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l^Ve carry our new-born children forth 
 
-T^^^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 The Song of 
 the Ancient People 
 
 By Edna Dean Proctor 
 
 with Preface and Notes by John Fiske 
 
 and Commentary by F H pushing 
 
 Illustrafed with eleven Aquatints 
 
 By Julian Scott 
 
 Boston and New York 
 
 Houghton, Mifflin and Company 
 
 Won, lHitcr0"jbc i^rcss, Cambrf&oe 
 
 M DCCCXCIII 
 
Copyright, iSgz, 
 
 By the Hemenvvay Southwestern 
 
 Arch.«oi.ogical Expedition. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U.S.A. 
 Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co. 
 
 V 
 
 f^P^ 
 
Z{ 
 
 %i0tot%qmtint^ 
 
 PAGE 
 
 " We carry our new-born children forth." J^ron- 
 tispiece. 
 
 " Ours is the ancient wisdom " 
 
 Watching the Corn 4 
 
 " And wile the wolf from his den " . 
 
 " As full to the east we kneel " . 
 
 " Twin children of the Sun " . 
 
 " The silent heart's appeal "... 
 
 " Far to west, Francisco's peaks " . 
 
 " We are the Ancient People 
 
 Born with the wind and rain " . 
 " The trickling springs at the mesa foot " 
 " The mountain meadow's bloom " 
 
 2^ 
 
 r; 
 
 7 y 
 
 13^ 
 
 15^' 
 18 / 
 
 20 • 
 
 22 /' 
 
 23 6/ 
 
©refatc 
 
 It is customary to speak of America as 
 the New World ; and to the white race of 
 men it is indeed a world that has but re- 
 cently been made known, and in which 
 European civilization has begun to flourish 
 under new conditions. The scene of the 
 political and social development of New 
 York, of Manitoba, or of Chili, is very 
 properly called a New World. But there 
 is another point of view from which Amer- 
 ica must be regarded as preeminently an 
 Old World. The people of aboriginal 
 America, when visited by Europeans in 
 the time of Columbus and Cortes, were in 
 a stage of social development somewhat 
 such as the people of Europe had passed 
 through and left behind some centuries 
 before the city of Rome was built, or the 
 
 V 
 
Greeks had begun to reckon time by 
 Olympiads. The parallelism is not in all 
 respects complete, but it is very striking 
 and instructive. 
 
 There can be no doubt, I should think, 
 that the gradual differentiation of the 
 races of mankind took place after man 
 had become distinctively human, and in 
 all probability this differentiation began 
 in the Eastern hemisphere. In other 
 words, the aborigines of America probably 
 migrated to this continent either from 
 Asia or from Europe, But these things 
 happened a great while ago, probably long 
 before the Glacial Period, and — as I be- 
 lieve it will ultimately be proved — even 
 as far back as the Pliocene age. The 
 ancestors of the Red Men doubtless made 
 their way hither on foot during some one 
 of the many periods when North America 
 was joined both to Siberia and to north- 
 em Europe. Their race-peculiarities may 
 have been developed partly in the slow 
 vi 
 
dispersal and migration, still more in the 
 countless ages during which they have 
 dwelt upon American soil. For a length 
 of time, in comparison with which the 
 interval between the building of Solomon's 
 temple and that of the World's Fair edi- 
 fices at Chicago seems extremely brief, the 
 isolation of America from the Eastern 
 hemisphere was complete. All attempts 
 at tracing an Asiatic or European influ- 
 ence upon the thoughts, the customs, the 
 arts of pre - Columbian America have 
 failed utterly. There is little room for 
 doubt that the state of society found on 
 this continent by the Spaniards was in all 
 its phases and in every particular a purely 
 American growth. Wherever it presented 
 points of resemblance, either deep-seated 
 or superficial, to social phenomena in 
 Europe or Asia, the true explanation is to 
 be found in the limited range of culture 
 and the similarity in the workings of the 
 human mind at different times and places, 
 vii 
 
^preface 
 
 That similarity is often very remarkable, 
 as the comparative study of languages, of 
 folk-lore, and of institutions abundantly 
 teaches us. 
 
