height, though I had expected to descend to the river's edge and felt
correspondingly disappointed. We had started too late for so long a trip
and now it was time to turn back. Looking back at the solid and
apparently perpendicular rock, nearly a mile high, it seemed impossible
that any one could ascend to the top. It is only when one looks out from
the bottom of this vast chasm at the huge walls on every side that he
begins to realize its awfulness. We are mere specks in the bottom of a
gigantic mould wherein some great mountain range might have been cast.
There are great mountains all about us and yet we are not on a mountain
but in a vast hole. The surface of the earth is above us. A great gash
has been cut into it, two hundred miles long, twelve to fifteen miles
wide, and a mile deep, and we are in the depths of that frightful abyss
with--to all appearance--no possible means of escape. Perpendicular
cliffs of enormous height, which not even a mountain sheep could climb,
hem us in on every side. The shadows are growing deep and it seems that
the day must be nearly done. Yet we remount our mules and slowly retrace
our steps over the steep ascent. It seems as though the strain would
break the backs of the animals. As we approached the summit of the path
some one remarked, "I should think these mules would be so tired they
would be ready to drop." "Wait and see," said the guide. A few minutes
later we reached the top and dismounted, feeling pretty stiff from the
exertion. The mules were unsaddled and turned loose. Away they scampered
like a lot of schoolboys at recess, kicking their heels high in the air
and racing madly across the field. "I guess they're not as tired as we
are," said the Major, as he painfully tried to straighten up. Just then
the little girl of twelve came up to me. "There is one thing," she said,
"that has been puzzling me all day. How in the world did you find out so
quickly that your mule's name was Sam?" "Name ain't Sam," interrupted
the guide, bluntly. "Name's Teddy--Teddy Roosevelt."
Some years ago I had occasion to attend a stereopticon lecture on the
Grand Canon. The speaker was enthusiastic and his pictures excellent.
But he fired off all his ammunition of adjectives with the first slide.
For an hour and a half we sat listening to an endless repetition of
"grand," "magnificent," "sublime," "awe-inspiring," etc. As we walked
home a young lad in our party, who was evidently studying rhetoric in
school, was heard to inquire, "Mother, wouldn't you call that an example
of tautology?" I fear I should merit the same criticism if I were to
undertake a description of the canon. Yet we may profitably stand, for a
few moments, on Hopi Point, a promontory that projects far out from the
rim, and try to measure it with our eyes.
That great wall on the opposite side is just thirteen miles away. The
strip of white at its upper edge, which in my photograph measures less
than a quarter of an inch, is a stratum of limestone five hundred feet
thick. Here and there we catch glimpses of the river. It is five miles
away, and forty-six hundred feet--nearly a perpendicular mile--below the
level upon which we are standing. We look to the east and then to the
west, but we see only a small part of the chasm. It melts away in the
distance like a ship at sea. From end to end it is two hundred and
seventeen miles. It is not one canon, but thousands. Every river that
runs into the Colorado has cut out its own canon, and each of these has
its countless tributaries. It has been estimated that if all the canons
were placed end to end in a straight line they would stretch twenty
thousand miles.
[Illustration: THE GRAND CANON OF ARIZONA]
If this mighty gash in the earth's surface were only a great valley with
gently sloping sides and a level floor, it would still be impressive and
inspiring, though not so picturesque. But its floor is filled with a
multitude of temples and castles and amphitheaters of stupendous size,
all sculptured into strange shapes by the erosion of the waters. Any one
of these, if it could be transported to the level plains of the Middle
West or set up on the Atlantic Coast, would be an object of wonder which
hundreds of thousands would visit. Away off in the distance is the
Temple of Shiva, towering seventy-six hundred and fifty feet above
the sea and fifty-two hundred and fourteen feet (nearly a mile) above
the river. Take it to the White Mountains and set it down in the
Crawford Notch. From its summit you would look down upon the old Tip-Top
house of Mount Washington, eight hundred feet below. Much nearer, and a
little to the right, is the "Pyramid of Cheops," a much smaller butte
but rising fifty-three hundred and fifty feet above the sea-level. If
the "Great Pyramid of Cheops" in Egypt were to be placed by its side it
would scarcely be visible from where we stand, for it would be lost in
the mass of rocky formations. Mr. G. Wharton James, who has spent many
years of his life in the study of the canon, says that he gazed upon it
from a certain point every year for twenty years and often daily for
weeks at a time. He continues, "Such is the marvelousness of distance
that never until two days ago did I discover that a giant detached
mountain fully eight thousand feet high and with a base ten miles square
... stood in the direct line of my sight, and as it were, immediately
before me." He discovered it only because of a peculiarity of the light.
