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is some fretting and foaming, some dashing and breaking of waves, for a short space, and then the current swiftly curves to the south wall, and gradually becomes more quiet. There can be no division of waters here; all must be united for the last grand leap. Seven hundred feet further on, and ere the foaming and fretting caused by the last fall has entirely disappeared from the surface, this mighty volume of water pours over a perpendicular precipice and falls vertically a distance of two hundred and sixty feet.

Snake River, for miles above and below the | and smooth and undisturbed this time. There falls, flows through a deep, narrow cañon, from one-fourth to one-half mile wide; and its walls of dark basaltic rock rise vertically to a hight between two thousand and three thousand feet. From the brink of this cañon, the land runs back, level and smooth, for several miles, so that, standing a few hundred yards from the edge of the precipice and looking across the river, the range of vision passes entirely over the deep cañon and strikes the level land on the opposite side, and no trace or indication of the river is discernible. Go further back, however, and ascend the foot-hills to an elevation of one hundred or more feet above the level of the plain, and the dark outline of the river is plainly seen, winding its tortuous way through the arid plain like some monstrous serpent.

A party of three, on our return to Nevada from the Yankee Fork mining regions, allured by the glowing descriptions we had heard of the falls, determined to visit the place and satisfy our curiosity, although it involved several days' travel out of our direct course. We approached the river from the south, and, traveling along a sharply rounded point of table-land, drove our team to the very brink of the cañon. From this point, looking up the stream, we obtained the first view of the falls. For a mile or more above the falls, the channel of the river is plainly seen. It is not a wild, rushing torrent, beating and breaking and dashing against rocks and bowlders and the sharp angles of the bank, and foaming and frothing and fretting, as if anxious to escape to the level plain below, but a majestic body of water, one-fourth of a mile wide, with an average depth of fifteen feet, flowing, with not a ripple upon its surface, smoothly and tranquilly "on its slow, winding way to the sea."

The first obstructions which we see to this even flow are two immense bowlders, or columns of rock, which, standing abreast of each other across the stream, five hundred feet apart, divide the river into three channels. Swiftly flowing along the base of these barriers, the water, with a gentle bound, drops down a vertical fall of forty feet, when it again unites and becomes as smooth and tranquil as above. Thus flowing onward for five hundred feet, the waters are again divided into six channels by a row of bowlders of irregular shape, standing in a semi-circle about equidistant from each other.

Our first object is to reach the base of the main fall, which does not appear to be more than a stone's-throw distant, but so winding and tortuous is the trail by which we descend that we traverse more than a mile before reaching the desired point. Securing our animals, and placing before them a good bait of hay, we commence the perilous descent; the Major leading the van, myself next, and the Doctor, with shotgun swung loosely over his shoulder, bringing up the rear. Down, down, we descend, following the zigzag trail over the great drifts of detached pieces of black lava rocks, which rattle and ring beneath the tread of our heavy-nailed boots like broken pieces of furnace slag; then passing down the craggy comb of a long narrow ridge, with yawning chasms on either side, our course turns abruptly to the right, around the sharp corner of a high projecting point of rock, and the pathway gradually becomes so narrow that there is barely room for a single person to pass. High above, to the right, towers lofty columns of rock, which threaten to topple over, and bury us beneath their massive weight; while to the left there opens a deep abyss, down which we dare not look from our dizzy hight. Emerging from this dangerous pathway, we come out on to a comparatively level and open piece of ground, whereon are growing a few tall and graceful cedars, whence we obtain another splendid view of the river bed, and the rushing, pouring torrents of water. Here, as the Doctor expresses it, we take a breathing spell. I have my fishing tackle with me in anticipation of good fishing at the base of the falls, but, unfortunately, have no bait. This want I make known to the Doctor, and soon his quick eye detects a carrion crow flying overhead, and within gun-shot range. (We had been told the fish would bite at any kind of fresh meat.) In an instant his gun is in position, and the report therefrom echoes and reverberates from wall to wall of the deep cañon, and, mingling with the roar of the