 Society in America, then, and society 
 in the Eastern hemisphere followed each 
 its own course in utter independence 
 and ignorance of the other. There were 
 many parallelisms, both curious and in- 
 structive, between the two ; as, for exam- 
 ple, the general organization of society in 
 clans, phratries, and tribes, and even such 
 special correspondences as the function 
 of the phratry in prosecuting criminals, 
 among Aztecs and Iroquois, as among the 
 ancient Greeks and our own Germanic 
 forefathers. The divergences are quite 
 as interesting as the parallelisms. Social 
 development in America proceeded much 
 more slowly than in Europe ; and the ad- 
 vance toward civilization among the Mexi- 
 cans, Mayas, and Peruvians had begun to 
 take on a very different aspect from any- 
 viii 
 
pttfatt 
 
 thing ever seen in the Eastern hemi- 
 sphere. The causes of the slowness of 
 social progress in ancient America were 
 complex, but one very important cause 
 may here be singled out for mention. 
 The dog, used chiefly for hunting, was 
 from time immemorial domesticated in 
 both hemispheres ; but of those agricul- 
 tural animals — the ass, horse, camel, ox, 
 goat, sheep, and hog — the New World 
 had not one. The effects of this differ- 
 ence were very profound and very far- 
 reaching. The longest strides towards 
 civilization that ever were taken in the 
 Old World were the evolution of the patri- 
 archal family in place of the old mater- 
 nally-related clan, and of private wealth in 
 place of the primitive communism, and 
 both these strides were closely connected 
 with the keeping of flocks and herds. In 
 the Mediterranean countries these strides 
 had been taken before the times of Aga- 
 memnon or of Abraham. In aboriginal 
 ix 
 
ptefBtt 
 
 America, where there was never a pastoral 
 stage of social development, they were 
 never taken at all. Of the vast mass of 
 ideas and sentiments originating in indis- 
 soluble wedlock, with the accumulation 
 and inheritance of private property, the 
 minds of the Red Men were destitute. 
 In this respect, and in general, society in 
 the Western hemisphere lagged at least 
 sixty or seventy centuries, and perhaps 
 more, behind society in the Eastern. 
 The dim past that lies back of European 
 history is to some extent brought before 
 us in the Red Man contemporary with us. 
 Except for changes wrought by contact 
 with white men, his mental furnishing 
 and his social arrangements are in many 
 ways like those of our own forefathers in 
 that far-off time when the Aryan mother- 
 speech was forming. Such, at least, is 
 the legitimate inference from all the facts 
 before us ; and thus it appears that in a 
 very deep sense America may be regarded 
 
 1 
 
as preeminently an Old World, and its 
 native inhabitants as especially an Ancient 
 People. If not in all senses more ancient 
 than ourselves, they are unquestionably 
 more old-fashioned. 
 
 Among the aboriginal Americans there 
 were, and still are, great and important 
 differences in degree of culture. The 
 highest grade reached anywhere was a 
 barbarism without iron or the alphabet, 
 but in some respects simulating civiliza- 
 tion, and unquestionably different from 
 anything ever seen at any time in the 
 Eastern hemisphere. Without beasts of 
 draught, the Red Man had no use for a 
 plough or a wheel-carriage. Agriculture, 
 properly so called, was impossible, but a 
 certain kind of rude horticulture was prac- 
 ticed, in which the ground was scratched 
 and hoed, and maize, pumpkins, tobacco, 
 and other vegetables were grown. Chief 
 among these plants was the maize, the 
 Indian corn, most beautiful and beneficent 
 xi 
 
preface 
 
 of the cereals, and as typical of ancient 
 American culture as the cow was typical 
 of private property {pecidiuvi) among the 
 early Aryans. No other plant is so inti- 
 mately associated with the whole aborigi- 
 nal history of the Western hemisphere as 
 Indian corn. Far more than any other 
 plant it is the emblem of America. In the 
 southwestern portion of the territory of 
 the United States, and thence southward 
 along the Cordilleras as far as Lake Titi- 
 caca, the aborigines cultivated this cereal 
 systematically and on an extensive scale 
 with the aid of irrigation. This improved 
 horticulture was the chief basis of the 
 semi-civilizations of the Cordilleras. With 
 the increase of population clans grew to 
 large dimensions, and learned to build for 
 themselves great communal fortresses of 
 adobe-brick and ultimately of stone. These 
 pueblo-castles and their neighboring gar- 
 dens of maize are typical of the most ad- 
 vanced society in aboriginal America, as 
 xii 
 
tents and herds of cattle were once typi- 
 cal of the most progressive societies in 
 the Eastern hemisphere. The city of 
 Mexico, which was so bewildering to its 
 Spanish visitors and conquerors, was doubt- 
 less a collection of such communal for- 
 tresses. 
 
