This wonderful valley, this marvelous , “touched by a light that hath no name, a glory never sung,” is a puzzle to . It is a -walled in the very heart of the mountains. The solid rock walls have split in half, one-half dropping out of sight, leaving only this beautiful valley to tell the tale.
 
Down the dark, frowning walls, which rise sheer from three to five thousand feet, numerous waterfalls which leap two thousand feet at a bound. Through the valley flows the Merced river. Its water, clear as crystal, is full of that most delicious of all fish, mountain . A more stream does not flow on this continent. Up in the mountain the Merced river is a wild, roaring , but through the valley it flows over its white bed, bathing the brown roots of the trees that fringe its banks. The trout float lazily along, leaping up to catch the insects that fly over the water, or sleeping in quiet pools and shady nooks along the bank. Here the cook drops his line out of the kitchen window and hooks trout for our breakfast.
 
The air is with the odor of many blossoms. The of YoSemite falls one to sleep as it goes leaping down five thousand feet over the granite wall to the pool below, clashing with spray the flowers that bloom on its banks.
 
YoSemite is truly a valley with little suggestion of the cañon about it. The Half towering high above almost the of the river, and the gorge of Tenaya . Several thousand broad acres spread out in a level on its long narrow bottom.
 
El Capitan is the of the world of rocks. A solid mass of granite, towering skyward three-fifths of a mile, barren except for one tree, an pine, one hundred and twenty-seven feet high, growing on a narrow , in a a thousand feet above its base. Its face, one and one-half miles across, kissed to a soft creamy whiteness by the suns of summer and the snows of winter. That is El Capitan, the wonder of the world. The Indians call it Tutockahnulah, in honor of their greatest chief.
 
Scarred and , the Three Brothers stand like severe hierophants, looking down into this mysterious vale.
 
That of lakes, Mirror lake, called by the Indians Sleeping Water, adds beauty to this wonderful valley, so , so clear the water that the rocky wall and every tree and on its banks lie on the of the water as if reflected in a mirror.
 
“Aloft on sky and mountain wall are God’s great pictures hung.”
 
The legend of the lovely falls called Bridal Veil runs in this wise:
 
Centuries ago there lived in this valley one Tutockahnulah and his tribe. One day while out hunting, he met the spirit of the valley, Tisayac. From that moment he knew no peace. He neglected his people and spent his time in dreaming of lovely Tisayac. She was fair, her skin was white and the sun had kissed her hair to a golden brown. Her eyes reflected heaven’s own blue. Her silvery speech like a bird’s song led him to her, but when he opened his eyes she vanished into the clouds.
 
The beautiful YoSemite valley being neglected by Tutockahnulah, became a desert and a waste. When Tisayac returned she wept at the sight of her beloved valley. On the dome of a rock she knelt and prayed the Good Manitou to restore the valley. In answer to her prayer the Great Spirit spread the floor of the valley with green and the mountains broke a channel for the melting ice and snow. The waters went leaping down and formed a lake. The birds again sang and the flowers bloomed. The people returned and gave the name Tisayac to the great rock where she had knelt.
 
 
 
When the chief came home and learned that Tisayac had returned to the valley his love grew stronger day by day. One morning he climbed to the of a rock that towers three thousand feet above the valley and carved his on it that his memory might live forever among his people. There is to this day a face on this rock, but whether carved there by the hand of man or by nature in some of her wild moods, a mystery.
 
Resting at the foot of the Bridal Veil Falls, one evening Tutockahnulah saw a rainbow arching around the form of Tisayac. She him to follow her. With a wild cry he sprang into the water and disappeared with Tisayac. Two rainbows now instead of one tremble over the falling water.
 
At the upper end of the valley stands a giant monolith two hundred feet in height, called by the Indians, Hummoo, the Lost Arrow.
 
Many thousands of snows ago before the foot of white man had trod these romantic wilds there dwelt in this valley the Ahwahnes, the fairest of whose daughters was Teeheeneh. Her hair, black as the raven’s wing, unlike that of her sisters, fell in below her slender[198] waist. Her sun-kissed cheeks and teeth like pearls added beauty to a form as that of a young gazelle.
 
Kossookah, the bravest and handsomest of his tribe, came a wooing the beautiful princess, wooed and won her.
 
All that summer time these two, favored of the gods, over the mountains.
 
The wild sang of the love of Kossookah, the brave, for Teeneeneh, the beautiful. The river murmured it; the lonely mountains echoed the refrain; the very leaves of the trees whispered it; the plumy children of the air gossiped about it, while each sun of the sky repeated the story.
 
Time sped on golden wings, the mountains took on autumn , winter was approaching. Every member of the tribe lent a hand to assist in building a wigwam for the fair princess and her .
 
The were to be with many ceremonies and a great feast. Teeheeneh assisted by her companions would grind the into flour for the wedding cakes and gather nuts, herbs and autumn leaves with which to and decorate the tables; while[199] Kossookah with the chosen hunters of his tribe would scale the cliffs or climb the walls of the cañon to the mountain fastness in search of game.
 
The home is completed. Kossookah and his braves depart. At set of sun he will repair to the head of the YoSemite falls and report the success of the hunt to Teeheeneh who would climb the rocks to the foot of the falls to receive it.
 
The messenger was to be an arrow to which Kossookah would attach feathers of the . From his strong bow he would speed it far out that Teeheeneh might see it, watch for its falling, recover it and read the message.
 
The day was . Seldom did an arrow miss its mark. Evening came and the hunters had more game than they could carry down in one trip.
 
Long ago in another clime Plautus said, “whom the gods love die young.”
 
Kossookah, proud of his success, repaired to the edge of the cliff beyond the falls, prepared the arrow, set it against the string of hide, stepped forward, when the cliff began to tremble and went down, carrying the brave Kossookah with it.
 
Long and lovingly did Teeheeneh wait for the signal. Night wrapped the mountains in gloom, but still Teeheeneh waited and wondered. Could Kossookah be dead? Had the chase led him so far away that he could not return in time to keep his word to Teeheeneh? He might even now be coming down the Indian cañon.
 
This new thought lent hope, and hope wings to the flying feet of Teeheeneh. From rock to rock, from ledge to ledge she sped with tireless feet, escaping many she reached the foot of the cliff.
 
Finding no trace of Kossookah she paced the sands all the long weary night, hoping against hope that every hour would bring some tidings of her beloved.
 
The pain at her heart increased with the hours, as she sang in the low soft voice of her race a love song. The gray dawn found her still pacing the sands.
 
Now, like a deer she springs over the rocks and up the steep to the spot from whence the signal arrow was to wing its way to her feet.
 
 
 
Ah, there were tracks in the sand, his tracks, but her call was answered only by the echo of[201] her own sad voice. A new fracture marked a recent cleavage in the rocks. Could it be, Oh, Great Spirit could it be that her beloved had gone down with the rocks and perished. Her heart was almost stilled with fear. She a moment only. courage she leaned over the edge of the cliff. There, stilled in death, lay the form of Kossookah, in a hollow at the base of the monolith.
 
The shock had cleared her mind. Hastily and with steady hands now she builds a signal fire on the rocky cliff. The fire by its interpreted in the light of Indian signal fires, calls for aid in . Slowly the hours drag by. At last help arrives. Young saplings of tamarack are together, end to end, with of deer skin. When all is ready Teeheeneh springs forward and begs that no hands save hers shall touch her beloved dead. Slowly strong hands lower her to the side of the form of Kossookah.
 
Kissing the pale lips of the dead warrior Teeheeneh unbinds the deer thongs from about her own body. Silently and she winds them about the prostrate form of Koss............