On his return down the opposite or eastern side of the river, Colonel Barlow descended to the foot of the Lower Fall for the purpose of exploring the cañon. He says: "I expected this to be an undertaking of great difficulty and attended with some danger, but entering a sharp and narrow gorge or fissure in the side of the cañon, immediately below the great fall, I found the descent much easier than was anticipated. It proved to be very steep, but the rock being solid, with projecting angles, there was little danger to a careful climber. A slope of loose and finely broken rock, a hundred feet in height, moist from the falling spray, terminated the descent. Sliding to the bottom of this slope, I stood at the foot of the great fall, 350 feet below its crest, the walls of the cañon rising 700 feet. My first impression on beholding this fall from below was one of disappointment; it did not appear as high as I expected. The fall, however, was grand, and presented a symmetrical and unbroken sheet of white foam, set in dark masses of rock, while rainbows were formed in the spray from almost every point of view. The steep rocks near the falls, constantly wet with rising mist, were covered with vegetation of an intensely green color. The river below runs with the velocity of a torrent, rushing down declivities, spinning round sharp angles, and dashing itself into spray at every turn. I found it impossible to follow the bed of the stream, the steep and slippery side affording no footing whatever, and crumbling at the slightest touch." CHAPTER IX. FROM THE FALLS TO THE LAKE. Half a mile above the Upper Fall the Yellowstone gives no intimation of its approaching career of wildness and grandeur. It rolls peacefully between low verdant banks and over pebbly reaches or spaces of quicksand, with beautiful curves and a majestic motion. Its waters are clear and cold, and of the emerald hue characteristic of Niagara. Great numbers of small springs, fed by the slowly melting snows of the mountains, flow from the densely wooded foot-hills, irrigating the "bottoms," and sustaining a growth of grass and flowers that clothes the lowlands with freshness and vividness of color. Everything terrific, diabolic, volcanic, would seem to have been left behind. The first hint to the contrary is given by a pretty little rivulet, a yard wide and a few inches deep, clear as crystal, winding along through the rank grass to join the Yellowstone. It looks like any clear-watered mountain stream; but a single taste shows that it has a different origin. It is strongly charged with alum--hence its name, Alum Creek--and its source is in a remarkable group of sulphur and alum springs two or three miles further on,--that is, about ten miles above the falls. All about these springs are evidences of volcanic action in great variety and profusion. Mr. Langford says: