CHAPTER XVI

SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA

“Shall they say of you, you have been to Rome and not seen the Pope?” Yet that is what will be said if you turn back at the Colorado River and leave Southern California out of your Southwestern travels. However, few people do that. The fear is that in their haste to reach that tourist playground, they may neglect too much of what the preceding chapters have dwelt upon. Intent upon seeing the Pope, they may do scant justice to Rome.

By Southern California is meant California south of the Teháchapi Mountains and their western prolongation ending in Santa Barbara County at the sea. It is not a political division, but Nature’s—in its physical aspect differing quite markedly from Central and Northern California. Long regarded with a sort of mild contempt by the Americans who settled Central California and who habitually spoke of the South as “the cow counties,” Southern California has in the last quarter century attained a reputation not short of gilt-edged. Lonely, treeless plains and valleys and brush-clad mesas that a comparatively few years ago were counted desert and good for nothing except for cattle ranges and sheep runs, have become, with the development of water, pleasant lands of fruitfulness supporting a numerous and progressive population. The extensive cultivation of the orange, the lemon, the fig, the grape, the English walnut, the apricot, the olive; the planting of the eucalyptus, the palm and a hundred kinds of exotic shade and ornamental trees; the dotting of the landscape with villas of a distinguished sort of architecture patterned on Italian and Spanish models—all this has wrought a transformation that makes even more appropriate today than 25 years ago the sobriquet of “Our Italy” given the region by Charles Dudley Warner.

Here wealthy Easterners maintain winter homes as they keep summer estates on the Atlantic Coast, and less well-to-do folk—retired farmers, tradesmen or professional people—buy a bungalow and settle down to the enjoyment of a good climate and the luxury of having roses and green peas in their winter gardens. Not only Americans but those of other nationalities have discovered that Southern California totals a remarkable number of points in the problem of comfortable living—a healthful and delightful climate (notably in winter), a fruitful soil capable of raising everything natural to the temperate zone besides a large number of things sub-tropical, a beautiful and varied terrain embracing seaside, valley and mountain, and an admirable system of capital roads. For the tourist there is not only the attraction of this beauty and comfort, but there is the drawing of historic interest, touched with that indefinable sense of romance that attaches wherever Spain has had a foothold. In Southern California as elsewhere in the Southwest, that Spanish flavor is very evident, manifested in the presence of a considerable Spanish-speaking population, in the remains of Spanish-built Missions and ranch houses, and in the persistence of Spanish geographic nomenclature.

The hub of Southern California is Los Angeles, which in a generation has expanded from a sleepy little half-Spanish pueblo of a few thousand to a metropolis of half a million, with a taste for the latest in everything and the money to indulge it. It is the natural center from which to do one’s sightseeing, though Pasadena, adjoining it on the north, is almost as convenient and, indeed, preferred by many who are not in a hurry and prefer surroundings more rural. Pasadena is a little city of 40,000, beautifully situated on a shelving mesa at the base of the Sierra Madre and overlooking the fertile San Gabriel Valley. It is nationally famous for its numerous fine estates and the winter residences of wealthy Easterners; but outside of that it possesses mile upon mile of tree-lined streets where modest homes of the bungalow type look out from a setting of vine and shrub and flower. Each New Year’s Day the city becomes the objective of tens of thousands of visitors to view the Tournament of Roses, an outdoor fiesta whose distinctive feature is a street floral pageant.

From Los Angeles lines of transportation radiate to all points of interest. You have your pick of steam railways, electric lines, auto-stages and ocean steamers. Hundreds of miles of first class, hard-surfaced roads make Southern California a motorist’s paradise, and automobiling is here so notable a feature of tourist life that, if possible, the traveler should make provision for it when packing his pocket book. Public automobiles are abundant and the prices reasonable enough, from $1.50 per hour upward, with special rates for trips. If you are able to club with others for a car, you may find this the cheapest form of travel. Maps and specific information as to drives may be had at offices of the Automobile Club of Southern California.[97]

For those who do not care for motoring or find it too expensive, most of the desirable points are reached by electric and steam lines, or by auto-stages. There are several daily excursions scheduled by the Pacific Electric Railway, which afford at a minimum of expense a satisfactory means of getting a comprehensive idea of Southern California. One of these, to Mount Lowe (a prominent peak of the Sierra Madre), may be substituted for the automobile drive up Mount Wilson. The visit to San Juan Capistrano Mission may be made by train, the railway station being close by. There is a resident priest and religious services are regularly held in one of the restored rooms. The Mission was founded in 1775, and the church part—now a ruin, the result of an earthquake in 1812—marked in its prime the high-tide of Mission architecture in California.