It had always appeared as a part of the great north wall, though
separated from it by a canon fully eight miles wide.
How are we to realize these enormous depths? Those isolated peaks and
mountains, of which there are hundreds, are really only details in the
vast stretch of the canon. Not one of them reaches above the level of
the plain on the north side. Tourists who have traveled much are
familiar with the great cathedrals of Europe. Let us drop a few of them
into the canon. First, St. Peter's, the greatest cathedral in the world.
We lower it to the level of the river, and it disappears behind the
granite cliff. Let the stately Duomo of Milan follow. Its beautiful
minarets and multitude of statues are lost in the distance, and though
we place it on the top of St. Peter's, it, too, is out of sight behind
the cliffs. We must have something larger, so we place on top of Milan
the great cathedral of Cologne, five hundred and one feet high, and the
tips of its two great spires barely appear above the point from which we
watched the swiftly rolling river. Now let us poise on the top of
Cologne's spires, two great Gothic cathedrals of France, Notre Dame and
Amiens, one above the other, then add St. Paul's of London, the three
great towers of Lincoln, the triple spires of Lichfield, Canterbury with
its great central tower, and the single spire, four hundred and four
feet high, of Salisbury. We are still far from the top. These units of
measurement are too small. Let us add the tallest office building in the
world, seven hundred and fifty feet high, and then the Eiffel Tower, of
nine hundred and eighty-six feet. We shall still need the Washington
Monument, and if my calculations are correct, an extension ladder
seventy-five feet long on top of that, to enable us to reach the top of
the northern wall. One might amuse himself indefinitely with such
comparisons. Perhaps they are futile, but it is only by some such method
that one can form the faintest conception of the colossal dimensions of
this, the greatest chasm in the world.
Still more bewildering is the attempt to measure the canon in periods of
time. There were two great periods in its history--first, the period of
upheaval, and second, that of erosion. When the geologic movement was in
process which created the continent, with the Rocky Mountains for its
backbone, this entire region became a plateau, vastly higher than at
present, with its greatest elevation far to the north. Then the rivers
began to carry the rains and snows to the sea, carving channels for
themselves through the rocky surface. The steep decline caused the
waters to flow with swiftness. The little streamlets united to form
larger ones, and these in turn joined their waters in still greater
streams. The larger the stream and the swifter the flow, the faster the
channel would be carved. The softer rocks gave slight resistance, but
when the granite or harder formations were encountered, the streams
would eddy and whirl about in search of new channels, the hard rocks
forming a temporary dam. In this way the hundreds of buttes were
formed. The Green River and the Grand unite to form the Colorado, the
entire course of this great waterway stretching for two thousand miles.
The two streams carry down a mighty flood--in former ages it was far
mightier than now--which in its swift descent has ground the rocks into
sand and silt and with resistless force carried them down to the sea.
Those great buttes and strangely sculptured temples, each a formidable
mountain, were not thrown up by volcanic forces, but have been carved
out of the solid earth by the erosion of the waters. That river five
miles away, of which we see only glimpses here and there, was the tool
with which the Great Sculptor carved all this wondrous chasm. Major
Powell has calculated that the amount of rock thus ground to pieces and
carried away would be equivalent to a mass two hundred thousand square
miles in area and a full mile in thickness. Think of excavating a mile
deep the entire territory of New England, New York, New Jersey,
Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, and West Virginia, and dumping it all
into the Atlantic. Then think that this is the task the Colorado River
and other geologic forces have accomplished, and pause to wonder how
long it took to complete the process! If the Egyptian kings who built
the pyramids had come here for material they would have seen the chasm
substantially as we see it!
The geologic story of the canon's origin is too far beyond our
comprehension. Let us turn to the Indian account. A great chief lost his
wife and refused to be comforted. An Indian God, Ta-vwoats, came to him
and offered to conduct him to a happier land where he might see her, if
he would promise to cease mourning. Then Ta-vwoats made a trail through
the mountains to the happy land and there the chief saw his wife. This
trail was the canon of the Colorado. The deity made the chief promise
that he would reveal the path to no man, lest all might wish to go at
once to heaven, and in order to block the way still more effectually he
rolled a mad surging river through the gorges so swift and strong that
it would destroy any one who dared attempt to enter heaven by that
route.
