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The Author leaves his Collection in the Louvre, and arrives with the Indians in Bruxelles--Indians at the soir?e of the American Minister in Bruxelles--Author's reception by the King in the Palace--Small-pox among the Indians--Indians unable to visit the Palace--Exhibition closes--Seven sick with small-pox--Death of one of them--His will--A second dies--His will--The rest recover--Faithful attentions of Daniel--The Author accompanies them to Antwerp, and pays their expenses to London on a steamer--Death of the War-chief in London--His will--The Author raises money by subscription and sends to them--Letter from the survivors, in England, to the Author--Drawings by the War-chief--The Author stopped in the streets of London and invited to see the skeleton of the War-chief!--His indignation--Subsequent deaths of four others of this party in England--The three parties of Indians in Europe--Their objects--Their success--Their conduct--Their reception and treatment--Things which they saw and learned--Estimates and statistics of civilized life which they have carried home--Their mode of reasoning from such premises--And the probable results 294

The Author returns to his little children in Paris--His loss of time and money--The three Indian speculations--His efforts to promote the interests of the Indians, and the persons who brought them to Europe--His advice to other persons wishing to engage in similar enterprises--The Author retires to his atelier, and paints the fifteen pictures for the King--The pleasure of quiet and retirement with his four little children around him--He offers his Indian Collection to the American Government--And sends his memorial to Congress--Bill reported in favour of the purchase--The Author has an interview with the King in the Tuileries--Delivers the fifteen pictures--Subjects of the pictures painted--Conversations with the King--Reflections upon his extraordinary life--The Author's thoughts, while at his easel, upon scenes of his life gone by--And those that were about him, as he strolled, with his little children, through the streets and society of Paris--Distressing and alarming illness of the Author's four little children--Kindness of sympathizing friends--Death of "little George"--His remains sent to New York, and laid by the side of his mother--A father's tears and loneliness--The Author returns with his Collection to London 311

Extracts of Letters from the Ioway Mission, Upper Missouri 327

Experiments in Horse-taming 332

CATLIN'S NOTES IN EUROPE,

The event which I spoke of at the close of my last chapter--the arrival of another party of Indians--was one which called upon me at once for a new enterprise, and I suddenly entered upon it, again deferring the time of my return to my native land.

The "fourteen Ioway Indians," as report had said, had arrived, and were in apartments at No. 7, St. James's Street, with their interpreter. This party was in charge of Mr. G. H. C. Melody, who had accompanied them from their own country, with a permission gained from the Secretary at War to bring them to Europe, which permission was granted in the following words:--

DEAR SIR,

In answer to your application relative to Mr. Melody's making a tour to Europe with a party of Ioway Indians, as well as to a similar one on his behalf from the Rev. Wm. P. Cochran, of Marian County, Missouri, I beg leave to say, that it has not been usual to grant any permissions of the kind, and the verbal instructions to the Agents, Superintendents, &c. have been against permitting such tours, for the reason, I presume, that the persons having them in charge are usually men who merely wish to make money out of them by exhibitions, without taking any care of their habits or morals, or inducing them to profit by what they see and hear upon their route.

In the present case, however, I do not think that the evils usually to be apprehended will occur, from the character of Mr. Melody, and the mode in which the Indians are proposed to be selected. This I understand is to be done by the Chief, White Cloud, with the full assent of the individuals thus selected, and their continuance on the tour to be their own act.

Under all the circumstances, I suppose all the Department can do, is to allow Mr. Melody and the Chiefs of the tribe to do as they please, without imposing the usual or any prohibition.

I am, yours, very truly, J. M. PORTER, Secretary at War. Vespasian Ellis, Esq.

DEAR SIR,

Under this letter you are authorised to make any arrangement with the Chief of the tribe of Indians that you and he may please to make; and the War Department agrees, in consideration of your well-known integrity of character, not to interfere with the arrangement which you and the Chief or the Indians may make.

Your obedient Servant, VESPASIAN ELLIS. Mr. Melody.

Professor Larkin.

"Edgar Luciene Larkin was born in a log cabin, twelve miles north of Ottawa, La Salle County, Illinois, on April 5th, 1847.

