OF THE /J^Af^ GARFIELD PEAK. THE Crest of the Continent A RECORD OF A SUMMER'S RAMBLE IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS AND BEYOND. By ERNEST INGERSOLL3 l"^^ Z^ "We climbed the rock-built breasts of earth! We saw the snowy mountains rolled Like mighty billows ; saw the birth Of sudden dawn ; beheld the gold Of awful sunsets ; saw the face Of God, and named it boundless space.'* THIRTY. SIXTH EDITION. CHICAGO: R. R. DONNELLEY & SONS, PUBLISHERS. 1888. A r P'72 1 COPYRIGHT, BY S. K. HOOPER,, 1885. R. R. Donnelley & Sons, The Lakeside Press, Chicago. 3 3^5^^ TO THE PEOPLE OF COLORADO, SAGACIOUS IN PERCEIVING, DILIGENT IN DEVELOPING, AND WISE IN ENJOYING THE RESOURCES AND ATTRACTIONS OF THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS, THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED WITH THE HOMAGE OF THE AUTHOR. Digitized by the Internet Arcinive in 2007 with funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/crestofcontinentOOingerich PREFACE. Probably nothing in this artificial world is more deceptive than absolute candor. Hence, though the ensuing text may lack nothing in straightfor- wardness of assertion, and seem impossible to misunderstand, it may be worth while to say distinctly, here at the start, that it is all true. We actually did make such an excursion, in such cars, and with such equip- ments, as I have described ; and we would like to do it again. It was wild and rough in many respects. Re-arranging the trip, lux- uries might be added, and certain inconveniences avoided ; but I doubt whether, in so doing, we should greatly increase the pleasure or the profit. "No man should desire a soft life," wrote King iElfred the Great. Roughing it, within reasonable grounds, is the marrow of this sort of recre- ation. What a pungent and wholesome savor to the healthy taste there is in the very phrase ! The zest with which one goes about an expedition of any kind in the Rocky Mountains is phenomenal in itself ; I despair of making it credited or comprehended by inexperienced lowlanders. We are told that the joys of Paradise will not only actually be greater than earthly pleasures, but that they will be further magnified by our increased spiritual sensitiveness to the "good times" of heaven. Well, in the same way, the senses are so quickened by the clear, vivifying climate of the western uplands in summer, that an experience is tenfold more pleasurable there than it could become in the Mississippi valley. I elsewhere have had something to say about this exhilaration of body and soul in the high Rockies, which you will perhaps pardon me for repeating briefly, for it was written honestly, long ago, and outside of the present connection. ' ' At sunrise breakfast is over, the mules and everybody else have been good-natured and you feel the glory of mere existence as you vault into the saddle and break into a gallop. Not that this or that particular day is so different from other pleasant mornings, but all that we call the weather is constituted in the most perfect proportions. The air is ' nimble and sweet,' and you ride gayly across meadows, through sunny woods of pine and aspen, and between granite knolls that are piled up in the most noble and romantic proportions. . . " Sometimes it seems, when camp is reached, that one hardly has strength to make another move ; but after dinner one finds himself able and willing to do a great deal. . . "One's sleep in the crisp air, after the fatigues of the day, is sound and 5 6 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT. serene. . . You awake at daylight a little chilly, re-adjust your blankets, and want again to sleep. The sun may pour forth from the ' golden win- dow of the east ' and flood the world with limpid light ; the stars may pale and the jet of the midnight sky be diluted to that pale and perfect morning- blue into which you gaze to unmeasured depths ; the air may become a per- vading Champagne, dry and delicate, every draught of which tingles the lungs and spurs the blood along the veins with joyous speed ; the landscape may woo the eyes with airy undulations of prairie or snow-pointed pinnacles lifted sharply against the azure — yet sleep chains you. That very quality of the atmosphere which contributes to all this beauty and makes it so delicious to be awake, makes it equally blessed to slumber. Lying there in the open air, breathing the pure elixir of the untainted mountains, you come to think even the confinement of a flapping tent oppressive, and the ventilation of a sheltering spruce-bough bad." That was written out of a sincere enthusiasm, which made as naught a whole season's hardship and work, before there was hardly a wagon-road, much less a railway, beyond the front range. This exordium, my friendly reader, is all to show to you: That we went to the Rockies and beyond them, as we say we did ; that we knew what we were after, and found the apples of these Hesperides not dust and ashes but veritable golden fruit ; and, finally, that you may be persuaded to test for yourself this natural and lasting enjoyment. The grand and alluring mountains are still there, — everlasting hills, unchangeable refuges from weariness, anxiety and strife ! The railway grows wider and permits a longer and even more varied journey than was ours. Cars can be fitted up as we fitted ours, or in a way as much better as you like. Year by year the facilities for wayside comforts and short branch- excursions are multiplied, with the increase of population and culture. If you are unable, or do not choose, to undertake all this preparation, I still urge upon you the pleasure and utility of going to the Rocky Mountains, travelling into their mighty heart in comfortable and luxurious public con- veyances. Nowhere wmII a holiday count for more in rest, and in food for subsequent thought and recollection. CONTENTS. I — At the Base of the Rockies. First Impressions of the Mountains. A Problem, and its Solution. Denver— Descriptive and Historical. The Resources which Assure its Future, Some General Infor- mation concerning the Mining, Stock Raising and Agricultural Interests of Colo- rado. -- -_.-.i3 II — Along the Foothills. The Expedition Moves. Its Personnel. The Romantic Attractions of the Divide. Light on Monument Park. Colorado Springs, a City of Homes, of Morality and Culture. Its Pleasant Environs: Glen Eyrie, Blair Athol, Austin's Glen, the Cheyenne Canons. --- — --•-26 III — A Mountain Spa. Manitou, and the Mineral Springs. The Ascent of Pike's Peak ; bronchos and blue noses. Ute Pass, and Rainbow Falls. The Garden of the Gods. Manitou Park. Williams* Canon, and the Cave of the Winds. An Indian Legend. - - - 36 IV — Pueblo and its Furnaces. The Largest Smelter in the World. The Colorado Coal and Iron Company. Pueblo's Claims as a Trade Center, and its Tributary Railway System. A Chapter of Facts and Figures in support of the New Pittsburgh. - - - - 51 V — Over the Sangre de Cristo. Up and down Veta Mountain, with some Extracts from a letter. Veta Pass, and the Muleshoe Curve. Spanish Peaks. Beautiful Scenery, and Famous Railroading, A general outline of the Rocky Mountain Ranges. - - - - 60 VI — San Luis Park. A Fertile and Well -watered Valley. The Method of Irrigation. Sierra Blanca. A Digression to describe the Home on Wheels. Alamosa, Antonito and Conejos. Cattle, Sheep and Agriculture in the largest Mountain Park. - - 71 VII — The Invasion of New Mexico. barranca, among the Sunflowers. An Excursion to Ojo Caliente, and Description of the Hot Springs. Pre-historic Relics — a Rich Field for the Archaeologist. Sefior vs. Blirro. An Ancient Church, with its Sacred Images. - » - 8i 7 8 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT. VIII — El Mexicano y Puebloano. Comanche Canon and Embudo. The Penitentes. The Rio Grande Valley ; Alcalde, Chamita and Espanola. New Mexican Life, Homes and Industries. The Indian Pueblos, and their Strange History. Architecture. Pottery, and Threshing. 92 IX — Santa Fe and the Sacred Valley. Santa Fe, the Oldest City in the United States. Fact and Tradition. San Fernandez de Taos— the Home of Kit Carson. Pueblo de Taos Birthplace of Montezuma, and Typical and Well-Preserved. The Festival of St. Geronimo. Exit Amos. - 106 X — Toltec Gorge. Heading for the San Juan Country. From Mesa to Mountain Top. The Curl of the Whiplash. Above the silvery Los Pinos. Phantom Curve. A Startling Peep from Toltec Tunnel. Eva Cliff. " In Memoriam." - - - - "5 XI — Along the Southern Border. The Pinos-Chama Summit. Trout and Game. The Groves of Chama. Mexican Rural Life at Tierra Amarilla. The Iron Trail. Rio San Juan and its Tributaries. Pagosa Springs. Apache Visitors. The Southern Utes. Durango. - 120 XII — The Queen of the CaNons. Geology of the Sierra San Juan. The Attractions of Trimble Springs. Beauty and Fertility of the Animas Valley. The Canon of the River of Lost Souls. Engineering under difficulties. The Needles, and Garfield Peak. _ _ _ 129 XIII — Silver San Juan. Geological Resume. Scraps of History. Snow-shoes and Avalanches. The Mining Camps of Animas Forks, Mineral Point, Eureka and Howardville. Early Days in Baker's Park. Poughkeepsie, Picayune and Cunningham Gulches. The Hanging. ----- ;-_ 136 XIV — Beyond the Ranges. Ophir, Rico, and the La Plata Mountains. Everything triangular. Mixed Mineralogy, Real bits of Beauty. " When I sell my Mine." An Unbiased Opinion. Placer vs. Fissure Vein Mining, ______ i^g XV — The Antiquities of the Rio San Juan. Rugged Trails. Searching for Antiquities. The Discovery, Habitations of a Lost Race. Prehistoric Architecture, " Temple or Refrigerator," " Ruins, Ancient beyond all Knowing." Guesses and Traditions. Some Appropriate Verses. 156 XVI — On the Upper Rio Grande. Good-bye and Welcome. Del Norte and the Gold Summit. Among the River Ranches^ Wagon Wheel Springs. Healing Power of the Waters. The Gap and its History. A Day's Trout Fishing. - - - - - - 166 XVII — El Moro and CaNon City. A Great Natural Fortress. Down in a Coal Mine. The Coke Ovens. Huerfano Park and its Coal. Canon City Historically. Coal Measures. Resources of the Foot- hills. ____--.- 177 CONTENTS, 9 XVIII — In the Wet Mountain Valley. Grape Creek Canon. The Dome of the Temple. Wet Mountain Valley. The Legend of Rosita. Hardscrabble District. Silver Cliff and its Strange Mine. The Foothills of the Sierra Mojada. Geological Theories. - - - 185 XIX — The Royal Gorge. The Grand Canon of the Arkansas. Its Culminating Chasm the Royal Gorge. Beetling Cliffs and Narrow Waters. Running the Gauntlet. Wonders of Plutonic Force. A Story of the Canon. - - _ _ - _ 193 XX — The Arkansas Valley. Entering Brown's Canon. The Iron Mines of Calumet. Salida. Farming on the Arkansas. Buena Vista. Granate and its Gold Placers, — Twin Lakes. Malta and its Charcoal Burners. A Burned-out Gulch. _ . _ _ . 201 XXI — Camp of the Carbonates. California Gulch. How Boughtown was Built. Some Lively Scenes. Discovery of Carbonates. The Rush of 1878. The Founding of Leadville. A Happy Grave Digger. Practice and Theory of Mining. Reducing the Ores. - - 209 XXII — Across the Tennessee and Fremont's Pass. Hay Meadows on the Upper Arkansas. Climbing Tennessee Pass. Mount of the Holy Cross. Red Cliff. Ore in Battle Mountain. Through Eagle River Caiion. The Artist's Elysium. Two Miles in the Air. On the Blue. ... 222 XXIII — From Poncho Springs to Villa Grove. In Hot Water. A Pretty Village and Fine Outlook. Pluto's Reservoirs. The Madame's Letter. Poncho Pass. The Sangre de Cristo Again. Villa Grove. Silver and Iron. ...--... 