there is but a wilderness of rocks; deep 

 gorges, where the rivers are lost below 

 cliffs and towers and pinnacles; and 

 ten thousand strangely carved forms in 

 every direction, and beyond them 

 mountains blending with the clouds." 



"Traveling as fast as I can run, I 

 soon reach the foot of the stream, for 

 the rain did not reach the lower end of 

 the canon, and the water is running 

 down a bed of dry sand; and, although 

 it comes in waves several feet high and 

 fifteen or twenty feet in width, the 

 sands soak it up, and it is lost. But 

 wave follows wave, and rolls along, and 

 is swallowed up; and still the floods 

 come on from above. I find that I can 

 travel faster than the stream; so I 

 hasten to camp and tell the men there 

 is a river coming down the canon." 



The exploring party next passes 

 through Narrow Canon, nine and a half 

 miles long, Glen Canon, one hundred 

 and forty-nine miles in length; and 

 Marble Canon, sixty-five and one-half 



miles long. The depth of the last 

 named is three thousand five hundred 

 feet at the lower end. They emerge 

 from Marble Canon August 10, and find 

 themselves separated from the Grand 

 Canon of the Colorado, the "Great Un 

 known," by the narrow valley of the 

 Little Colorado. 



The Grand Canon is now entered and 

 safely passed, a distance of two hun 

 dred and seventeen and one-half miles, 

 terminating with the Grand Wash. 



We are compelled to terminate this 

 article abruptly for lack of space. It is 

 proper to say that this journey has 

 scarcely ever been equaled for daring 

 and hardihood. Each time they de 

 scended a rapids, they were liable to 

 come to a fall too great to shoot over, 

 with walls so steep they could not be 

 climbed, and rapids so swift as to pre 

 vent return. 



The Grand Canon, as one of the won 

 ders of the world, is visited every sum 

 mer by hundreds of tourists. 



OPTIMUS. 



BY REV. CHARLES COKE WOODS. 



A glow-worm in the grass at night shed forth 

 Its feeble light, but darkness deepened fast; 

 The wee thing did its uttermost to banish night, 

 And that, forsooth, was truest toil, indeed, 

 Success in God's clear sight, though in man's view, 

 Obscured by things of sense, 'twas but defeat. 



A fire-fly flashed its fitful light, while soft 

 The evening shadows fell, and clouds hid stars, 

 And veiled in black the gentle moon's bright face; 

 As if the night, like one afraid, would haste 

 To flee when lightning flashed from those small wings, 

 With courage high the insect gave its light, 

 Though all alone with none to proffer aid 

 Nor sun, nor moon, nor star a single beam. 



At last the dawn shot crimson up the sky; 



The tiny toilers crawled away to rest, 



And sweet, methinks, was their well-earned repose, 



For each its place had filled, its task had done 



In keeping with the great Creator's thought. 



109 