Sweeping past these rocks, which seemingly attempt to stay its further progress, the water takes another bound, and leaps down a fall of sixty-eight feet, where, at the base, all the chan-waterfall, produces a strange, weird sound. nels commingle together; but it is not so quiet

Simultaneously with the report of the gun, the

have undertaken it. At the foot of the tree which, with its limbs running out at right angles with the trunk, serves the good purpose of a ladder, we find the gorge wider and less steep than above, and filled to a considerable depth with loose sand, which affords a firm | footing, and in a few minutes we stand on the beach at the very base of the falls, with the cool spray dashing against our heated brows. In mute silence, and filled with awe, we stand and gaze upon the mighty volume of flashing,

and the high south wall casts its dark shadows far out over the river; immense waves from the the whirlpool, caused by the pouring stream, beat and break around our feet, while the flying spray and mist completely drench our bodies.

flight of the crow ceases, for the Doctor's aim is unerring, but, unfortunately, the bird falls into the river, just below the falls, and by the eddying current is carried to the opposite side. Scarcely has the echoing sound of the first shot died away when the second charge is fired; this time the crow falls into the stream, a few feet above the falls. We watch the dark object as it slowly floats down with the current. For a moment it seems to pause upon the very brink of the precipice, and then, with a sudden dart, it swiftly descends along the face of the flash-foaming, falling waters. It is near meridian, ing sheet of water, its dark color in strong contrast with the bright silvery whiteness of the pouring stream. Again we watch, and see the same dark object come to the surface of the boiling, seething whirlpool, hundreds of feet below, and float off down the river. A short distance along this strip of bench-land, and our trail leads down into a narrow, V-shaped gorge, with smooth, hard bottom, with nothing to afford a foothold, and becomes each step more steep and more difficult to tread. My fishingrod of stout willow serves as an alpenstock with which I steady myself, and the Doctor, having discreetly left his shotgun in a friendly cluster of bushes, is now unincumbered, and with hands clutched against the smooth wall of the hop-high wall above, we find a comfortable resting per-shaped crevice, is descending with a side motion; while the Major, who ever prides himself upon his military step and erect, martial bearing, with much humiliation is compelled to assume the same ungraceful attitude. A misstep here, and we would be precipitated headlong down the smooth wall for hundreds of feet, and, perhaps, landed in the foaming river below.

Suddenly the Major, who still leads the van, calls out, in tones of disappointment, that we can proceed no further, for our trail takes a sheer break off, and drops down vertically for twenty-five feet or more, and we cannot pass it without the use of ropes, and we have none. Still he is loth to acknowledge defeat, and, bending further over the precipice, again calls out, this time with exultation, “Yes, we can, for a tree has been dragged down, and placed over the break, and if we can only reach that we can easily get to smoother ground below;" and, with nerve and daring, he throws himself flat upon his stomach, and with arms and legs spread wide, imitates the motion of the crawfish down the steep, smooth rock, until his feet catch against the first limb of the tree. With words of encouragement he calls to the Doctor and myself to follow in the same manner. Our timidity almost forbids the hazardous venture, and but for his coaxing words and directions as to where to place our feet we would not

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No sound is audible above the thunder and roar and din of the waterfall, and the Doctor, realizing from his professional experience that it is no place for rheumatic persons to linger, gently pulls my arm, and we move off in silence farther down the stream, and out of reach of the flying spray. Soon the Major follows, and here, on a flat, shelving rock, which receives the warm rays of the sun through a rift in the

