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Updated: May 19, 2025
I stop to photograph it; but who can photograph pure light? Only one man has ever existed who could paint pure light; and Turner is dead. Did a race once live on this high, flat, isolated, inaccessible slab of huge rock? Lummis says "yes;" Hodge says "no." Are there pottery remnants of a dead city? Lummis says "yes;" Hodge says "no."
Quarterpage, across the way there, the auctioneer, though he doesn't do any business now they say he's ninety, though I'm sure you wouldn't take him for more than seventy. And there's Mr. Lummis, further down the street he's eighty-one. And Mr. Skene, and Mr. Kaye they're regular patriarchs.
Another shows the bringing of the fruit to Italy by a body of nymphs and goddesses in Neptune's car. Mr. Charles F. Lummis has translated portions of the book in the California magazine Out West.
The quarrel between Lummis and Hodge has waxed hotter and hotter as to the Enchanted Mesa without any finale to the dispute; and far be it from an outsider like myself to umpire warfare amid the gods of the antiquarian; but isn't it possible that a custom among the Acoma Indians may explain the whole matter; and that both men may be partly right?
"He also, single-handed and alone, pacified and converted the lofty pueblo of Acoma, then hostile to the Spanish. He built churches and monasteries, bore the fearful hardships and dangers of a missionary's life then in that wilderness, and has left us a most valuable chronicle." This was translated by Mr. Lummis and appeared in The Land of Sunshine.
These and other similar facts are attested by the report of the Bureau of Ethnology of Washington, as well as by many other reliable authorities, including that singularly gifted and scholarly student of Spanish history and folk lore, Charles F. Lummis of Los Angeles, himself a Puritan on both sides of his house for several generations back.
Before a youth reaches manhood, while he is still being instructed in the mysteries of Hopi faith in the underground council room or kiva, it is customary for the Acomas to blindfold him and send him to the top of the Enchanted Mesa for a night's lonely vigil with a jar of water as oblation to the spirits. These jars explain the presence of pottery, which Lummis describes.
He was a tall, lank old gentleman, clad in rusty black clothes, with a pointed collar sticking up on both sides of his fringe of grey whisker and a voluminous black neckcloth folded several times round his neck, and by the expression of his countenance was inclined to look on life severely. "Nobody been in yet?" asked Mr. Kaye. "No, but here's Mr. Lummis and Mr. Skene," replied the barmaid.
And yet it is neither the Greek philosopher nor the Elizabethan poet that makes the everyday application of these principles; but we have a hint of this application from the Pueblo tribe of Indians, of whom Lummis tells us the following: "There is no duty to which a Pueblo child is trained in which he has to be content with a bare command: do this.
"If you were acquainted with this town you would know that those are the names of our best-known inhabitants all, of course, burgesses. There's mine, you see Quarterpage. There's Lummis, there's Kaye, there's Skene, there's Templeby the gentlemen you saw last night. All good old town names. They all are on this list. I know every family mentioned.
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