225 XXIV — Through Marshall Pass. The Unknown Gunnison. A Wonder of Progress. Climbing the Mountains in a Parlor Car. Four Hours of Scenic Delight. Culmination of Man's Skill. On the Crest of the Continent. The Mysterious Descent. _ . - _ 243 XXV — Gunnison and Crested Butte. Tomichi Valley. Gunnison from Oregon to St. Louis. Captain Gunnison's Discoveries. A Discussion with Chief Ouray. A Beautiful Landscape. Crested Butte. Anthracite in the Rockies. ______ 250 XXVI — A Trip to Lake City. Lake City. A Picture from Nature. A Hard Pillow. The Mining Interests. Alpine Grandeur of the Scenery. The Home of the Bear and the Elk. Game, Game, Game. ______ - 262 XXVII — Impressions of the Black CaNon. The Observation Car. Gunnison River. Trout Fishing Again. The Rock Cleft in Twain. A Beautiful Cataract. A Mighty Needle. The Canon Black yet Sunny. Impressions of the Canon. Majestic Forms and Splendid Colors. - - 266 10 THE GBE8T OF THE CONTINENT. XXVIII — The Uncompahgre Valley. Cline's Ranch. Montrose. The Madame and Chum Respectfully Decline. The Trip to Ouray. The Military Post. Chief Ouray's Widow. The Road on the Bluff. Hot Springs. Brilliant Stars. - - - - - - 273 XXIX — Ouray and Red Mountain. A Pretty Mountain Town. Trials of the Prospectors. A Tradition. From Silverton to Ouray by Wagon. Enchanting Gorges and Alluring Peaks. The Yankee Girl. A Cave of Carbonates. Vermillion Cliffs. Dallas Station. - - 278 XXX — Montrose and Delta. Playing Billiards. Caught in the Act. A Well-Watered District. Coal and Cattle. A Fruit Garden. A Big Irrigating Ditch. The Snowy Elk Mountains. A Substan- tial Track. A Long Bridge. ---.-- 290 • XXXI — The Grand River Valley. An Honest Circular. Grand Junction. Staking Out Ranches. The Recipe for Good Soil. Watering the Valley. Value of Water. Some Big Corn in the Far West. A Land of Plenty. Going West. - - - - - 296 XXXII — The Colorado CaNons. A Memorable Night-Journey. Skirting the Uncompahgre Plateau. Origin of the Sierra La Sal. Crossing the Green River. Wonders of Erosive Work. An Indian Tia- dition. The Marvelous Canons of the Colorado. - - - - 303 XXXIII — Crossing the Wasatch. The Tall Cliffs of Price River and Castle Canon. Castle Gate. The Summit of the Wasatch. " Indians ! " San Pete and Sevier Valleys. " Like Iser Rolling Rapidly." Through the Caiion of the Spanish Fork. Mount Nebo. - • - 312 XXXIV — By Utah Lakes. Rural Scenes Beside Lake Utah. Spanish Fork, Springville, Provo and Nephi. Relics of Indian Wars. Pretty Fruit Sellers. First Sight of Deseret and the Great Salt Lake. Ogden and Its History. ---.-.. 317 XXXV — Salt Lake City. Sunday in Salt Lake City. The Tabernacle and the Temple. Early Days in Utah. Shady Trees and Sparkling Brooks. Social Peculiarities of the City. Mining and Mercantile Prosperity. Religious Sects. Schools and Seminaries. - 324 XXXVI — Salt Lake and the Wasatch. The Ride to Salt Lake. A Salt Water Bath. Keep Your Mouth Shut. The Shore of the Lake. An Exciting Chase. A Trip to Alta. Stone for the Temple. An Exhilar- ating Ride. -------- 335 XXXVII — Au Revoir. At Last. On Jordan's Banks. Chum's Grandfather. Let Every Injun Carry his Own Skillet. The Parting Toast. Good-Night. • • • - 34« ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE Gaefield Peak -..-.. Frontispiece. Denver -----.-. 17 Depot at Palmer Lake --.... 20 Phcebe's Arch --..... 21 Monument Park ....... 24 In Queen's Canon - - - - - - . 28 Cheyenne Falls ....... 31 In North Cheyenne Canon ..... 34 A Glijipse of Manitou and Pike's Peak - - - - 37 The Mineral Springs ...... 40 Pikes Peak Trail - . . . - . - 45. Rainbow Falls ....... 49 Garden of the Gods - - - - - . - 63 Entrance to Cave of the Winds .... 57 Alabaster Hall ------. 62 Veta Pass --.-.... 67 Crest of Veta Mountain ..-.,. 69 Spanish Peaks from Veta Pass - . - . 75 Sangre de Cristo Summits --.... 78 Sierra Blanca --.-... 83 Ojo Caliente .---.... 86 Embudo, Rio Grande Valley ..... 89 New Mexican Life ....... 94 A Patriarch ....... 93 Maid and Matron - - - - - - - 99 Old Church of San Juan ..... 102 Pueblo de Taos ....... 107 Phantom Curve - - - - - - - 112 Phantom Rocks - - - - - - - 118 In Memoriam ....... \\o^ Toltec Gorge ...----. 125 Eva Cliff 130 Garfield Memorial - - - - - - - 131 Near the Pinos-Chama Summit - - - - 136 Chiefs of the Southern TJtes - - - - - 141 Canon of the Rio de Las Animas - - - - 146 On the River of Lost Souls - - - - - 162 Animas CAf^ON and the Needles - - - - 167 12 TEE CREST OF THE CONTINENT. PAGE silterton alo) sultan mountain - - - - - 162 Cliff Dwellings ------- 168 "Wagon Wheel Gap ------- 173 Up the Rio Grande 178 Grape Creek Canon - - - - - - - 181 Grand Canon of the Arkansas - - - - 186 The Royal Gorge - - - - . . - 191 Brown's Canon - - - - - . - 194 Twin Lakes -------- 199 The Old Route to Leadville ----- 202 The Shaft House 204 Bottom of the Shaft ----- . 205 Athwart an Incline ------- 206 The Jig Drill ------- 207 Fremont Pass -------- 21I Cascades of the Blue ------ 214 Mount of the Holy Cross - - - - - - 219 Marshall Pass— Eastern Slope - - - - 223 Marshall Pass— Western Slope - - - - - 227 Crested Butte Mountain and Lake - - - - 230 Ruby Falls -------- 232 Approach to the Black Canon - - - - 235 Black Canon of the Gunnison - - - - - 241 Currecanti Needle, Black Canon - . - - 247 A Ute Council Fire - - - - . . - 251 Ouray ---..... 256 Gate of Lodore - - - - - - - 261 Winnies Grotto 264 Echo Rock -.-.--.. 267 Gunnison's Butte .-.---- 271 BuTTES of the Cross - - - - - - 274 Marble Canon ------- 279 Grand CaJ^on of the Colorado - - - " - - 283 Grand Canon, from To-ro-Wasp - - - - 287 Exploring the Walls - 292 Castle Gate ------- 297 In Spanish Fork Canon - - - - - - 300 Tramway in Little Cottonwood Canon . - . 305 Salt Lake City ------- 311 Mormon Temple, Tabernacle and Assembly Hall - 325 Great Salt Lake .831 I AT THE BASE OF THE ROCKIES. Old "Woodcock says that if Providence had not made him a justice of the peace, he'd have been a vagabond himself. No such kind interference prevailed in my case. I was a vagabond from my cradle. I never could be sent to school alone like other children — they always had to see me there safe, and fetch me back again. The rambling bump monopolized my whole head. I am sure my godfather must have been the Wandering Jew or a king's messenger. Here I am again, en route, and sorely puzzled to know whither. — The Loitekings of Arthur O'Leary. HERE are the Rocky Mountains ! ' I strained my eyes in the direction of his finger, but for a minute could see nothing. Presently sight became adjusted to a new focus, and out against a bright sky dawned slowly the undefined shimmering trace of something a little bluer. Still it seemed nothing tangible. It might have passed for a vapor effect of the horizon, had not the driver called it otherwise. Another minute and it took slightly more certain shape. It cannot be described by any Eastern analogy; no other far mountain view that I ever saw is at all like it. If you have seen those sea-side albums which ladies fill with algae during their summer holiday, and in those albums have been startled, on turning over a page suddenly, to see an exquisite marine ghost appear, almost evanescent in its faint azure, but still a literal existence, which had been called up from the deeps, and laid to rest with infinite delicacy and difiiculty, — then you will form some conception of the first view of the Rocky Mountains. It is impossible to imagine them built of earth, rock, any- thing terrestrial ; to fancy them cloven by horrible chasms, or shaggy with giant woods. They are made out of the air and the sunshine which show them. Nature has dipped her pencil in the faintest solu- tion of ultramarine, and drawn it once across the Western sky with a hand tender as Love's. Then when sight becomes still better adjusted, you find the most delicate division taking place in this pale blot of beauty, near its upper edge. It is rimmed with a mere thread of opaline and crystalline light. For a moment it sways before you and is confused. But your eagerness grows steadier, you see plainer and know that you are looking on the everlasting snow, the ice that never melts. As the entire fact in all its meaning possesses you completely, you feel a sensation which is as new to your life as it is impossible of repetition. I confess (I should be ashamed not to) that my first 13 14 TBE CREST OF THE CONTINENT. view of the Rocky Mountains had no way of expressing itself save in tears. To see what they looked, and to know what they were, was like a sudden revelation of the truth that the spiritual is the only real and substantial; that the eternal things of the universe are they which, afar off, seem dim and faint." There are the Rocky Mountains! Ludlow saw them after days of rough riding in a dusty stage-coach. Our plains journey had been a matter of a few hours only, and in the luxurious ease of a Pullman sleeping car; but our hearts, too, were stirred, and we eagerly watched them rise higher and higher, and perfect their ranks, as we threaded the bluffs into Pueblo. Then there they were again, all the way up to Denver; and when we arose in the morning and glanced out of the hotel window, the first objects our glad eyes rested on were the snow- tipped peaks filling the horizon. Thither Madame mafemme and I proposed to ourselves to go for an early autumn ramble, gathering such friends and accomplices as pre- sented themselves. But how? That required some study. There were no end of ways. We were given advice enough to make a substantial appendix to the present volume, though I suspect that it would be as use- less to print it for you as it was to talk it to us. We could walk. We could tramp, with burros to carry our luggage, and with or without other burros to carry ourselves. We could form an alliance, offensive and defensive, with a number of pack mules. We could hire an ambulance sort of wagon, with bedroom and kitchen and all the other attach- ments. We could go by railway to certain points, and there diverge. Or, as one sober youth suggested, we needn't go at all. But it remained for us to solve the problem after all. As generally happens in this life of ours, the fellow who gets on owes it to his own momentum, for the most part. It came upon us quite by inspiration. We jumped to the conclusion ; which, as the Madame truly observed, is not altogether wrong if only you look before you leap. That is a good specimen of feminine logic in general, and the Madame's in particular. But what was the inspiration — the conclusion — the decision? You are all impatience to know it, of course. It was this : Charter a train ! Recovering our senses after this startling generalization, particulars came in order. Spreading out the crisp and squarely-folded map of Colorado, we began to study it with novel interest, and very quickly discovered that if our brilliant inspiration was really to be executed, we must confine ourselves to the narrow-gauge lines. Tracing these with one prong of a hair-pin, it was apparent that they ran almost everywhere in the mountainous parts of the State, and where they did not go now they were projected for speedy completion. Closer inspection, as to the names of the lines, discovered that nearly aU SOLUTION OF A PROBLEM 1^ of this wide-branching system bore the mystical letters D. & R. G., which evidently enough (after you had learned it) stood for — " Why, Denver and Ryo Grand, of course," exclaims the Madame, contemptuous of any one who didn't know that. "Not by a long shot!" I reply triumphantly, "Denver and Reeo Grandy is the name of the railway — Mexican words." " Oh. indeed! " is what I Ti£ar; a very lofty nose, naturally a trifle uppish, is what I see. Deciding that our best plan is to take counsel with the officers of the Denver