DENVER — March 7, 1892.
[DEAR FAMILY:]
I arrived in Denver Friday night and realized that I was
in a city again where the more you order people
about the more they do for you, being civilized and so
understanding that you mean to tip them. I found my first
letter on the newsstand and was very much pleased with it, and
with the way they put it out. The proof was perfect and if
there had been more pictures I would have been entirely
satisfied, as it was I was very much pleased. My baggage had
not come, so covered with mud and dust and straw from the
stages and generally disreputable I went to see a burlesque,
and said "Front row, end seat," just as naturally as though I
was in evening dress and high hat — and then I sank into a
beautiful deep velvet chair and saw Amazon marches and ladies
in tights and heard the old old jokes and the old old songs we
know so well and sing so badly. The next morning I went for
my mail and the entire post office came out to see me get it.
It took me until seven in the evening to finish it, and I do
not know that it will ever be answered. The best of it was
that you were all pleased with my letters. That put my mind
at rest. Then there was news of deaths and marriages and
engagements and the same people doing the same things they did
when I went away. I did not intend to present any letters as
I was going away that night to Creede, but I found I could not
get any money unless some one identified me so I presented one
to a Mr. Jerome who all the bankers said they would be only
too happy to oblige. After one has been variously taken for a
drummer, photographer and has been offered so much a line to
"write up" booming towns, it is a relief to get back to a
place where people know you. — I told Mr. Jerome I had a letter
of introduction and that I was Mr. Davis and he shook hands
and then looked at the letter and said "Good Heavens are you
that Mr. Davis"
and then rushed off and brought back the entire establishment
brokers, bankers and mine owners and they all sat around and
told me funny stories and planned more things for me to do and
eat than I could dispose of in a month.
I am now en route to Creede. Creede when you first see
it in print looks like creede but after you have been in
Denver or Colorado even for one day it reads like C R E E D E.
All the men on this car think they are going to make their
fortunes, and toward that end they have on new boots and
flannel shirts, and some of them seeing my beautiful clothing
and careful array came over and confided to me that they were
really not so tough as they looked and had never worn a
flannel shirt before. This car is typical of what they told
me I would find at Creede. There are rich mine owners who are
pointed out by the conductor as the fifth part owner of the
"Pot Luck" mine, and dudes in astrakan fur coats over top
boots and new flannel shirts, and hardened old timers with
their bedding and tin pans, who have prospected all over the
state and women who are smoking and drinking.
I feel awfully selfish whenever I look out of the car
window. Switzerland which I have never seen is a spot on the
map compared to this. The mountains go up with snow on one
side and black rows of trees and rocks on the other, and the
clouds seem packed down between them. The sun on the snow and
the peaks peering above the clouds is all new to me and so
very beautiful that I would like to buy a mountain and call it
after my best girl. I will finish this when I get to Creede.
I expect to make my fortune there.
DICK.
