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graph, a consistent supporter of
Unionism, was made a baronet ; as
also was Captain Armstrong, the pro-
prietor and editor of the Globe, the
oldest London evening paper. Sir
John Jaffray, proprietor of the Bir-
mingham Daily Post, one of the ablest
papers in England, is a man of for-
tune, as well as of great literary
ability. He founded a large hospital
near Birmingham, and wields a greater
personal influence in the midland
town than any other of its citizens



except the Right Hon. Joseph Cham-
berlain. His baronetcy is the reward
of very successful business enterprise,
combined with hard work as a jour-
nalist, a public spirited citizen, and a
consistent though independent advo-
cate of Unionism. Dr. William Smith,
the editor of the Quarterly Review, of
the Dictionary of Classical Antiquities,
of the Bible Dictionary, and of the
Dictionary of Classical Biography and
Mythology, received a knighthood, an
honor paid to him as a literary man
and a scholar rather than as a leading
member of the Fourth Estate. Yet,
even with regard to these honors,
well deserved as they are, and mark-
ing, as they undoubtedly do, a new
departure, it is to be observed that
they are won by the rich and politi-
cally influential proprietor of the great
newspaper, and not by the man who
writes the editorials. It is the owner
of the Daily Telegraph, and not
George Augustus Sala, who gets Sir
prefixed to his name.

So far we have discussed instances
in which literary men have been
made knights or baronets, and it is
interesting in this connection to
quote the remarks of Anthony Trol-
lope, himself a successful man of let-
ters, and a very frank, outspoken man
besides. In volume II of his fascin-
ating autobiography w r e read : ' ' I
have often heard it said that in Eng-
land the man of letters is not recog-
nized. I believe the meaning of this
to be that men of letters are not often
invited to be knights and baronets.
I do not think that they wish it, and
if they had it, they would, as a body,
lose much more than they would gain.
I do not at all desire to have letters
put after my name, or to be called
Sir Anthony, but if my friends Tom
Hughes and Charles Reade became
Sir Thomas and Sir Charles, I do not
know how I might feel, or how my
wife might feel if we were left unbe-
decked. As it is, the man of letters
who would be selected for titular hon-
ors, if such bestowal of honors were
customary, receives from the general
Vol. IV— 7

respect of those around him a much
more pleasant recognition of his

If literary knights and baronets are
not numerous, literary peers are. of
course, still fewer. The recent death
of the poet Tennyson has caused
people to recapitulate the cases in
which eminent literary men have been
peers, and to discuss again the pro-
priety of rewarding men of letters
with rank and title. When we begin
to think of literary men who have
been peers, three names rise at once
to one's mind : Lord Byron, Lord
Macaulay and Lord Lytton. A little
reflection suggests the name of Lord
Houghton, father of the newly ap-
pointed Viceroy of Ireland. The poet,
George Gordon Byron, was, however,
the sixth Baron Byron, and his great-
ness as a poet brought him no addi-
tional rank. Let me examine shortly
the public lives of the other three.

Thomas Babington Macaulay, born
in 1800, twice won the prize for an
English poem at the University of
Cambridge ; he became a Fellow of
Trinity College, and was admitted to
the bar in 1826. Four years later he
entered the House of Commons ; as a
member of the Supreme Council of
India, he codified the laws of that
great country. He was Secretary for
War in Lord Melbourne's ministry,
and Paymaster-General of the Forces.
In 1852, the people of Edinburgh
elected him as their representative in
Parliament without his having offered
himself as a candidate. In 1857, he
was raised to the peerage. Though
he will always live in the memory of
English-speaking people as a brilliant
historian, and as the founder of the
new school of modern history, yet it
is clear that his services in India and
as a Cabinet Minister, coupled with
his fame as an orator, were such as
fairly to entitle him to a peerage.

Henry Bulwer, son of General Bul-
wer, like Macaulay, when an under-
graduate at Cambridge, won the Chan-
cellor's prize for an English poem.
He was member of Parliament for



St. Ives and afterwards for Lincoln,
and was always a strong Whig.
Having published " Pel ham, or the
Adventures of a Gentleman,"' "The
Disowned," " Devereux," " Paul Clif-
ford , " " Eugene Aram , " " Rienzi , "
and " Tne Last Days of Pompeii," he
was, on the coronation of the Queen,
created a baronet, as a representative
of English literature — John Herschel
being chosen for a like honor as a
representative of English science.
Succeeding to the estate of Knebworth
on the death of his mother, a wealthy
heiress, he added Lytton to his name.
In 1852, he again sat in Parliament,
and Lord Derby, when he came into
power in 1858, made Sir Henry
B ul vver- Lytton Secretary of State for
the Colonies. On coining into office
for the third time, Lord Derby raised
him to the peerage as Baron Lytton.
Though literary eminence made Mr.
Buhver a baronet, it is plain that work
as a Cabinet Minister and wealth won
him his peerage, which his son, by
service as Viceroy of India, has since
advanced to an earldom.