and Rio Grande railway, we go immediatel}' to interview Mr. Hooper, the General Passenger Agent, among whose many duties is that of receiving, counseling, and arranging itineraries for all sorts of pil- grims. An hour's discussion perfected our arrangements, and set the workmen at the shops busy in preparing the cars for our migatory residence. The realization that our scheme, which up to this point had seemed akin to a wild dream, was now rapidly growing into a promising reality, did not diminish our enthusiasm. Indeed we experienced an exhilaration which was quite phenomenal. Was it the very light wine we partook at luncheon? Perish the suspicion! Possibly it was the popularly asserted effect of the rarefied atmosphere. But kinder to our self-esteem thi,n either of these was the thought that our approaching journey had something to do with our elevation, and we accepted it as an explanation. But we had yet a few days to spare, and we could employ them profitably in looking over this Denver, the marvelous city of the plains. We studied it first from Capitol Hill, as our artist has done, though his picture, so excellently reproduced, can convey but the shadow of the substance. Then we nearly encompassed the town, going south- ward on Broadway until we had passed Cherry Creek, and detouring across Platte River to the westward and northward, on the high plateau which stretches away to the foothills. The city lies at an altitude of 5", 197 feet, near the western border of the plains, and within twelve miles of the mountains, — the Colorado or front range of which may be seen for an extent of over two hundred miles. In the north. Long's Peak rears its majestic proportions against the azure sky. Westward, Mounts Rosalie and Evans rise grandly •'hove the other summits of the snowy range, and Gray's and James' Peaks ^. '''^^^' in estimatiDg the conditions the speedy gains of health That these springs have from remote antiquity, is shown -^}if'. that promote recorded. ^ J^/' ^'^ ^^'^^ resorted to - by the ledges above, wliich are covered with very ancient, almost obliterated, ruins of those cliff - dwelling aborigines whose houses and pueblos are scattered in such profusion over the canons tributary to the Rio Colorado and the lower Rio San Juan. We heard that many skeletons and relics had been found there by casual excavating, and so went up to try our luck. We could trace not only the bounds of several closely grouped pueblos, but in many cases even the estufas and the straight walls of the sepa- rate rooms. A little slioveling at once showed us that these were made outwardly of uncut stone, and inwardly of adobe, which resisted the pick, while the loose earth within was easily removed. We could only "coyote round," as a western man calls desultory digging, but saw how rich a treasure to the archaeologist would be exposed by systematic exca- vations. In searching for the stone metates and las manas, which then as now constituted the corn-crushing apparatus of the common people, the Mexican peasants have disclosed many ancestral bones, and we kicked about parts of human skeletons l3iug bleached, on the surface, at half a dozen places. At last, by chance, we struck a skeleton ourselves. It was that of a young person, for the wisdom teeth had not yet risen above their bone sockets, and the sutures of the skull were open. The bones were disordered, so that we obtained only a few, and the head had been crushed in. The same rude dismemberment and lack of burial is said to characterize all the skeletons discovered, and they are always found within the walls of the houses. The local theorj'^ is, that an earth- &EmR VERSUS BURRO. 87 ([uake overtook the town ; but I believe that the pueblo was attacked and captured by enemies during the wars which we know finally resulted in the village-people being driven out of all this region, and that it was burned over the heads of the citizens, many of whom were killed within their very homes. The presence of charcoal all through the mounds of ruins, with various other circumstances, confirms this reas- onable explanation. We noticed fragments of pottery scattered everywhere. Some whole jars have been exhumed, I was told. Such ancient ware, uninjured, would be of priceless value, but probably it all fell into unappreciative hands, who despised its rudeness in comparison with the smoother mod- ern ware. The samples we secured showed a close similarity to all the broken pottery strewn about the ancient and impressive ruins in the Mancos and other canons of the San Juan valley, and, like them, had preserved their colors in the most wonderfully brilliant way. Flakes of obsidian (volcanic glass, which the settlers usually call topaz, or Mexican topaz) were very common, and I picked up one large core, whence scales had been chipped. They used this excellent material for their arrow-points and spear-heads, and we bought and were given a score or more of very fine specimens of such obsidian points, but found none except some broken ones, during our hurried look. We were told that a javelin-head of this material, over a foot in length and exquisitely worked, had been dug up here by a fortunate prospector for relics, and that he had refused fifty dollars for it. Opposite the hotel and springs was a poor little Mexican hamlet called also Ojo Caliente, where an odd old church invited inspection. But between us and it •• There's one wide river to cross," — and the bridge gone. What then? The Artist, the Photographer, the Musician, "all with one accord began to make excuse." It was left for the only remaining male member of the party to make the effort, nor did he propose to wade; but how? The whole circle shrugged their con- tented shoulders and answered, " Quien sabef" Down in front of the hotel stood a cross-eyed Mexican with a vicious-looking black burro. Yes, he would let the Senor Americano take him, but he could not go with the Sefior, because of the rheumatism in his knees, for which he had come over to the waters. So the " Senor" marched down to the post to which the burro was connected by a small rope looped about his neck. The untying of that rope was the scene for an action, Senor vs. donkey. The sarcastic remark of the Musician, "Now you have met your match!" was scarcely heard. It was not the Sefior's vocation to chase that black burro around the yard, but he made it so without hesitation for a few minutes, devoting himself with the utmost diligence to the duty. The extreme levity of the idle spectators 88 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT. showed how utterly unable they were to appreciate a really good piece of burro-chasing when they saw it. Finally the course of the work brought the operators in close proximity to an old locust tree that had not cumbered the ground in vain with its useless trunk, as it had seemed to do for years past. The Senor skillfully put the donkey on the other side, and dexterously wound his end of the line around the sturdy trunk, whereupon the burro, like grandfather's clock, "stopped short." So would the adventure have done, had not the Mexican brought his squint to bear upon the scene, and, after a calculating survey, hobbled rheumatically to the Sefior's assistance. Clasping both arms enthusiastic- ally about the donkey's thick neck, he made signs for the cable to be cast off and the Senor to mount. The saddle consisted of a pair of wishbone-shaped wooden crotches, fastened together on each side by a cross-bar at their lower extremities. The whole was then covered with raw-hide, which by its shrinking made the affair solid, while a cinch of the same material secured it to the little beast's back. A sheepskin was spread underneath, in lieu of a blanket, and wooden stirrups dangled by rude straps at the sides. It was a matter of agility to get into this primitive saddle, and the stay was likely to prove extremely brief, for the moment the Mexican let go his loving embrace, the burro ducked his head and made off in a swift, short circle, which came near disposing of the Senor at a tangent, through centrifugal force. Resisting this philosophical demonstration by lock- ing his legs together around the burro's body, he finally overcame the circular intention by pounding the brute's head on one side, for there was no bridle and bit with which to guide him. The lookers on averred afterwards that it was as good as watching a yacht turn the lightship, to see the rolling skill with which the Senor veered away toward the gate, stumbled across the stony bottom, and dashed into the swift river. He himself remembers the devout thankfulness with which he found himself unwet on the other side, and the terror with which he discovered that his animal had broken into a gallop that threatened to dislocate every rib and rattle down his vertebras, as a child tumbles over a pile of letter-blocks. What could he do ? If it seemed almost impossible to stay on, it was altogether so to get off. There was no halter on which to pull, no mane to grasp, and frenzied whoas only urged that wicked donkey faster. But a happy thought came. He had heard a fruit-seller at Conejos say chee ! cJiee ! to his burros. Whether they stopped or went faster, after it, he couldn't remember, but it was worth trying. Cl\£e ! chee ! chee ! burst from his frantic lips. Instantly the beast came to a standstill, almost impaling his rider on the sharp pommel. It was a success, and his anatomy was safe again. After that, control was easier. A dig of the heel in his ribs made the burro go ; a bang on the side of his head steered him away from the wrong direction, and a blow on the other side taught him he had diverged too far from A LINGUISTIC INTERVIEW. 89 the middle course, while cAee/ cliee! stopped him altogether. So with trepidation and shying in a corn-field, and perilous climbing of steep rocks, at last the hamlet was reached, and the labor of dismounting painfully accomplished. In the door of one of the low mud houses sat a woman, nearly hid- den under the usual black shawl, which she had now drawn down over EMBUDO, RIO GRANDE VALLEY. her swarthy face. The Senor advanced and doffed his hat. You are a Spanish scholar, yet perhaps would not have understood as well as that peasant woman, had you seen or heard the conversation. " Waynass deeass, Seenyora," began the tourist. "Buenas dias," came faintly out of a fold in the mantilla. "Yocayrolaverolaeglahssay," was the Senor's next parrot-like re- mark, evidently understood by his veiled listener, for, pointing to a little man slouching past, she answered : " No tengo Have — alii ! " and disappeared in the cave-like darkness 90 THE CREST OE THE COI^TINENT. of her windowless dwelling. Meanwhile the man had gone on, sub- limely indififerent to the Senor's cries and beckoning, and when followed, was found in the midst of his half-naked family, greedily devouring a melon, which he had opened by dashing it to pieces on the stone door- sill, and was now gouging out with his knuckle. After he had quite finished this pleasing operation, he got the keys of the church, and, accompanied by a little girl, led the way to the sacred edifice, whose outer court, surrounded by a mud wall a dozen feet high, was secured with a padlock. The church itself of course was built of adobe, the facade being supported on the right of the door by a great sloping buttress, which was not only a brace, but had served in place of a ladder to those who built the roof and parapets. At each corner, in front, a little protuber- ance hinted that the architect had side-towers in his mind, while the center was carried up into a low gable, surmounted by a square bit of clay work