TIME AND CHANGE 
Ir 
Hence it is that when one reaches the Grand 
Cafion of the Colorado, if he has kept his eyes and 
mind open, he is prepared to see striking and unusual 
things. But he cannot be fully prepared for just 
what he does see, no matter how many pictures of 
it he may have seen, or how many descriptions of it 
he may have read. 
A friend of mine who took a lively interest in my 
Western trip wrote me that he wished he could have 
‘been present with his kodak when we first looked 
upon the Grand Cafion. Did he think he could 
have got a picture of our souls? His camera would 
have shown him only our silent, motionless forms 
as we stood transfixed by that first view of the stu- 
pendous spectacle. Words do not come readily to 
one’s lips, or gestures to one’s body, in the presence 
of such a scene. One of my companions said that 
the first thing that came into her mind was the old 
text, “Be still, and know that I am God.” To be 
still on such an occasion is the easiest thing in the 
world, and to feel the surge of solemn and reveren- 
tial emotions is equally easy; is, indeed, almost in- 
evitable. The immensity of the scene, its tranquil- 
lity, its order, its strange, new beauty, and the 
monumental character of its many forms — all these 
tend to beget in the beholder an attitude of silent 
wonder and solemn admiration. I wished at the 
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