tween walls of rock nearly
six hundred feet in vertical height, to which three hundred and twenty
feet are added by the fall. Below this the wall lines marked by the
descent of the river grow in height with incredible distinctness, until
they are probably two thousand feet above the water. There is a
difference of nearly three thousand feet in altitude between the surface
of the river at the upper fall and the foot of the canon. Opposite Mount
Washburn the canon must be more than half a vertical mile in depth. As
it is impossible to explore the entire canon, we are unable to tell
whether the course of the river through it is broken by other and larger
cataracts than the two we have seen, or whether its continuous descent
alone has produced the enormous depth to which it has attained. Rumors
of falls a thousand feet in height have often reached us before we made
this visit. At all points where we approached the edge of the canon the
river was descending with fearful momentum through it, and the rapids
and foam from the dizzy summit of the rock overhanging the lower fall,
and especially from points farther down the canon, were so terrible to
behold, that none of our company could venture the experiment in any
other manner than by lying prone upon the rock, to gaze into its awful
depths; depths so amazing that the sound of the rapids in their course
over immense boulders, and lashing in fury the base of the rocks on
which we were lying, could not be heard. The stillness is horrible, and
the solemn grandeur of the scene surpasses conception. You feel the
absence of sound--the oppression of absolute silence. Down, down, down,
you see the river attenuated to a thread. If you could only hear that
gurgling river, lashing with puny strength the massive walls that
imprison it and hold it in their dismal shadow, if you could but see a
living thing in the depth beneath you, if a bird would but fly past you,
if the wind would move any object in that awful chasm, to break for a
moment the solemn silence which reigns there, it would relieve that
tension of the nerves which the scene has excited, and with a grateful
heart you would thank God that he had permitted you to gaze unharmed
upon this majestic display of his handiwork. But as it is, the spirit of
man sympathizes with the deep gloom of the scene, and the brain reels as
you gaze into this profound and solemn solitude.

[Illustration: GRAND CANON.]

The place where I obtained th