THE BOTTOM OF THE BOWL 



57 



beauty instead of a dreary hollow in the hills. 

 Only one other scene is comparable to it, and 

 that the southern seas at sunset when the calm 

 ocean reflects and melts into the color-glory of 

 the sky. It is the same kind of beauty. Form 

 is almost blurred out in favor of color and air. 



Yet here is more beauty destined to destruc- 

 tion. It might be thought that this forsaken 

 pot-hole in the ground would never come under 

 the dominion of man, that its very worthlessness 

 would be its safeguard against civilization, that 

 none would want it, and everyone from necessity 

 would let it alone. But not even the spot de- 

 serted by reptiles shall escape the industry or the 

 avarice (as you please) of man. A great company 

 has been formed to turn the Colorado Eiver 

 into the sands, to reclaim this desert basin, and 

 make it blossom as the rose. The water is to 

 be brought down to the basin by the old channel 

 of the New River. Once in reservoirs it is to be 

 distributed over the tract by irrigating ditches, 

 and it is said a million acres of desert will thus 

 be made arable, fitted for homesteads, ready for 

 the settler who never remains settled. 



A most laudable enterprise, people will say. 

 Yes ; commercially no one can find fault with 

 it. Money made from sand is likely to be clean 



Ohangmg 

 the desert. 



Irrigation 

 in the basin 