and timber, bearing a wooden cross and sustaining a home- made bell, whose greenish and rough-cast exterior gave it an appearance of the most corroded antiquity. Recent rains had evidently damaged the walls very much, for great hollows had been washed in them. Unlocking the axe-hewn and wooden-pinned doors, always innocent of paint, the Senor and the Mexican uncovered their heads, and the little girl at once knelt down, crossing her hands on her breast. Unlike the old sister who exhibits the ancient chapel of Our Lady of Guadalupe at Santa Fe, and 'never leaves her knees during the whole visit, however, this pious young maiden sprang up in a minute and trotted round, as full of curiosity for the white stranger as he was for la yglesia. This poor church was more forlorn than most of its fellows. The clay floor had lately been a pool of water, and its drainage had ploughed deep furrows and left soft holes. The little round box of a pulpit, painted in streaks of red and blue, had replaced its lost stairway with a ladder, and its sounding-board was a spoon-shaped piece of plank about the size of a chair-seat, inside which was traced a white dove on a blue ground, its wings outspread in full conventionality. Nothing so good as a draw-shave had ever worked out the supports of the altar-rail, be- hind which the floor was planked. The altar itself bore in the center an image of the Virgin Mary, about half life size, dressed much like a great doll. On each side of her were tall tallow candles, set in rough holders whittled out of billets of wood into a rounded pillar form; and all about the altar were small sconces stamped out of tin (generally devoid of mirror), and cheap prints, colored and uncolored, of the Savior wearing the crown of thorns. Madonnas, and other sacred subjects. The altar-cloth was calico, trimmed with frills and flounces ot cotton lace and red muslin, more or less ragged and dirty. On either side of the altar, facing each other, hung crosses bearing wooden figures of Christ crucified. These also were about half life size, and were naked, AN ANCIENT CHURCH. 91 except that one had a piece of cotton twisted about the loins, and the other had a short skirt of dirty tarletan, suggesting the ballet. These effigies were painted a dull white, and hung in the most agonizing attitudes, — suffering intensified by the long-drawn lines of the haggard faces, the slant of the eyes, and the dropping of the lower jaw. To produce a more horrible representation still, the carver had given the forms extreme emaciation, the ribs standing apart, the abdomen sunken, the bones and cords of all the limbs dreadfully prominent. Add to this cadaverous appearance a network of red streaks tracing the principal veins, and great splashes and runlets of blood, and you have an image awful be- yond conception. Besides these large models, there was a little one of the same style, which I should have been tempted to have sacrilegious- ly stolen, had not the keeper been watching me closely; and in several niches, small, tinsel-clothed puppets, which the man told me were San Francisco, Patron of the Church, and our Lady of Guadalupe, who heads the list of sanctified virgins in all the Mexican churches. Stand- ing in these little holes in the half-whitew^ashed wall of mud, under their ragged little curtains, the corporal's guard of saints looked very forlorn; and I do not wonder the peasants refuse to go into the building after dark, no matter how fast they may mumble their prayers. More interesting than the images were some silken and fringed ban- ners, decayed almost to shreds, and the spear-points of their staves well- rusted, which once belonged to the Spanish soldiery; for this church is one of the oldest in the new world. Centuries have rolled over its adobe walls, and its roof of closely-set logs and adze-carved brackets, has echoed to the clank of men in armor, as well as to the chant of half-Indian farmers and shepherds. It is rude and ugly and barbaric, representing a phase of Christianity in some respects far worse than the simple religion those Indians over at the Pueblos thought good, a thousand years ago. But the little church is not to be despised, and the awe-struck faith of its miracle-loving parishioners may be more acceptable than the gilded worship of many a rich and learned congre- gation nearer the sea. VIII EL MEXICANO Y EL PUEBLOANO. Then they descended and passed through the luxuriant yellow plains, the sunset blazing on the rows of willows and on the square farm-houses with their gaudy picture over the arched gateway, while always in the background rose the dark masses of the mountains, solemn and distant, beyond the golden glow of the fields. — William Black. OME just in time from Ojo Caliente, we hooked our cars the same evening to the never-tiring express, and trusted ourselves to its guidance without a thought of danger. When daylight had fully come, and from the "purple- blazoned gateway of the morn " the sun was begging ^^^^^^^^^^^^ entrance at our curtained windows, somebody — I think it was the Photographer, a man utterly without nervousness or regard for it in others — startled all our tranquil slumbers by the shout, " Comanche!'' It M^as not Indians though — onlj'- a respectable sort of canon, with great black walls, and rugged hills wedged apart by the stream, and the train hanging invisibly half-way betwixt top and bottom, always going in and out of nooks and gulches, always gnding cfown nearer the water, until finally, between strange farm-fields, the noble Rio Grande came in view, and once more we ran upon a level track. Emerging from Comanche Canon, a bend to the southward is made along the western bank of the lower part of the canon of the Rio Grande. In many por- tions of this narrow valley, only about twenty miles in length, fea- tures of great interest to the eye occur, equaling the walls of Comanche, which was itself ignored until the railway brought it to light. The river here is about sixty yards wide, and pours with a swift current troubled by innumerable fallen rocks. To-day it is swollen and yellow with the drift of late rains, but in clear weather its waters are bright and blue, for it has not j^et soiled its color with the fine silt which will thicken it between Texas and Mexico. On the opposite bank, near the level of the river, runs the wagon road that General Edward Hatch, formerly commander of the depart- ment of New Mexico, cut some years ago to give ready communication between his headquarters at Santa Fe and the posts in the northern part of the Territory and in southern Colorado. This is the track now followed by all teamsters, but the old road from the south to Taos ran over the hills far to the eastward, passing through Picuris. A VENDOR OF PRODUCE. 93 An odd conical hill (shown in our engraving) stands near the mouth of the canon, dividing the current of the river. Noticing its resemblance to a funnel, the Mexicans called it Embudo, and the adjacent station takes the same name. Embudo is chiefly important as the point of de- parture for Taos, thirty miles distant. While breakfast was preparing we were interrupted by the sudden apparition at the side-door of our car of two long ears, then a forehead, bulging by reason of the bushy hair that covered it, and immediately afterward the neck and shoulders of a donkey. But if you say donkey down here few comprehend you. The proper word is hurro (bo6-ro). This animal bore upon his round back a small saw-buck saddle, from each side of which hung a square panier of wicker-work. These paniers were not nailed, but the willow sticks of which they were made were bound into place by thongs of rawhide. On top, between them, was lashed a third square basket, which would hold a half-bushel. Though this seemed very bulky, it really was a light load for the little beast, and he stepped along briskly ahead of the wrinkled old Mexican who owned him. Shining through the wicker receptacles we saw green rinds, and sang out, — "Melones?" "Si, Sefior," came the husky answer, whereupon the burro was seized by the tail and brought very willingly to anchor. Slipping several of the sticks out of their leather-loops, half a dozen long yellow speci- mens, something between a melon and a cantaloupe, were held up for our inspection. We hammered them with our knuckles, testing their soundness, and finding some to suit, enquired the cost, — " Cuanto pide vm. por estos melones? " " Dos realles! " (two shillings) was the reply; so we bought three at an outlay of seventy-five cents. They proved muskmelonish and somewhat tough, but by no means bad. There seems to be no reason why much better melons should not be raised, since the conditions are favorable and every farmer does more or less at it. This question ichy served to' spice our chat at luncheon. It was ultimately concluded that the continued degeneracy was due to the fact that all the good ones were stolen and eaten, only the very poorest being left to mature their seeds ; thus the worst, instead of the best, were used to propagate from. I recite this, to show the thoughtful reader that we are not always frivolous, but often introduce grave themes into our discourse, and discuss them in a philosophic way. Attaching ourselves to the locomotive of a working train, after the noon repast, we were hauled down the valley three miles, and given an opportunity to watch the men repair track that had been lately torn to pieces by water, two or three culverts having been swept out and the road-bed completely uprooted. The hills at that point slanted down to the river in a long treeless sweep, sown so thickly with boulders of basalt, from the size of a bushel to that of a barrel, that even the sage- 94 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT. brush could find scanty footing between. Down this long slope, from the mountains behind, had come one of those raging precipitations of unmeasured rain to which the West has given the expressive name "cloudburst." Truly, when one of these incidents of Rocky Mountain meteorology occurs, "the windows of heaven are opened." To such a torrent the natural rip-rap opposed a very slight obstacle. The heavy and closely packed rocks were lifted and rolled and hurled headlong as though they had been a child's marbles. Wherever any earth or mere gravel was met, it was plowed up and dashed away in a moment, while as for the railway bed, its embankments were demolished, its cuttings filled, and such heaps of stones piled upon its distorted track in some places that no attempt was made to dig it out, but new rails w^^re laid in a different spot. They were rough and irregular enough, but we went safely over. Against these cloudbursts no railway in this region can provide; and there is nothing to be done but rebuild as quickly as pos- sible The skill, energy and marvelous speed with which the section men do this, and the character of the temporary track over which they run their trains until a better one can be constructed, excite the surprise of every one. Railroading in the West is as unlike the similar pursuit in the Atlantic States as a Colorado silver shaft is a contrast to a com- monplace granite quarry. We had observed on the further side of the river, where the flat lands were continually widening between the stream and the hills, signs of Mexican habitancy, and at the washout discovered a chapel of the Society of the Penitentes, into which the flood had broken a great gap near the foundation. It was a rude little house of mud, but well plas- tered within, and perhaps had been intended as a dwelling in former NEW MEXICAN LIFE. THE PENITENTE8. 