was
that of looking up from the bottom of a gigantic well. Instinctively
I asked myself if I should ever return to that distant upper world,
and it gave me a memorable realization of my individual
insignificance to stand in such a sunken solitude, and realize that
the fissure I was exploring was only a single loop in a vast network
of ravines, which, if extended in a straight line, would make a
canon seven hundred miles in length. It was with relief that we
reached, at last, the terminus of the lateral ravine we had been
following and at the very bottom of the Canon rested on the bank of
the Colorado. The river is a little freer here than elsewhere in its
tortuous course, and for some hundred feet is less compressed by the
grim granite cliffs which, usually, rise in smooth black walls
hundreds of feet in almost vertical height, and for two hundred miles
retain in their embrace the restless, foaming flood that has no other
avenue of escape.

The navigation of this river by Major J.W. Powell, in 1869, was one
of the most daring deeds of exploration ever achieved by man, and the
thrilling story of his journey down the Colorado, for more than a
thousand miles, and through the entire length of the Grand Canon, is
as exciting as the most sensational romance. Despite the
remonstrances of friends and the warnings of friendly Indians, Major
Powell, with a flotilla of four boats and nine men, started down the
river, on May 24th, from Green River City, in Utah, and, on the 30th
of August, had completed his stupendous task, with the loss of two
boats and four men. Of the latter, one had deserted at an early date
and escaped; but the remaining three, unwilling to brave any longer
the terrors of the unknown Canon, abandoned the expedition and tried
to return through the desert, but were massacred by Indians. It is
only when one stands beside a portion of this lonely river, and sees
it shooting stealthily and swiftly from a rift in the Titanic cliffs
and disappearing mysteriously between dark gates of granite, that he
realizes what a heroic exploit the first navigation of this river
was; for nothing had been known of its imprisoned course through this
entanglement of chasms, or could be known, save by exploring it in
boats, so difficult of access were, and are, the two or three points
where it is possible for a human being to reach its perpendicular
banks. Accordingly, when the valiant navigators sailed into these
mysterious waters,