Twenty-one years later I read over the notes of that day's experience and the picture of the Grand Canyon from this point is once more before me. I did not know when writing the notes that this was the grandest view that can be obtained of the region from Fremont's Peak to the Gulf of California, but I did realize that the scene before me was awful, sublime, and glorious--awful in profound depths, sublime in massive and strange forms, and glorious in colors. Years later I visited the same spot with my friend Thomas Moran. From this world of wonder he selected a section which was the most interesting to him and painted it. That painting, known as "The Chasm of the Colorado," is in a hall in the Senate wing of the Capitol of the United States. If any 329 powell-canyons-204.jpg TUSAYAN FETICHES AND IMPLEMENTS. 330 powell-canyons-205.jpg TUSAYAN BASKETRY. OVER THE RIVER. 331 one will look upon that picture, and then realize that it was but a small part of the landscape before us on this memorable 26th day of September, he will understand why I suppress my notes descriptive of the scene. The landscape is too vast, too complex, too grand for verbal description. We sleep another night by the spring on the summit of the Kaibab, and next day we go around to Point Sublime and then push on to the very verge of the Kaibab, where we can overlook the canyon at the mouth of the Little Colorado. The day is a repetition of the glorious day before, and at night we sleep again at the same spring. In the morning we turn to the northeast and descend from Kaibab to the back of Marble Canyon and cross it at the foot of the Vermilion Cliffs, and find our packers camped at Jacob's Pool, where a spring bursts from the cliff at the summit of a great hill of talus. In the camp we find a score or more of Indians, who have joined us here by previous appointment, as we need their services in crossing the river. On the last day of September we follow the Vermilion Cliffs around to the mouth of the Paria. Here the cliffs present a wall of about 2,000 feet in height,--above, orange and vermilion, but below, chocolate, purple, and gray in alternating bands of rainbow brightness. The cliffs are cut with deep side canyons, and the rainbow hills below are destitute of vegetation. At night we camp on the bank of the Colorado River, on the same spot where our boat-party had camped the year before. Leaving the party in charge of Mr. Graves and Mr. Bishop, while they are building a ferryboat, I take some Indians to explore the canyon of the Paria. We find steep walls on either side, but a rather broad, flat plain below, through which the muddy river winds its way over quicksands. This stream we have to cross from time to time, and we find the quicksands treacherous and our horses floundering in the trembling masses.