Richard Monckton Milnes, son of
R. P. Milnes of Fryston Hall, York-
shire, was a litterateur of some note,
and one of the most widely accom-
plished Englishmen of his day. He
wrote "Memorials of a tour in Greece, ' '
poems entitled "The Flight of Time,"
"Palm Leaves," etc. In 1837, he
was elected member of Parliament for
Pontefract, and in 1863 was raised to
the peerage as Baron Houghton. His
barony, however, is to be attributed
rather to his parliamentary service,
and to the fact that he was a man of
wealth and high social connections,
than to his fame as a man of letters.

The last titled writer that calls for
consideration is Alfred Tennvson. He

was son of the rector of Somersby in
Lincolnshire, and was educated at
Trinity College, Cambridge, which
has been a veritable nurse of English
poets. He began his poetical work at
a very early age, and continued it,
without turning aside to any other
form of literature, throughout the
whole of his long life. In 1851, after
his fame was firmly established by
" Mort d' Arthur," " Locksley Hall,"
" The May Queen," " In Memoriam,"
and "The Princess," the laureateship
fell vacant. Tennyson was appointed
poet laureate, and held the office to
the day of his death. In 1883, he was
created Baron Tennyson of Aid worth,
Sussex, and of Freshwater, Isle of
Wight. His peerage was conferred
upon him solely as a reward for his
poetry, and it is the only one that has
been won by a man who was a poet
and nothing else ; who had never sat
in Parliament or done any service of a
political or public nature whatever.
Alfred Tennyson remains up to the
present time the only example of a
purely literary peer ; and the conclu-
sion to be drawn from a survey of the
facts here presented is, that while
literary reputation alone sometimes
wins the personal honor of knight-
hood, and occasionally the transmis-
sible honor of a baronetcy, it has in one
instance only, of itself, when unaccom-
panied by other claims, been recog-
nized by elevation to the House of
Lords. Titular honors in England
are won almost entirely by wealth and
public services, usually of a political
kind : and when the winners of titles
have been men of high literary repu-
tation, this has been an accidental cir-
cumstance, contributing perhaps to
their elevation, but by no means the
efficient cause of it.




MOUNTAIN regions
of Utah are said by
many travelers and
artists to possess at-
tributes of beauty un-
rivaled by those of
S" any other country.
The immense sweeps of landscape,
whose distances are not to be esti-
mated by any one unaccustomed to
regions of this nature, are surprising,
and are possessed of a grand and
rugged simplicity that affords a spe-
cial opportunity to the artist who is
fond of laying his colors on his canvas
in broad, sweeping strokes. Moun-
tains upon mountains seem to rise,
receding into hazy distances, while
great valleys roll away in gentle
slopes, or pause abruptly at the bases
of grim precipices. Alpine lakes
abound, and great roaring streams
and cataracts tear down through the
gulches to the valleys below — splendid
forces when turned to purposes of

The mountains are demonstrative
of immensity in every respect — the
splendid lines carved in their sides
sometimes sweeping from highest

peak to base. Their formations are
unique, differing from those of other
mountainous regions, partially on ac-
count of the aridity of the climate,
which is not productive of the same
vegetation usually found among other
mountain ranges. At certain points,
where mountains are usually well
clothed, there is no deciduous foliage.
The Wasatch and the Uintahs present
the appearance of grassy plains slop-
ing gently to the base of the moun-
tains, while numerous canons break
their continuity at intervals. These
cations are formed by the action of
the elements on the mountain mass,
whose erosion cuts through the breast
of the range regardless of the kind or
hardness of the rocks of which it is
formed. They seem to radiate from
certain centers, their lower parts dis-
playing usually a stretch of rather
ordinary scenery, while the upper-
most parts are wild, and emerge into
a climax of grandeur in towering
cliffs and rushing water.

