A horseman drew rein one morning, upon the brink of the Grand Canyon of the Colorado, a mighty abyss, too vast for the eye to take in its grand immensity; a mighty mountain rent asunder and forming a chasm which is a valley of grandeur and beauty, through which flows the Colorado Grande. Ranges of mountains tower to cloudland on all sides with cliffs of scarlet, blue, violet, yes, all hues of the rainbow; crystal streams flowing merrily along; verdant meadows, vales and hills, with massive forests everywhere--such was the sight that met the admiring gaze of the horseman as he sat there in his saddle, his horse looking down into the canyon. It was a spot avoided by Indians as the abiding-pla…
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