THE MOST IMPRESSIVE SIGHT I EVER SAW. 
209 
Both canyons are bewilderingly wonderful, 
but, curiously enough, they are in nothing 
alike. Each one has what the other has not ; 
each completes and is completed by the other. 
The Yellowstone Park canyon is wonder- 
fully fine and beautiful ; the Colorado canyon 
is wonderfully grand and magnificent. And 
both strike me as symbolic of perfect wedded 
life, the perfection of what is womanly and 
of what is manly united in bonds indissoluble. 
What makes these United States canyons so 
impressive is that they are monuments of 
Nature’s creative genius. They are built up 
out of ruins, out of debris , out of erosion. 
W hen first you look down Yellowstone Park 
canyon and see the sunlit stream running a 
thousand feet below the plateau of eight 
thousand feet whereon you stand, you are 
in no sense moved to rapture by the foam- 
ing river. Neither is your imagination 
wrought into ecstasies by the wonderful 
setting of trees on the background of snow, 
nor with the rugged Sierras in the far, far 
distance ; but you are w r holly carried away 
by the beauty of the vertical walls of the 
chasm, walls which from highest rim down 
to river bed are painted with such a delicacy, 
beauty, and fineness of finish that you almost 
want to exclaim, “ Look ! Here a rainbow has 
fallen from heaven, and has been shattered 
against these rocks.' 5 
But not even would that simile express 
quite what you feel, for you almost want to 
ask, “ Have these walls been hung with 
tapestries woven in the looms of heaven ? 
Have these glories been let down to decorate 
the canyon for some such event as the birth 
of the Creator ? 55 
Yes, the Yellowstone canyon is wonderfully 
beautiful ; but the Colorado chasm is far more 
wonderfully magnificent. As, some few weeks 
ago, I stood on an elevated plain and saw at 
my feet, and before me, a gorge fifteen miles 
across and stretching east and west as far as 
the eye could travel, I found myself looking 
into another world, a world untenanted and 
voiceless save for the sound of the whirling, 
whistling wind. 
Just imagine the scene. There below me, 
a mile deep and fifteen miles across, was this 
yawning gulf. There, in that immense 
depth, stood out before my bewildered and 
worshipping eyes a perfect city in which 
I could recognize every style of classic archi- 
tecture and every period of Gothic : towers, 
keeps, and turrets, domes, spires, and 
minarets, streets laid out and open spaces, 
and flights of steps to cathedral, capitol, 
castle, and encircling ramparts. 
Nor was the scene without the life of colour 
or the play of light and shade. Every hue 
and tint was there, and every scheme of 
treatment was depicted before my eyes. 
Nothing was wanting to make me feel how 
poor, petty, and paltry is all man's work 
when put into comparison with the wonderful 
works of God ! 
When we came away, after having seen 
the great spaces flooded with sunlight, hidden 
in mist, and swept by rain storm, 1 could not 
help exclaiming to a friend who was with 
me, “ This to me is the last word in architec- 
ture, in painting, and in poetry.” 
At Yellowstone Park my soul broke forth 
into the Magnificat. But here in the presence 
of the Grand Canyon of Colorado T felt inclined 
to intone the “ Gloria in Excelsis.” 
To view that canyon and to see what Nature 
had wrought in this wonderland of wonder- 
lands held me spellbound with awe, admira- 
tion, and adoration. And as I stood there 
I offered up a silent prayer to Heaven for 
sight and understanding, and for the privilege 
of being there. 
III. 
MICHAEL HARDY'S DAUNTLESS COURAGE. 
DESCRIBED BY 
FIELD-MARSHAL SIR 
Illustrated, by 
In a somewhat lengthy fighting career I can 
think of so many impressive sights I have 
seen that I find it far from an easy matter 
to select one in particular as “ the most 
impressive.” However, after mature con- 
sideration, I am inclined to choose an incident 
EVELYN WOOD, V.C. 
Ernest Prater. 
I witnessed during the bombardment of 
Sebastopol in 1855. 
The incident in question happened on the 
19th of April. On the previous day it had 
rained for twenty-four hours, and the water 
was up to the level of the platform, which 
