Thomas Moran, the famous artist, with his daughter, Miss
Ruth, whose interest was more than casual. Thomas Moran's name, more
than any other, with the possible exception of Major Powell's, is to
be associated with the Grand Canyon. It was his painting which hangs
in the capital at Washington that first acquainted the American public
with the wonders of the Canyon. This painting was the result of a
journey he made with Major Powell, from Salt Lake City to the north
side of the Canyon, thirty-eight years before. In addition he had made
most of the cuts that illustrated Major Powell's government report;
making his sketches on wood from photographs this expedition had taken
with the old-fashioned wet plates that had to be coated and developed
on the spot--wonderful photographs, which for beauty, softness, and
detail are not excelled, and are scarcely equalled by more modern
plates and photographic results. The only great advantage of the dry
plates was the fact that they could catch the action of the water with
an instantaneous exposure, where the wet plates had to have a long
exposure and lost that action.

Thomas Moran could pick up almost any picture that we made, and tell
us at once just what section it came from and its identifying
characteristics. His daughter, Miss Ruth, was just as much interested
in our trip and its results. She was anxious to know when we would go
on again and planned on making the trail trip down to the plateau to
see us take the plunge over the first rough rapid. She was just a
little anxious to see an upset, and asked if we could not promise that
one would occur.

A month passed before my brother returned from Los Angeles. His wife,
who had remained there, was in good health again, and insisted on his
finishing the trip at once. We were just as anxious to have it
finished, but were not very enthusiastic about this last part on
account of some very cold weather we had been having. On the other
hand, we feared if the trip was not finished then it might never be
completed. So we consoled ourselves with the thought that it was some
warmer at the bottom than it was on top, and prepared to make the
final plunge--350 miles to Needles, with a 1600-foot descent in the
185 miles that remained of the Grand Canyon.

A foot of snow had fallen two nights before we planned on leaving. The
thermometer had dropped to zero, and a little below on one occasion,
during the nights for a week past. Close to the t