Grand Canyon” was had, and they were fairly on the road; as rough a road, going down, as one can well imagine, but going up in the teeth of the torrential rapids, hemmed in by close granite walls, it is about as near the impossible as anything that is not absolutely so could be.  Wheeler certainly deserves credit for one thing in this haphazard affair, and that is for a splendid courage and abundant nerve, in which he was well supported by Gilbert’s cool fortitude and indomitable spirit.  Once, when I was discussing this journey with Stanton, who, at a later period, came down the gorge, he would hardly admit that Wheeler actually did reach Diamond Creek:  he thought the ascent impossible.  The second day in the canyon five rapids were passed within two miles, and, on the next, nine were overcome before noon, and before sunset, fifteen, showing that the party were working with all the nerve and muscle they possessed.  On this day they passed the monument Gass and his companions had erected at their farthest point in 1864.  The rapids were now “more formidable” than any yet seen, and Wheeler was “satisfied” that no one had ever gone higher.  This was true, and it is probable no one will ever try to go up this portion again.  The way to make the passage is from above, the work being less and the danger no greater.  Wherever a portage can be made going up it can also be made going down.  The river was compressed to seventy-five feet in one place on this day.  On the l0th they made about five miles, and met with a serious accident:  two of the boats were carried back over a rapid, but were luckily secured again without having suffered damage.  The declivity was now very great, and the stream flowed along between solid granite, where footing was both difficult and dangerous, and pulling the boats up over the rocks taxed the combined strength of the crews.  Everything had to be unloaded at one bad place and the first boat was nearly swamped.  All could not be taken up before dark, so a “dreary camp is made among the debris of the slopes, where, cuddled up Indian-fashion, the weary hours of the night are passed.”  The labour was tremendous, and two of the party became ill:  one, a Mohave, who was badly bruised by being thrown upon the rocks.  Wheeler now began to despair of reaching Diamond Creek, and well he might, but he concluded that he could get there if the men and the boats would but hold together.  The next day, another series of rapids was surmounted, and then came a particularly bad-looking one.  The first boat was filled instantly with water, swamped, and thrown back against the rocks “almost a perfect wreck, and its contents were washed down below the overhanging rocks.”  A package of Wheeler’s valuable papers was lost, also a lot of expensive instruments, the astronomical and meteorological observations, and the entire cargo of rations.  This was a discouraging disaster, and came near compelling the retreat of the whole party.  Darkness came on, and they were obliged