"But why? To this moment it has been an inscrutable mystery why Nature allowed this event to occur. It happened on a farm. My parents were poor enough to furnish a topic to a writer of modern socialism, such as 'unequal distribution of wealth'; 'submerged nine-tenths'; 'why billionaires exist' and the like. The log hut was in a beautiful place, near a stream of clear, cool water--Indian Creek. It runs along through the north, from west to east, bending to the south, and discharges into the Illinois River at Ottawa. This stream is lined for miles with a magnificent forest, called the 'woods.' Stately trees of oak, ash, elm, maple, walnut and many other species waved in the winds, and in the autumn, colors beyond description fell on the leaves and they were all splashed with careless gold and scarlet. And the 'sear and yellow leaf' abounded. And 'Oh! those days in the woods!'--Nature days--whose memory now is enough to awaken the highest impulse in the mind. The neighbors did not find fault with my folks, and they were considered to be respectable, by even the nearest--not more than a mile away. Father was just ordinary, and the friends said that I 'took after him.' He farmed and mother merely kept house--the hut. These were pioneer days; a few cabins broke the distant line of horizon, to the west and south. As far as could be seen, even from the writer's perch in the top of a tall tree, there was one vast expanse of tall, green grass waving in the wind. But how beautiful! Climbing trees to see the 'waves roll' was ideal. The wind tumbled and tossed the grass into rolling waves, miles in length. The scene was wonderful; it was that of a prairie in Illinois. Just now, as we write, looking out of the window, the waves of the Pacific Ocean are seen thirty miles away. They are not more impressive than those majestic waves in the grass. For the writer became as expert in tree-climbing as his pre-historic and remote ancestors in South American forests. My mother--still living--is a woman of mental force and ability, of high morality and nobility of mind; but she could not bring me up right, that is, to be a farmer. The writer was sent to plow corn, and from subsequent events he now believes that he actually did; the weeds escaped entirely. I was transferred to the dairy department, and had sole charge of the cows. These loving creatures and the writer became fast friends. One was 'ring streaked,' and another 'spotted and speckled.' Old 'brindle' led the procession down to the creek for water, with the writer in the midst. And 'the lowing herds wound slowly o'er the lea,' in those happy childhood and bucolic days. A mighty event took place; grandfather put up a frame house, with boards outside, real boards of pine, brought to Ottawa on the new canal; and the boards were painted white!

"My father died when I was eleven years of age, so mother and I went to live in the new white house, with the grandparents. But there was no schoolhouse; the settlers were poor, but finally one was erected. It was not red, in fact never had a coat of paint; and was about the size of a large room in a modern dwelling. Teachers were scarce and books likewise. Another event happened; a retired German physician came to 'farm it.' He had a library. I borrowed all the books he had in English, but the great volumes in German were as hieroglyphics. School opened in September, 1858, and the onerous, difficult and discouraging job of 'educating' the writer began.

"Then the greatest event of all occurred, on an auspicious day, October 5th, 1858, and I was asleep. Grandmother came in haste at about 10 P. M., aroused me and said, 'Oh! Edgar, come and see the comet.' When behold! the mighty comet of Donati seemed to span the heavens, and looked as though it came out of the black forests and extended to the zenith. Mortal eye has not seen a more wonderful display.

"Its blazing nucleus was then passing the star Arcturus, and the scene is now in the writer's mind as though it were but yesterday. Cuts of the comet at the time of passing Arcturus may be seen in works on astronomy. Next day the writer decided to begin the study of astronomy. But how without books? The teacher had a copy of Burritt's Geography of the Heavens and Atlas. The writer asked her to sell it; she would for .00, although it cost her more. But the dollar! Grandfather was perpetually paying for land. Dollars were exceedingly scarce. Grandmother had one gold dollar; this she gave me and the book was purchased. A surveyor living near had a four-inch lens. He placed it in a square tube of wood, and with one eyepiece made up a telescope, which he loaned to me. So the study of astronomy was commenced with this outfit in my eleventh year. The first work was to trace the path of the comet among the stars on the atlas. The pencil mark is on the atlas yet, with 1858 scrawled in boyish figures. Five terms of school of three months each were attended, when arrangements were made for me to go to a high school and later, an academy in Ottawa. Then came disaster, weakness of the eyes. School, reading, the telescope, all had to go; and with heavy heart the little telescope was returned to the good old surveyor. Grandfather died, the dear old home was broken up; we moved to a nearby village, Earlville, Ill. In my fourteenth year my eyesight became strong enough to permit two terms in a graded school of six months each.

