CAi^ON OF THE RIO BLANCO. 1 69 



ing into White Lake. At the point where I reached the river, it flowed 

 along the bottom of a deep and rugged canon, the walls of which were 

 composed entirely of glacial debris, consisting of a heterogeneous mass 

 of silt, gravel and huge masses of rock, for the most part, crystalline and 

 frequently weighing several tons each. The canon had a depth of some 

 three hundred feet or more, and its sides, as well as the stream at the bot- 

 tom, were quite picturesque. The materials composing the bluffs were, 

 from their origin and nature, especially interesting, but of course quite 

 devoid of vertebrate or other fossils. On leaving camp in the morning I 

 had intended returning the same day, but it was nearly sundown when I 

 climbed the canon wall and gained the level surface of the valley above. 

 Out of consideration for my horse I stopped for the night where there was 

 an abundance of grass and bushes, near a spring which issued from the 

 side of the escarpment to the south of the valley, and at an elevation of 

 about one thousand feet above its bottom. It was long after dark when 

 I arrived at this place, and since I had neither taken the precaution to 

 bring food with me on leaving camp in the morning, nor provided myself 

 with meat during daylight, I was compelled to go to bed (?) supperless. 

 Having picketed my horse on water and grass, I built a rousing fire by 

 an adjacent bush, and about this passed the greater portion of a most 

 pleasant night. There was an abundant supply of dry brush convenient, 

 and from this I could with little difficulty replenish my stock of fuel. It 

 was an ideal autumnal night, and, stretched on my saddle blanket before 

 the comforting warmth of the glowing camp-fire, I gave myself up to a 

 full enjoyment of the conditions surrounding me. It is wonderful how 

 under such conditions one's mind in the end involuntarily assumes a re- 

 flective mood. Every trivial detail of the past life is recalled and friends 

 and places long since forgotten are brought most vividly to the memory 

 and always in most agreeable form. Then, at times, one passes insensibly 

 from the reminiscent to the contemplative state, and a consideration of the 

 past gives way to that of the present and future. Thus, quite undisturbed, 

 one mentally surveys the present conditions and surroundings, passing 

 on to the elaboration of most praiseworthy, but seldom realized, plans for 

 the future. Those who have a true love for nature must at times find this 

 affection so strong as to drive them beyond the limits of civilization to 

 some retreat where, unmolested, they may study her in her true form and 

 beyond the environmental influences of man. The night was far spent 



