El Tovar is more than a hotel; it is a village devoted to the entertainment of travelers. Far from the accustomed home of luxury, money has here summoned the beneficent genii who minister to our bodily comfort. Merely that you may have pure water to drink, it is brought from a mountain spring ninety miles away! And that is only one of the many provisions for unquestioned excellence of shelter and food. The hotel is conducted on the American plan. The rates are four dollars a day and upwards.

The Rendezvous. Leaving the train at the station, a short distance from the hotel, you proceed up a winding road to the main entrance, a hasty glimpse through low cedars revealing the far canyon wall.

Above the wide steps, and in front of the Norway gable, hospitably swings the Tovar coat-of-arms. On the broad porch are numerous rocking-chairs and small tables, with a push-button handy for ordering light refreshments. The porch corners are of solid rough masonry, built in old mission style, the arches wide and low. The first impression is one of good cheer. Once inside, the traveler will willingly linger a few moments in the Rendezvous or Nimrod's Cabin. This is a large room, forty-one by thirty-seven feet, notable for uneven walls of dark stained fogs and bulky rafters. In a huge corner fireplace, pine knots burn cheerily when the air is chilly. Electric lights are placed in log squares, swinging from the low roof at the end of long chains. Gray Navaho rugs cover the brown floor. There are cosy tete-a-tetes and easy chairs. On an upper shelf repose heads of the deer, elk, moose, mountain sheep, and buffalo, mingling with curiously shaped and gaudily tinted Indian jars from the southwest pueblos. An old-fashioned clock ticks off the hours. Several small escritoires remind you of letters to be written to the home people. Recessed window-seats, partly hidden by red curtains, complete the picture.