ere the valley ends eastwardly, we perceive a dark background lying up
against the mountains. We know it is a pine-forest, but we are at too
great a distance to distinguish the trees. Out of this forest the
stream appears to issue; and upon its banks, near the border of the
woods, we perceive a collection of strange pyramidal structures. They
are houses. It is the town of Navajoa! Our eyes were directed upon it
with eager gaze. We could trace the outlines of the houses, though they
stood nearly ten miles distant. They suggested images of a strange
architecture. There were some standing apart from the rest, with
terraced roofs, and we could see there were banners waving over them.
One, larger than the rest, presented the appearance of a temple. It was
out on the open plain, and by the glass we could detect numerous forms
clustered upon its top--the forms of human beings. There were others
upon the roofs and parapets of the smaller houses; and many more moving
upon the plain nearer us, driving before them flocks of animals, mules,
and mustangs. Some were down upon the banks of the river, and others we
could see plunging about in the water.

Several droves of horses, whose mottled flanks showed their breed, were
quietly browsing on the open prairie. Flocks of wild swans, geese, and
gruyas winged their way up and down the meandering current of the
stream.

The sun was setting. The mountains were tinged with an amber-coloured
light; and the quartzose crystals sparkled on the peaks of the southern
sierra.

It was a scene of silent beauty. How long, thought I, ere its silence
would be broken by the sounds of ravage and ruin!

We remained for some time gazing up the valley, without anyone uttering
his thoughts. It was the silence that precedes resolve. In the minds
of my companions there were varied emotions at play, varied in kind as
they differed in intensity.

Some were holy. Men sat straining their eyes over the long reach of
meadow, thinking, or fancying, that in the distance they might
distinguish a loved object--a wife, a sister, a daughter, or perhaps the
object of a still dearer and deeper affection. No; the last could not
be. None could have been more deeply affected than he who was seeking
for his child. A father's love was the strongest passion there.

Alas! there were other emotions in the bosoms of those around me,
passions dark and sinful. Fierce looks were bent upon the town. Some
of