"This 'finished' the work of education, for events were such that I never entered school again. In 1879 the writer built a private observatory in New Windsor, Ill., and on January 1st, 1880, a fine six-inch Clark equatorial, with circles, was set upon its pier. In the spring of 1888, Knox College, in Galesburg, Ill., erected a good observatory on the campus. All the instruments were removed from New Windsor and placed in the new dome. The writer was director of the Knox Observatory from Aug. 1st, 1888, to Aug. 1st, 1895.

"Upon coming to this fairy land of the earth, Southern California, I was appointed director of this mountain observatory, the Lowe, taking charge on Aug. 11th, 1900. Everything happened in August. Here is an elegant Clark sixteen-inch telescope, with spectroscope and tele-camera, with accessories. The writer has not startled the world by capital discoveries in astronomy, but has confined his work to writing for journals and magazines. Enough has been published to make several volumes. Only one series has been printed in book form--'Radiant Energy.' Study of science has been continuous, save for one deflection of six years, which were devoted with intense interest to Hindoo, Iranian, Persian, Egyptian and Greek philosophy and Esoteric mysteries, the occult.

"The writer is a life Fellow of the American Association for the Advancement of Science, of the Southern California Academy of Science, and of the Astronomical Society of the Pacific, but has not surprised any of these societies by the discovery of a law greater than gravity, nor what matter is, nor electricity, nor how grass grows, or why we are here on earth. None of the mean things that the writer has performed are inserted on account of the inordinate length of this note."

The Spectroscope.

About 1600 A. D., Kepler placed a prism in a beam of sunlight and saw what had not before been seen--so far as known--the first solar spectrum. A century later Newton darkened a room, admitted solar rays through a round aperture in a shutter, passed them through a prism and obtained a clearer spectrum than Kepler's. Little was thought of these things, however, until, when in 1802, Wollaston made a slit in a shutter, projected a spectrum, in which he was surprised to see a few dark lines. In 1814 Fraunhofer made a spectrum in the same way, but happened to look at it with a telescope. This act changed the course of the science of optics for all time; it was the origin of Spectrum Analysis, one of the chief products of the human mind, one of the corner-stones upon which rests the structure of modern science. Men's minds immediately began to expand, and a period of mental activity set in, the like of which was never known before. Fraunhofer saw hundreds of lines, but the great spectroscope in the Mount Lowe Observatory shows thousands, in width from that of a spider-web to one-tenth of a millimeter. They are the most valuable set of lines known. They enable finite man to tell what the earth, sun and stars, meteors, comets and nebulae are composed of. The prism of Newton and Fraunhofer is now displaced by the diffraction grating--ruled by Rowland 14,438 lines to the inch. These striae break up light into its elements, reflect them to the eye, and in solar and stellar light reveal the absorption lines. The spectroscope of the Lowe Observatory made by that accomplished optician Brashear is one of the finest.

Great World's Fair Searchlight.

The Great World's Fair Searchlight, which is now so well known from its operation on Echo Mountain, first became famous at the World's Fair, Chicago, where it excited great interest, and surpassed all other exhibits in its line. After the Fair, it was taken to San Francisco and exhibited at the Mid-Winter Fair, where it delighted thousands from the Bonet electric tower, 264 feet high. When the Mid-Winter Fair was over, Professor Lowe purchased it and removed it to Echo Mountain, where it rests at an altitude of 3,500 feet above sea level. Until this great searchlight was established in its present location its powers could not be brought out on account of its location so near the general level of the surrounding country. Here, however, it is so located that its rays can be seen for 150 miles on the ocean, and the most distant mountain peaks can be made visible by its penetrating rays. The beam of light is so powerful that a newspaper can be read for a distance of thirty-five miles, and its full sweep illuminates the peaks of mountains which are hundreds of miles apart.