 The Pueblo Indians of New Mexico and 
 Arizona are still surviving examples of 
 this advanced aboriginal society. In many 
 respects they do not seem to have attained 
 to as high a stage of semi-civilization as 
 the Mayas and Mexicans, but they are to 
 be classed with these peoples as belonging 
 to a stage far more advanced than the partly 
 hunting and partly horticultural Indians 
 of North America, such as the Creeks or 
 the Iroquois. Of the Pueblo Indians the 
 principal surviving groups are those of 
 the Rio Grande valley, the Zunis of New 
 Mexico, and the Moquis (or Hopi) of Ari- 
 zona. The two last-named groups have 
 been less affected by contact with white 
 xiii 
 
^preface 
 
 men than those of the Rio Grande. In 
 many respects the Zufiis are the most 
 characteristic and interesting of all. But 
 the pueblos least modified by contact with 
 white men are surely those of the Moquis, 
 with whom my friend Mr. Julian Scott 
 lived for a year or so, and from whom he 
 has taken the subjects of some of his most 
 charming sketches in the present volume. 
 Few Americans realize how highly our 
 country is favored in having within its 
 limits such communities as those of the 
 Moquis and Zufiis. Our land is certainly 
 lacking in such features of human interest 
 as the ruins of mediaeval castles and Gre- 
 cian temples. But we may be to some ex- 
 tent consoled when we reflect that within 
 our broad domains we have surviving rem- 
 nants of a state of society so old-fashioned 
 as to make that of the Book of Genesis 
 seem modern by comparison. In some 
 respects the Moquis and Zunis may be 
 called half-civilized ; but their turn of 
 xiv 
 
thought is still very primitive. They are 
 peaceful and self-respecting people, and in 
 true refinement of behavior are far su- 
 perior to ourselves. We have still much 
 to learn from them concerning ancient 
 society, and we ought not to be in too 
 great a hurry to civilize them, especially 
 if they do not demand it of us. 
 
 Miss Proctor's noble and spirited poem 
 speaks for itself and tells its own story. 
 As a rendering of Moqui-Zuni thought it 
 is a contribution of great and permanent 
 value to American literature. So it was 
 regarded — as I think it permissible to tell 
 — by our beloved poet Whittier, who has 
 just left us. Miss Proctor had entitled 
 her poem simply "The Ancient People," 
 but when Mr. Whittier listened with keen 
 pleasure to the reading of it, he said at 
 once that it should be called " The Song 
 of the Ancient People;" for do we not 
 hear their own voice and feel their own 
 heart's beat in every line ? The poet's 
 
 XV 
 
instinct was here as sure as if he had been 
 an ethnologist. 
 
 The poem, I say, tells its own story ; 
 but as Mr. Gushing also feels a lively in- 
 terest in that story, we could not lose the 
 opportunity to have him further elucidate 
 and enrich it in his " Commentary of a 
 Zuni Familiar." Somewhat as the old 
 hymns of the Veda had their commen- 
 tary, half poetical, half philosophical, in 
 the Upanishads, so in a somewhat similar 
 way — though all such comparisons need 
 qualification — does "The Song of the 
 Ancient People " find further interpreta- 
 tion at the hands of the adopted priest of 
 the Zunis. 
 
 For such phrases and allusions in the 
 poem as seem to need explanation for the 
 general reader, I have appended explana- 
 tory notes ; and in these notes, so far as 
 the pictures are concerned, I have em- 
 bodied sundry materials furnished by Mr. 
 Julian Scott. While my own share in the 
 xvi 
 
book has been a brief and humble one, I 
 shall never forget the delightful sense of 
 comradeship aroused in working with such 
 friends and allies. But I am sure we 
 should all feel this little book to be sadly 
 incomplete and ungrateful, if in its Preface 
 no mention were to be made of our be- 
 loved and revered friend, Mrs. Mary Hem- 
 enway, to whose enlightened and untiring 
 zeal American archaeology, no less than 
 the later history of our country, is more 
 deeply indebted than is ever likely to be 
 generally known. 
 
 John Fiske 
 xvii 
 
Cl^e ^ong of 
 Cl^e ancient people 
 
Z})z ^ons of 
 Cl^e ancient ^toplt 
 
 We are the Ancient People ; 
 
 Our father is the Sun ; 
 Our mother, the Earth, where the 
 mountains tower 
 
 And the rivers seaward run ; 
 The stars are the children of the 
 sky, 
 
 The red men, of the plain ; 
 And ages over us both had rolled 
 
 Before you crossed the main ; — 
 For we are the Ancient People, 
 
 Born with the wind and rain. 
 
