138 
THE GEAND CANON DISTEIOT. 
expanse, with the exception of a slight percentage evaporated, must sink 
into the earth, where it is doubtless gathered in subterranean drainage 
channels, which open in the profound depths of the great amphitheaters of 
the Grand Canon. In those depths are large creeks of perennial water 
issuing from the openings of those underground passages. This implies a 
system of subterranean rivulets, but it is not more wonderful than the end- 
less caverns in the limestones of Kentucky and Indiana, and it is probably 
not upon so large a scale nor so greatly ramified. It also argues a high 
degree of permeability both in the upper sti-ata and in the overmantling 
soil. The water sifts through them as easily as through sand, and rarely 
gathers into streams even in the most copious showers or most rapid melting 
of the snow. Whether these “ lagoons ” and “ sink-holes,” as we termed 
them, are the openings of pipes leading down into the subterranean rivers, 
and kept open by a gradual solution of the limestone, it is difficult to say. 
There are some difficulties in the way of this theory. 
Moving rapidly southward, at length we reach the Sylvan Gate at the 
lower end. Passing through we immediately find ourselves at the head of 
a second park very similar to De Motte’s, but smaller, having a length of 
nearly three miles. It is named Little De Motte Park, and the Sylvan Gate 
occupies a divide between the two. It contains a large lagoon holding stag- 
nant water. There is a chain of these parks reaching from the northern 
end of De Motte’s southward, a distance of 25 miles, separated only by 
necks of forest. 
Our first objective point is a spring situated in one of the large ravines 
which head in the heights overlooking these two parks. Without some 
foreknowledge of the way to reach it, or without a guide, it would be im- 
possible to find it, and the same is true of any other spring on the summit, 
but with this foreknowledge we seek the southwestern border of Little De 
Motte and enter the timber. During half an hour there is a miserable 
struggle with fallen trees and thick-set branches of spruce and aspen, but 
at length the heights are gained, and we descend into a shallow ravine, 
where the way is once more open. The winding glade, with smooth bot- 
tom richly carpeted with long green grass, aglow with myriads of beautiful 
blossoms, is before us, and tlie tall trees are on either hand. Soon it leads 