95 days. Creeping in through the breach, we found no furniture, but a pile of a dozen or more wooden crosses, which had been carried there by the doers of penance at Easter. The smallest of these crosses was more than ten feet in height, and its beams at least six inches in diame- ter. As to the heaviest, I doubt if I could have lifted it fairly from the ground. Yet the poor sinners had managed to get them across their shoulders, and so had dragged them hither, with many pains of outward penance and fearful flagellations of conscience, but with rich reward of pride before earthly eyes, and promises of glory in the world to come. From where they had been brought, or by whom, there was no record; but their ends were worn diagonally to a sharp wedge by long scraping over the stony soil. In addition to these were several small crosses of lath, which had been borne by the priests, typically; some tin and wooden candle holders, curious little lanterns, and one of those rude religious portraits on woods, which are so common throughout this section, and which are preserved reverently among the Mexicans for generations. The Penitentes are a sect within the Church, which the priests are said to have been discouraging. Perhaps this has had some effect, for the custom is in decay, a result due more to the railway than to the cathedral, I fancy. During the greater part of the year the Penitentes sin and are sinned against like other people, but in the spring they atone for it by wearing coarse clothes under a sort of sacrificial robe, and by torturing and starving themselves nearly to death. Walking in pro- cessions, masked beyond recognition, enduring constant castigations from each other, bearing over the roughest roads and across country the heavy crosses we have seen, and with the "pride that apes humility" enduring the utmost suffering, they consider themselves to have laid in a stock of grace sufficient to over-balance all possible crime during the coming twelvemonth. The practice has a long history, but amounts to an American survival of the Flagellants of Europe. A few miles below, the Mexican farms and orchards became more frequent, the little settlement of Joya was noticed, Plaza Alcalde passed by, and the wide, fertile plain of San Juan opened to our view. Skirt- ing the western edge of this (for the river keeps close under the high bluffs on that side), we ran five or six miles, until a triangular parting in the bank opened to the westward, where we halted on a side-track near the old adobe village, but new railway station, of Chamita. The Rio Chama flows into the Rio Grande here, and a broad valley area is the result. The whole of this, which is easily irrigated, is under tillage, and just now looking its best. It is therefore a green and prosperous landscape we gaze upon, bounded by reddish benches which the setting sun brightens into splendor, and shut in by blue, lofty, cloud-capped hills, beyond which stand the guardian summits of snowy ranges. Up the Rio Chama cultivation extends almost uninterruptedly for 96 THE GUEST OF THE CONTINENT many miles, and there are several villages or plazas. Chamita itself is on thxs side — a cluster of scattered houses along the bluff through which the railway has made a deep cut. The top of this ridge commands a fine view up and down the Rio Grande, and there idle figures of Mexi- can or Indian are always to be seen watching for the train or studying the movements of almost invisible people on the other side of the valley. Draped in black, for the most part, motionless and immovable, they remind one irresistibly of Poe's picture: — " And the raven, never flitting, still Is sitting, still is sitting, On the pallid bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door." This point, as I have intimated, is in the midst of the civilization of northern New Mexico. Twenty-five miles up the Chama stands the large town of Abiquiu; an important place in old times ; nearer by an- other plaza, Cuchillo, is a farming center. Not far away, in the Rio Grande valley, are San Juan, Santa Cruz and Espanola, the latter on the western bank of the river and the present terminus of the railwaj"- line southward, whence stages depart regularly for Santa Fe. A Mexican farmhouse or "ranch" looks like a small fort, and makes a very pleasing picture, as you may observe in our sketch. It is square, rarely more than one story high, is built of mud, and roofed with immense round rafters, the ends of which protrude irregularly beyond the wall, because the builders have been too indolent to saw them off. Over these rafters, — above the line of which the wall extends a few inches, — are laid some boards or a stratum of poles, and upon these dry earth is spread a foot or more deep, with rude gutters arranged to carry away the water. In the course of two or three seasons, such a roof will have caught a supply of wind-sown seeds, and support a plentiful crop of grass and weeds, which is no disadvantage. This novel result is in- terfered with somewhat, however, by the habit of using the roofs of the houses (reached by a short ladder) as a place for drying fruit and sunning grain, and for a general lounging spot, whence a better view of what is occurring in the world, — the going and coming of the neigh- bors, the planting or gathering of the crop»i, the approach of a stranger- horseman, or the movements of the cattle on the benches, — can be obtained, than a seat on the ground affords. As the train dashes by, the passenger notices two or three women and children standing on each housetop, shading their eyes with their brown hands, and making an un- conscious pose irresistibly alluring to an artist. On a line with the front of the house a wall will probably extend a little distance in each direction, and then backward, enclosing a garden and diminutive orchard. Everything is square. The idea of a curve seems rarely to enter the Spanish-Indian mind. For graphic effect, this is highly gratifying, since the bends in the river, the rounded outlines of the mountains, the undulations of foliage, are all in curves, to which the AMONG STRANGE PEOPLE. 97 angular lines of the buildings present a most pleasing contrast. Now and then you will see a better house — one whitewashed outside, and having a balcony running around the second story. The outbuildings, in any case, are only a few mud huts, used for storage, and some rough pens where the animals are kept. Anything like the barns of an East- ern farmer is unknown. The isolated dwelling, however, is largely a modern innovation. The general plan is to live in compact, block-like villages, surrounded by a wall, or what amounts to that. This results partly from the need in early days of united protection against the Indians, but chiefly from following the traditional custom of their red ancestors; for the New Mexican of to-day is a half-breed, or a mongrel of some degree between the Spaniard who "came over with the conqueror" and the Indian of whatever tribe happened to be accessible. Remote from civilized influ- ences, the common people have tended always toward barbarous ways, and are more Indian than Spanish, albeit the dialect they speak is not so far removed from the Castilian as one would expect. There are local diJBferences and idioms, of course, which are at once noticeable; but the usual tongue is not very bad Spanish. Though Mexican hamlets and farms are scattered everywhere about here, in the fertile valleys, there is a class of towns along this part of the valley of the Rio Grande which are primarily Indian, and situated upon reservations each ten miles square, secured to them by the government. Each of these present villages, now commonly known by a Spanish name, was the site of an ancient native pueblo, and the fields which were deeded to them by the United States are those their fathers culti- vated before the white men appeared at all. Some, however, yet re- tain their Indian names, as Taos, Picuris, Pecos, Pojuaque, Acoma and Tesiique. San Juan, Santa Cruz, Santa Clara, San Ildefonso, and others have been given new names by the conquerors and priests. South and west of Santa Fe lie many other pueblos, some of them very populous, as Jemez, Zia, Santo Domingo, and San Felipe. In all of them sub- stantially the same sort of life is found, and as it is impossible for me to cover the wide territory they embrace, the reader must be content with the type of the whole to be seen here at Pueblo San Juan. It is a phase of humanity and conduct rapidly passing away — melting under the steady sun of modern progress ; and the traveler who does not take an early opportunity to study,, it will miss not only that which is ex- tremely interesting and suggestive, but what in a few years will become a matter of history and romantic tradition. Here at Chamita the river is divided by a large, flat island into two branches, each perhaps a hundred yards in width. Over the first one, at the time of our visit, stood a good bridge, built by the railway com- pany; a second bridge had spanned the other branch until the high water carried it away. Formerly there had been a ferry, but the boat 5 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT. was out of order, and nobody cared to repair it, for could not the stream be forded ? In the cool of the evening the whole party went down to the river bank, trusting to good fortune for transporta- tion. Thus challenged, good fortune stood by us in the person of a citizen and his broncho. Chartering the lat- ter, the Artist, his sketch- ing haversack slung over his shoulder, mounted, and then the Madame was invited to ascend, the pillion being a shawl thrown over the horse's haunches. When there she declared she could not stay — would certainly slip off the Gothic back of the beast the instant he moved. *' Then take it Anna Dick- inson fashion," remarked her unfeeling spouse; whereupon there was a frantic lurch, a twinkle of crimson suspected to be hosiery, and a cheery "All right!" to let us know she was ready to brave the passage. The landing was safe, and then the patient horse returned and repeated the fording until we all were across. But our peace of mind, or our amour propre — which is much the same thing — was disturbed by a suspicion that we were being laughed at, for a party of Mexican women from Chamita came down to the brink while we were there, and, chattering merrily over our slow and undoubtedly ludicrous progress, unconcernedly pulled off their shoes and stockings, gathered their skirts in a bunch about their waists, and gaily waded through as though in contempt of our fear of water and the conventionalities. The large island was gravelly and liable to be inundated, so that it was given over to the pasturage of sheep, goats, cattle, horses and don- keys. On the eastern bank we found ourselves at once in the midst of grain fields and garden plats. Tall Indian corn alternated with short wheat, hay and alfalfa, or patches of potatoes, melons and vegetables. Fences were few, but the road was defined by a line of upright brush, bound into cohesion by withes of bark, so that it resembled a thoroughly dead hedge. Here and there stood a casa chiquita, but the main town A PATRIARCH. PASSING INTO TRADITION. was OQ the bluff marking the old bank of the river, half a mile from its present current. Pueblo in Spanish simply means "a village." When the first ex- plorers, Cabe9a de Vaca, Coronado and the earl}' lieutenants and friars whom Cortez sent northward, in search more of gold than geography, penetrated what is now New Mexico and Arizona, they everywhere found Indians more or less nomadic, but the larger part of the natives belonging to a different class, and living in settled communities of per- manent houses. To these the Spaniards naturally gave the name of "village," or "pueblo" Indians, which, by a common process of lingual change, has become shortened into Pueblos, though Puebloans is a far better word. Their own tribal names have disappeared except in a few cases, such as the Zunis and the Moquis, and the Spanish word covers all Village Indians distinguished from the roving Apaches, Mojaves and Utes, that surround them and centuries ago wrested from them much of their former territory. At present there are in all New Mexico but nineteen towns of the Village Indians, whose aggregate population in 1880 was only 10,469, as follows : Taos 391 San Juan 408 Santa Clara 212 San Ildef onso 139 Picuris 1,115 Namb^ 66 Pojuaque 26 Tesuque 99 Sochltl 271 San Domingo 1,123 San Felipe 613 Jemez 401 Sllla (or Zla) 58 Santa Ana 489 Laguna 968 Isoleta 1,081 Sandia 345 Zunl 2,082 Acoma 582 Ascending the high bank along a road greatly gullied by the rains, we found our- selves in a large group of houses, each of which was joined to its neighbor as con- tinuously as in a city block, but only one story high ; or if there was a second story, it did not come out flush with the front wall, but was ten or fifteen feet back, the roof of the lower story serving as a portico to the upper floor, wliich was reached by an outside ladder. MAID AND MATRON. 