to "turn in" and give him a chance to sleep.
There is in what I have already seen so much of novelty to fill the
mind and burden the memory, that unless I write down in detail the
events of each day, and indeed almost of each hour as it passes, I shall
not be able to prepare for publication on my return home any clear or
satisfactory account of these wonders. So Jake may go to. I will write
until my candle burns out. Jacob is indolent and fond of slumber, and I
think that he resents my remark to him the other day, that he could burn
more and gather less wood than any man I ever camped with. He has dubbed
me "The Yellowstone sharp." Good! I am not ashamed to have the title.
Lieutenant Doane has crawled out of his blankets, and is just outside
the tent with his hand and fore-arm immersed in water nearly as cold as
ice. I am afraid that lock-jaw will set in if he does not consent to
have the felon lanced.

Wednesday, August 31.--This has been a "red-letter" day with me, and one
which I shall not soon forget, for my mind is clogged and my memory
confused by what I have to-day seen. General Washburn and Mr. Hedges are
sitting near me, writing, and we have an understanding that we will
compare our notes when finished. We are all overwhelmed with
astonishment and wonder at what we have seen, and we feel that we have
been near the very presence of the Almighty. General Washburn has just
quoted from the psalm:

"When I behold the work of Thy hands, what is man
that Thou art mindful of him!"

My own mind is so confused that I hardly know where to commence in
making a clear record of what is at this moment floating past my mental
vision. I cannot confine myself to a bare description of the falls of
the Yellowstone alone, for these two great cataracts are but one feature
in a scene composed of so many of the elements of grandeur and
sublimity, that I almost despair of giving to those who on our return
home will listen to a recital of our adventures, the faintest conception
of it. The immense canon or gorge of rocks through which the river
descends, perhaps more than the falls, is calculated to fill the
observer with feelings of mingled awe and terror. This chasm is
seemingly about thirty miles in length. Commencing above the upper fall,
it attains a depth of two hundred feet where that takes its plunge, and
in the distance of half a mile from that point to the verge of the lower
fall, it rapidly descends with the river be