American Antiquities: Corroborative of the Book of Mormon (19 March 1859)

And here it stands worn and furrowed by the lapse of centuries, without so much as a picture or figure of any description to tell the tale of its rise, its glory, or its ruin. There can be but one opinion, however, in relation to this plain and its singular remains. Covered as it is with a luxuriant growth of grass and flowers, with forest trees of great age here and there interspersed, as often within the enclosures as without, and the fact that all tradition teaches that it was always so, clearly proves its great antiquity. That it was the abode of men possessing a knowledge of the arts far superior to the present race of Indians or their ancestors, and that these ridges and mound of stones, with scarcely the appearance of earth intermixed, are the fallen walls of their habitation, none can look upon them and for a moment doubt. But by whom or when these millions of regularly-shapen stones were carved from the mountain’s side some five miles distant, conveyed and erected into stately edifices, which have long since lost even the semblance of human habitations, it is impossible to determine; for never were ruins so utterly barren of all record of their own history as these. … We were mounted each upon an unshod, though fleet and easy horse, and, making our way at a rapid pace over a country of gently rising acclivities covered with perpetual verdure, with here and there a group of giant trees, soon reached the border of a lofty elevation, or table of land, commanding an extensive and magnificent view of the valleys of both rivers and gently-rising rolling country on the west of the Colorado. Here, upon a natural elevation, or an immense artificial mound, that rises with an easy grade, at least 30 feet above the level of the surrounding plain, stands the monument of a people, the memory of whom had passed away long ere tradition had taught their savage conquerors, by song or dance, to record the history or story of their existence. Upon a triangular base of blue granite, ten feet on every side, and more than two feet thick, stand three triangular pillars of the same material, eleven feet high, and measuring three feet across each of their several surfaces, and each made of a simple block. Their bottoms are set nearly four feet distant from each other, while their tops are brought together and probably, when first erected, touched. On their top rests a singular triangular block, projecting nearly six inches beyond the tops of the pillars, or seven feet on either side, and which, even now, though centuries have elapsed, is still more than two feet thick at the centre; and though time or the hand of violence has greatly defaced and rounded the corners upon every part of this singular structure enough remains to point out minutely its original form. The surfaces of the ends of these pillars, both at top and bottom, are at right angles with their sides, and both base and capstone have cesses cut into them at such an angle as to make a perfect joint. Directly over the centre of each column or pillar is a hole 4½ inches in diameter, and nearly filled with a metal much resembling zinc, but which our friendly guide assured us contained some silver. With much difficulty, we obtained a specimen—a little more than an ounce, for analyzation. It is evident the metal was poured into these holes in a melted state, and without doubt passes through the capstone and into the pillars, making one of the strongest and most enduring specimens of the skill and workmanship of an ancient people. The inner surfaces of these pillars still retain numerous traces of the pictures of men, plants, and animals, intermixed with hieroglyphic characters, of which, together with the whole structure complete, we have taken accurate drawings. Three-fourths of a mile from this are the “Finger Rings,” or the remains of a structure that will defy even conjecture to give it a name. It stands, or rather, for the most part, lies just within the edge of a wood. Entering it, we were struck with surprise at seeing a lofty oak, more than nine feet in circumference at the ground_I surrounded by a huge ring of solid stone, in every part at least 18 inches in diameter. Involuntarily we raise our eyes towards the top of the tree, as a child does to the end of its finger, to see how it could have been placed there; but a clean trunk, 40 or 50 feet high, with a wide-spreading top, is in solution of the mystery. You next examine the ring more closely to see there is no deception, and you find it a solid rock of granite, defying as well the outward pressure of the growing tree as the repeated blows from a heavy hammer. There were no less than nine of these huge rings encircling as many trees—some of them, however, quite small. There were but two like the one first described, in which the tree completely filled the ring, three in diameter on the inside. Three others, and amongst them a California pine, though yet standing, are dead, in consequence of these ligatures about them; and the prostrate trunks of others in every stage of decay, and in a few instances still surrounded by their deathning, seeming like monitors speaking to the living trees unfortunately begirt by these rings—“So large canst thou grow, but no larger.” There are above ground 43 whole ones, and nearly as many more broken in two, three, and four pieces, upon more than half-an-acre, and probably as many more beneath the surface.

Unlike the situation of nearly every ruin as yet seen, this singular edifice or structure was placed in a deep cavity or basin. … But These are not the only relics to be seen in this land of antiquated structures; and I might fill a volume (as I unquestionably shall, on my return to my native land,) with descriptions and drawings of at least 80 others within the compass of a mile or two. Nothing can exceed the wild beauty of this almost boundless plain as it stretches onward and upward, dotted with here a group and there a grove, for hundreds of miles, even to the base of the Cordilleras. Ard if any dependence can be placed upon the information derived from the numerous and roving bands of Apaches and Tejuas that traverse these vast pampas here, there are many other equally curious and wonderful remains scattered over its whole extent. Ask the Mexican—Bv whom were these numerous structures reared, and the answer is—‘Don’t know.’ He refers you to the aged Apache, or the patriarchal Tejua of I12 years, and long since blind; but the answer is—’Don't know.’ Ask him for some tradition respecting them, and he will tell you that, while a little boy, he asked an aged chieftain the same question, and was told that many moons ago, when their own people were far more numerous than now, and long before the Spaniards had set foot upon their land, a deputation of the prophets of all the tribes west of the mountains assembled at Na-ha-go—a place about 150 miles north of this, and supposed to have been the great seat or capital of this extinct people; that, having ascended the great temple, there they sacrificed innumerable victims to their gods, that thereby they might be induced to tell the origin of the temple and by what people reared; that their gods were prevailed upon, and were about to do so_I when the Great Spirit, who is greater than all the gods, bring displeased, because the sacrifices were not made to him, sent his lightnings and thunders among them, driving them all down from the temple and killing many. Insomuch, therefore, as this, their great attempt to found even a plausible tradition in them proved futile, it would seem unless to look for one among these tribes with which to unfold the mystery. Nor is it necessary, bearing as they do their own imperishable history in characters as full of meaning as are the present letters of the alphabet, but requiring careful examination.

(To be continued.)