100 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT. These dwellings were built of mud bricks, called adobes, and in many cases the floors were lower than the level of the street— a matter of small concern, since the door-sill was so high as to shut out any water which might be running outside. Mixing in a little broken straw, rough blocks about twice the size of ordinary bricks are moulded, dried some- what in the sun, and laid up in the form of a wall. Space is left for a door and some small holes for windows, quite high up. That is about all there seems to be of it, yet the inexpert find it not so easy to build a " doby " as they supposed. The consistency of the clay must be right, and I am told the wall must be laid so that the blocks somewhat brace each other by beveled sides, or else the great weight which rests on the top, oth- erwise wholly unsupported, will cause the middle of the wall to bulge. That these ancient houses stand so plumb and uncracked shows how proficient the Indians are at this peculiar architecture; and ought they not to be, for did not they invent it? All the buildings are smoothly plastered outside and in. This is done some weeks after they are built, and after they have thoroughly dried. To obtain the necessary material for the outer "stucco" coat, the floor of the interior of the unfinished house is dug up and mixed with water until it becomes a soft paste. Then it is taken by the hand- ful, dashed against the unchinked adobes, and spread smoothly with the palms, just as a town mason would use a trowel. The women do all this, and I remember surprising three damsels, as pretty as the New Mexican peasantry have to show, down on their knees and up to their elbows in seal-brown mud, plastering the new house, while father and mother were busy in the fields. Most of the Indian dwellings, — and they are as good as the major- ity of the abodes of the Mexican ranchmen, — have two rooms, and sometimes three, but these are generally so dark that the eye must accustom itself to the gloom before their contents can well be dis- cerned. This arises from the scarcity and diminutive size of the win- dows Here in San Juan, indeed, I saw roughly sashed windows in many houses, or else a single pane of glass set in; but often only a grating is used to guard the aperture, or else holes in the walls are left so small that no enemy could crawl through. You can imagine the darkness inside, therefore, even on a bright day. Originally the pueblo was common property, and both men and women assisted in building it, but new ideas of individual possessions are invading the old no- tions. It was the former custom, too, to mix ashes with earth and charcoal into a substitute for mortar; yet, as we shall see later, the very ancient, ruined buildings of the ancestors of these Puebloans show an architecture in stone, with a cement now as hard, or even more tenacious, than the blocks it binds together. " They take great pride," says an old book "in their, to them, magnificent structures, averring that as fort- resses they have ever proved impregnable. To wall out black barbarism IN PUEBLO SAN JUAN. 101 was what the Pueblos wanted ; under these conditions time was giving them civilization." Entering one of the houses here in San Juan, we shall find the floor is only of earth, but that many skins are spread about. In one corner, or else beside the entrance door, will be one of the queer little round-topped fireplaces prevalent all over Spanish America; but if in the latter place, a low wall or wing of masonry runs out into the room, protecting the fire from contrary drafts. The cooking in summer is done out of doors almost wholly; but in cold weather, when utilizing these fireplaces, they use the iron pots and skillets which civilization has brought them, eking out with variously shaped earthen utensils of their own make, and baskets obtained from Apache and Navajo visitors. You must expect to see very little furniture in an Indian's house, though occasionally some familiar objects are found. The beds are made on the floor, and consist entirely of skins and blankets. The walls are often whitewashed, and though they never heard of Eastlake, they always make a dado of clay water. The soft brown tint contrasts well with the white frieze, and would be attractive in itself; but the clay here is full of specks of mica, which dust the walls with gleaming points not to be spurned in mural decoration. The Indians admire pictures, but are not scrupulous as to artistic superiority. In nearly every house you will find a board a few inches square, upon which is painted a religious subject, usually in red and yellow, of some saint, or a group of them. Such pictures, and others whenever they can get them, are highly valued and will be adorned with peacock feathers and bright berries. They love gay colors and choose them in their dress, which is a sin- gular mixture of Indian, Mexican and American. There go a man and woman ahead of us who are fair types. Neither are of large size, and though an oddity of gait comes from their habit of walking with their toes straight before them, both are of erect carriage. The man is dressed in brown flaimel shirt, hanging blouse-like about him, tightly fitted leggings of buckskin, with a broad seam -flap in place of fringe on the outside of each leg, and moccasins. Over his right shoulder and un- der his left arm is loosely draped a striped blanket made by the Navajo or Apache Indians of the interior, and diligently repaired in its worn places. His head is bare, under the blaze of the hot sun, save for a wreath of cottonwood leaves. Under this " bay crown " his smoothly- brushed and jet black hair, accurately parted in the middle along a line of red or yellow ochre, is plaited on either side into two long braids, in- tertwined and lengthened out with strips of red flannel and tufts of ot- ter-skin. The woman wears a long, loose tunic of coarse cloth, almost de- void of sleeves, and belted at the waist ; but sometimes this is of buck- skin. Her extremities are not clad in leggmgs, but encased in short, 103 THE GREST OF THE CONTINENT. shapeless boots having a moccasin foot, and stiff legs, which reach nearly to her knees, and often afford the only recognizable distinction between a male or a female, who, to a stranger's eye, are confusingly alike. She wears thrown over her head a shawl-like expanse of common pink-printed calico ; but if you could see her hair you would discover OLD CHURCH OF SAN JUAN. tiiat ijoijc of the attention had been bestowed upon it which her hus- band's has received ; it has been cut short, particularly across the fore- head, and is likely to be tangled and dAvij. In this respect these Rio Grande Indians have fallen from grace into the slovenliness of their nomadic neighbors. The maidens of the purer Moqui pueblos, for example, take great care of their raven locks. Parting the hair at the back of the head, they roll it around hoops, when it is fastened in two high bunches, one on each side, a single feather being sometimes placed in the center. The Moqui wives gather it into two tight knots at the side, or one at the back of the head; and the men cut their hair in front of the ears and in a line with the eyebrows, while at the back it is plaited or gathered into a single bunch and tied with a band. This woman is going to one of the public wells to draw water, and presently is joined by a young Hebe, with bare, shapely ankles and> rotund bust, whose laughing talk is like the gurgling chatter of the blackbirds in the rushes. They each carry classically shaped and gaily ornamented jars of earthenware, made by themselves, and which they will tell you are tindjas. Some of the wells are so shallow that an in- clined passage-way has been cut down to the water from the surface; from others the liquid must be drawn in buckets. Having filled their vessels, each woman lays a little pad on her head, skillfully poises the SEMBLANCES AND CERAMICS. 103 heavy tinaja upon it, and marches off, as erect, elastic of tread and graceful in mien as any Ganymede who ever handed about the nectar on Olympus. You can see the trimmed and painted gourd-dipper floating about in the neck of the jar, and thus know that the water is level with the top ; yet up hill and down, along the dusty roadway, through the half-concealing corn, and under the low doorway go the dusky carriers, and not a drop is lost. A short distance back we had met a superannuated governor, or chief, called in Spanish Attencio. His long, straight hair, of ashy hue, and deeply furrowed features, gave a most venerable appearance to his attenuated but still upright form. His garments evinced more design, were better fitting, and somewhat fantastically decorated ; while from his neck was suspended a drum, a tribute apparently to growing in- firmities which had not quite obscured the dream of place and circum- stance. We halted in curiosity while the Photographer, by specious argument and a gentle subsidizing process, overcame the half-scruples of the patriarch, and transferred his semblance to a "dry plate," an operation he repeated a little later with the maid and matron whom we had seen at the well, though in their case with more difllculty and over- coming of native shyness. The results of this enterprise are commended to the reader. The pueblo pottery is of all sizes and shapes,— jars, pitchers, can- teens, bowls, platters, and images of men and animals, made as play- things for their children, or merely for amusement, and the latter often called their " gods " by ignorant tourists. It is evident everywhere that originally much finer and more sym- metrical pottery was made by all these Village Indians than now. They seem to have understood the art of mixing a finer paste, and they worked with more careful hands. The resemblance of this antique ware to that of Egypt and Cyprus, has been noted in its structure, and in the "scrolls, straight lines and walls of Troy," with which it is embellished. Birds, too, were painted upon some of the oldest ware extant, recalling certain Chinese symbols, while "in the animal handles and in a design known as the old Japanese seal," the early ware of Japan is simulated. The ancient and (in ruins) most widely distributed form of pottery known is the "corrugated," fragments of which are also found in the mounds of the Ohio and Mississippi valleys and on the Pacific slope. This variety was made by winding around and above one another slender strings or ropes of red clay, expanding and con- tracting the coil to suit the varying diameters of the vessel. Pressure of the fingers alone, or aided only by a smooth stone, then compressed the coils into compactness and on the inside into some smoothness. There was also a kind of ware in use in prehistoric times which bore a red or black glaze beyond anything seen in later manufacture ; but this fine finish is thought to have been accidental. 