North American archaeology also claimed his interest and about the time of the consolidation of the Surveys Powell proposed the establishment of a Bureau of Ethnology to carry on investigations in this field as well as the ethnologic. This was done and the Bureau was attached to the Smithsonian Institution with Powell as director, an office that he held without salary till his resignation as head of the Geological Survey in 1894. After this he received a salary as chief of the Bureau of Ethnology in which office he remained till his death. The widely known extensive series of valuable volumes published by the Bureau, constituting a mine of information, attest the efficacy of his supervision. He contributed much to these and also wrote numerous papers on anthropological subjects and made many addresses. His labours as a pioneer in and organiser of the science of ethnology have been recognised by learned institutions and societies throughout the world. The results of his direction of the Geological Survey are seen in the maps, reports, bulletins, and monographs, constituting an imperishable monument to his ability as an organiser and administrator.

He delivered many lectures and once, when he appeared on the platform at the University of Michigan, an incident occurred which illustrates his tact and his faculty for seizing means at hand to accomplish his end. At this time it was the habit of the students at public lectures to guy the speaker, even Charles Sumner having been a victim. Powell had been warned of this practice. As he advanced in evening dress a voice called out "How are your coat tails?"—a greeting which was repeated from all parts of the house. During a momentary lull he exclaimed with the peculiar squinting of the eyes and the half-laugh his friends so well remember: "Your greeting reminds me of Dave Larkins's reply when criticised for wearing a wamus* in July. Dave said, with his slow drawl, 'If you don't like my wamus I can take it off.'" The suggestion took with the students and when the laughter had ceased, cries of "You'll do—go on," came from everywhere. The incident roused Powell, and he has often said he never talked better nor had a more attentive audience. He was rewarded with enthusiastic applause. With his closing sentence he said: "I have given you the finest account of the exploration of the Colorado River my command of language permits. I have been as dramatic and as eloquent as I thought this occasion demanded. If any one wishes a plain statement regarding the exploration, I will be happy to give it to him at my hotel." There was a hush for a moment as the students grasped the implication and cries of "Sold!" burst from them. A large number did call the next morning to discover whether he had actually stated facts, which of course he had.

* A wamus in old times was a very heavy woollen garment.

He possessed absolute independence of thought and never accepted what was-told him unless he could demonstrate its accuracy. Often in his explorations he was told he could not travel in certain places, but he went on just the same to find out for himself. He had a rare faculty of inducing enthusiasm in others, and by reposing complete confidence in the individual, impelled him to do his very best. Thus he became the mainspring for much that was never credited to him, and which was really his in the germ or original idea. Gilbert truly says, "it is not easy to separate the product of his personal work from that which he accomplished through the organisation of the work of others. He was extremely fertile in ideas, so fertile that it was quite impossible that he should personally develop them all, and realising this, he gave freely to his collaborators. The work which he inspired and to which he contributed the most important creative elements, I believe to be at least as important as that for which his name stands directly responsible."*

* Science, Oct. 10,1902. See also "John Wesley Powell," edited by G. K. Gilbert, reprinted from The Open Court, 1903.

In the field of geology he was particularly facile in the invention of apt descriptive terms, and indeed he was never at a loss for words to express new meanings, coining them readily where none had existed that were appropriate. Some of his ideas have been developed by younger men, till they have become distinct divisions of the larger science to which they belong. His greatest work in the Geological Survey, that which was more the result of his personal effort, may be summed up under three heads: First, the development of a plan for making a complete topographic map of the United States; second, the organisation of a Bureau for the collection of facts and figures relating to the mineral resources of the country; and third, his labours to preserve for the people the waters and irrigable lands of the Arid Region. It is hard to say which of these is greater or which was nearer his heart. Together they constitute a far-reaching influence in the development of the country such as no one man heretofore has contributed. His Studies and recommendations with regard to the arid lands of the West are of the greatest importance to that district and to the country at large and the nearer they can be carried out the better will it be for posterity. He perceived at once that the reservation of sites for storage reservoirs was of the first importance and this was one of the earliest steps he endeavoured to bring about.

Of late years when he might have relaxed his labours, he turned his attention to the field of psychology and philosophy, working till his malady, sclerosis of the arteries, produced his last illness. The result was two treatises in this line. Truth and Error, published in 1899, and "treating of matter, motion, and consciousness as related to the external universe or the field of fact," as Gilbert describes it, and Good and Evil, running as a series of essays in the American Anthropologist, treating of the same factors as related to humanity or to welfare. A third volume was planned to deal with the emotions, and he had also woven these ideas into a series of poems, of which only one has been published. Few understand these later products of Powell. Many condemn them; but Gilbert expresses his usual clear, unbiassed view of things and says (and I can do no better than to quote him, a man of remarkably direct thought, and for many years very close to Powell): "His philosophic writings belong to a field in which thought has ever found language inadequate, and are for the present, so far as may be judged from the reviews of Truth and Error, largely misunderstood. Admitting myself to be of those who fail to understand much of his philosophy, I do not therefore condemn it as worthless, for in other fields of his thought events have proved that he was not visionary, but merely in advance of his time."