I have often been asked which is the greater wonder, the Grand Canon of
the Colorado River or the Yellowstone National Park. The question is
unanswerable. One might as well attempt to say whether the sea is more
beautiful than the sky. If mere size is meant, the Grand Canon is vastly
greater. If all the geysers of the Yellowstone were placed down in the
bottom of the Grand Canon at the level of the river, and all were to
play at once, the effect would be unnoticed from Hopi Point. The canon
of the Yellowstone River, impressive as it is, would be lost in one of
the side canons of the Colorado.
The Grand Canon and the Yellowstone are creations of a totally different
kind.
The Yellowstone is a garden of wonders. The Grand Canon is a sublime
spectacle.
The Yellowstone is a variety of interesting units. The Grand Canon is a
unit of infinite variety.
The Yellowstone contains a collection of individual marvels, each
wondrous in structure and many of them exquisite in beauty. The Grand
Canon is one vast masterpiece of unimagined architecture, limitless
grandeur, and ever-changing but splendidly harmonious brilliancy of
color.
The Yellowstone fills the mind with wonder and amazement at all the
varied resources of Nature. The Grand Canon fills the soul with awe and
reverence as one stands in silence upon the brink and humbly reflects
upon the infinite power of God.
THE END
INDEX
INDEX
Alcott, A. Bronson, 192, 193.
Alcott, Louisa M., 193.
Aldrich, Thomas Bailey, 207-20.
Amiel, Henri Frederic, 118; 124-27.
Anderson, Mary, 110, 112, 113.
Appledore, 222, 223, 232.
Arbury Hall, 20-28.
ARIZONA, THE GRAND CANON OF, 271-96.
Arnold, Thomas, 52, 98, 99.
Arona, 156.
Authari, the Long-haired, 164.
Ayrshire, 46-48.
Bashkirtseff, Marie, 132, 133.
Bastien-Lepage, 133.
Battlefield of Concord, 186, 187.
Belgirate, 155-56.
Bellagio, 168.
Borromeo, Carlo, 156, 161.
Borromeo, Count Vitaliano, 154.
Bruce, Robert, 85, 90, 91.
Burns, Robert, 43-48.
BURROUGHS, JOHN, A DAY WITH, 233-50.
Burroughs, John, 227, 228.
Byron, Lord, 143, 144.
Cadenabbia, 158, 159.
Canon of the Yellowstone, the, 267-69.
Carlyle, Thomas, 41, 44, 66.
Caroline, Queen, 168.
Catskill Mountains, 237, 238, 239, 242, 243, 246.
Channing, Ellery, 186.
Coleridge, Hartley, 62.
Coleridge, Samuel T., 51, 61, 62.
Colorado River, the, 282-88; 293-95.
Colvin, Sir Sidney, 19-21.
Como, City of, 165, 168.
Como, Lake, 95-98; 137; 138; 150; 158-68.
Concord, Massachusetts, 179-95.
Deffand, Marquise du, 140.
De Quincey, Thomas, 52, 59, 63, 64.
Drummond, William, 77-84.
Ecclefechan, 41-44.
Eliot George, 20-35.
Ellastone, original of "Hayslope," 31.
Emerson, Lidian, 188, 190.
Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 17; 181-92; 249.
Esk, Vale of the, 75-92.
Esthwaite, Lake, 56.
Evans, Rev. Frederick R., 28-29.
Fields, James T., 199, 200.
Gaeta vase, 170.
Gallio, Cardinal, 168.
Gould, Jay, 236, 237.
GRAND CANON OF ARIZONA, THE, 271-96.
Grant, Gen. U. S., 244.
Grasmere, 59, 60, 61, 65, 66.
Gravedona, palace of Cardinal Gallio, 168.
GREAT BRITAIN, LITERARY RAMBLES IN, 15-48.
Green, Thomas H., 117, 118, 122, 123, 124, 127.
Haines, George, 170-74.
Hawthorne, Elizabeth, 198, 199.
Hawthorne, Madam, 198, 200.
Hawthorne, Nathaniel; in Concord, 179-95; in Salem, 196-206.
Hawthorne, Sophia Peabody, 180, 185; 198; 199.
HAWTHORNDEN TO ROSLIN GLEN, FROM, 73-92.
Holmes, Oliver Wendell, 17.