 And ours is the ancient wisdom. 
 The lore of Earth and cloud: — ■ 
 
Oms zs the ancient wisdom 
 
We know what the awful lightnings 
 
 mean, 
 Wi-lo-lo-a-ne with arrows keen, 
 
 And the thunder crashing loud ; — 
 And why with his glorious, burning 
 shield 
 His face the Sun-God hides, 
 As, glad from the east, while night 
 
 recedes. 
 Over the Path of Day he speeds 
 
 To his home in the ocean tides ; 
 For the Deathless One at eve must 
 
 die. 
 To flame anew in the nether sky, — 
 Must die, to mount when the Morning 
 Star, 
 First of his warrior-host afar. 
 Bold at the dawning rides ! 
 And we carry our new-born children 
 
 forth 
 His earliest beams to face, 
 
tEfje Ancient people 
 
 And pray he will make them strong 
 
 and brave 
 As he looks from his shining place, — 
 Wise in council and firm in war, 
 And fleet as the wind in the chase ; — 
 And why the Moon, the Mother of 
 Souls, 
 On summer nights serene, 
 Fair from the azure vault of heaven 
 
 To Earth will fondly lean, 
 While her sister laughs from the tran- 
 quil lake, 
 Soft-robed in rippling sheen ; 
 For the Moon is the bride of the glow- 
 ing Sun, 
 But the Goddess of Love is she 
 Who beckons and smiles from the 
 
 placid depths 
 Of the lake and the shell-strown 
 
 sea; — 
 Why the Rainbow, A-mi-to-lan-ne, 
 3 
 
IVatching the Corn 
 
w 
 
 \ K^^ 
 
 >3i*^ 
 
 
tE^lje Ancient ^people 
 
 From the Medicine lilies drew 
 Orange and rose and violet 
 
 Before the fall of the dew, — 
 The dews that guard the Corn-maids, 
 
 And the fields keep fair to view ; 
 But the Rainbow is false and cruel. 
 
 For it ends the gentle showers, 
 And the opening leaves and the ten- 
 der buds 
 Like the ruthless worm devours, 
 And still its stolen tints are won 
 From the blanching, withering flow- 
 ers ; 
 The Morning Star, the Sun, and the 
 
 Moon — 
 Ya-o-na, Ya-to-k'-ya, and Md-ya- 
 tchun — 
 Bring bounty and love and life. 
 But the Bow of the Skies and the 
 Lightning 
 With famine and death are rife, 
 4 
 
And wile the wolf from his den 
 
And wile the wolf from his den 
 
^Ije 0ncimt ||Deoplc 
 
 And we paint their forms on our ar- 
 row-shafts 
 And our shields, when battle lowers : — 
 We know what the breeze to the pine- 
 tree sings, 
 And the brook to the meadow fair, 
 And the eagle screams to the plunging 
 
 streams 
 Where the cliffs are cold and bare, — 
 The eagle, bird of the Whirlwind-God, 
 
 Lone-wheeling through the air ; 
 And we can charm the serpent's tooth. 
 
 And wile the wolf from his den, 
 For the beasts have told us their se- 
 crets 
 Close-kept from other men, — 
 The mighty beasts that rove the hills. 
 
 Or lurk in cave and fen : 
 The bear in his gloomy canon ; 
 
 High 'mid the crags, the sheep ; 
 The antelope, whose endless files 
 5 
 
O'er the far mesa's rocky isles 
 Their silent marches keep ; 
 The lordly bison with his herds ; 
 
 Coyote swift and sly ; 
 The badger in his earthy house 
 
 Where warm the sunbeams lie ; 
 The savage mountain lion 
 
 With his deadly roar and leap : — 
 And, when the serpent has sought his 
 lair 
 And the thunder peal is still, 
 We know why the down of the North- 
 land drifts 
 O'er wood and waste and hill ; 
 And how the light-winged butterflies 
 To the brown fields summer bear, 
 And the balmy breath of the Corn- 
 maids floats 
 In June's enchanted air ; 
 And when to pluck the Medicine flow- 
 ers 
 
 6 
 
As full to the east ive kneel 
 
tirije ^ncitnt people 
 
 On the brow of the mountain peak, 
 The lilies of Te-na-tsa-li, 
 
 That brighten the faded cheek, 
 And heal the wounds of the warrior 
 And the hunter worn and weak ; 
 And where in the hills the crystal 
 
 stones 
 And the turquoise blue to seek ; 
 And how to plant the earliest maize, 
 
 Sprinkling the sacred meal. 
 And setting our prayer-plumes in the 
 midst 
 As full to the east we kneel, — 
 The plumes whose life shall waft our 
 
 wish 
 To the heights the skies conceal ; 
 Nay, when the stalks are parched on 
 the plain 
 And the deepest springs are dry, 
 And the Water-God, the jeweled toad, 
 Is lost to every eye, 
 7 
 
tK'^t Ancient ^toplt 
 
 With song and dance and voice of flutes 
 
 That soothe the Regions Seven, 
 We can call the blessed summer 
 showers 
 
 Down from the listening heaven ! 
 For ours is the lore of a dateless past, 
 
 And we have power thereby, — 
 Power which our vanished fathers 
 sought 
 
 Through toil and watch and pain, 
 Till the spirits of wood and wave and 
 air 
 
 To grant us help were fain ; 
 For we are the Ancient People, 
 
 Born with the wind and rain. 
 