One inexplicable action in his career, to my mind, was his complete ignoring in his report of the men and their work, of his second river expedition, particularly of his colleague, Prof. Thompson, whose skill and energy were so largely responsible for the scientific and practical success of the second expedition. The report embodied all the results achieved by this expedition and gave no credit to the men who with unflagging zeal, under stress and difficulties innumerable accumulated the data. This has ever appeared to me unjust, but his reasons for it were doubtless satisfactory to himself. The second expedition is put on record, for the first time in this volume, except for a lecture of mine printed some years ago in the Bulletin of the American Geographical Society.

The life of Powell is an example of the triumph of intelligent, persistent endeavour. Long ago he had formulated many of his plans and as far back as 1877, and even 1871, as I understood them, he carried them out with remarkable precision. Before the authorisation of the Bureau of Ethnology, its scope was developed in his mind and he saw completed the many volumes which have since been published. His power to observe the field ahead, standing on the imperfections of the present, was extraordinary. As a soldier he was a patriot, as an explorer he was a hero. As a far-seeing scientific man, as an organiser of government scientific work, as a loving, friendly, and a delightful comrade whether by the camp-fire or in the study, and as a true sympathiser with the aspirations and ambitions of subordinates or equals, there has seldom been his superior.



APPENDIX

In the Marble and Grand Canyons the fall is as follows.* The vertical dotted lines of diagram on page 57 give these divisions, beginning at the left with 2.

* After Dutton, Tertiary History, p. 240.

DISTANCE FALL FALL IN IN IN MILES FEET FEET PER MILE I. Marble Canyon...........................65.2——-510——-7.82 2. Little Colorado to the Granite..........18.2——-110——-6.04 3. Granite Falls...........................10———-210——21. 4. To Powell's Plateau in the Granite......26.4——-320——12.13 5. Around western base of Powell's Plateau.10.8——-100——-9.26 6. Head of Kanab Division..................4.0———-50——10.42 7. Main Kanab and Uinkaret Division........65.2——-310——-4.75 8. Shewits Division to Granite.............12————70——-5.83 9. Granite to Diamond Creek................ 8———-210——11.66 10. Granite below Diamond Creek............ 7.2———25——-3.47 ll. Granite below Diamond Creek............10.8——-100——-9.26 12. Shewits Granite to End of Canyon.......35———-175——-5.

From Little Colorado to Kaibab Division.....9.6———60——-6.25 Kaibab Division............................58———-700——12.07 Kanab Division.............................47.6——-240——-5.01 Uinkaret Division..........................19.2——-100——-5.21 Shewits Division...........................84———-540——-6.43

The exact number of rapids cannot be given, as in some portions of Lodore, Cataract, Marble, and the Grand Canyon it is difficult to divide the almost continuous fall into parts. The number also varies with the stage of water, a high stage covering up some of the smaller rapids. I count 62 rapids in Cataract Canyon. but Stanton makes it 75. The discrepancy arises in the way of dividing some of the descent in the worst portions. Lodore for a large part of its length is so nearly one continuous rapid that it is difficult to count the special drops. In Marble Canyon I counted 63, and in the distance from the Little Colorado to the mouth of the Kanab, 131. We counted about 600 from Green River Valley to the Kanab Canyon, and Stanton's party counted 520 large rapids from Fremont River to the Grand Wash, or about 600 from the Junction. From Green River Valley to the foot of Black Canyon something over 1000 would be a near estimate of the total number of rapids. The velocity is always tremendous. The width of the river varies according to the locality. Green River is from 250 to 400 feet in the canyons, and 800 to 1000 in the valleys. The Colorado is from 75 to 400 or 500 in the canyons and from 1200 to 1500 in the valleys. In the Granite Gorges there are points where the distance between the buttresses at the water is no more than 50 feet. In Marble Canyon there are a dozen places where the width is not over 60 to 75 feet. The depth varies from several feet to an unknown quantity in the narrow parts. There is also a variation of depth with the year and the season. Years when the high mountains receive an abnormal snow-fall the river rises to abnormal heights and at such times the depth of water in the Grand Canyon is enormous and the velocity appalling. Ordinarily the current varies from three miles per hour to twenty or mere.

Our method of navigating was to go with caution. A landing was made above every rapid where possible, and the rapid inspected. Sticks were thrown in when practicable and watched to find the set of the main current which was the one we tried to follow. If it dashed against a cliff, our plans were laid accordingly.

We went into a rapid with as little headway as possible, and often executed "back-water" to retard the boat. The steering oar was used to throw the boat one way or another in rapids, but it was mainly on the side oars that we relied for steering.

In our boat Powell looked ahead, and gave orders "left" or "right," referring not to the direction in which he wished to go but to the oar which we were to pull with reference to our left or right not his. "Steady" meant to let the boat take her course.

N. Galloway, who has since made several descents, goes through rapids stern foremost. He can thus see how to guide with the oars.

THE END