ing food and
clothing to those in need. The special gift does require special
conditions, and it is not selfish to insist on those conditions, when
the special work is held as unto the Lord. It often requires more
heroism, more faith, more love to deny than to accede to a given
request. To yield is often easy; to be steadfast to one's own purpose,
shining like a star upon the horizon, is not infrequently very
difficult.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: A Summer Pilgrimage in Arizona.]

No pilgrimage of the Crusaders of old could be more impressive in its
spiritual results than that which can be made to-day to the Grand Canyon
of the Colorado in Arizona. The majesty and sublimity of the scene
suggest another world, not, indeed, an "Inferno," but a "Paradiso." It
is a sea of color, a very New Jerusalem, on which one looks down from
the rim of this Titanic chasm. It is a vision not less wonderful than
that beheld by Saint John in the Isle of Patmos.

The term "canyon" is a misnomer for this supreme marvel of earth. One
journeys to it anticipating a colossal variation on Cheyenne Canon or
the Royal Gorge. Instead, what does the tourist see?

The ridge of a vast mountain-chain over two hundred miles in length
split asunder in a yawning chasm eighteen miles in width and over seven
thousand feet deep; one in which a thousand Niagaras would be lost; in
which a cliff that, relatively to the scene, does not impress one as
especially lofty, yet which exceeds in height the Eiffel Tower in Paris;
and another which does not arrest special attention, yet is taller than
the Washington Monument. But the splendor of apparent architectural
creations arrests the eye. "Solomon's Temple," the "Temple of Vishnu,"
and altars, minarets, towers, pagodas, colonnades, as if designed by
architectural art, lie grouped in wonderful combinations of form and
color.

"An Inferno, swathed in soft, celestial fires; a whole chaotic
underworld, just emptied of primeval floods, and waiting for a new
creative word; a boding, terrible thing, unflinchingly real, yet
spectral as a dream, eluding all sense of perspective or dimension,
outstretching the faculty of measurement, overlapping the confines
of definite apprehension. The beholder is at first unimpressed by
any detail; he is overwhelmed by the _ensemble_ of a stupendous
panorama, a thousand square miles in extent, that lies wholly
b