 And, year by year, when the mellow 
 moons 
 Beam over the mountain wall, 
 Or the hearths are bright with the 
 pifion fires 
 8 
 
^^t indent ^people 
 
 And the wild winds rise and fall, 
 Our precious things to their shrines 
 
 are brought 
 That the tribes may be brave and 
 
 strong ; 
 And round our altars with mystic rite, 
 Vigil and fast and song's delight, 
 
 And measured dance we throno-, — 
 The dance and prayers of the A'-ka-ka 
 
 That peace and joy prolong. 
 Of the Wood-Gods' flesh these altars 
 To the Great Six Realms we 
 frame : — 
 For the North, of the Pine, whose yel- 
 low heart 
 Nor blasts nor snows can tame ; 
 For the West, of the Willow, whose 
 leaves are blue 
 As they toss in the breeze at morn ; 
 For the South, of the Cedar, ruddy- 
 hued, 
 
 9 
 
XB^t Ancient people 
 
 From whose bark the flame is born ; 
 For the East, of the Poplar, downy- 
 white 
 In the dawn of the gladsome year ; 
 For the Realm Above, of the Juniper, 
 That climbs to the summits clear ; 
 And of Laurel Root, for the Realm 
 Below, 
 Deep-hid in the canons drear ; — 
 Frame that the Beings Beloved may 
 come 
 And their forms and thoughts re- 
 veal; 
 For naught, from the heart through 
 vigils pure, 
 Will the Mighty Ones conceal. 
 Our richest robes and brightest hues 
 
 For the watching sky we wear. 
 With necklace-beads and eagle-plumes 
 
 Above our flowing hair, 
 And yellow pollen over us blown, 
 
 lO 
 
®t)e Ancient people 
 
 Good-will from the Gods to bear ; 
 And with symbols of the lightning, 
 
 The winds, the clouds, the rain, — 
 Crosses, terraces, slanting bars, — 
 We deck our blankets and our jars 
 
 Their favor to constrain ; 
 And we weave for priest and priestess 
 
 The sash and mantle white, 
 Broidered with many a magic thread 
 
 To give these Gods delight. 
 And save our cherished homes from 
 harm 
 
 And our fields from flood and 
 blight. 
 And tales we tell by the evening flame 
 
 Of how the Earth was made, 
 And the tribes came up from the 
 Under- world 
 
 To people plain and glade, — 
 Tales that will echo round our hearths 
 
 Till the last glow shall fade ; 
 II 
 
Twin children of the Sun 
 

tE^lje Ancient people 
 
 And of the two immortal youths, 
 
 Twin children of the Sun, 
 Who eastward led their faltering bands 
 To find where morn begun, — 
 
 To gain the stable, midmost lands, 
 And the trembling borders shun ; 
 And of Pd-shai-an-k'ya, the master, 
 
 Whose help we never lose, 
 Who bade us turn from hate and guile 
 
 And ever the noblest choose, 
 And said that whoso smites a man 
 
 His own heart doth bruise. 
 Of Earth and the Gods he taught us, — 
 
 How slope and plain to till, 
 And the streams that fall from the 
 mountain snows 
 
 To turn and store at will ; 
 And how to trace the glorious Sun 
 
 North and south to his goal ; 
 And straight, when the body's life is 
 done, 
 
 12 
 
tEPlje Ancient l^toplt 
 
 Set free the prisoned soul ! 
 His voice was sweet as the summer 
 wind, 
 But his robe was poor and old, 
 And, scorned of men, he journeyed 
 far 
 To the city the mists enfold, — 
 Far to the land where his treasured 
 lore 
 And secret rites were told ; 
 And there with a chosen few he dwelt 
 
 And made their darkness day, 
 Till lo! while his words yet thrilled 
 
 their hearts. 
 Unseen, as the summer wind departs. 
 
 He vanished in mist away ! — 
 Passed to the splendor of the Sun, 
 He, the divine, the gracious one. 
 
