Brooklyn Bridge

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The remark about the white hairs-like the description of Bill Collins and the estimated radius of Mrs. Welty’s gossip-is from a journal that Ethel Waxham had begun writing the day before. The stage moved through town past houses built of railroad ties, past sheepfolds, past the cemetery and the state penitentiary, and was soon in the dust of open country, rounding a couple of hills before assuming a northwesterly course. There were limestone outcrops in the sides of the hills, and small kantoor per uur amsterdam ancient quarries at the base of the limestone. Indians had begun the quarries, removing an iron oxide-three hundred and fifty million years old-that made fierce and lasting warpaint. More recently, it had been used on Union Pacific railroad cars and, around i88o, on the Brooklyn Bridge. The hills above were the modest high points in a landscape that lacked exceptional relief. Here in the middle of the Rocky Mountains were no mountains worthy of the name.
Mountains were far away ahead of us, a range rising from the plains and sinking down again into them. Almost  kantoor per uur amsterdam zuidas all the first day they were in sight.
As Wyoming ranges go, these distant summits were unprepossessing ridges, with altitudes of nine and ten thousand feet. In one sentence, though, Miss Waxham had intuitively written their geologic history, for they had indeed come out of the plains, and into the plains had in various ways returned.
Among rolling sweeps of prairie . . . we met two sheep herders with thousands of sheep each. “See them talking to their dogs,” said the driver. They raised their arms and made strange gestures, while the dogs, at the opposite sides of the flock, stood on their hind legs to watch for orders.
In :Wyoming in i905, three million sheep competed for range grass with eight hundred thousand cattle. Big winter winds, squeezed and therefore racing fast between the high ground and the stratosphere, blew the snow off the grass and favored the sheep. They were hardier, and their wool contended with the temperature and the velocity of the wind. Winter wind. There was a saying among homesteaders in Wyoming: “If summer falls on a weekend, let’s have ·a picnic.”

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