THE JAUNT of five or six hundred miles from Topeka to Denver took me through a variety of country, but all unmistakably prolific, western, American, and on the largest scale. For a long distance we follow the line of the Kansas river, (I like better the old name, Kaw,) a stretch of very rich, dark soil, famed for its wheat, and calld the Golden Beltthen plains and plains, hour after hourEllsworth county, the centre of the Statewhere I must stop a moment to tell a characteristic story of early daysscene the very spot where I am passingtime 1868. In a scrimmage at some public gathering in the town, A. had shot B. quite badly, but had not killd him. The sober men of Ellsworth conferrd with one another and decided that A. deservd punishment. As they wished to set a good example and establish their reputation the reverse of a Lynching town, they open an informal court and bring both men before them for deliberate trial. Soon as this trial begins the wounded man is led forward to give his testimony. Seeing his enemy in durance and unarmd, B. walks suddenly up in a fury and shoots A. through the headshoots him dead. The court is instantly adjournd, and its unanimous members, without a word of debate, walk the murderer B. out, wounded as he is, and hang him.
In due time we reach Denver, which city I fall in love with from the first, and have that feeling confirmd, the longer I stay there. One of my pleasantest days was a jaunt, via Platte cañon, to Leadville.