 To hear our prayers for aye ! 
 And still our holy fires we keep, 
 And the sacred meal we strow, 
 13 
 
tETtie ancient ]ptoplt 
 
 With many a prayer to the Gods of 
 the air 
 And the Gods that dwell below, — 
 The Gods of the Great Six Regions : 
 
 The yellow, dreadful North ; 
 The West, with the blue of sea and 
 
 sky; 
 The ruddy South, where the corals lie 
 
 And the fragrant winds go forth ; 
 The pure white East, whose virgin 
 dawns 
 Lead up the conquering Sun, 
 While stars grow pale and shadows 
 fail, 
 For the shrouding night is done ; 
 The Over-world, where all the hues 
 
 In radiant beauty shine ; 
 The Under-world, more black and 
 drear 
 Than the gloom of the deepest 
 mine; 
 
 14 
 
1 
 
The silent heart V appeal 
 
..Jf 
 
 
TOe Ancient ^people 
 
 And the Middle Realm, where the 
 Mother reigns 
 And binds them all in one ; — 
 Prayers in the words our fathers 
 
 knew, 
 And prayers that voiceless steal 
 To the Holder of the Trails of Life 
 
 And thought to thought reveal ! 
 For the clamorous cry unheard will 
 
 die, 
 While, swift as light, ascends on high 
 
 The silent heart's appeal. 
 And we offer the pledge of sacrifice 
 
 To lull the earthquake's wrath, 
 And hush the roar of the whirlwind 
 
 Abroad on his furious path, — 
 Turquoise blue, and ocean-shells, 
 And the soothing, spicy scent that 
 dwells 
 In the rare tobacco leaves, 
 And macaw-plumes to guard from ill 
 15 
 
I 
 
t!I^l)e Ancient :|jDeople 
 
 And bring us store of sheaves ; 
 Nay, in the time when thunders 
 
 pealed 
 And Earth swung to and fro, 
 Our dearest maids to the angry Gods 
 
 With fervent heart would go, 
 That the perfect gift of a stainless life 
 
 Might still the vengeful throe ; — 
 For our fathers were wise and pure of 
 
 breath, 
 The breath that is soul the word be- 
 neath, 
 
 And all their ways we know. 
 And when at last the shadow falls 
 
 And the sleep no thunders wake, 
 By the dead a vase of water clear 
 
 For the parted soul we break, 
 Giving the life again to the Sun 
 
 Through Ka-thlu-er-lon's Lake ; 
 And, facing the east, the body lay 
 
 In our mother Earth to rest, 
 i6 
 
W^t Ancient IJDeople 
 
 Where dews may fall and dawns may 
 
 gleam 
 And purple and crimson radiance 
 stream 
 When day is low in the west ; 
 And plumes of the birds of summer- 
 land, 
 Freighted with many a prayer, 
 We bring to help the spirit's way 
 
 In the pathless depths of air. 
 But we do not fear that silent flight. 
 
 Nor the slumber lone and chill ; 
 For the Home of the Dead has song 
 and love, 
 And they wander where they will ; 
 And morn and eve, by hearth and 
 wood, 
 We see their faces still. 
 Thus, day and night, and night and day. 
 
 Our rites the Gods enchain. 
 And bring us peace no others win 
 17 
 
Far to west, Francisco' s peaks 
 
>f 
 
 > ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 ITa 
 
i 
 
tlP^e ^ncitnt ^people 
 
 Of all their earthly train ; 
 For we are the Ancient People, 
 Born with the wind and rain. 
 
 And yet . . . and yet ... on the 
 mesa top 
 As we sit when the sun is low, 
 And, far to west, Francisco's peaks 
 
 Blaze in his parting glow, — 
 While plain, and rock, and cedar- 
 steep 
 Fade slow from rose to gray. 
 And the sand-clouds, blown by the 
 flying wind. 
 Like demons chase the day ; 
 And the fires of the wandering mete- 
 ors gleam. 
 And the dire mirage looms far 
 To beckon us hence to the nameless 
 land 
 Where our Lost Others are ; 
 i8 
 
tB^t Ancient ijpeople 
 
 And, weird as the wail by the Spirit 
 Lake 
 Bewildered hunters know, 
 The cry of the owl comes mournful up 
 
 From the dusky glen below, — 
 That boding cry when death is nigh 
 
 And days that are dim with woe ; — 
 Sit, and think that but ruins mark 
 
 The realm that erst was ours. 
 The countless cities wrapped in dust 
 
 Which once were stately powers, 
 And that over our race, as over the 
 plain, 
 The gathering darkness lowers ; 
 And see how great from the Sunrise- 
 land 
 Vou come with every boon, 
 We know that ours is the waning. 
 And yours is the waxing moon ! 
 Know that our grief and yearning 
 prayers, 
 
 19 
 
IVe are the Ancient People 
 
 Born with the wind and rain 
 
i 
 
tET^e Ancient ^people 
 
 As reeds in the blast, are vain, 
 And with arrows of keenest anguish 
 
 Our tortured hearts are slain ; 
 For we are the Ancient People, 
 
 Born with the wind and rain ! 
 
