Down the water leaps in one unbroken chain to an immense bowlder-formed cauldron below, where it boils and surges furiously, throwing up volumes of spray, while the sun haloes the abyss with two or more gorgeous rainbows. The swaying from side to side under the varying pressure of the wind, and the jarring roar of the water, thrilled and hushed the beholders into silent, spellbound admiration. Yermah followed the north wall on past the Three Brothers which rise in steps, one behind the other, with their heads turned in the same direction. The lofty columnar rock called Washington Tower has diamond-like cascades, which tumble down the sides of the Royal Arches more than two thousand feet. These wing-like spans form a sort of lion’s head, not unlike the winged lions of Nineveh. With the column which forms an angle to Teneya Cañon, they seem intended for a base of adequate magnitude to support the North Dome. The mighty powers of Nature, which have wrought such wonders in this region, cleft this tower in twain, and disposed of the fragments in a manner as mysterious as it must have been awful. On the opposite side of Teneya Cañon is Half Dome—a perfectly inaccessible crest. From a distance one might fancy that the stone-cutter’s art had been brought to bear upon its perfectly rounded summit. Upon closer inspection it is found that Time has been the sculptor. The ages have cut out huge concentric layers of granite, and scattered them about in picturesque confusion. Yermah rode on up the cañon until his ears caught the notes of a folk-song; then he dismounted and, fastening Cibolo to a live-oak, made his way toward the music. Astonishment and delight transfixed his gaze. At his feet lay the “Sleeping Waters,”[4] embowered by trees, and environed on high by the dome already described. This water course leaps from crag to pool, until it reaches equilibrium, and the surface of the lake is as motionless and smooth as a mirror. The reflected domes, peaks and trees are seen on its glassy bosom in perfect outline, seemingly five hundred fathoms down, in exact representation of the beauties that reach one mile into the air! Yermah stood spellbound, not so much by this stupendous grandeur as by the scene being enacted before him. He was so intently regarding it that he scarcely saw or felt the shower of flint-headed arrows which fell in profusion and ruffled the surface of the lake. His eyes were riveted on a young woman who was in the act of speeding a golden arrow over the heads of three other girls of nearly her own age, and who were putting off from shore in a crescent-shaped boat, which they propelled with long silvery oars. They were chanting softly, and the air was redolent with the perfume of flowers, which completely filled the boat, hanging in graceful profusion from prow and stern, in wreaths of all sizes and colors.