104 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT. At San Juan, as in all other pueblos, the old adobe church, with its absurdly barbaric furniture and uncouth appearance, is a center of inter- est. Climbing the rickety ladder to its little gallery, and thence ascend- ing to the roof, one gets the best idea of how valuable a garden spot this district is. As far as the eye can reach, up and down the river, stretch farms and orchards and plazitas. I suppose that from the mouth of the canon down to the village of San Ildefonso, a distance of about thirty miles, the river-bottom is almost continuously cultivated, the chief crops being wheat and Indian corn, the latter notable for its variegated and bright colors, and for which the people here keep the original name, maiz-, but every sort of grain and vegetable is also pro- duced in abundance. The population sustained consists largely of Indians, in some locali- ties, as here at San Juan, almost entirely so ; and they are quite as indus- trious and skillful in their farming as the Mexicans. In "most of the villages the tillage of the reservation is wholly in common, but here the Indians many years ago divided up their farming lands into individual properties, not all equally either, for it was apportioned to each man in proportion to his needs, abilities and desire. It is said that there has been little change in the ownership of this property, the same fields de- scending from father to son, generation after generation. This being the case, it is not strange to learn the second fact, that there is small variation in the fortunes of the different families, and that there is slight disposition on the part of any to become rich while others grow poor. All are self-supporting, and proud of the fact that no aid is asked or received from the government. Nothing reminds the traveler more of the Holy Land than to wit- ness these people threshing their grain, which happens, of course, in August, since they do not stack the grain in the straw at all. The threshing-floors are circular spaces of high level ground in the outskirts of the pueblo, around which poles ten or twenty feet high are set, though there is no need of more than mere posts. When the threshing is to be done, a rawhide rope or two is stretched about these posts to form a fence, and often upon this are hung many blankets, the gay colors and striped ornamentation of which make an exceedingly pic- turesque scene. Sometimes in place of the ropes a cordon of bare-legged small boys and girls, to whom the duty is great sport, does service as a girdle. The diameter of such a prepared space, hardened by service for half a century to the consistency of brick, is sixty or a hundred feet. In the middle of it are heaped the sheaves of the three or four families who are accustomed to join in this work until a suitable quantity has been obtained, and then the fun begins. Through an opening in the extemporized fence is driven a flock of sheep and goats, or else a small herd of horses. They at once fall to eating the fresh grain, but are quickly beaten off and started into a run THE REALM OF CONTENT. 105 around the enclosure, trampling down the edges of the stack, and all the time getting more and more of it under their beating hoofs. Behind them race two or three athletic, bare-headed and scantily-dressed youths, cracking long whips, hustling the laggards, and nimbly keeping out of the way of the kicking, crowding and bewildered animals. This is quite as hard work as any of the horses or goats do, and is accompa- nied by continual halloos and trilling cries, which almost make a song when heard at a little distance. Now and then a young horse will make a leap at the rope, and snap the rawhide lariat, or dodge under it; or a venturesome goat will elude his guard and escape ; but there are excited youngsters enough to speedily give chase and bring him back; and from time to time the panting drivers are changed, the animals given a rest, and the grain heaped into a new pile in the center. It is a wonderfully lively and gay picture, which will never be forgotten, and entirely unlike anything else to be seen in the United States. Toward evening, when the incessant tramping has threshed all the grains out of their husks, comes the winnowing. This is quite as primitive and idyllic as its forerunner. Having lifted away the bulk of the straw, several men and women take long-handled, flat-bladed wooden shovels, and toss up the grain which lies thick on the hard clay floor, thus allowing the wind to blow away the chaff. There is generally a breeze at sunset every day, and the largest part of the chaff is gotten rid of by the shoveling ; but to perfect the process, the women take half a bushel at once of the grain, and re-winnow it, by tossing it a second time in and out of one of the large Navajo wicker-baskets, of which every family owns a number. The rough, wasteful threshing, and the cleansing, only partial at best, having thus been accomplished, the grain is divided out to its owners, and by them packed away in huge jars of coarse earthenware, called ollas, some of which will hold several bushels. These vessels keep it dry and safe from rats, so long as the covers are tight. All these processes are fol- lowed not only by the Indians, but by all Mexican farmers throughout the Spanish southwest. "We were never weary of wandering about these Indian towns, and watching the people at their work and sunny-tempered play. They are the happiest men and women on the continent. Well sheltered, well fed, well companioned, peaceful, guileless, — what else do they wish? Not theirs to know carking care, and the fluctuating markets which imperil hard-earned gains; nor to suffer the hurt unsatisfied ambition feels, or know the terrors of a crime-haunted or doubt-stricken conscience. The broad, bright sunshine of their latitude suffuses their whole lives and dispositions, turning their rock-bounded lowlands into a Vale of Tempe. IX SANTA FE AND THE SACRED VALLEY. Ages are made up Of such small parts as these, and men look back, Worn and bewilder' d, wond'ring how It is. —Joanna Baillie. HAVE referred to Espafiola as the southern terminus of the railway. From this point, however, another company is actively engaged in constructing a line to Santa Fe, a distance of thirty-four miles by the survey, and its prospective early completion will afford a direct and desirable connection with the ancient capital. At present the communication is by means of stages, which run in con- junction with the trains, and, not being restricted in the matter of grades, accomplish the trip in about twenty-five miles. The journey is interesting, and is made comfortably. Santa Fe claims the distinction of being the oldest town in the United States, a claim that is readily admitted when we consider that it was a populous Indian pueblo when the first Spaniards crossed the terri- tory now known as New Mexico, less than forty years after the dis- covery of the western continent by Columbus. The earliest European who penetrated this region was Alvar Nunez Cabega de Vaca, a Spanish navigator, whose vessel was wrecked on the coast of Texas in 1528. and who, with three of his crew, wandered for six years through the plains and mountains, until finally he joined his countrymen under Cortez in Mexico. His report of the section through which he passed led to an expedition, in 1539, by Marco de Niga, a Franciscan friar, who was frightened away by the Indians, and returned to Mexico with a mar- velous account of the extent, population and wealth of the country, the magnificence of its cities, and the ferocity of its people. In 1540 the famous expedition of Vasquez de Coronado passed through the pueblo where Santa Fe now stands, crossed the range, and traversed the plains until he came to the Missouri river, at a point probably near the present site of Atchison or Leavenworth. In 1581, Friar Augustin Ruyz, with one companion, reached a village called Poala, a few miles north of Albuquerque, where they were killed by the Indians. Antonio de Espejo came with an expedition, in 1583, to seek Ruyz, and discovered Zuni, Acoma and other pueblos. In 1595 Juan de Onate founded a colony near the junction of the Rio Chama with 108 THE CREST OF THE GONTINENT. the Rio Grande, in the immediate vicinity of Espanola. It was about this date that a Spanish settlement was formed in Santa Fe, and the church of San Miguel erected. In 1680 there was a great uprising of the natives, who entirely drove out the Spaniards, and obliterated as far as possible all evidences of their occupation, dismantling, among other buildings, the old church. Twelve years later they were recon- quered by Diego de Bargas. From that time to the present Santa Fe has had an eventful career. The Mexicans, in 1821, declared their independence of Spanish rule, and after that there were numerous insurrections, until the occupation of the territory by the United States, in 1846. Then came the War of the Rebellion, in 1861-65, in the course of which Santa Fe was captured by the confederates, and recaptured by the Union forces. During all these years Santa Fe has changed its character but little, and is to-day, in general appearance, very much the same old Mexican town that it has been for nearly three hundred years. There is the same broad plaza, with the same adobe buildings nearly all the way around it; the same one-story houses, surrounding the same plazitas; the same suburban fields and gardens; and the same swarthy, dark-eyed population, still speaking the musical Spanish tongue. Wood is still brought into town on the backs of burros, and by this conveyance can be left inside the dwellings. Among the other objects of attraction to the stranger, are the governor's palace; the ruins of old Fort Marcy, on a bluff, from which is had a fine view of the city ; and the extensive and beautiful garden of Bishop Lamy. The famous chapel of San Miguel, the oldest in America, still rears the same mud walls that have stood for three centuries, and internally is well preserved and in presentable shape. It has no exterior beauty and no interior magnifi- cence, its only interest being in its age and the sacred uses for which it has been kept up during almost the entire period of American civil- ization. On a great beam, as plain as if made but yesterday, is the Spanish inscription, traced there one hundred and seventy-four years ago, to the effect that ' ' The Marquis de la Penuela erected this building, the Royal Ensign Don Augustin Flores Vergara, his servant, A.D. 1710." Original documents show that this refers to its restoration after the wood-work was burned by the rebel Indians. A dark picture of the Annunciation, on one side of the altar, bears on its back a notation, seemingly dated A.D. 1287, leading to the belief that it is one 6i the oldest oil paintings in the world. By the side of the church is a two- story adobe house, which tradition says was in existence when Coronado marched through