Big Cottonwood Cafion leads up
from the valley of Salt Lake, winding
away through the mountains in a
most enticing manner. A broad, tu-




multuous stream dashes down
beside the roadway towards
the valley below, while on
either side grow the scrub oak
and the wild rose, intermin-
gled with occasional masses of
other wild vegetation and cling-
ing vines, many of which bear
beautiful and often fragrant

The finest scenery commences
along the Narrows as you
ascend between overwhelming
heights, where, after a sudden
turn, may be seen the magnifi-
cent dimensions of Young's
Peak, one of the most splendid
mountain masses in the Terri-
tory. At a considerable height
the main canon is abandoned,
and the traveler is obliged to
ride horseback up the steep
slope. When the ride is ac-
complished, he finds himself
among the noble beauty of the
lake regions, and in the very
heart of the Wasatch Moun-
tains. The lakes rest in a suc-
cession of amphitheaters, three
of which are quite large and
closely linked together, and
are known as the three sisters,
Lillian, Blanche and Florence,
while forming a background
are the Pillars of the Wasatch,
a gigantic rocky mass, which,
in its immensity, its splendid cleavage
and beautiful coloring is almost peer-
less. They seem to overhang the
lakes, which themselves lay on rocky
ledges descending rather precipi-
tously to the canon below. The
surroundings abound in the rugged
grandeur of cliffs and precipices, and
also in many of the softer elements of
beauty. On the southern side of Lake
Blanche are rich meadows and forests
of quaking asp and pine, which sweep
down to the water's edge. There are
also flowers of rich and varied hues,
and tangled underbrush, interwoven
with heavy vines. Not far distant,
leaping down the gorges or over the
surrounding walls, are the cascades


that feed the lakes. The banks are
resplendent with purple asters and
buttercups, and at the bases of the
pines are unnumbered white colum-
bines — flowers that grow wild in few
other countries.

Among the lakes near the head of
Big Cottonwood Canon, Silver Lake
at Brighton is probably the most well
known. It is easy of access, lying in
a spacious vale surrounded by mead-
ows. It is in the neighborhood of a
good hotel, where many come to spend
the summer for rest and enjoyment,
or to regain health under the exhilar-
ating influence of the pure atmos-
phere. It is at an altitude of 9,000



The twin lakes, Minnie and An-
nette, lie a few miles south, and are
extremely picturesque. The moun-
tain chain towering above them is
almost invariably covered with snow,
particularly in the gorges, the banks
of which are bordered with fir trees.
The meadows of buttercups, blue-
bells and columbines slope away at
the eastern end, while the feeding cas-
cade gushes down from the near snow-

A footpath leads up still farther to
some of the lakes near the head of
Big Cottonwood among the usual
forests of pine and quaking asp, with
stretches of flowers and mossy banks
on which are luxurious growths of
fern, while the air is permeated with
the delicate odor of wild musk. A
little farther up, the cascade which
feeds Big Cottonwood Canon, runs
from the lakes and leaps thundering
over the cliffs. Here, amidst some of
the most romantic scenery of the
Wasatch, lie the lakes, the lowest of
which is Lake Phoebe, shadowed on
every side by pine trees. A sweeping
peak rises in the background, while
in the distance are snow-crowned
ridges. Lake Mary, the largest of

this series, spreads its placid waters
near by, while to the left is Lake
Annette, resting upon a shelf of the
mountain in a secluded spot. This
last named lake, as well as Lake
Blanche, has been chosen, on account
of its matchless effects of color and
atmosphere, as a subject for sketching
by many artists.

A quarter of a mile farther on lies
Lake Martha. It is not, like the
others, surrounded by rough rocks,
but by slopes of green, while on its
southern side is a forest of pines. In
the midst of its waters is a small
island bordered with white boulders
and crested with young pines. This
island has often been compared to an
Indian crown, which it greatly re-

Lake Catherine, a pool of melted
ice and snow\ is between one and
two thousand yards above, and is the
highest one of the series. It is the
origin of Big Cottonwood Creek. In
July and August its edges are vast
beds of gleaming snow, and its waters
are of the glacial, ethereal green.
This lake, being at a very high alti-
tude, the vegetation about it differs
greatly from that of the lower lakes.



It is at the limit of the timber line,
the mountains above being bare and
scarred, with lines where the avalanch-
es have rolled for hundreds of years.