The Franciscan Mission establishments in California are among the most interesting historical monuments of our country; and those of the southern end of the State remain to-day especially noteworthy. Ten miles from Los Angeles is Mission San Gabriel (founded in 1771 on the bank of the Rio Hondo a few miles east of the present site, to which it was removed in 1775). It was for many years a principal center of civilization in the province, the settlement antedating the founding of Los Angeles by several years. Of the original establishment little remains but the church part, which is in a state of good preservation and serves as a place of worship for a considerable congregation, largely of Spanish descent. Mission San Fernando (about 25 miles west of the heart of Los Angeles) is deserted, save by a caretaker. The fine corridored _convento_, flush with the highway, is its most conspicuous feature today, but the Mission was once of notable extent. A cloistered walk formerly connected the _convento_ with the ruined church in the rear. If you stroll on past the church to the ancient olive orchard beyond and look back, having the two date palms there in your foreground, you will get a charming picture of the noble old temple where Padre “Napoleon” strove, during a third of the Mission’s existence, to steer his dusky children heavenward. Apropos of these California Missions (whose plan was quite different from those of New Mexico and Arizona) it should be borne in mind that originally each consisted of a huge hollow square of buildings, facing within on an open courtyard. The church occupied part or all of one side, the other sides consisting of living rooms for the one or two padres (the _convento_ part), kitchens, store rooms, shops where the neophytes were taught and labored, and the _monjerio_ or sleeping apartment of the Indian widows and unmarried girls of the Mission. Outside this compound were the huts of the Indian converts, arranged in streets and forming an orderly village of sometimes a couple of thousand souls.[98]

South of Los Angeles, 125 miles, is San Diego, reached either by rail, steamer, or automobile. If the last way is chosen, going and returning may be done over different highways, one following the coast, the other running further inland via Riverside. Both roads are excellent. Forty miles before reaching San Diego, you pass within calling distance of Mission San Luis Rey (St. Louis, the King)—4 miles east of Oceanside, a railroad stop where conveyance may be had for the Mission. San Luis Rey was founded in 1798 and in its proportions rivaled San Juan Capistrano. It is still an imposing establishment, though restored with rather too heavy a hand to suit the artistic sense. The situation is charming, on a knoll in the midst of a noble valley, emerald green in winter and spring, the San Luis Rey River flowing close by the Mission. A community of hospitable Franciscan brothers occupies the premises, and religious services are regularly held in the church. Twenty miles further up the river (eastward), a pleasant drive, is San Luis Rey’s sub-mission or _asistencia_, San Antonio de Pala, which no lover of the picturesque should miss visiting. White-walled and red-tiled, the quaint little church with a remarkable, white bell-tower set not on it but beside it, is one’s beau ideal of an old mission. The setting, too, is satisfying. On every hand are the mountains; a stone’s throw away ripples the little river; and clustered close by is a picturesque village of about 300 Indians, to whom a resident priest, with rooms in the Mission, is _cura_. Both Mission San Luis Rey and this outpost of Pala were constructed by Indians under the supervision of the famous Padre Peyri, one of the most forceful and devoted of the early Franciscans in California. He gave the best of his life to his wilderness flock, and years after his departure, the Indians, in reverence of his memory, would still offer up their prayers before his picture as before a saint’s.