the town. The neighborhood of Santa Fe is rich in precious stones, including turquoise, bloodstone, onyx, agate, garnet and opal. The manufacture of Mexican filigree jewelry, largely carried on here, will be found interesting. Tlie work is done by natives, to whom the trade has been handed down by their ancestors, who derived A JOURNEY TO TAOS. 109 it from the Italians. The primitive Spanish records of the aborigines of all tropical America say that there were "no better goldsmiths in the world ; " so that the Indian blood mixed in the veins of most of the modern artisans may have increased their skill. But even quaint old Santa Fe is catching the spirit of the age, and now boasts a colony of northern residents, cultivated society, and many handsome structures, among which are a new hotel, a large public hos- pital built of stone and brick, a Methodist church, Santa Fe Academy, and San Miguel College. The tendency of this innovation will be to rapidly dissipate the aroma of antiquity and sentiment which has hitherto attached to the town's romantic history. On the return northward, our cars were again set out at Embudo, the gentlemen of the party having determined not to omit from this itinerary the Taos pueblos, possibly the most antiquated, and certainly the best preserved of all, and whose people are still awaiting with pathetic patience the returning Montezuma, who shall restore their pris- tine glory, and the kingdom that stretched from river to sea. When questioned as to her desires, the Madame did not advance the staple feminine excuse, a council with the dressmaker, but boldly proclaimed her aversion to the thirty-mile equestrian trip. So we left her behind reluctantly, with many injunctions to our chef de cuisine and still more trustworthy railway friends. After no little wrangling, a sufficient number of spiritless quadru- peds were procured from the natives, and we turned our faces to the north. And right here let me advise the reader who may hereafter con- template this pilgrimage, to address, in ample season, Mr. Henry Dibble, Fernandez de Taos, New Mexico, who will undertake to have a team in waiting at Embudo, thus saving the traveler much time and even more bad Spanish. The ride was thoroughly enjoyable, and formed a fitting prelude to the novel experiences that followed. I have said "ride," though the statement is not altogether exact, since we took pity, — and largely from necessity, — on our miserable under-sized and under-fed ponies and ourselves, and walked a full third of the distance. Occasion- ally we passed small Mexican villages, which seemed as peacefully asleep in the afternoon sunshine as we could ever have pictured them. Flocks of ugly yellow-spotted goats, attended by dusky urchins in scanty attire, browsed on the near hill-slopes. Over the eaves of almost every one of the low adobe houses hung great ropes of red peppers, — the chili Colorado of the Mexican, — that gave the one brilliant dash of color to a perspective whose tones were otherwise the most subdued. Not unfrequently, however, an entire family would be seen ranged along in a row on the shady side of the house, the women generally dressed in gay colors, solid red, blue, or green, and all as silent as the scene on which they looked. But for the dogs, these hamlets might have passed 110 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT. for the ruins they appeared. The caretta, or great, clumsy, two- wheeled cart, and the plow made of a pointed stick, were here and there reposing before the abodes, not seeming like implements of daily use, but as appropriate details in the worn-out landscape. To pick one's way through Taos valley, even by daylight, might be a task; in the darkness, which at length overtook us, success was a lucky chance. The very populousness of the locality was against us. How many times we took the divergent road and brought up against the fence of some ranchero's threshing-floor ; or crossed the stream not at the ford ; or engaged in a broil with some awakened native who persisted in misunderstanding our gesticulated inquiries, may never be related. The houses, too, were a mystery. To find the front door of the rect- angular heap of mud; to determine in what part of its cavernous recesses the inmates might now be residing; or to decide whether, after all, it was not the stable, taxed our ingenuity and tempers through several hours of that memorable evening. Finally, in the plaza of a great communistic ranch-house, that covered an area half as large as a city block, we man- aged to secure the services of a muchacho^ who preceded us on horse- back, and led us into one of the narrow and crooked streets of Fernandez de Taos, where we soon found the hostelry of " Pap " Dibble. Taos valley is widest near its head, where the several streams that form the river issue from the Culebra range. About the center of the fertile expanse lies the old Mexican town of Fernandez de Taos, with a present population of 1,500. Two miles northeast of it, and under the shadow of Taos mountain, stand the two great buildings known as the Pueblo de Taos, and inhabited by about 400 Indians. Three miles south of Fernandez lies still another Mexican village, named Ranchos de Taos, in contrast with whose adobes the traveler finds a newly-erected flouring mill. The middle settlement has the greatest commercial importance, and is likewise possessed of considerable historic interest. Here was the seat of the first civil government of the territory by the United States, after it had been acquired as a result of the Mexican war of 1846. Here Bent, the first governor, was killed in the revolt of the following year, and the ruins yet remain of the old church on whose solid mud walls the howitzers of the troops could make no impression, and from which the band of insurgent Indians and Mexicans were only finally dislodged by means of hand-grenades. The widow of the mur- dered governor still lives in her modest adobe, and shows to visitors the hole in the wall made by the fatal bullet. Fernandez de Taos was like- wise for years the residence of Colonel Kit Carson, and in the walled graveyard at the edge of town his body is buried. All this and much more is communicated the following morning by the genial Dibble, who fills our idea of what a host should be. For twenty years has he lived in this quiet valley, among an alien people, leaving it only once for a trip to Santa Fe, content to preside over his FESTIVAL OF SAN QERONIMO. Ill curious aggregation of rambling adobes, and make each chance guest feel himself under paternal care. But to us the great interest centers in the Indian carnival at the pueblo, which is to occur on the morrow. On the last day of Septem- ber of each year the Taos Indians celebrate the festival of their patron saint, San Geronimo (the Spanish St. Jerome), by ceremonies alto- gether unique, and which few Americans have as yet witnessed. Some hours are still at our command, in which to study the country in its every-day aspect, and we early start out in the direction of the pueblo. Already the roads converging toward the old stronghold show signs of the assembling throng. Little bands of Indians, gaily blanketed and with uncovered heads, who have walked from pueblos perhaps fifty miles away, driving before them shaggy burros, with many-shaped packs; and Mexican fruit- vendors, their trains of donkeys laden with well-filled wicker baskets, form the vanguard of the unique procession. The valley across which we pass is all under cultivation, and the ground is now covered with the yellow stubble, while along the roadside we come upon the regulation threshing-places. The Pueblo de Taos consists of two great mud buildings (of the latger of which an engraving is given) facing each other from opposite banks of a stream, and perhaps two hundred yards apart. Tliey rise to a height of about fifty feet, and seem to have attained their present size by accretions during the ages since they were founded. They are of an irregular pyramidal form, and made up of about five stories or terraces. Each new story is built a distance from the edge of the one immediately beneath, so that both the length and breadth of the building diminish as the height is increased. To enter the rooms we must ascend one of the many ladders that lean against the wall, and then descend another ladder through a hole in the roof. Everything was quiet and silent about this great human wasps' nest. Nude children tumbled on the ground in the warm rays of the sun; men strolled lazily hither and thither, their bodies wrapped in gaudy blankets and legs encased in close-fitting sheepskin leggings, while to their hair, black as jet and brought down in a lock on each side, hung great bunches of zephyr or other gay material ; women, dressed in much the same manner, carried on their heads the earthen water-jars, or large baskets of bread, which had been baked in the oval mud ovens ranged in front of the pueblo. Everybody treated us with quiet respect, and seemed pleased to respond to our salutations. We climbed over one of the ancient piles, mounting to its topmost story on shaky ladders, peering into its rooms, which we were courteously invited to enter, and where we found sometimes as many as a dozen Indians sitting on the floor, engaged in adding some last touches to the holiday garments. We saw few young men, but afterwards learned that they were in the estufas, or underground coun- cil-chambers, preparing for the next day's spectacle. 112 THE CREST OF THE CONTINENT. To give anything like an adequate account of the festival would re- quire a small volume. Early on that resplendent September morning the human tide began to pour in, till, from our position on the summit of the north pueblo, we looked down to the plaza below on a surging mass of fully three thousand Indians and Mexicans, in every gay and fantastic garb. The fruit-vendors had established themselves in scores of little stalls scattered over the plaza, and with their burros standing patiently by, added a picturesque feature to the scene. Three hundred mad young Mexicans, mounted on excited ponies, charged among the crowd in a body, dared each other in feats of horsemanship, or "ran the gallo" on the opposite bank. The padre from Santa Fe first held service in the little church, after which came the event of the day. One hundred naked and painted Indians issued in solemn march from an estufa, and began the race, two by two, over the straight track a thousand feet long. For an hour and a half they sped up and down in front of the pueblo, amid the wildest excitement of the spectators. Then the march of the victors, to the music of a wild chant, while bread is showered upon them from one of the roofs of the pueblo under which they pass, closes the morning's ceremonies. The afternoon is consumed by the antics of seven unclothed and curiously painted clowns. For three hours do they phantom curve. amuse that motley crowd with their mimic cock and bull fights, and their semblance of plow- ing, threshing, and other familiar labors. As the sun nears the west, the rabble gather about a pole, fifty feet high, over the cross-piece at whose top has been hung a living sheep, together with garlands of fruit and a basket of bread. After many pretended failures, the pole is climbed, and the bread and fruit are thrown to the ground. Last of all, the sheep, in which a spark of life still lingers, is detached, and strikes DEPARTURE OF AMOS. US the earth with a sickening thud. With yells and strange cries the Indians rush in, the sheep is torn limb from limb, and with this, the only revolting part of the entire celebration, the/^^