place, from which a fine opportunity is afforded to study the physical details of the falls and their surroundings. The break in the bed of the river over which the water falls, is a complete semi-circle in form, with the arc curving up the stream, and, following the curve of the circle, is at least half a mile wide. From side to side the flow of water is of uniform depth and force, and as it pours in wavy, shimmering fleeces down the smooth, hard rock, it presents the appearance of great folds of snow-white, gauzy lace, gently swinging and vibrating in the soft autumnal breeze. From all along the base rise immense clouds of trembling, glittering spray, which gleam and flash through the rays of the sun, forming bright rainbow colors, that constantly shift and change. The basin at the foot of the falls stretches out in irregular shape, much wider than the bed of the stream above or below, and upon its surface great foaming waves roll and chase each other, and dash against the shore. So rough are the waters of this basin, which is a mile wide and two miles in length, that the Major, who has had some nautical as well as military experience, gave it as his opinion that no open boat could successfully ride its waves. The south wall of the cañon, under which we stood, is cut and grooved with deep indentations, at almost equal distances apart. These indentations commence at the apex of the wall, with light shallow furrows,

ence for the Great Jehovah, must be devoid of all the nobler impulses of humanity.

While the Doctor and Major are hunting along the beach for rare pebbles or curiously

that are hardly perceptible, and gradually deep- | beat with a stronger emotion of love and reveren and widen, until near the base they become deep, broad gorges. Into these gorges the sand and débris have drifted from above, forming a good, strong soil, which, being protected from the hot, scorching sun, and moistened by the fly-shaped pieces of driftwood, as souvenirs, I find ing spray, produces a thrifty growth of cedars, around which twine, in graceful form, great, lusty vines of the wild grape, now hanging full of long, slender bunches of unripe fruit. Interwoven with these cedars and vines is a dense growth of the hazel, alder, and maple, whose variegated foliage, with the gothic spires of rock towering high above for a background, forms a picture of exquisite beauty, in pleasing contrast with the awful grandeur of the river scene. The north wall, on the opposite side, frowns black and forbidding-no groove or indentation there. Its dark, columnar structure rises up thousands of feet, and against its base the waves of the basin lash with fury, and neither man nor beast dare attempt to approach the river from that side.

Between the base of the south wall and the edge of the water there intervenes a smooth, sandy, pebbly beach, from one hundred to two hundred feet wide. Upon this beach has been thrown, by the action of the waves, immense piles of driftwood, swept down the river from far above during high freshets. These piles of driftwood within themselves form a pleasing and instructive study. Here is the dwarfed and stunted cedar, which has come from a short distance above. By its side, and lying partly across it, is the slender trunk of the cottonwood, from some of the smaller tributaries, the gnawed ends of which clearly indicate the work of the industrious beaver. A few feet away is the gnarled and stubby nut-pine, from the foothills, with its spreading and crooked branches torn from the trunk. Reaching far along the beach is the gigantic form of the stately fir, that has been swept from some cañon high up in the Wind River range; and piled all around, in confused masses, are heaps of logs and chunks and limbs of every species of tree and shrub and bush that grows along the course of the stream, broken and abraded into all kinds of shape.

Nowhere in all this romantic spot has man marred the beauties of nature by his despoiling touch; no sickly sentimentalist has attempted to carve the name of any poet, author, hero, or divine upon any of these grand old walls, pillars, or columns; to none of these waterfalls, either great or small, has there been given a name, except the one general term, Shoshone -and he who stands here amid this awful grandeur, within this sublime temple of God, and does not feel his soul thrill, and his heart

a few grubs and millers under under a decayed log, with which I bait my hook, and in a short time pull from the stream a dozen or more silvery speckled trout. In the capacious pockets of the Doctor's hunting-jacket is found a small particle of salt and a few broken crackers, and it is but the work of a moment to dress the fish, and broil them upon a bed of burning coals; and upon our shelving rock, in the depths of the deep cañon, and within sight and sound of the mighty, roaring, thundering waterfall, we partake of our simple lunch with as much zest and relish as though we were feasting upon the rarest viands, served in the most approved style of the culinary art.