San Diego, a city claiming a population of 100,000, is spread over seaward-looking hills affording a delightful view of the land-locked Bay of San Diego and the Pacific Ocean going down to China. The mountains of Old Mexico, too, only 20 miles away, make a feature in the prospect. If you are in any doubt what to do in San Diego, you need only stroll around to the neighborhood of the Plaza, and you will be shown. Street cars, automobiles, “rubberneck” busses and tourist agency windows are hung with notices of places to see and trips to take, and the streets are sprinkled with uniformed officials emblazoned with gold lace, to give you details. You may have a good time on any of these jaunts, if you are good-natured and like a bit of roughing it (for San Diego’s vicinity has not as yet reached Los Angeles County’s excellence in roads); but to give you a start I would itemize the following as not to be overlooked:

The exquisite gardens at Balboa Park (where the Panama-California Exposition of 1915-16 was held), affording in epitome a charming object lesson in what California gardens offer both in exotic and native plants; the drive to and along the headland of Point Loma for the fine views; by ferry across the bay to Coronado’s famous hotel and beach; the ride by railway or automobile to La Jolla (pronounced _lah ho´ yah_), a pleasant little seaside resort with interesting cliffs and surf-drenched rocks; by street car to Old Town (where San Diego had its beginning), to visit the Estudillo house—a former Spanish home intelligently restored and interesting as a bit of old-time architecture with its tiled inner corridors about a flowery patio. It is locally known as “Ramona’s Marriage Place,” because it was here, according to the novel, that the priest lived who married Ramona and Alessandro. On the hill back of Old Town once stood Padre Junípero Serra’s first Mission in California, founded in 1769; but it is all gone now, the site being marked by a large cross made of the original red tiles that once littered the ground. It is but a short walk worth taking both for the view and for the sentiment of standing on the spot where white civilization in California had its beginning. Five miles up the valley that stretches eastward at your feet is what is left of the second Mission (established in 1774). This historic building has been sadly neglected and is but a ruined shell, which only reverence for its past makes interesting. Across the road from it is the old olive orchard, believed to be the original planting of the olive in the State.

San Diego’s back country offers many interesting trips by auto-stage or private car, the roads being as a rule good but with the ups and downs of a hilly region. There are several good hotels in the mountains at a distance of 60 miles or so from San Diego, so that the night may be spent here if desired. Pine Hills, Mesa Grande, and Warner’s Hot Springs may be mentioned as desirable objectives. The trip by auto-stage or your own car via Campo to El Centro or Calexico (at the Mexican border) in the Imperial Valley will prove an unforgettable experience. The Imperial Valley is a depression below sea-level in the Colorado Desert of California, which after lying desolate for ages has of late been made exceedingly productive by diverting irrigation water to it from the Colorado River. This trip had best be made between November and May, as the desert heat in summer and early autumn is intense. If you have your own car and desire the experience of more desert, return may be made around the Salton Sea through the Coachella Valley (where dates are now extensively grown), to Palm Springs and Riverside.

While we have rambled along the coast between Los Angeles and San Diego, our eyes will often have been caught by the sight of a long, low island well out to sea. It is Santa Catalina, whose reputation as a sea-angler’s paradise is world wide. It has also a most delightful climate—its and San Diego’s being perhaps the most equable of any on the Coast. The marine gardens that line the shores are also of wide fame, and are made visible by boats with glass bottoms, through which one looks down into the transparent waters of another world where waving kelps and sea mosses are the forests and bright colored fish, sea anemones, jelly fish, sea cucumbers and other queer creatures are the inhabitants. The trip thither and return may be accomplished from Los Angeles, between breakfast and evening dinner, if you do not care to stay longer.

A hundred miles northwest of Los Angeles lies Santa Barbara (a little city of 15,000), rich in beautiful homes and flowery gardens. It is delightfully situated with the ocean at its feet and the Santa Inés Mountains at its back, and may be reached from Los Angeles either by train or by a picturesque motor drive through valleys, over mountains and beside the sea. Here is the best preserved of all the existing Franciscan Missions in California—never abandoned since its founding in 1786, though now for many a year there have been no Indians in its care. It is the residence of a Franciscan community, and the members in their long brown gowns and white cord girdles may be seen any day at their various tasks about the grounds—one of which is the piloting of visitors through the church.

