ion. The only ornament I see in any of the rooms wuz some kinder
wavin' streaks of red paint. But, oh! how solid the housen wuz, how firm
the underpinnin'.

There wuz some stun towers and some winders, and oh! how I do wish I
could seen what them Old Cliffers looked out on when they rested their
arms on the stun winder sills and looked down on the deep valley below.

Children a-lookin' out for pleasure mebby; older ones a-lookin' for
Happiness and Ambition like as not, the aged ones a-leanin' their tired
arms on the hard stun, while the settin' sun lit up their white locks,
and a-lookin' for rest.

The cliffs are a good many colors, and each a good-lookin' one.

One thing struck me in all the housen, and made me think that though the
Cliff Dwellers wuz older than Abraham or Moses, yet if I could see some
of them female Cliffers I could neighbor with 'em like sisters.

They did love closets so well, and that made 'em so congenial to me. I
never had half closets enough, and I don't believe any woman did if she
would tell the truth.

There wuz sights of closets all closed up with good slab doors, some
like grave-stuns.

I shouldn't have liked that so well, to had to heave down that heavy
slab every time that I wanted a teacup, but mebby they didn't drink tea.

I spoze they kep their strange-lookin' pottery there, and I presoom the
wimmen prided themselves on havin' more of them jars than a neighbor
female Cliffer did. Then there are farmin' implements, and sandals, and
leggins, and weapons, and baby boards--and didn't I wish that I could
ketch sight of one of them babies!

The bodies of the dead wuz wrapped in four different winders--first in
fine cloth, then a robe of turkey feathers wove with Yucca fibre, then a
mattin', and then a wrap made of reeds.

The mummies found wrapped in these grave-clothes are more perfect than
any found in Egypt, the hot, dry air of Colorado a-doin' its best to
keep folks alive, and then after they are dead, a-keepin' 'em so as long
as it can. There wuz one, a woman with pretty figure, and small hands
and feet, and soft, light-colored hair. What wuz she a-thinkin' on as
she done up that fore-top or braided that back hair?

Did any hand ever lay on that soft, shinin' hair in caresses? I presoom
more than like as not there had. Her mother's, anyway, and mebby a
lover's, sence the fashion of love is older than the pyramids enough
sight--old as Adam, and before that Love wuz. For Love