The visitor standing upon the south side looks across the great chasm upon the bewildering maze of monumental forms, some of them as suggestive of human workmanship as anything in nature well can be, —­crumbling turrets and foundations, forms as distinctly square as any work of man’s hands, vast fortress-like structures with salients and entering angles and wing walls resisting the siege of time, huge pyramidal piles rising story on story, three thousand feet or more above their foundations, each successive story or superstructure faced by a huge vertical wall which rises from a sloping talus that connects it with the story next below.  The slopes or taluses represent the softer rock, the vertical walls the harder layers.  Usually four or five of these receding stories make up each temple or pyramid.  Some of the larger structures show all the strata from the cap of light Carboniferous limestone at the top to the gray Cambrian sandstone at the bottom.  From others, such as the Temple of Isis, all the upper formations are gone with a pile of disintegrated red sandstone, like a mass of brick dust on the top where the fragment of the old red wall made its last stand.  In those masses, which are still crowned with the light gray limestone, one sees how surely the process of disintegration is going on by the fragments and debris of light gray rock, like the chips of giant workmen, that strew the deeper-colored slopes below them.  These fragments fade out as the eye drops down the slopes, as if they had melted like bits of ice.  Indeed, the melting of ice and the dissolution of a rock do not differ much except that one is very rapid and the other infinitely slow.  In time (not man’s time, but the Lord’s time), all these light masses that cap the huge temples will be weathered away, yea, and all the vast red layers beneath them, and the huge structures will be slowly consumed by time.  The Colorado River will carry their ashes to the sea, and where they once stood will be seen gray, desert-like plateaus.  Their outlines now stand out like skeletons from which the flesh has been removed—­sharp, angular, obtrusive, but bound together as by ligaments of granite.  The tooth of time gnaws at them day and night and has been gnawing for thousands of centuries, so that in some cases only their stumps remain.  From the Temple of Isis and the Tomb of Odin the two or three upper stories are gone.

On the next page is the ground plan of the Temple of Isis, about twenty-five hundred feet high.  The first story is about a thousand feet; the second, three hundred and fifty feet; the third, one hundred and fifty feet; the fourth, five hundred feet; and the fifth, five hundred feet.  The finish at the top shows as a heavy crumbling wall, probably one hundred feet or more high.  How the mass seems to be resisting the siege of time, throwing out its salients here and there, and meeting the onset of the foes like a military engineer.