Fain would we linger amid these enchanting scenes, but the rays of the sun, now slanting from the west, warn us that time is passing, and we have much to see and many miles to travel before we find rest for the night. Ascending the narrow gorge, and climbing up the improvised ladder, which we find much less difficult to pass than in descending, we come again upon the strip of bench-land. Following this to the left for a few hundred feet, we turn down a smoothly rounded ridge of bare rock, which, in a short distance, abruptly terminates in a sharp, projecting promontory immediately over the falls. The scene from this point is not so terribly grand nor so awe inspiring as from below, but, mellowed as it is by touches of soft poetical beauty, it is more lovely to gaze upon. The sun now strikes directly against the broad sheet of water, forming a bright-hued rainbow, which hovers over the vortex below, and, in a graceful curve, spans the river from side to side. The lesser falls above, divided, as they are, into numerous channels, appear, in comparison to the great fall below, like miniature cascades, bounding and leaping over the rocks as though in mere playful wantonness.

After listening to some practical remarks of the Major, as to how this mighty power might be utilized and made subservient to the will of man, we again commence the ascent of the rugged side of the cañon, which we found not as dangerous as the descent, but far more toilsome. The Major, who is muscular and strong, relieves the doctor of his shotgun, and slowly we trudged on up the difficult trail. Will we never reach the top! A few more rests, a few more breathing spells, and we stand upon the edge of the broad plain, and within a few rods

of our wagon and team. "Old John," who is ever on the lookout, catches sight of us as we approach, and utters a loud bray, as if to chide us, in his mule fashion, for leaving him to stand so long in the hot sun, and wage with his stubtail an unequal warfare with the voracious flies. A drive of three miles up the river, along a smooth, sandy road, brings us to a point opposite the Little (or Twin) Falls. The river is here approached through what is called the Devil's Corral-and surely the whole English nomenclature could not afford a more appropriate name. Back, a little over a mile from the edge of the cañon, an immense chasm, or pit, has been cleft, or carved, in the solid rock, oblong in shape, two thousand feet deep and three thousand feet wide. The bed of this chasm is several hundred feet lower than the present bed of the river, which cuts across the lower end; and at one time it undoubtedly received the water of the stream, forming a deep lake, but now an immense bar, or levee, caused by the sands drifting from the plain above, has formed across the lower end, effectually barring the further flow of water; and what was inclosed at the time the bar was formed has long since been exhausted by evaporation.

The walls on each side, and at the outer end, are of the same black basaltic formation that characterizes the whole country hereabouts, and laid in layers, one above the other, their smooth, even surfaces standing perfectly vertical, and checkered and tesselated with almost regular seams, present the appearance of having been cut, and chiseled, and laid by human hands. Along the west side there runs a narrow ledge, which projects just far enough from the smooth wall to form a convenient roadway, and which has a very steep, but gradual, inclination from the crest of the wall at the outer end, until it strikes half way up the side of the sand-bar. This roadway is steep and narrow, but loose animals can with caution pass along it, and it is the only point for miles that cattle can approach the river for water. By an unlucky accident, the water in our canteen has leaked out, and our lunch of dry bread and fish produces an unusual thirst. Our animals are equally thirsty, for they have had no water since early morning; so, in a short time we have them unharnessed, and are hurrying down the narrow grade to the river. "Old John," who has fallen some distance behind, as is his custom on such occasions, calls to his mate in a deep, loud bray, but such an unearthly sound as it produces startles, and almost paralyzes, both men and beasts. The echo of that mulish bray rolls from side to side of the rock-walled cavern, echo answering echo with the most dismal

Vol. II.-23.

| and frightful sound. Is this a veritable pandemonium, in which are reveling all the fiends of the lower regions? Or are these dark, frowning walls pierced by a thousand unseen caves, in which are hidden wild beasts of prey, howling defiance at each other? The mules cower and tremble, and it is with difficulty that we lead them along the steep grade. All efforts at conversation are futile. The voice breaks into a guttural dissonance, no one sound being distinguishable from another, and all being finally lost in a hollow echo. Passing over the embankment of sand, and around a few jutting points of rock, we reach the river, and men and mules drink long draughts of the pure water.