It is of 3,000,000 candle power, and stands on a wooden base, built in octagon form, which has a diameter of about eight feet. The searchlight itself stands about eleven feet high, and its total weight is 6,000 lbs., yet it is so perfectly mounted and balanced that a child can move it in any direction.

The reflecting lens is three and a quarter inches thick at the edges and only one-sixteenth of an inch at the center, and weighs about 800 lbs. The metal ring in which the lens is mounted weighs 750 lbs., the total weight of lens, ring and cover being about 1,600 lbs. This great mirror is mounted at one end of the big drum, the outer end of which is furnished with a door, consisting of a narrow metal rim, in which are fixed a number of plate glass strips five-sixteenths of an inch thick and six inches wide. The value of this great searchlight in meteorological work has already been demonstrated on a small scale. When there is moisture in the atmosphere, and varying wind-currents, the light turned upwards discovers the directions in which the wind is conveying the clouds, and aids in revealing the conditions that cause these variations.

Operating Machinery of the Great Cable Incline.

Like many other things in connection with the Mount Lowe Railway, the machinery is unique and unlike anything ever before constructed.

Every safety device and appliance of known utility that could be used has been placed upon the machinery and thoroughly tested, so that the unanimous verdict of the many eminent engineers who have scientifically examined in detail the machinery and its working is a deserved tribute to the foresight of Professor Lowe. That verdict is, that it is the safest railroad ever constructed; and the possibility of accident is reduced to a lower minimum than on any cable, electric or steam system in the world.

Glen Canyon.

This is one of the many quiet and secret ferny nooks reached in a few minutes from Echo Mountain House. Bridle roads and foot-paths reach these secluded spots, and there in ferny dells, surrounded by towering trees and majestic rocks, charmed by the babbling brooks, the rustling of the leaves and the sweet singing of thousands of birds, one may while away the hours in delicious restfulness.

Mount Lowe Eight.

Realizing this Professor Lowe early had constructed more than thirty miles of wide and easy-graded bridle roads radiating from Alpine Tavern to all the higher peaks and summits of the range. The most important sections of these roads are known as the "Mount Lowe Eight," for, in making the complete ride to the summit of Mount Lowe from Echo Mountain and return, the figure "8" is described, the rider crossing his own path in one place only, and nowhere else riding twice on the same road.

The Phantom Sea As Seen from Echo Mountain and Mount Lowe.

One of the most exquisitely beautiful sights ever witnessed is when a low fog covers the San Gabriel Valley. This fog never rises above a level of about 2,700 to 3,000 feet, and when one is on Echo Mountain, 3,500 feet in elevation, the upper surface of this fog is spread out "like a phantom sea" below. The "cities of the plain" are covered with this snow-white or creamy pall. Underneath is partial gloom and dampness. Above, the sun shines upon a silent sea, whose waves are tossing and lifting, swaying and waving, until finally--generally between 8.30 and 9.30 in the morning--the heat, in dissipating the glowing white ocean, builds fantastic and mysterious forms on its surface, and draws them upwards to rapidly swallow them up and make them disappear in its warm embrace. Such a sight stirs the soul to its greatest depths, and suggests thoughts sublime and soul-uplifting.

The sea is made of the exhalations from the Pacific ocean and covers the whole valley with its white, misty veil on certain mornings. It is 1,500 to 2,000 feet deep, and never reaches the summit of Echo Mountain. As seen from the great hotel it looks like a vast expanse of hummocky ice, as is often noticed in winter off the Atlantic Coast.

The Alpine Division.

The guest who has reached Echo Mountain should not conclude that he has seen the chief beauties which align the route of the Mount Lowe Railway. Not so! What he has seen are but the adornments which are festooned around the vestibule of the greater glories of the Alpine division which carries him into the very heart of the Sierra Madre range, and amid the solitude which reigns among the higher peaks and spurs. This division extends from Echo Mountain to Ye Alpine tavern, a distance of five miles. The road is a substantially built electric road, with grades but slightly exceeding seven per cent., on which the cars are easily propelled by electricity. Indorsing all that has been said of the beauties of Rubio, of the Great Cable Incline, and of Echo Mountain, yet these afford but comparatively limited ranges of vision, sometimes obscured by the fogs and smoke of the valley. On the Alpine division, however, one is above these impediments to sight, and the range of vision extends until lost on the distant horizon. The air is clear and transparent, so that mountain peaks, distant islands and far-away valleys seem to draw near and pass in review like a silent procession of giants.

