sublimity.

[Illustration: ON THE BRINK.]

At certain points along the Cañon, promontories jut out into the
abyss, like headlands which in former times projected into an ocean
that has disappeared. Hence, riding along the brink, as one may do
for miles, we looked repeatedly into many lateral fissures, from
fifteen hundred to three thousand feet in depth. All these, however,
like gigantic fingers, pointed downward to the centre of the Cañon,
where, five miles away, and at a level more than six thousand feet
below the brink on which we stood, extended a long, glittering trail.
This, where the sunlight struck it, gleamed like an outstretched band
of gold. It was the sinuous Colorado, yellow as the Tiber.

[Illustration: RIPLEY'S BUTTE.]

[Illustration: A BIT OF THE RIVER.]

[Illustration: ON HANCE'S TRAIL.]

One day of our stay here was devoted to making the descent to this
river. It is an undertaking compared with which the crossing of the
Gemmi on a mule is child's play. Fortunately, however, the arduous
trip is not absolutely necessary for an appreciation of the immensity
and grandeur of the scenery. On the contrary, one gains a really
better idea of these by riding along the brink, and looking down at
various points on the sublime expanse. Nevertheless, a descent into
the Cañon is essential for a proper estimate of its details, and one
can never realize the enormity of certain cliffs and the extent of