painting themselves once more as wild men, were whooping and dancing around the drum, telling stories about the Sioux they had scalped, and having a veritable orgy which made night and day hideous for weeks. Thus the infant Christianity and the infant civilization of the place seemed for the time to be swallowed up and lost. The old Red Lake medicine men ate so many dogs in continual medicine feasts, that, as Paul Beaulieu wittily said, they went home barking.

In the fall of 1873 I first saw the Leech Lake Indians. It was annual payment time, and there were perhaps a thousand or more assembled in the public square. They were all, so far as I can remember, wild blanket Indians, with faces painted, long scalp locks, and feathers; they were wrapped in blankets of green, white, blue, red, and all colors. It was a cold October day, the wind blowing and some snow flying, so that we felt the cold in thick overcoats; and I was surprised to see great numbers of little children, running around everywhere, entirely naked, or some of them with only a thin cotton shirt flying loose in the bitter wind, affording really no protection at all. Now, most of the Leech Lake Indians wear citizens' clothes.

In 1876 I first saw the Red Lake Indians. On all the large stones about their village there were offerings of tobacco, laid there for the gods who were supposed by them to inhabit those rocks. They lived in bark wigwams, and there were many fields of corn. They were all wild blanket Indians, fantastically painted. We had gone to speak to them about founding a mission, and had taken along with us some Christian Indians from White Earth who were considered the very best speakers, to speak to them on the subject. Besides we had a present of some sacks of flour, some pork, and tea, to dispose them to a favorable hearing. They filed in, dressed in gay colored blankets, and with all their Indian paint and bravery. They eagerly seized the present of provisions and carried it off; but, as often happens, they cared nothing for the eloquence we had brought them, and indeed would not listen to it. When they had got the provisions, they wanted nothing more. Now, among the 1,200 Red Lake Indians there are few blankets to be seen, and most of the scalp-locks have been cut off.

An intelligent American employee, who lived among them about ten years before that time and had married one of their women, told me that when he was there they had a custom, both men and women, of plastering their naked backs in the summer time all over with white clay, which dried and hardened and adhered to the skin, and that upon the clay they painted all kinds of curious figures, so that it looked very strange to see them stalking around all summer with those painted figures on their backs. That was about thirty years ago; now they are mostly dressed like other people, the change in that, as in other respects, having been rapid.

HOME LIFE IN THE WIGWAM.

In 1873 nearly all the Ojibways everywhere, except the few newly removed to White Earth, lived winter and summer in birch bark wigwams. Now, nearly all of them have built for themselves, or have had built for them by the United States government, one-roomed log cabins, in which they winter; but, in front of these, nearly every family puts up in summer an old style birch bark wigwam, in which they pass the summer, returning to the log house when the cold weather. sets in. They properly prefer the wigwam for its greater coolness, better circulation of air and greater cleanness. There are still, however, some families who from preference winter in birch bark wigwams. That would be to us a life of extreme and intolerable suffering from cold. The strips of birch bark are laid loosely on, and there are great chinks everywhere through which one can put his hand, and there is the open top. The family sit round the fire in a circle, on rush mats made by the women from rushes which grow in the lakes; and as long as the fire is kept up one's face is warm while facing the fire, but, if it be cold weather, one's back, opposite the open chinks, is never comfortably warm. It would seem that it is only because they have become so used to suffering extreme cold in these wigwams, through so many centuries, that they ever survive a winter. They do not complain of it, however, and do not seem to mind it. It is certain that from long habit and from heredity they can endure a degree of cold that to us would be intolerable.

On approaching a wigwam, the custom is to raise the blanket which hangs over the doorway and go in without asking

permission or knocking as with us. Everyone seems privileged to go in by day or night. If the inmates look on the newcomer with favor they say when he raises the blanket door and looks in, "Nind ubimin, nind ubimin (We are at home, we are at home)," which is a welcome, though nothing is thought on either side if silence is preserved. The best seat is considered to be that directly opposite the opening or door, behind the fire. That is the seat and bed of the master of the house and his wife, while along the sides is the place of the children and others. If the master of the house wishes to treat the newcomer with great respect, he moves from his seat on the mat, saying to the visitor in cheerful words to sit there, smoothing out the mat for him, and brushing away any dust, so that it will be clean. Around the fire in the center, and at a distance of perhaps two feet from it, are placed sticks as large as one's arm, in a square form, guarding the fire; and it is a matter of etiquette not to put one's feet nearer the fire than that boundary. One or more pots or kettles are hung over the fire on the crotch of a sapling. In the sides of the wigwam are stowed all the clothing, food, cooking utensils, and other property of the family, although the space available is extremely small.