Nature and Art.

In the construction of the railroad Professor Lowe exhibited the same skill and energy that were so manifest in the lower portions of the route. The grade of the road has been made so low that one imagines he is riding on a level surface rather than climbing the steep and rugged sides of the Sierras. This grade enables the cars to be propelled with a great saving of power, and at whatever speed necessary to give passengers the finest views of the incomparable scenery which aligns the route. With that fine artistic taste which the originator of the enterprise has shown in every detail of the construction, he has built the track just where the best views of mountain, valley and sea are to be found, so that the road, instead of disfiguring the landscape, as do so many of the old-fashioned cog-wheel roads, adds to the beauty and charm of the scenery and gives to the particular section of the Sierra Madre where the "City on the Mountain" sits, an added charm.

The road climbs up the sides of the mountain in graceful curves, and as one is being carried along he often wonders where an opening to the apparently impassable walls of granite which hem in the way can be found. At one point of view, by looking up and down the steep sides of the mountain, nine different tracks can be seen rising one above the other. One of the unique features of construction is a bridge, which spans a canyon, and rounds a mountain peak, thus forming a complete circle. This division of the road is the only railroad in the world in which, throughout its entire length, the ties are laid upon a shelf of solid granite. And so carefully has the work of construction been done that since its completion no accident has occurred to any of the thousands of people who have ridden over it. Its solidity ensures safety and exempts it from the dangers which environ railroads in the valley.

Magnificent Views.

But the grand views which are revealed along the route are the principal charms of the Alpine division. Until Echo Mountain House is reached the view is somewhat hemmed in by the nearness of the mountain sides, in Rubio Canyon and even when going up the Great Cable Incline. From Echo Mountain, however, a wider expanse of view is obtained, and as the higher altitudes are reached the scenery becomes bolder and the range of vision enlarged until it seems as though the whole of Southern California was spread out beneath. Distant Catalina Island and the more remote Channel Islands, off Santa Barbara, have drawn near in the clear atmosphere, and the numerous cities which bestud the plain appear close by, while the higher peaks of the Sierras stand out against the sky with startling vividness. The vast depths of Millard and Grand Canyons serrate the mountains as if the "plowshares of God" had upturned a path for winter torrents through the solid granite. Nature blends her softest and most bewitching vistas with the stern grandeur which pervades the mountain heights and the broad expanse of ocean which ultimately unites with the distant horizon.

As the road finally swings around into Grand Canyon, the character of the scenery changes and the vistas of valley, plain and ocean are shut out. All hint of the habitation of man is gone, and one realizes a sense of the solitude of Nature. The vastness of surrounding mountains and the great canyons impresses itself on the mind and one feels that the only thing which connects him with the abode of man is the frail wire which pulsates with that mysterious power which is doing so much of man's drudgery.

The terminus of the track, at "Ye Alpine Tavern," is 5,000 feet above sea level, at the head of Grand Canyon, and from that point the summit of Mount Lowe can be seen, towering eleven hundred feet above. A short and enjoyable walk brings one to Inspiration Point, from which the Observatory and buildings on Echo Mountain are seen as the play houses of children, so far are they away; and the orange orchards and vineyards and green grain fields in the valley resemble the variegated patchwork upon the old-time bed-quilts. To those who from here desire to ascend to the summit of Mount Lowe, a wide and safe bridle road offers the opportunity of an exhilarating ride up the mountain side, from whence a greater variety of views are obtained of distant mountain ranges, extensive plains and broad expanses of sea.

People go many miles, pay large railroad fares and spend much time to visit Watkins Glen and Ausable Chasm, New York. At Mount Lowe the scenery is an hundred-fold more grand, the canyons deeper than the highest peaks of hills which are dignified with the name of mountains in New York, and yet the expense of reaching Mount Lowe is but a fraction of what is charged there; no charge is made for guides; the time necessary to make the trip is much less, and the hotel accommodations very much superior.

The Circular Bridge.

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