Driving, horseback-riding, playing golf, or simply sitting still and enjoying being alive in the midst of fine scenery, are the principal occupations of Santa Barbara’s visitors. Among the longer drives should be mentioned the 40 miles to the Ojai Valley by way of the lovely Casitas Passes, and the 45 miles across the Santa Inés Mountains to the Mission Santa Inés in the valley of the same name. The latter trip is made more enjoyable if two days are taken to it, the mountains being crossed by the San Marcos Pass[99] into the Valley of Santa Inés, famous for its majestic oaks, and the night passed at Los Olivos, 6 miles north of the Mission Mattei’s Tavern at Los Olivos, is one of the most comfortable country inns in California. The return should be made by the Gaviota Pass and the seaside road back to Santa Barbara. The Mission of Santa Inés (which is Spanish for Saint Agnes, whose eve gives title to Keat’s immortal poem), is sight enough to make the trip worth while—with white walls, red-tiled roofs and flowery, corridored front, in a valley rimmed about with mountains. The Mission was long abandoned and in ruins, but when the present hospitable rector took charge some 15 years ago, he began a careful restoration and with his own hands did much of the necessary labor to put it as we see it today.[100]

A POSTSCRIPT ON CLIMATE, WAYS AND MEANS.

While the climate of the Southwest is characterized by abundant sunshine and a low degree of relative humidity, it has periods of considerable moisture precipitation. In winter this takes the form of snow in the northern and central portions of New Mexico and Arizona (which lie at an elevation of 5000 feet and more above sea level). The snow, however, except upon the mountains, disappears rather rapidly under the hot sunshine of midday, so that the traveler has a fair chance to sandwich his trips between the storms. The mid-year precipitation of rain is generally during July and August, and throughout all parts of both those States it descends usually in severe electrical storms. These occur as a rule in the afternoon and pass quickly, but while they last they are apt to be very, very wet. They are the occasion of sky effects of cloud and rainbow wonderful enough to compensate for whatever discomfort the rain may cause. In most sections the summer temperatures are on the whole agreeable, but in the much lower altitudes of parts of southern Arizona and New Mexico, desert conditions largely prevail, with a degree of heat in summer that is trying to sight-seers.

In Southern California climatic conditions differ greatly from those east of the Colorado River. The coast year is divided naturally into a dry season and a wet—the latter normally extending from October or November to April or May. From about mid-spring to about mid-autumn no rainfall whatever is to be expected, except in the high mountains where there are occasional thundershowers during summer. The winter precipitation comes usually in intermittent rain-storms of perhaps two or three days’ duration (on the higher mountains these come as snow), the intervening periods generally characterized by pleasant, sunshiny days and by nights with temperatures (particularly during December and January), not infrequently as low as 30 degrees Fahr. These minimums, however, rarely hold over an hour or so; and curiously enough, though they result in early morning frosts, only the tenderest vegetation is killed, the mercury rising rapidly after sunrise; so that a great variety of garden flowers bloom, and many vegetables mature, in the open throughout the winter. A marked feature of the California 24 hours is the wide difference between the temperature at midday and that at night, amounting to 35 or 40 degrees F. This condition is fairly constant and to be counted on daily. Similarly there is a very marked difference between shade and sun. A respectful regard for this fact will save the traveler many a bad cold. In summer, though the mercury may run well up into the 90’s and sometimes even to over 100 degrees, the accompanying relative humidity is low, so that it may be said that as a rule one suffers less from heat on the Pacific Coast than on the Atlantic at a dozen degrees lower.

As regards clothing, a simple and safe rule for travelers in the Southwest is to bring with them the same sort that they would wear in New York, season for season. No part of the Southwest is tropical, or even Floridian.

In the matter of expenses, Southern California has had a wider experience in catering to tourists than Arizona and New Mexico and its facilities are now thoroughly systematized, so that the average man may, if he chooses, live there about as cheaply as at home, or he may have the most luxurious accommodations at the larger resorts on a basis that only the very wealthy are familiar with. European plan is that most in vogue in California hotels, and the one most satisfactory for the traveler, who, in his rambles, often finds himself at meal-time far from his hostelry. Unless you want to pay more, you may calculate on $1.00 to $1.50 a night for a comfortable room. In Arizona and New Mexico the sparser settlement of the country results in plainer accommodations, but the rates are reasonable—room $1.00 a day and up; American plan rate under normal conditions about $3.00 a day. At many points in these two States the railways conduct hotels for the accommodation of their patrons, and they are, in my experience, uniformly good.