On what is known as the Little
Cottonwood sid(; of the divide, up
another slope and along the trail that
leads to American Fork Canon, is
Lake Minnie. The dark cliffs that
rise above it to the east are massive
and majestic, and form a wonderful
setting for the watery gem. From
Lake Minnie a steep,
irregular trail leads to
the divide, the highest
point accessible in the
Wasatch, from whence
may be had an ex-
cellent view through
American Fork Canon.
To the east stretch the
Uintahs, fading in the
distance to long, misty
lines, to the north the
settlements of the
Weber Valley are visi-
ble, while to the north-
west may be seen, like
gleaming ribbons, bits
of Great Salt Lake, bor-
dered by the Oquirrh
Mountains in faint tints
of blue and lavender.
Utah Lake and Juab
Valley reach away to
the south, and through
the opening of Little
Cottonwood Canon rise
the colossal propor-
tions of the mountains
surrounding Alta,
where the winter ava-
lanches have torn down
and destroyed so many lives and so
much propertv at their base in Dead
Man's Gulch.

Amongst the large mountains at
the northern extremity of the Wasatch
Range stretches Bear Lake, twenty-
five miles long, and about twelve
miles wide, surrounded by well-tim-
bered mountains and great plains of
grass. The water is cold and clear,
and abounds in fine mountain trout

which affords the sportsman ample
occupation in season, and is in great
demand in the markets of Utah.

A series of beautiful lakes, divided
by snowy heights, reposes near the
head of Logan Canon. From each
one of them flows a stream which
finds its way to Logan River. Lake
Lucy, the most beautiful of this series,
occupies a hollow between two gigan-
tic rocky masses, where it is shadowed
almost the entire day by forests of
thick, healthy pines.
They partake of much
the same characteris-
tics as the other moun-
tain lakes and their
surroundings, in scenic
effects, vegetation and
geological formations.
The Uintah Moun-
tain Range is the
greatest of which Utah
can boast — its highest
peak, Mt. Gilbert, ris-
ing to an eminence of
14,000 feet, 2,000 feet
higher than Mt. Nebo,
the highest peak of the
Wasatch. The moun-
tains run east and west,
and are so steep that
they are devoid of roads
except for one near
Bald Mountain, which
runs from Fort Bridger
to Fort Thornburg.
But this road is now
almost entirely aban-
doned, and the only
way of crossing the
range is by old, half-
obliterated Indian
trails. When a passage is effected
to the heart of the mountains near
Reed's, Gilbert's and La Motte's
Peaks, one finds himself in the
midst of magnificent timber land
which the despoiling lumberman has
not yet penetrated. Among these
regions are many glacial lakes, and
here rise most of the largest rivers of
Utah, those flowing east finding their
ways to Green River, and the remain-




derto Great Salt Lake. These placid
pools, surrounded by rich green
foliage, form an artistic contrast to
the great barren, rocky cliffs and the
gulches which are white with snow
almost the entire year. From the
mountain peak, La Motte, a magnifi-
cent view greets the vision. The land
of Wyoming stretches in dreary wastes
to the north, while to the northwest,
beyond Bear Lake, may be traced the
course of Bear River through prairie
lands and amongst hills. To the west
range the Wasatch Mountains, which
the eye may follow from the peaks
near Willard and Ogden, down past
the Cottonwoods, American Fork and
Mt. Nebo. Southward, across the
canon, rise the stately outlines of
Reed's Peak, its base concealed in
dense foliage through which a group
of lakes is sometimes visible. Stretch-
ing far eastward from this peak are
the Uintahs 1 myriads of lofty shapes,
broken and rifted with deep, storm-
torn chasms.

Lake Anna, lying in a basin at the
eastern foot of La Motte, is believed
to be the largest body of water at its
elevation in North America, its sur-
face being almost 12,000 feet above
the sea. It is at the extreme of the
timber land, and the pines growing
about it are stunted and grotesque on
account of the difficulty of their sur-
vival at this extreme altitude. The
verdure that surrounds Lake Chapin,
a mile or two away, and a few hundred
feet less in altitude, is much more
profuse and beautiful, lending a
greater charm to the landscape.

