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.

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

a share without question, so long as they have anything themselves. No matter if he be utterly lazy, never doing a stroke of work, or if he be a gambler and has just come from the game, he seems to have just as good a right to the food as any one who is there. A white visitor is expected to pay something, perhaps ten cents for the meal, or twenty-five cents, but the Indian gets it as a matter of course. Sometimes, when they wish to pay great respect to the visitor, a white cotton cloth about two feet square is spread on the mat where he sits, and upon it his food is placed. That is the tablecloth.

There are no regular hours for eating; just whenever they get hungry and the good woman prepares something. In addition to the articles enumerated above, there are often delicious wild rice, ducks, venison, potatoes, or boiled corn. There may be partridges, or moose or bear meat, or many delicacies. Often one will get as delicious and well-cooked a meal as could be found anywhere. They are all very good cooks. Especially do they excel in cooking fish, which they nearly always boil, but sometimes fry. I have heard excellent white women cooks, who had lived long among them, say that an Indian woman could give a turn to fish that no white woman could equal. After the meal is over the dishes are gathered up by the women, and set slantwise on their edges around the outside of the wigwam until the next meal.

THE DRUM AND CHANTS.

Very often the man of the house, tired of doing nothing all day, takes his drum out of the bag that holds it, and settling himself begins to chant or sing, accompanying himself by beating his drum. He has many different kinds of chants, war songs, gambling songs, Sioux songs, songs of Sioux and Ojibways approaching each other with offers of peace, and many others. The chant is very intricate and beautiful. He sings it with his face directed upward, a sort of ecstatic look upon it, his mouth open, the drum between his knees, and a sort of shaking motion of his body. His voice is loud, highpitched, and resonant; on a still evening it would seem that he could be heard for a mile. The little children look at him with a sort of entranced wonder, while the women ply their work of preparing food, tanning a skin, or making beadwork

or moccasins. He, inspired by his own efforts, naturally feels himself to be a sort of superior being. At last he has sung all the chants he knows, chants which are extremely difficult for the most practiced musician to reduce to note or to reproduce; and after a few final flourishes, he puts the drum away, and comparative silence once more reigns.

SLEEPING IN THE WIGWAM.

Gradually the young children begin to grow sleepy. The mother asks the little one, "Do you wish to lie down?" and holds up the little blanket or quilt which is to be its sole covering. She wraps it round the child, and lays it down on the mat beside her, tucking the blanket in under its feet and over its head, and soon the little one is in the land of dreams. Gradually the older children, and then each member of the family, takes his or her blanket and a pillow, or makes a pillow out of something, and lies down in the place he or she has previously occupied, all covering up the head, but generally leaving the feet exposed against the bright fire. Indians always sleep, winter and summer, with their heads tightly covered up. It seems that they could not go to sleep otherwise. White people living with them soon learn the same habit, which for six months of the year is a necessity. The breathing of the same air over and over again within the blanket does not seem to produce any bad results; and the warm breath retained adds much to the slender stock of heat. Each person sleeps alone except that husband and wife have one blanket. The day clothes are never removed, either by men, women, or children, though in old times they are said to have been removed. They are said to have formerly slept naked, rolled in their blanket only; but the example of the French voyageurs changed this. Even the moccasins sometimes are not removed. In a long sickness of weeks or months, it is common for the sick man to continue to wear his moccasins. The feet are at first exposed to the fire, and there is a row of them all round it; but as it dies down the sleepers instinctively draw them up under the blanket and tuck it in. Often every foot of the wigwam is covered with the prostrate bodies.

In about an hour the fire of the winter evening dies down, and the air coming in through the open top and the many