“And the Yosemite—­ah, the lovely Yosemite!  Dumped down into the wilderness of gorges and mountains, it would take a guide who knew of its existence a long time to find it.”  This is striking, and shows up well above the levels of commonplace description; but it is confusing, and has the fatal fault of not being true.  As well try to describe an eagle by putting a lark in it.  “And the lark—­ah, the lovely lark!  Dumped down the red, royal gorge of the eagle, it would be hard to find.”  Each in its own place is better, singing at heaven’s gate, and sailing the sky with the clouds.

Every feature of nature’s big face is beautiful,—­height and hollow, wrinkle, furrow, and line,—­and this is the main master furrow of its kind on our continent, incomparably greater and more impressive than any other yet discovered, or likely to be discovered, now that all the great rivers have been traced to their heads.

The Colorado River rises in the heart of the continent on the dividing ranges and ridges between the two oceans, drains thousands of snowy mountains through narrow or spacious valleys, and thence through canons of every color, sheer-walled and deep, all of which seem to be represented in this one grand canon of canons.

It is very hard to give anything like an adequate conception of its size, much more of its color, its vast wall-sculpture, the wealth of ornate architectural buildings that fill it, or, most of all, the tremendous impression it makes.  According to Major Powell, it is about two hundred and seventeen miles long, from five to fifteen miles wide from rim to rim, and from about five thousand to six thousand feet deep.  So tremendous a chasm would be one of the world’s greatest wonders even if, like ordinary canons cut in sedimentary rocks, it were empty and its walls were simple.  But instead of being plain, the walls are so deeply and elaborately carved into all sorts of recesses—­alcoves, cirques, amphitheaters, and side-canons—­that were you to trace the rim closely around on both sides your journey would be nearly a thousand miles long.  Into all these recesses the level, continuous beds of rock in ledges and benches, with their various colors, run like broad ribbons, marvelously beautiful and effective even at a distance of ten or twelve miles.  And the vast space these glorious walls inclose, instead of being empty, is crowded with gigantic architectural rock forms gorgeously colored and adorned with towers and spires like works of art.

Looking down from this level plateau, we are more impressed with a feeling of being on the top of everything than when looking from the summit of a mountain.  From side to side of the vast gulf, temples, palaces, towers, and spires come soaring up in thick array half a mile or nearly a mile above their sunken, hidden bases, some to a level with our standpoint, but none higher.  And in the inspiring morning light all are so fresh and rosy-looking that they seem new-born; as if, like the quick-growing crimson snow-plants of the California woods, they had just sprung up, hatched by the warm, brooding, motherly weather.