He asked me if I believed in "Ghosts." I said I was not afraid of dead men, and that I did not think they came back to disturb us.

He seemed to agree with me, but hastened to say that he "met a clergyman yesterday who said he believed in them." The house in Manitou which, of all others, interested me most, was the pretty vine-covered cottage of Helen Hunt Jackson, who wrote "Ramona." It was she, who, with a fine appreciation of nature, gave this wild and secluded spot, with its riddles in stone, the suggestive name of "The Garden of the Gods." At noon on Friday, October 7th, I boarded the Pullman train at Colorado Springs, on the Denver and Rio Grande Railway, for Salt Lake City.

On this train was my old friend the Rev.James W.Ashton, Rector of St.Stephen's Church, Olean, N.Y., whom I had not seen for years, and from this hour he was my constant travelling companion for weeks in the California tour, ready for every enterprise and adventure.

At Pueblo were some quaint Spanish-looking buildings, and farther on we were among the foothills of the Rocky Mountains.

Our train gradually ascended the heights skirting the bank of the Arkansas River, which was tawny and turbid for many a mile.