By the Golden Gate | Page 4

Rev. Wm. B. Thorne,
of Marinette, Wis., all journeying to San Francisco. It was a pleasure to
see these friends, and to have their delightful companionship.
Many interesting chapters might be written about this journey; and to
give all the incidents by the way and descriptions of places visited and
pen pictures of persons met would detain you, dear reader, too long, as
you are hastening on to the City by the Golden Gate. Some things,
however, we may not omit as we travel over great prairies and cross
rivers and plains and mountains and valleys. At Rock Island our train
crossed the Mississippi, reaching Davenport by one of the finest
railway bridges in the country; and as the "Father of Waters" sped on in
its course to the Gulf of Mexico, it made one think of the Nile and the
long stretches of country through which that ancient river wends its
way; but the teeming populations on the banks of the Mississippi have
a more noble destiny than the subjects of the Pharaohs who sleep in the
necropolis of Sakkarah and among the hills of Thebes and in
innumerable tombs elsewhere. They have the splendid civilisation of
the Gospel, and they are a mighty force in the growth and stability of
this nation, whose mission is worldwide. At Transfer we passed over
the Missouri by a long bridge, and entered Omaha, a city picturesquely
situated, the home of that doughty churchman, Rev. John Williams, and

of Chancellor James M. Woolworth, a noble representative of the laity
of the Church. Well may this place be called the "Gate City" of the
Antelope State. Towards evening we reached Lincoln, the home of
William Jennings Bryan, the Democratic candidate for the presidency
in 1896, and also four years later. The house where he lives was
pointed out to us. It is a modest structure on the outskirts of the city,
comporting with the simplicity of the man himself. In the morning we
found ourselves riding over the plains of Colorado. Here are miles and
miles of prairie, with great herds of cattle here and there. Here also the
eye of the traveller rests on hundreds of miles of snow fences. At last
we have our first view of the Rocky Mountains, that great rampart
rising up from the plains like huge banks of clouds. It was indeed an
imposing view; and it reminded me of the day when, sailing across the
sea from Cyprus, I first saw the mountains of Lebanon. You almost feel
as if you are going over a sea on this plain, with the Rocky Mountains
as an immovable wall to curb it in its tempests. One thought greatly
impressed me in the journey thus far, and this is the wonderful
agricultural resources of our country. We were travelling over but one
belt of the landscape. Its revelations of fertility, of cultivation, of
products, of prosperity, of thrifty homes, of contented peoples, made
one feel indeed that this is a land of plenty, and that we are a nation
blessed in no ordinary way.
The City of Denver is beautiful for situation, with the Rocky Mountains
fifteen miles to the west. As it is on the western border of the great
plain, you can hardly at first realise what its elevation is. Yet it is 5,270
feet above the sea, lacking only ten feet of being a mile above tide
water. The atmosphere is clear and crisp, and the mountain air
exhilarates one in no ordinary degree. Although founded only as far
back as 1858, it has to-day a population of 134,000, and it is steadily
growing. It has well equipped hotels such as the Palace, the Windsor,
the Albany and the St. James. It has also fine public buildings,
flourishing churches and schools, and many beautiful homes. There is
an air of prosperity everywhere. Here among other places which I
visited is Wolfe Hall, a boarding and day school for girls, well
equipped for its work, with Miss Margaret Kerr, a grand-daughter of
the late Rev. Dr. John Brown, of Newburgh, N.Y., for its principal. I

also met the Rev. Dr. H. Martyn Hart, a man of strong personality. I
found him in St. John's Cathedral, of which he is the Dean, and of
which he is justly proud. It is a churchly edifice, and it suggests some
of the architectural form of Sancta Sophia in Constantinople. Dean Hart
showed my companions and me what he calls his anti-tariff window.
The window was purchased abroad, and the original tariff was to be ten
per cent of the cost price. This would be about $75. The window cost
$750. Meanwhile the McKinley tariff bill was passed by Congress, and
as the duty was greatly increased he would not pay it. Finally