CONVERSATION WITH VISITORS AND AMONG THEMSELVES.

The owner of the lodge inquires of his visitor the news; and the visitor is expected to tell anything interesting that has happened, especially if, as often is true, the wigwam is the only one for five or ten miles distance. He tells, not the general news of the world, of which neither the host nor the visitor knows anything, or indeed would be particularly interested to hear, but anything that has happened among the Indians, as deaths, sickness, or what the other families of Indians known to both are doing. If he comes from a strange village, as from Leech lake or Red lake, he tells the news of that village, the councilings that are going on, the subjects that are being discussed. Generally each Indian man, and often the wife, knows individually the men and women of all the other Indian villages within fifty or a hundred miles and is interested in all. The coming of a visitor is therefore like a newspaper, by which the host posts himself to date, on all

that is going on. The Indians have a great deal of curiosity, and like to know all that is happening. Although a man may be out with his family, hunting, perhaps ten miles from any other human beings, he keeps a mental register of the position of every other man and family, and seems to be able to tell just where each one is, no matter how far in the heart of the wilderness he is buried, or what he is doing. The probable nearness or remoteness of the annual payment is always a subject of interest, and generally that is the first thing inquired about.

Are the Indians silent and reserved in their domestic life? Just the reverse. There is continual laughter, and jests flying all round the wigwam from the time they wake in the morning till the last one goes to sleep. As long as they have anything to eat, and if no one is very sick, they are as cheerful and happy as can be. The laughter and droll remarks pass from one to the other, a continual fusillade all round. The old woman says something funny; the children take it up, and laugh at it; all the others repeat it, each with some embellishment, or adding some ludicrous feature, and thus there is continual merriment all day and all evening long. They have the advantage of us in having the cheerful fire shedding its light and warmth upon them instead of stoves; and there being no chairs or seats, they have an easier position than we, reclining any way they please.

AFFECTION FOR THEIR CHILDREN.

In the center of the wigwam, the little children go staggering round, just beginning to walk, whose mishaps and falls furnish endless merriment to the other children and to all. They are either entirely naked or wear only a cotton shirt reaching. to the hips, once white but now black, as it seems never to be washed. This little one, with its bright black eyes and dirty face, stumbles in a droll way over the legs of those reclining; then its father takes it and plays with it, and fondles it a long time. Then it gets hungry and goes and takes a pull at its mother's breast, and this it keeps up till three or four years of age; even after a younger baby has come, the mother nurses both together. Sometimes I have seen the old grandmother, long past child-bearing, take and nurse the large child at her breast; and from the persistence and diligence

with which it worked, its wants seemed to be relieved. The father is just as fond of his little children, and fondles them just as much, as any white father.

FOOD AND HOSPITALITY AT MEALS.

happy in the wigwam, so With food in abundance,

Take it altogether, life is very long as hunger does not invade it. life seems to be a continual feast, a merry-making all day long. None of them seem to have anything to do, excepting the wife or the old woman. To prepare a meal, if it be in winter, one of these goes outside and from somewhere brings in the frozen fish. She deftly cleans off the scales, removes the entrails, and cuts the fish into pieces, which she puts in the pot over the fire, until enough for a meal has been put in. Then, if they have tea, that great luxury, as it is considered by the Indians, is provided. If in addition they have flour, hot bread is baked, and a perfect meal, according to their ideas, is produced. The woman stirs up the dough in a tin dish, without kneading; then sets it up slantwise in the dish on the ashes, facing the fire; and turns occasionally the other side of the cake toward the fire, testing it by tapping it with her kunckle, until she sees it is done. Then she sets a plate of boiled fish before each one where he sits, pours out tea in a tin cup, and, if they have it, breaks off a liberal piece of warm bread. As there are no tables or chairs, the housekeeping is easy and simple, and the woman of the house can do most of it without rising from where she is sitting. Sometimes there is only fish, without anything else, and a few years ago that was considered good enough; but the nearness of the whites has produced the desire for a more varied diet, and tea and bread are now thought very necessary. Sometimes I have seen wildcat alone, or some other kind of flesh alone, if the head of the house had been hunting; and everybody seemed to be satisfied with it. There is never any dessert, and they care nothing for pies or cakes.

The visitor has his portion set before him, as well as the others; and formerly it was etiquette for him to say when the dish was set before him, "Oongh ondjita," which might roughly be translated, "O, this goes to the right spot" The Ojibways are very hospitable indeed. The visitor is always fed, is given