The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1909-04-24

| ton to share my enthusiasms which
makes my society trying ordeal, at
times, I implored them to gaze on the
glories of the picture unfolding before
we reached the foot of the Trail,
| that they had seen nothing all the
way down, except now and then a
peep at the path between their dom
| keys ears. l hope their livers had
good shaking up for it was the only
possible compensation they could
have received for their hours of unre-
| lieved agony.
| 1t was winter on the Canyons rim,
| snow lay in patches through the
| woods and in spite of the dazzling blue
| of the sky and the brilliancy of the
sunshine, the temperature was at
| freezing point. But down in the heart
| of the canyon spring awaited US. 1t
was not unlike Kansas spring, for
| there were many familiar flowers and
| trees. The air was balmy and delic-
iously fragrant. There were birds and
butterflies and ground squirrels. In
| the trickling. limpid streams the wat
| ercress grew lush and green. The red
| bud, the wild plum the willow, dali
| sizes pied and viOletS blue" the DEVILS
| paint brush clinging to the rough sur
| faces of the giant rocks, the graceful
vines that wreathed and softened their
| barren outlines, the ferns that sprang
up magically in their crevices, drew
| shouts of ecstasy from the rest of us,
| but our friends from Williamstown
| never saw them. In pursuit of stern
patriotic duty they were visiting the
| Canyon and descending the Trail. 1t
| was no time for frivolous rhapsodies.
| If the guide pointed out a celebrated
point of which they had read in their
guidebooks they opened their eyes,
| looked once, and closed them again
| imm ediately to shut out the dizzy
depths below. This was their idea
| of seeing the Canyon.
| There is a wonderful woman who
| keeps the Half Way house. the camp
| at Indian Spring, where Bright Angel
| Trail divides, one branch leading to
the river, the other to the plateau
| above it. For years she has lived at
| the Half Way House. with her son
| and a servant or so, and in that time
| she has rarely gone up to the rim.
| In the heart of the mute magnificent
4 mystery of the Canyon she passes a
rich eventful life such as the children
| of the cities know not, nor could they
understand. Beverly. Massachusetts,
4 was amazed. do you stay here AT
| Night?" they demanded. But don't
| you feel horribly shut in? How can
you breath down here in the bowels
| of the earth and how do you endure
| the loneliness away from the world
| like this?" She regarded them with
| smiling patience, the mystic's look in
| her impassioned dark eyes. Lonely"
/ she returned. I'VE are never alone.
| All the world comes to us down here,
and, shut away, as you say from life,
here. at last, we sometimes learn to
! live"
| We had for our Trail guide real
| cowboy who had passed his life on the
| ranches of Wyoming and Arizona, wore
| a big sombrero, and very high heeled
boots, although the rules of the stable
robbed him, for the Trail trip, of his
spurs. He was handsome as a god,
blonde and bronzed and blue of eye,
| with the whitest teeth and the mer
riest smile you ever saw, and although
| what he did to the Kings English was
something scandalous, even the Back
Bay thawed out in his engaging So
| ciety: We were all crazy over him
and recognizing an appreciative audi
ence he warmed up to his role and did
his splendid best to live up to the
cowpuncher traditions. 1t was like a
scene from 1.-THE Virginian" or the
"Squaw Man. his big talk. full of the
| atmosphere of the COW camps 1 had
no idea the real thing could COM
pare so favorably with the stage coun-
terfeit. But our cowboy was a born
mime. He had the true histrfonic
genius. And the way we late up his
tales of the rancho it was really a
| shame to take the money. Before he
had finished with us he had, in imagi-
nation, with our inspiring encourage
ment and applause, drank all the
| whlSkey in Arizona and ncked every
| man in the Southwest.
| Nobody expected to see the Massa-
chusetts party next day for we judged
by their complaints that they would
be eating off a mantelpiece for
week But when we started in the
morning of the third day, for Grand
| view 10. with the stern devotion to
duty inherited from Puritan ancestors
the chips of Plymouth Rock were on
hand. GraRdview is a thirty mile
drive or ride through the pine woods.
at the end of which you are rewarded
by wondrous view that takes IN not
only new vistas of the abyss itself. but
the wild wastes of the Painted Desert
beyond, and the top of Navajo noun
tain rising against the skyline. 100
miles away. Beacon street fused all
the way. because the roads were
rough and the wagons jolted- They
were cold and now and then the mud
| spattered in their faces. They inquired
often and earnestly il the horses were
| perfectly safe and expressed the opin-
ion that the one on the left was
| "skittish-" They were SO afraid of q
horse that supposed they must be