 But the same Earth spreads for us and 
 you, 
 
 And death for both is one ; 
 Why should we not be brothers true 
 
 Before our day is done ? 
 You are many and great and strong ; 
 
 We, only a remnant weak; 
 Our heralds call at sunset still. 
 Yet ah, how few on plain or hill 
 
 The evening councils seek ! 
 And words are dead and lips are dumb 
 
 Our hopeless woe to speak. 
 For the fires grow cold, and the dances 
 fail, 
 
 And the songs in their echoes die ; 
 20 
 
4 
 
tiriie 2intimt ^people 
 
 And what have we left but the graves 
 
 beneath, 
 And, above, the waiting sky ? — 
 Our fathers sought these frowning 
 cliffs 
 To rid them of their foes, 
 And thrice and more, on the mesa 
 floor, 
 Our terraced towns uprose ; 
 But when the stress of war was past. 
 
 To the lowlands glad we went, 
 For the plain — the plain is our 
 domain, 
 The home of our hearts' content; 
 And here, O brothers, let us dwell 
 
 And find at last repose, 
 By towering Ta-ai-yal'-lo-ne, 
 
 And the river that westward goes ! 
 For the roads were long and rough we 
 trod 
 To our fields of clustering corn, 
 
 21 
 
The trickling springs at the fnesa foot 
 
JcA.&a/^^'^^Xjalt- 
 
xa^^t Ancient l^toplt 
 
 And our women grew old ere youth 
 was spent, 
 
 As wearily, night and morn, 
 They climbed the steep with the 
 earthen jars, 
 
 Slow-filled, to the very brim, 
 From the trickling springs at the 
 mesa foot 
 
 In the willow thickets dim. 
 Time was when seen from the loftiest 
 peak 
 
 The realm was all our own, 
 And only the words of the A-shi-wi 
 
 To the four winds were known ; — 
 Ours were the veins of silver ; 
 
 The rivers' bounteous flow 
 Filling the maze of our water-ways 
 
 From the heights to the vales below ; 
 The plains outspreading to the sky. 
 
 The crags, the canon's gloom. 
 The cedar shades, the pifion groves, 
 
 22 
 
The mountain meadow's bloom 
 
w , 
 
 .^ 
 
Wf}z Ancient ^people 
 
 The mountain meadow's bloom ; 
 Nay, even the very Sun was ours, 
 
 Above us circling slow ! 
 And now . . . and now . . . from the 
 lowest hill 
 
 Your pastures we descry ; 
 Your speech is borne on every breeze 
 
 That blows the mesas by ; 
 Our deep canals are furrows faint 
 
 On the wide and desert plain ; 
 Of the grandeur of our temple-walls 
 
 But mounds of earth remain. 
 And over our altars and our graves 
 
 Your towns rise proud and high ! 
 The bison is gone, and the antelope 
 
 And the mountain sheep will follow. 
 And all our lands your restless bands 
 
 Will search from height to hollow ; 
 And the world we knew and the life 
 we lived 
 
 Will pass as the shadows fly 
 23 
 
I 
 
W)e Ancient ^people 
 
 When the morning wind blows fresh 
 and free 
 And daylight floods the sky. 
 Alas for us who once were lords 
 
 Of stream and peak and plain ! . . . 
 By ages done, by Star and Sun, 
 
 We will not brook disdain ! 
 No ! though your strength were thou- 
 sand-fold 
 From farthest main to main ; 
 For we are the Ancient People, 
 Born with the wind and rain ! 
 24 
 
(Sommeiitarp 
 of a Zmi f amiUar 
 
 By F. H. GUSHING 
 
Commcntarp 
 
 In commenting upon this Song of the 
 Ancient People, one is strongly tempted to 
 treat it in the mood and with the charac- 
 teristic turns of phrase of a Zuni Familiar. 
 The poem itself seems to invite such a 
 course, — so ancient is it in spirit and 
 feeling, so true to the thought and the lore 
 of the people it speaks for. It may be 
 likened to a torchlight borne through the 
 deep reaches of a primeval forest at mid- 
 night, giving vivid glimpses of the teem- 
 ing mythic forms of ancient Pueblo fancy 
 and wisdom ; so many and so representa- 
 tive are the points which Miss Proctor, in 
 briefly touching them, has illumined with 
 her genius. My slender excuse for the 
 following commentary is the desire to ex- 
 pand some of the brief allusions of her 
 poem ; to carry the light now and then 
 somewhat further along the forest trail, 
 and get a fuller view of the creatures of 
 27 
 
Commentary 
 
 primeval fancy. To explore the whole 
 labyrinth of myth and imagery native to 
 the Ancient People would require many 
 stout volumes. In the little that is here 
 added to Miss Proctor's verses I can but 
 bear witness to her strict fidelity of state- 
 ment, and attempt to show, as one of the 
 Ancient People themselves would be glad 
 to show, how well she has divined their 
 spirit. 
 
