Everything was indeed startling, and as
puzzling as the Sphinx in old Egypt. Nature was certainly in a playful
mood when, with her chisel and mallet, she carved these grotesque
forms out of stones and rocks.
On the outskirts of Manitou the "Haunted House" was pointed out by
the guide, who said that a man and his wife and their son had been
murdered here. No one would live in the house now. 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.
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