The charge for saddle-horses varies greatly. In out-of-the-way places where the horses range for their feed, ponies may be had for a dollar a day; but at the popular resorts, the rent of a good mount is generally in the neighborhood of $3.00 a day; it may be even more. There is a similar irregularity as to automobile rates. The latter are largely influenced by the character of the trip, as 50 miles on some roads would involve greater expense to the owner than 100 miles on others. A return of $15 or $20 a day for a car is not infrequently considered satisfactory, but harder trips naturally necessitate a much higher charge. In bargaining for transportation in the Southwest, where it may be a day’s journey between stopping places, it is well to remember that the lowest priced is not always the cheapest. It pays to pay for responsibility.

FOOTNOTES

[1]In 1883 New Mexico enterprisingly celebrated a so-called 300th anniversary of the founding of Santa Fe, basing that function on the assumption that Antonio de Espejo, who made an extended exploration of the province in 1582-3, had planted a colony there. But there is no evidence whatever that he did.

[2]The name commemorates the first Catholic Archbishop of Santa Fe, John B. Lamy (1850-1885), an apostolic man much beloved by the New Mexicans, to whom he appears to have been a true spiritual father.

[3]General Lew Wallace, while governor of New Mexico, wrote the last three books of “Ben Hur” in the old Palace. “When in the city,” he informed a correspondent, as quoted in Twitchell’s “Leading Facts of New Mexico History,” “my habit was to shut myself night after night in the bedroom back of the executive office proper, and write there till after twelve o’clock.... The retirement, impenetrable to incoming sound, was as profound as a cavern’s.”

[4]An establishment of the Archaeological Institute of America, which maintains schools also at Athens, Rome and Jerusalem. The Santa Fe school has for years conducted research work among the ancient remains in the Southwest, Guatemala, and other parts of the American continent. In connection with this, it holds annually a field summer school open to visitors.

[5]The climate is part of Santa Fe’s cherished assets, the atmosphere being characterized by great dryness. In summer the heat is rarely oppressive, and the nights are normally cool and refreshing. During July and August frequent thunder showers, usually occurring in the afternoon, are to be expected. In winter the mercury occasionally touches zero, and there is more or less of wind and snow interfering temporarily with the tourist’s outings; but the sunshine is warm and the snow melts quickly. Autumn is ideal with snappy nights and mornings and warm, brilliantly sunny mid-days.

[6]The traveler should be warned that Indians as a rule object to being photographed. Originally they had an idea that ill fortune attended the operation, but the objection nowadays is usually grounded on a natural distaste to being made a show of, or the desire to make a little money. In the latter case, they may succumb to the offer of a dime if they cannot get 25 cents. It is only just and courteous to ask permission of the subject (putting yourself in his place). This is particularly needful at dances. Sometimes photographing these is not tolerated; in other cases, a fee paid to the governor secures a license for the day.

[7]About 10 miles beyond Tesuque is the pueblo of Nambé, prettily situated under the shoulder of the fine, snowy peak, Santa Fe Baldy, with the lovely Nambé Falls not far away. The Indian population is barely 100 and the village is becoming Mexicanized. Its saint’s day is October 4, when the annual fiesta occurs.

[8]Population about 275. Its public fiesta is held August 12.

[9]James Mooney, “The Ghost-Dance Religion.”

[10]You may, if you choose, do Taos from Santa Fe in your own or a hired automobile via Tesuque and San Juan pueblos, giving a day each way to the journey. Nambé, San Ildefonso and Santa Clara may be included by slight detours, but the time in that case must be stretched.

[11]Col. R. E. Twitchell quotes a tradition of the Taos people to the effect that they came to their present home under divine guidance, the site being indicated to them by the drop of an eagle’s feather from the sky.

