ment of a Mormon town; in like manner, all of the towns throughout the territory of Utah have branched out from the original trunk at Salt Lake City, so that they are woven together by a net-work of communal interest. The missionary, Jacob Hamblin, who was traveling with us, came here two or three years ago and established himself in a little cabin, about which during the greater part of each season a few Indians were gathered. When we came to the place, we found the men at work cutting and hauling hay, while a number of squalid Indians were lounging in the "fort," and many children of white and Indian breed were playing in the meadow. Such a community is a strange medley of humanity. There are no physicians here, but the laying on of hands by the elders is frequently practiced, and every old man and woman of the community has some wonderful cure-a relic of ancient sorcery. Almost every town has its astrologer, and every family one or more members who see visions and dream dreams. Aged and venerable men, with solemn ceremony, are endowed by the Church with the power of prophecy and the gift of blessing. So the grandfather recounts the miracles which have been performed by the prophets; the grandmother tells of the little beast that has its nest in the heart, and when it wanders around toward the lungs causes consumption; the mother dreams dreams; the daughter consults the astrologer, and the son seeks for a sign in the heavens. At every gathering for preaching on a Sunday morning, or dancing on a weekday night, a prayer is offered. When they gather at table, thanks are rendered to the Giver of Bounties, and on all occasions, and in the most earnest manner, when a stranger is met, the subject of miracles, the persecution of the saints, and the virtue and wisdom of polygamy are discussed. village. Altogether, a Mormon town is a strange mixture of Oriental philosophy and morals, primitive superstitions and modern inventions. I must not fail to mention here the kind treatment which I have almost invariably received from the people living in the frontier settlements of Southern Utah. At Kanab, the party divided, Mr. Hamblin, with one man, going to Tokerville-a settlement about fifty miles to the northwest-for the purpose of procuring some additional supplies. With the remainder of the party I proceeded up the Kanab. The trail was very difficult; it was impossible to climb the cliffs and go over the plateau with our animals, and we had to make our way up the cañon. In many places the stream runs over beds of quicksand, sweeping back and forth in short curves from wall to wall, so that we were compelled to ford it now and then; again, there is a dense undergrowth, and, at many places, the stream is choked with huge bowlders which have fallen from the cliffs. The plateau, or terrace, through which this cañon is cut, slopes backward to the north, and, by ascending the stream, we at last reached its summit, and found it covered with a sea of drifting sands, golden and vermilion; so we named it Sand-Dune Plateau. Just before us, there was another line of cliffs-a great wall of shining white sandstone, a thousand feet high. We soon entered another cañon, but this was dry. At some very late geological period a stream of lava has rolled down it, so that we had to pass over beds of black clanking basalt. At night, having emerged from the upper cañon, we found the Kanab a living stream once more, and camped upon its bank. The next day we passed up the beautiful valley for ten miles, and arrived at the rendezvous camp. Here I was to wait for a few days for Mr. Hamblin's arrival. I kept the Indians and one white man with me, and Mr. Nebeker, with the remainder of the party and a single Indian guide, started for the Colorado River, at the mouth of the Paria, by a well traveled Indian trail. We had brought a quantity of lumber to this point with wagons, for the purpose of building a ferry-boat on the Colorado. These boards were cut into short pieces and packed on mules, and Mr. Nebeker was to push on to the river, construct the boat, get the train across, and have everything in readiness, on the opposite side of the river, by the time of our arrival. My purpose was to demonstrate the practicability of this route to the river, then to cross at the mouth of the Paria, and proceed thence to the "Province of Tusayan," in north-eastern Arizona. The Indians we had with us were not acquainted with the country beyond the the Kanab, the time being chiefly spent in talking with the Indians, and trying to learn something of their language. By day the men hunted, and the women gathered berries and the other rich fruits that grow in that country, and at night they danced. A little after dark a fire was kindled, and the musicians took their places. They had two kinds of instruments. One was a large basket tray, covered with pitch inside and out, so as to be quite hard and resonant; this was placed over a pit in the ground, Gradually they formed a circle, and the dance commenced. Around they went, old men and women, young men and maidens, little boys and girls, in one great circle, around and around, all singing, all keeping time with their feet, pat, pat, pat, in the dust and sand; low, hoarse voices; high, broken, screaming voices; mellow, tender voices; but louder than all, the thump and screech of the orchestra. One set done, another was formed; this time the women dancing in the inner circle, and they beat on it with sticks. The other was a primitive fiddle, made of a cedar stick, as large around as my wrist and about three feet long; this was cut with notches about three inches apart. They placed one end on a tray arranged like the one just described, placed the other end against the stomach, and played upon the fiddle with a pine-stick bow, which was dragged up and down across the notches, making a rattling, shrieking sound. So they beat their loud drum and sawed their hoarse fiddle for a time, until the young men and maidens gathered about and joined in a song: "Ki-ap-pa tú-gu-wun, the men without. Then they formed in rows, and danced, back and forth, in lines. the men in one direction, the women in another. Then they formed again, the men standing expectant without, the women dancing demurely within, quite independent of one another, until one maiden beckoned to a lover, and he, with a loud, shrill whoop, joined her in the sport. The ice broken, each woman called for her partner; and so they danced by twos and twos, in and out, here and there, with steadily increasing time, until one after another broke down and but three couples were left. These danced on, on, on, until they seemed to be wild with