Down the stream a few hundred yards we hear the roar of the cataract, and leaving the mules to graze upon the bunch-grass that grows along the river bank, we clamber down over immense rocks and bowlders that have slipped down from above, and in a short time we stand up on a rounded point immediately overlooking the falls. The river here is narrowed and compressed by the walls on either side to one-sixth its usual width; and as if to further compress the water, and force it through a channel as narrow as possible, an island of bare rock rises up in the middle of the stream at the narrowest point to a hight of thirty feet or more. The stream thus divided and narrowed, and the depth correspondingly increased, with a wild roar, plunges down a distance of eighty-two feet. The channel on the south side falls vertically, and the force of the current is so strong, that as the water rushes through the narrow chasm, it strikes the bed of the river several feet below the face of the precipice, thus forming a vast cavern behind the pouring sheet of water.

The north channel does not fall vertically, but rushes down the narrow gorge at an angle of near forty-five degrees in its furious course, throwing great clouds of spray high into the air. Jets of spray from each of these falls gleam and glisten in the bright beams of the evening sun, and sparkle like diamonds. A hundred feet or more below where the channels unite, and where the mist is in finer jets and less dense, the rainbow is formed in a beautiful curve, with each end resting against the black, smooth wall.

The Major expresses a strong desire to enter the cavern beneath the south fall, and behold the beauties there revealed, and commune with the river nymphs who make it their dwellingplace, and, with his usual daring and impetuosity, is soon sliding cautiously down the steep wall. The Doctor and myself watch his movements with bated breath, expecting to see him

every moment lose his footing, and go dashing into the river. He reaches the edge of the stream in safety, and passes from our view behind the flashing sheet of water. In a few moments he emerges from the dark watery cavern, and beckons us to follow, but we know the consequences of entering there, and do not feel inclined to expose ourselves, in wet clothes, to the chilly air of night, which is fast approaching. The Major, when he again joins us, deprecates our want of nerve, and, in glowing terms, depicts the varied splendors of the scene. The sun is near setting, and we hasten back

to our mules, and lead them up the steep roadway. "Old John" is nervous, and continually switches his stump tail, for there lingers in his mule mind a faint memory of the terrible yells and sounds that smote upon his ear in descending this same spot, and it is with difficulty the Major holds him in check. Just as the sun is sinking behind the low horizon that stretches far away down the river we reach our wagon, and a two-hours' drive brings us to Rock Creek Station, where we find good cheer for ourselves and comfortable quarters for our animals. ROBERT BRIGGS.

IN TWILIGHT WOODS.

Bird-songs grow faint with the sun;
As the day fails in the west,
Each little fluttering one

Creeps into his quiet nest.

Next, the pale dusk is a-quiver—

Rose-songs forever are dear;
After this trembles a river-

Stream-songs are gentle and clear;
Last, there is somewhat to shiver
Down the swift pulse as a spear.
Faintly and far in the hills
There throbs a music of rills;
Fragrant and cool from the bay
The winds of the sea find way.
How dear is thy kindly mood,
Thou heart of the twilight wood,
When, shyly, in the twinkling skies,
The first star-blossom softly lies!

No more we hear faltering rills,
No more the low winds-we lie
As the pond-lilies afloat,
Motionless, under the sky,
On a blue lake of the hills.
And we rest with our faces
Deep-hid in the ferns and grass;
There, watching, at last we note
The dim world widen and shine,
Till, through the desolate places,
Dreams fair and immortal pass,
And the twilight grows divine:
The friends that we lost of yore,
The loved from the farther shore,

Smile down in a trustful way;

They are not so very far,

More near than each gentle star,

And sweet are the words they say

For us, whose rivers as yet run

Through night and day, 'neath star and sun.

CHARLES H. SHINN.

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