[12]The skulls of the Cliff Dwellers indicate them to have been a “long-headed” race, while the modern Pueblos are so only in part. It is likely, therefore, that the latter Indians are of mixed stocks. There is, however, abundant traditionary evidence that certain clans of the present-day Pueblos are of Cliff descent.

[13]Pronounced _Pah´ha-ree-to_, and meaning _little bird_.

[14]_Recto day loce Free-ho´les_, i. e., _brook of the beans_.

[15]From Santa Fe to the Tyuonyi and return may be made by automobile in one strenuous day, including 2 or 3 hours at the ruins. It is better, if possible, to board at the ranch in the cañon for a few days, both for the purpose of examining the ruins at leisure and making some of the interesting side trips from that point; notably to the Stone Lions of Cochití, unique examples of aboriginal carving on stone, and to _La Cueva Pintada_ (the Painted Cave) where are some remarkable symbolic pictographs. Arrangements should be made with the ranch in advance by telephone.

[16]An ecclesiastical order existent in rural New Mexico, probably deriving from the Third Order of Saint Francis, and distinguished by practices of self-flagellation for the remission of sins. They are particularly active during Lent, when they form processions, beat themselves with knotted whips, strap bundles of cactus to their backs, and walk barefoot or on their knees over flint-strewn ground, bearing heavy crosses. Some of their exercises are held at the crosses on these hill-top _calvarios_ (calvaries). The Catholic Church discourages their practices; but they possess considerable political power in New Mexico and of recent years the order has become regularly incorporated as a secret fraternity under the State law.

[17]L. Bradford Prince, “Spanish Mission Churches of New Mexico.”

[18]The original form of the name is Alburquerque, given in honor of a Duke of Alburquerque, who was viceroy of New Spain at the time the place was founded as a _villa_ in 1706.

[19]The name Isleta means “islet,” given, according to Dr. F. W. Hodge, because formerly the Rio Grande and an arroyo from the mountains islanded the pueblo between them.

[20]The church authorities, it should be said, do not endorse this tradition. Father Zepherin Engelhardt, the historian of the Franciscans in the Southwest, tells me that there were other missionaries named Padilla besides Padre Juan, and the burial of one of these in the church at Isleta, may have given color to the story.

[21]Pronounced _bair-na-lee´yo_. It is a diminutive of Bernal, and the place was so named because settled by descendants of Bernal Diaz, a soldier of Cortés and contemporary chronicler of the conquest of Mexico. It was at Bernalillo that De Vargas died, in 1704.

[22]Including a score or so descended from the Pecos tribe who moved to Jemes in 1838 from Pecos Pueblo. This now deserted pueblo (whose ruins have lately been systematically excavated and whose fine old Mission church, visible from the Santa Fe transcontinental trains, has undergone some careful restoration) may be reached by conveyance from the Valley Ranch near Glorieta station on the Santa Fe. In Coronado’s time Pecos was the most populous town in the country. It is called Cicuyé by the old chroniclers.

[23]The nearest railway station to these lakes is Estancia on the New Mexican Central.

[24]Harrington, “The Ethno-geography of the Tewa Indians.”

[25]Papers of the School of American Archaeology, No. 35.

[26]Popular tradition persistently associates gold-hoarding with the Franciscan Missionaries throughout the Southwest, ignoring the fact that the members of the Seraphic Order were pledged to poverty, and had small interest in any wealth except the unsearchable riches of Christ, to share which with their humble Indian charges was their sole mission in the wilderness. As for the New Mexico Indians, they knew nothing of any mineral more precious than turquoise.

[27]Paul A. F. Walter, “The Cities That Died of Fear.”

[28]Apropos of these ruined Missions, it is interesting to know that the construction was undoubtedly the work of women—house-building being one of the immemorial duties and cherished privileges of Pueblo womankind.

[29]Paul A. P. Walter, “The Cities That Died of Fear.”

[30]The Manzano range reaches an elevation of 10,600 feet here.

