NOWHERE in nature are the grand and beautiful more effectually illustrated than in the Rocky Mountains. 

Whoever beholds their towering, cloud-capped peaks, or explores the awful depths of their mysterious canyons, cannot fail to be impressed with the grandeur of the scene. And when in connection with this, the mind takes in the infinite variety afforded by the blending of rocks and refreshing foliage, the mountains present attractions that the eye never tires of beholding.

The accompanying cut represents a canyon in the Rocky Mountains. As can be readily seen, this is a deep ravine or gorge in the solid rock, the walls of which stand on either side several hundred feet high. 

In some localities the walls of these canyons rise to the height of two thousand feet. Among the most prominent canyons, we find the names of Boulder, Clear Creek, Cheyenne, and the Grand Canyon of the Arkansas.

To give a description of one will convey a general idea of them all. Through each of these mountain gorges dash streams of water white with foam, rushing impetuously on in their march toward the "great waters." For beauty of scenery, Boulder Canyon compares favorably with any of those mentioned. Entering the canyon just above Boulder City, the road winds in and out among the rocks, at times on the verge of a precipice overhanging the stream, then crossing by bridges, and on and up the rocky opening. Here, the rocks tower aloft two thousand feet, shutting out the rays of the sun at midday; there, lies a stretch of road, one side decked with fragrant flowers, the other side washed by a crystal stream that foams and leaps from point to point in its hurry to reach the plain.

Ten miles up are the falls. Here the water drops some forty or fifty feet from the shelving rock into a deep, narrow pool, presenting a charming sight. To use the language of a famous writer: "We have read of Alpine scenery, and of the Yosemite Valley, and have seen Niagara Falls, Delaware Water Gap, and the passage of 

the Potomac through the Blue Ridge, and we pronounce them all as tame and commonplace when compared with the scenery of this wonderful canyon."

On account of its railroad privileges, a journey through Clear Creek Canyon is more novel and interesting than one through Boulder. Think of taking a railroad ride through a mountain gorge, a highway of innumerable short curves, where you are steadily climbing at the rate of one hundred and thirty feet to the mile, and where one moment an apparently solid wall runs to the clouds across the track, and the next you twist sharply around or under it, while the cars surge and creak with the strain.

In some places where the chasm is very narrow, the road-bed has been carved out of the solid rock; and as you pass under the overhanging rocks, with the dashing, foaming torrent by your side, the scene becomes terribly sublime. As you ascend the canyon, the frowning rocks reach higher, and at times the chasm grows narrower till the eye can scarcely reach the summit from the car window.

A twenty-mile ride up the windings of this rocky defile brings one to the mines and stamp mills of Black Hawk. One mile farther on is Central. The first sight of these mountain cities is not soon forgotten. IN spite of the barrenness of the country about, one is attracted by the novelty of the scene. Streets and houses are wedged into narrow ravines and gulches, and crowded up the steep incline. Far up the giddy mountainsides are built cottages, which hang over, and seem ready to topple on each other. These are the miners' homes. Down in the depths, hundreds of feet from the light of day, these miners, by the dim light of a candle, delve for the gold buried beneath the mountains. Of the miners, and how they do their work, we will speak in a future article.