of the stupendous erosion of the cañon--the foundation of the unspeakable
impression made on everybody. It seems a gigantic statement for even nature
to make, all in one mighty stone word, apprehended at once like a burst of
light, celestial color its natural vesture, coming in glory to mind and
heart as to a home prepared for it from the very beginning. Wildness so
godful, cosmic, primeval, bestows a new sense of earth's beauty and size.
Not even from high mountains does the world seem so wide, so like a star
in glory of light on its way through the heavens.

I have observed scenery-hunters of all sorts getting first views of
yosemites, glaciers. While Mountain ranges, etc. Mixed with the enthusiasm
which such scenery naturally excites, there is often weak gushing, and
many splutter aloud like little waterfalls. Here, for a few moments at
least, there is silence, and all are in dead earnest, as if awed and
hushed by an earthquake--perhaps until the cook cries "Breakfast!" or
the stable-boy "Horses are ready!" Then the poor unfortunates, slaves of
regular habits, turn quickly away, gasping and muttering as if wondering
where they had been and what had enchanted them.

Roads have been made from Bright Angel Hotel through the Cocanini Forest
to the ends of outstanding promontories, commanding extensive views up
and down the cañon. The nearest of them, three or four miles east and
west, are McNeil's Point and Rowe's Point; the latter, besides commanding
the eternally interesting cañon, gives wide-sweeping views southeast and
west over the dark forest roof to the San Francisco and Mount Trumbull
volcanoes--the bluest of mountains over the blackest of level woods.

Instead of thus riding in dust with the crowd, more will be gained by
going quietly afoot along the rim at different times of day and night,
free to observe the vegetation, the fossils in the rocks, the seams