[31]The formation is that known throughout New Mexico as a _mesa_ (Spanish for _table_). Such flat-topped hills—high or low—have been brought into being by the washing away in ancient times of the surrounding earth.

[32]New Mexico rural roads are in a certain Mark Tapleyian sense ideal for motorists. Traversing unfenced plains, as they often do, if they develop bad spots the motorist turns aside and has little difficulty in scouting out a detour. After a rain, however, they are gummy and slippery in adobe country until the sun hardens the clay, which it does rather quickly.

[33]Some of the Acomas in despair, threw themselves from the cliffs and so died rather than surrender. A stirring account of the storming of Acoma will be found in “The Spanish Pioneers,” by Chas. F. Lummis.

[34]Remarkable for its light weight and ornamentation with conventionalized leaf forms, birds, etc. Unfortunately the education of the young Indians in Government schools is causing a decline at all the pueblos in this purely American art.

[35]The reader, curious to know what is on top of Katzimo, is referred to an article, “Ascent of the Enchanted Mesa,” by F. W. Hodge, in the Century Magazine, May, 1898.

[36]Strictly speaking Laguna is the mother pueblo in a family of seven, the other half dozen being summer or farming villages scattered about within a radius of a few miles, so established to be near certain fertile lands. Some of these, as Pojuate, are picturesque enough to warrant a visit, if there is time. The population of all 7 is estimated at about 1500.

[37]For a lively account of this authentic bit of history, the reader is referred to the chapter “A Saint in Court” in Mr. C. F. Lummis’s “Some Strange Corners of our Country.”

[38]Gallup is also a principal shipping point for Navajo blankets. Travelers interested in this aboriginal handiwork will here find large stocks to select from at the traders’ stores.

[39]In the southwestern corner of Colorado. Here are hundreds of prehistoric dwellings built in the cañon walls representing probably the finest and best preserved architecture of the unknown vanished races that once peopled our Southwest. Government archaeologists, who have a particularly warm regard for the Mesa Verde, have been making careful excavations and restorations here for years, and have mapped out a program that will consume many more. The so-called Sun Temple, excavated in 1915, apparently a communal edifice for the performance of religious dramas, is the only one of its kind so far brought to light in the United States. (See “Sun Temple of Mesa Verde National Park,” by J. W. Fewkes. 1916, Gov’t Printing office.) A public camp for tourists is maintained near the ruins during the summer months, the high elevation (8500 feet) rendering snow likely at other seasons. The nearest railway station is Mancos, Col., on the D. & R. G., whence an auto-stage runs to the Park camp.

[40]The most famous is the Shálako which occurs annually about December 1, largely a night ceremony of great impressiveness. The central figures are giant effigies representing divinities, whose motive power is a Zuñi man hidden within each. They enter from the plain at dusk, and to the plain return the next morning, after a night of dancing and feasting by the people.

[41]For some of the adventures of this famous couple, see F. H. Cushing’s, “Zuñi Folk Tales.”

[42]Reports of the Secretary of War, Senate Ex. Doc. 64, First Session 31st Congress, 1850. A more illuminating account of the Rock is given by Mr. Chas. F. Lummis in “Some Strange Corners of Our Country.” An able supplement to this is a paper by H. L. Broomall and H. E. Hoopes in Proceedings of Delaware County Institute of Science, Vol. I, No. 1, Media, Pa.

[43]There were poets among the Conquistadores. A printed source relied upon by historians for authentic particulars of Oñate’s tour of conquest is a rhymed chronicle by one of his lieutenants, Don Gaspar de Villagrán. I believe New Mexico is the only one of our States that can seriously quote an epic poem in confirmation of its history. This New Mexican Homer, as H. H. Bancroft calls him, printed his book in 1610 at Alcalá. A reprint, published in Mexico a few years ago, may be consulted in public libraries. The original is one of the rarest of Americana.

[44]The Spaniards, whose avenging expedition Lujan’s cutting upon El Morro records, never found Letrado’s body, the Zuñis having made way with it. Earnestly desiring some relic of the martyred friar, the soldiers were rewarded by seeing in the air a cord which descended into their hands, and this was divided among them. So says Vetancurt, old chronicler of Franciscan martyrdom in New Mexico.

