the old habits of luxury will not easily desert them. They give banquets for which they cannot pay. They lock the door on the sheriff and drink their champagne. They refuse to be dull. When they are melancholy it is with a sort of furore that makes them threaten secession. Not that they mean anything treusonable. They are the most loyal people in the world. But up in that altitude you have to be more or less spectacular.

Besides, to have been one day the Sodom of this republic, that is the richest and gayest of cities, and the next to be panperized-isn't that enough to furnish excuss for a little ill-advised verbosity?

Not that Denver is discouraged. "Just let the government decide what sort of money it really wants," said one of its citizens, "and we will go out to our mountains and dig it up."

Apropos of the effect of Denver upon the emotions, it may be safely said that it arouses the ambitions as no other city does. It is, perhaps, for this reason that there is within it a more brilliant "smart set" than it is to be found anywhere else in the United States, excepting New York. But there is this difference: The leaders of the New York smart set are women. Those of Denver are men. They are of various nationalities, but mostly English and American. They keep elegant establishments, stables of blooded horses, are members of the Denver club, and connoisseurs in the giving of dinners. They are collectors of bric-a-brac, pictures, rugs, horses, and picturesque personal episodes. Prodigality is their foe of entrance into social circles. Omaha has some rich young men, but the most rackless of them have never essayed the dash that is the leading characteristic of the Denver smart act.

Of course, where there are ten persons of this sort, there are a thousand domestic, quiet, modest, hard-working citizens, who love their own homes better than society, and a reputation for reliability more than a glittering popularity. But no home is so modest or no family so domestic and steady-going that dreams of sudden wealth have not entered it. The slow earning of money always seems the last resort to the Colorado man. He cannot get over the idea that he has only to go out there among the mountains and dig it out. In his dreams he sets the dull glow of the preclous ore in the cold recesses of the long, draughty shaft.

In short, the Denver man has become so accustomed to the unnusual that he cannot accept the usual with anything save feelings of protest and impatience.

Where people are prodigal and gay they are also generous. No one is going to starve or freeze in Denver, bad as the times are, and formidable as is the army of unemployed men. Until recently the state hardly knew what it was to have a poor person-one dependent upn charity. One has to be very careful in Colorado not to judge a man by his dress. The man in torn jeans may have his hundreds of thousands in a pretty little pocket up on the dark mountain there, where you see that snow-wreath whirling so cruelly. If every the whirligig of time wrought strange tricks, it does it in Colorado.

Politics out there are perplexing. There are seven tickets in the field. There are the result of divergent business interests. To understand the political intrigues of Denver is as difficult as to understand the court of Louis XIV of France. Every man is attached to his own little particular faction, and for reasons which are apt to be strictly personal.

Almost every man in Denver, and at least half of the women are in favor of equal suffrage. The daily journals advocate it openly. The leading women of the city in intelligence, wealth and social position are for it, and are conducting a dignified campagin in its behalf. It is much more than likely that Colorado will join with Wyoming in giving equal suffrage to its men and women citizens.

The last time I was in Chicago a woman tried to board one of the Harrison sirect horse cars. She had a heavy 2-year old child in her arms, and made several futile attempts to get upon the crowded car. Her strength was hardly equal to the task. None of the men near her moved or offered any assistance. The conductor stood with his hand on the bell rope, watching her angrily. Everyone glared at her as if she were a vampire, sucking their lives-as, indeed, they considered that she was in thus compelling them to-lose a few seconds of the time they affect to consider so valuable. At length the conductor could conceal his rage no longer.
"Give me that there young 'un," he cried snatching it from the frightened woman, who looked, not without reason, as if she expected it to be dismembered before her eyes.

The other day, when I was in Denver, a home-bound car at the busy hour of 6 in the evening was stopped by a very sweet faced old lady who was leading two tiny children by the hand. The motor had not yet reached a full stop before two gentlemen and the conductor were on the ground besides her assisting her and her pretty charges into [?] that had been vacated for them. Then everybody smiled pleasantly at the party, and the ladies who sat nearest played with the children. That makes one of the differences between Chicago and Denver.

One thing is noticeable to a stranger which does not strike him pleassantly, and that is the nonchoiance with which theft, waste and misappropriation in public office is spoken of. Men do not resent the words "theft" and "boodie" as we do here. Perhaps this is one of the invidious effects of living in a speculative country.

Denver has more fine residences than any other city of its size. The streets are narrow, but beautiful. The architecture is distinct, intelligent, consistent, and original.
A frame building is an anomoly.
In the residence district the hard alkail roads are as nature made them, without paving of any kind. In the business district asphalt is used.
Bicycles are almost as much used as legs.
Even the boot-blacks understand the silver question.
Some of the clergymen enjoy an enormous popularity. One of them is a poet. Another was asked to run for congress, but refused.
The school buildings are magnificent. The women dress like New Yorkers; and the men are also fashionable and fastidious.
Electricity is used to the greatest extent. Almost all the nicer houses are lighted by it and many of them are heated by it as well. It runs the street cars and illuminates the streets.
GReat is Denver! An intoxicating volatile, bewitching town! May its prosperity return! And may adversity inculcate some useful lessons.
Look, see the mountains, where a mist, like mother of pearl rises, swathing the highest peak of all! And over yonder is a mountain wrapt in purple, and with bent brow, like a sad king. And there is a slender peak, rosy as dawn, and looking as if only summer airs blew there! Who could guess the bleak pass at its side, and the canon where men [?] for gotten in the [?] shaped for themwhen the hills were young?
ELIA W. PEATTIE

WHY THE CITY EDITOR FAINTED.
He was a young man with a bright face and he told the city editor that he was very anxious to become a journalist. He said that he had graduated from college last June and that while in school he wrote a number of "items" for this paper, and his friends said they were splendid and that he should be a reporter.
The city editor was short man and so he told the young fellow that he could go around to the undertaking shops and see what was new. He was gone for an hour and when no returned he sat down at a desk. He destroyed a [?] of paper before he got started and then he turned in his copy. I was seated in the next room and I heard the city editor grumbling to himslef as he read the new man's copy. "Holy Neille! but that man is a terror." I heard the city editor mutter, " I don't believe he knows what a paragraph is. Now wouldn't this kill you; The Corpse lay quietly in the casket." I suppose he thinks the corpse should have turned over a couple of times and whistling "Buffalo Girls are you coming out tonight." or something else. Great Len! how's this; The [?] of the girl stood silently by.' I suppose he thinks they should shoot craps or dance!"
There were continued mutterings and comments on the new reporter's matter and then I heard a body fall heavily to the floor. I rushed in and saw the city editor lying prostrate on the floor in a dead faint and with a sheet of the new reporter's copy clasped in his hand.
I hastily raised his hand and poured a few drops of whisky from a convenient bottle down his throat; and as I did so I saw the cause of his faintness, for his thumb rested on the sentences;
"Her untimely end casts a gloom over our entire community!"
RAY EATON.