"House of the Seven Gables, The," 196, 202-06.
Il Medeghino, 160-63.
Iron Crown of Lombardy, 165.
Isles of Shoals, the, 222-32.
Isola Bella, 152-55.
Isola dei Pescatori, 155.
Isola Madre, 155.
ITALIAN LAKES, A TOUR OF THE, 147-74.
Jonson, Ben, 81-84.
Lacus Larius. _See_ Como.
Lacus Verbanus. _See_ Maggiore.
"Lady Wentworth," scenes of, 220, 221.
Laighton, Oscar, 229.
Lamb, William and Caroline, 141-44.
Lasswade, 75-76.
Lecco, Lake, 95, 96.
Lespinasse, Julie de, 139-41.
Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, 17; 159; 220; 221.
Lowell, James Russell, 17; 55; 232.
Lugano, Lake, 96, 151, 157, 159.
Luino, 156, 157.
Maggiore, Lake, 96, 149, 150, 152-56, 159.
Mammoth Hot Springs, 255-57.
Medici, Gian Giacomo de (Il Medeghino), 160-63.
Melbourne, Lord, 141-44.
Menaggio, 160.
Minute-Man, the, Concord, 186, 187.
Monument, the, on battlefield of Concord, 186, 187.
Musketaquid, river at Concord, 185.
NEW ENGLAND, LITERARY LANDMARKS OF, 175-232.
Nuneaton, 20, 22, 29, 30.
Nutter House, the, 207-16.
Old Faithful, 254; 262-65.
Old Manse, the, 179-86.
Oxford, 99-100.
Passmore Edwards Settlement, London, 103-09, 127.
Pattison, Mark, 100; 117-21; 126, 127.
Peabody, Elizabeth Palmer, 198.
Peabody, Mary (Mrs. Horace Mann), 198.
Peabody, Dr. Nathaniel, 197.
Peabody, Sophia. _See_ Hawthorne, Sophia Peabody.
Pliny, the Elder, 160, 166.
Pliny, the Younger, 166, 167.
Pogliaghi, Lombard decorator, 170, 171.
Portsmouth, N.H., 207-21.
Powell, Major John W., 283-87.
Ripley, Rev. Ezra, 182.
Ripley, Rev. Samuel, 182.
"Robert Elsmere," 102, 109, 110-27.
Roslin Castle, 86-88.
Roslin Chapel, 88, 90.
Roslin Glen, 75-92.
St. Clair family, of Roslin, 87, 88, 91, 92.
Salem, Massachusetts, 196-206.
Salpion, Greek sculptor, 170.
"Scarlet Letter, The," 201-02.
Scott, Sir Walter, 37, 38, 39, 45, 46, 75, 76, 89, 90, 239.
Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, Concord, 187-89.
Southey, Robert, 51.
Thaxter, Celia, 221, 223-32.
Theodelinda, Queen of the Lombards, 163-65.
Thoreau, Henry D., 182-91; 228.
Tower of London, 18.
Tremezzo, 168.
Varenna, 163.
Victoria Monument, London, 40.
Villa Bonaventura, 169.
Villa Carlotta, 168, 169.
Villa d'Este, 168.
Villa Maria, 169-74.
Villa Pliniana, 167, 168.
Walden Pond, 191.
WARD, MRS. HUMPHRY, THE COUNTRY OF, 93-146.
Ward, Mrs. Humphry, scenes of novels, 36, 37, 111-17; 128-31; 134-38;
145; 169.
Washburn, Gen. Henry D., 253.
Wayside, the, Hawthorne's house in Concord, 193, 194.
Wentworth House, 220-21.
Westmoreland, 51-72; 98; 131; 134; 135; 136; 239; 241.
White, Gilbert, 228.
Wilson, John (Christopher North), 52.
Windermere, Lake, 54; 68; 70; 98.
Windermere village, 51.
WORDSWORTH'S COUNTRY, A DAY IN, 49-72.
Wordsworth, Dorothy, 41, 63, 64, 65.
Wordsworth, Mrs., 63.
Wordsworth, William, 41; 51-72; 98; 158; 239-43.
YELLOWSTONE, GLIMPSES OF THE, 251-69.
Yellowstone Lake, the, 261; 267.
Yellowstone National Park, the, 295, 296.
Yellowstone River, the, 267, 268.
The Riverside Press
CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS
U. S. A.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Lure of the Camera, by Charles S. Olcott