uncontrollable motion. last one of the couples failed, and the remaining two pattered away, while the At old chief came up, and on the young man's head placed a crown of eagle feathers. A circlet of braided porcupine quills was placed about the head of the maiden, and into this circlet were inserted plumes made of the crest of the quail and the bright feathers of the humming-bird. On the first of October, Mr. Hamblin having returned from Tokerville, we started for the Kaibab Plateau to meet the Indians, as had been arranged with Chu-ar. That night we camped in the cañon of the Skoom-pa. This is really a broad cañon valley, the walls of which are of red sandstone. On the lower reaches of these walls, near some springs, there are many hieroglyphics, some of them so high up as to be beyond reach, in the present condition of the talus at the foot of the cliffs. The next day our course was through barren sage plains until, about four o'clock, we came to the foot of the Kaibab Plateau, high mountains on either side. At last we reached a spring, and camped. Three hours' travel the next morning brought us to the spring at which we were to meet the Indians, but none were seen. High up on the mountain to the east was a signal smoke, which we understood, by previous arrangement, meant that we were to cross the Kaibab Plateau. We staid in camp the remainder of that day to rest. The next day we started early, climbing to the summit of the plateau, more than two thousand feet up a long, rocky gulch; then through a forest of giant pines, with glades here and there, and now and then a lake. Occasionally a herd of deer was started. In this upper region, eight thousand feet above the level of the sea, even the clouds of northern Arizona yield moisture sufficient for forest growth and rich meadows. At dusk we descended from the plateau on the eastern side, found a spring at its foot, and camped. The next day we crossed a broad valley to the foot of the line of Vermilion Cliffs, and at two o'clock reached the designated spring, where we found our Indians. They had already arranged that Na-pu and Toko-puts (Old Man and Wild Cat) should be our guides from the Colorado River to the "Province of Tusayan." During the evening I was very much interested in obtaining from them a census of their little tribe. They divided the arithmetic into parts, each of four men taking a certain number of families. Each sat down and counted on his fingers and toes the persons belonging to the families allotted to him, going over them again and again until each finger and toe stood in his mind for an individual. Then he would discuss the matter with other Indians, to see that all were enumerated, something like this: "Did you count Jack?" "Yes; that finger stands for Jack." "Did you count Nancy?" "Yes; that toe is Nancy." Each of the census takers becoming satisfied that he had correctly enumerated his portion, he procured the number of sticks necessary to represent them, and gave them to me. Adding the four together, I had the census of the tribe -seventy-three. Then I set them to dividing them severally into groups of men, women and children, but this I found a hard task. They could never agree among themselves whether certain persons should be called children, or not; but, at last, I succeeded in obtaining the number of males and females. The next morning I distributed some presents of knives, tobacco, beads, and other trinkets, and we pushed on toward the Colorado River. We found a difficult trail, having to cross the heads of many abrupt, but not very deep cañons. Down and up we Down and up we climbed all day long, winding about here and there, and always among the rocks, until at night we joined our party at the mouth of the Paria, and were ferried over to their camp. Early the next morning I climbed the Vermilion Cliffs. This great escarpment or wall of flaring red rock in a general direction faces south, from Saint George on the Rio Virgen to a point many miles east of the Colorado River, a distance of more than three hundred miles as we follow the meandering line. There is a deep re-entrant angle at the mouth of the Paria, where I climbed. Standing on an elevated point on the cliffs, and looking southward, I could see over a stretch of country that steadily rose in the distance until it reached an altitude far above even the elevated point of observation; and then, meandering through it to the south, the gorge in which the river runs, everywhere breaking down with a sharp brink, and the summits of the walls appearing to approach until they merged in a black line; and could hardly resist the thought that the river burrowed into, and was lost in, the great inclined plateau. This gorge was Marble Cañon, described in a previous article. While I was climbing, the train pushed on, in a direction a little to the east of south, along the foot of the Vermilion Cliffs. By mid-afternoon I overtook it. The trail by which we were traveling led up into a deep gulch, and we came to a clear, beautiful spring, gushing from beneath a rock a thousand feet high. Here was indeed "the shadow of a great rock in a weary land," and here we camped for the night. All about us were evidences of an ancient town or hamlet, foundation walls of houses half buried in . débris, fragments of pottery painted with rude devices, and picture writings etched on the cliffs. For another day, our journey was at the foot of the Vermilion Cliffs, in a direction a little east of south, over naked hills of sand and marls, where we found briny springs occasionally, but no fresh water, and no grass; a desert, but a painted desert; not a desert plain, but a desert of hills, and cliffs, and rocks-a region of alcove lands. At night we found a little water, in a basin or pocket, a mile from the trail. The next day we went to the top of the mesa by climbing the cliffs, and found a billowy sea of sand-dunes. The line of cliffs, separating the mesa above from the deeply gulch-carved plain below, is a long irregular and ragged region, higher by many hundred feet than the general surface of the mesa itself. On the slope of this ridge, facing the mesa, there is a massive, homogeneous sandstone, and the waters, gathering on the brink of the ridge and rolling down this slope, have carved innumerable channels; and, as they tumble down precipitously in many places, they dig out deep pot-holes, many of them holding a hundred or a thousand barrels of water. Among these holes we camped, finding a little bunch grass among the sand-dunes for our animals. We called this spot the Thousand Wells. Leaving the wells, we trudged for a day among the sand-dunes, and at night found |