Bear River is a remarkable stream
of water. Its sources are numerous
and various. Its* upper portion is
divided into three parts, but these are
subdivided into numerous streams, the
main stream being near the summit of
the mountains. Most of the tribu-
taries may be traced to lakes of glacial
origin in elevated amphitheaters,
walled around with rocky cliffs, alike
in their larger features, but differing
in particulars. One of these amphi-
theaters on the western side of the

main fork of the Bear is at the foot of
Reed's Peak. It is a beautiful spot,
surrounded by glades through which
course streams of clearest, coldest
water, and where there are profuse
forests of pine trees, while far above
towers the peak, like a colossal sar-
cophagus upon a broad, firm pedestal.
Its resemblance to a human form in
repose is striking and impressive.
From head to foot the figure measures
over a thousand feet, and the so-called
tomb is a quarter of a mile wide and
several miles in circumference.

At the eastern extremity of the
Uintah Mountain Range, the Green
River cuts through a grand chasm,
the gorge known as the Caflon of
Ladore. On either side of the river
are perpendicular walls several thou-
sand feet high, devoid of bank on
either side. A scientist has satisfac-
torily demonstrated that this river was
running before the mountains about
it were uplifted, and that they arose
so slowly that the river cut its way as
fast as the line upheaved. Otherwise
the river could not have forced its
way through these impenetrable

One of the most remarkable water
courses of this region is Brush Creek
Gorge. It slashes the mountain with
a fissure a thousand feet deep, the
top of which in .some places is but
fifty feet wide. It is inaccessible, and
dizzying to look from above into its
terrible depths, where the waters are
thundering and dashing.

In the southern part of the Terri-
tory the mountains differ somewhat
from the others, both in contour and
vegetation, the latter of which is
suggestive of semi-tropical climes.
There are large flowering cacti, a
species of cactus palm, and instead of
firs, one finds cedar trees very much
like the cypress of Eastern lands.
There are none of the Alpine lakes,
and little of that canon scenery prev-
alent in the Wasatch Mountains,
beyond the southern climax of the
Wasatch at Mt. Baldy near Marysvale.

Returning to Great Salt Lake and




its environments, we find in the scenery
surrounding it extreme ruggedness
and simplicity of outline. The waters
stretch from shore to shore, covering
an area of 2,500 to 3,000 square miles,
amidst mountainous islands and cliffs.

The dreary lifelessness of these
islands and the stifling heat during the
summer months, are thus vividly de-
scribed by Mr. H. L. A. Culmer, an
artist and writer of Salt Lake, in a
paper entitled '* Desolate Shores."

"A burning sun, high in heaven,
flinging his fierce shafts upon a parched
and fruitless earth ; his rays reflected
a hundred times from a broad watery
expanse that gleams also upon the hot
land ; hills, white, rocky and bare ;
dismal hollows dotted with cedars — a
few living weakly amidst a ghostly
concourse of their dead fellows, whose
stark and ashen limbs writhe grimly
about their shattered trunks ; a grimy
beach, darkened with millions of
decaying larvae and strewn with clumsy
crumbling boulders ; the silence of a

' ' Such are the common aspects of the
mountainous islands of the Great Salt
Lake. They are elements of .scenes
fraught with melancholy, death and
utter desolation. To wander along
these dreary shores, silent and alone,
is to commune with nature in her bit-
terest moods, and to hunger and thirst
for the beauties she so lavishly displays
elsewhere. There are surely no other
places on the face of the earth so devoid
of every charm, so totally lacking in
human interest or association. The
deserts of Asia and America have
their histories — dreary enough, it is
true, but yet associated with human
experiences, even though they be of
suffering and travail ; but these wild
and wind-swept shores have risen
from the surface of a bitter sea,
and have never, till now, known the
tread of human foot or sound of human

" Whosoever has desire to witness the
earth's poverty and degradation, let
him traverse these gray wastes one
single summer's day, when all the

outer world is smiling and fruitful,
and let him contrast what meets
his gaze with God's munificence in
other places. Toiling wearily over
rotten rocks, whose unshapely hulks
have been scooped out and hollowed
into a thousand caverns by centuries
of salt sea w T inds, he will come at in-
tervals upon ragged plains where the
only plant that thrives is the thorny
sage. He will see this straggling
vegetation stretch from the hills down
to the beach, growing among the
crevices of the rocks even to the
water's edge, and there, where the
salt crusts upon its branches, he will
see it set upon by swarms of great
black spiders, who weave their nets
of filmy white over it all, and lie in
wait for the myriad gnats, their prey ;
and then he will see the lazy surf
feebly flinging its flakes of soiled
foam, skimmed from distant shoals, to
be strewn along this dreary beach.
From these sights he will turn with

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