[45]Pronounced not as though it rhymed with _jelly_, but _chay_ (or less correctly _shay_) rhyming with _hay_. The word is a Spanish way of recording the cañon’s Navajo name Tse-yi, meaning “among the cliffs.”

[46]To him, more than to any other man, is ascribed the credit of saving the Navajo blanket industry from being hopelessly vulgarized by ignorant and unscrupulous dealers.

[47]“Navaho Legends,” by Dr. Washington Matthews.

[48]Automobiles must be left at Chin Lee, where horses for exploring the cañon may be had, if arranged for in advance.

[49]Botanically, _Phragmites communis_, common throughout the United States in damp places. It was through the hollow stem of one of this species divinely enlarged, that the Navajos and Pueblos came up in company from the underworld into this present world of light. So at least runs the Navajo Origin legend.

[50]The origin of the Navajo blanket is picturesque. At the time of the Spanish conquest, the tribe was too insignificant to be mentioned. It grew, however, rather rapidly, and in raids upon the Pueblos took many of the latter prisoners. From these (the Pueblos had long been weavers of native cotton) they picked up the textile art; and then stealing sheep from the Spaniards, they inaugurated the weaving of the woolen blanket. Only the women of the tribe are weavers, and Doctor Matthews states that in his time, some 30 years ago, they did it largely as an artistic recreation, just as the ladies of civilization do embroidery or tatting.

[51]The place of emergence is fancied to have been in an island in a small lake in the San Juan Mountains of southwestern Colorado.

[52]Dr. W. Matthews, “Navaho Legends.”

[53]The nearest railway station is McCarty’s, from which it lies 12 miles to the northeast.

[54]The classic work on Navajo customs and myths is “Navaho Legends,” by Dr. Washington Matthews—a U. S. army surgeon who resided on their Reservation for years. To a sympathetic attitude towards the race, he added the practical qualification of a thorough knowledge of the language.

[55]Other routes from railroad points are from Winslow, Ariz., 80 miles to the First Mesa or 75 miles to the Second Mesa; from Cañon Diablo, Ariz., 75 miles to the Third Mesa; from Holbrook, Ariz., 90 miles to the First Mesa. The routes from Gallup and Holbrook possess the advantage of avoiding the crossing of the Little Colorado River, which becomes at times impassable from high water.

[56]A variant of this pueblo’s name is Shongópovi.

[57]The population of the Hopi pueblos is approximately: Walpi, 250; Sichúmovi, 100; Hano, 150; Mishong-novi, 250; Shipaulovi, 200; Shimapovi, 200; Oraibi, 300; Hótavila, 400; Pacavi, 100. Another Hopi village (until recently considered a summer or farming outpost of Oraibi) is Moenkopi, 40 miles further west, with a population of about 200.

[58]Hopi, or Hopi-tuh, the name these Indians call themselves, means “the peaceful,” a truthful enough appellation, for they suffer much before resorting to force. By outsiders they have often been called Moki, a term never satisfactorily explained, except that it is considered uncomplimentary.

[59]The myth has to do with the arrival of the Flute clan at Walpi bringing with them effective paraphernalia for compelling rain to fall. The Walpians opposed the entrance of the stranger, and this is symbolized in the ceremony by lines of white corn meal successively sprinkled by priests across the trail, as the procession advances towards the village.

[60]The inhabitants of Hano are not pure Hopi, but descended from Tewa Pueblos of the Rio Grande region, who took up their residence here after 1680, invited by the Hopis as a help against Apache depredation. Though these Tewas have intermarried with their Hopi neighbors, they are proud of their distinct ancestry, have preserved their own language, and still practise some of their ancient religious rites.

[61]Mr. F. L. Lewton investigated and described this species as _Gossypium Hopi_. Smithsonian Institution, Misc. Coll. Vol. 60, No. 6.

[62]This name is not Spanish or Indian for anything but just a playful transmogrification of Adam Hanna, an old time Arizonian who once lived there.

[63]U. S. Geological Survey’s Guide Book of the Western United States,