 Let me seize this opportunity for saying 
 a word about the poetry of primitive men. 
 We can hardly emphasize too strongly the 
 fact — to which many people are quite 
 blind — that but for our slender inherit- 
 ance traditionally, and our still more slen- 
 der inheritance emotionally, of the mood of 
 primeval humanity, all that is best in mod- 
 ern poetry would be lost. When I give 
 but a poor translation of some ancient Zufii 
 epos or myth, I often hear the incredu- 
 lous remark : " It cannot be that those 
 people are so poetical. Surely it is impos- 
 sible for them, without the art of writing, 
 to give such finished and measured, even 
 rhythmic expression to their thoughts ! " 
 
 It must be remembered that to one of 
 28 
 
Commentary 
 
 the Ancient People everything is symbolic; 
 even the wind itself is breath and can 
 speak ; all natural phenomena are either 
 personalities or personal acts. Such con- 
 ceptions are woven into the very fibre of 
 his speech, and dramatized in the very acts 
 of his daily life. The symbolic interpre- 
 tation of nature results in myth, the dra- 
 maturgic presentation of myth results in 
 the dance and song of measured words ; 
 and thus among the Zunis have arisen 
 an astonishing number of epic recitations 
 which, but for their too intense solemnity 
 and their lofty disregard of the merely 
 human element in the story, might fairly 
 be classed with the Eddas of our Scandi- 
 navian ancestors. I am sure they would 
 not lose by the comparison. It is quite 
 right, therefore, that in giving us the utter- 
 ances of the Ancient People the modern 
 poet should clothe them with rhythm and 
 rhyme, and call her poem a " Song." 
 
 If my commentary upon the poem is 
 dictated mainly by what I know of the 
 Zuni people, and is rendered as the utter- 
 ance of one of themselves, it need not be 
 feared that my statements will fail to apply 
 29 
 
Commentary 
 
 to the people of the other pueblos as well. 
 The Zufiis are as ancient as any of these 
 peoples, and even to-day they enjoy a 
 kind of preeminence. More than half of 
 their mythic lore and phrases have been 
 adopted by the more primitive Tusayan 
 Indians (Moquis) of Arizona, and much 
 has been taken from them by the more 
 modernized pueblos of the Rio Grande. 
 
 With Miss Proctor I can say these an- 
 cient peoples all call the Sun their Father, 
 and never fail to speak of him as such. 
 It was said by their ancient seers : Before 
 aught was, before even Time began to be, 
 the Holder of the Trails of Life, whose 
 person is the Sun, whose bright shield we 
 see each shining day, — before aught was, 
 save void space and darkness, He was. 
 And by thinking he wrought light, and 
 with light he dispelled the darkness, whence 
 descended clouds and water, even as from 
 the night fall mists of the morning laden 
 with moisture. Into these life-sustaining 
 waters he dropped the seed of his being, 
 whence sprang the Sky-Father and the 
 Earth-Mother. Born of these twain were 
 all creatures here below, numberless on 
 30 
 
Commentary 
 
 the plains, as in the sky. Born of his sis- 
 ter, the Moon-Mother, were the lesser stars, 
 themselves our brothers paternal even as 
 we are their brothers younger. 
 
 The Red Men, dusky with the darkness 
 of their birth from the fourfold womb of 
 the Earth-Mother, and ruddy with the life 
 she gave them, were the earliest born of 
 men. Even the seven wind-making Grand- 
 sires came forth with them, and they 
 brought the seeds of rain and storm. Such 
 were our fathers, — fathers of the man- 
 races of men. For when your fathers came 
 from over the Sea of Sunrise, they were 
 white like the Dawn whom they followed, 
 and weakly withal like women, and in 
 these our deserts they often died of thirst. 
 Wherefore said our ancient seers : These 
 palefaces must be our younger brothers, 
 the zvonian-men born on the other side of 
 the world, when, after giving birth to us, 
 our Earth-Mother turned over, perchance 
 that she might give birth to them. Yet 
 how could ye have been born had not the 
 Twain own children of the Sun, the War- 
 riors of Chance, descended and planted the 
 world-canes in the nethermost womb of 
 
 31 
 
Commentary 
 
 Earth, that, by climbing as on ladders, our 
 unfinished fathers and the creatures with 
 them might be brought forth ? 
 
 Even as they led them forth, the Twain 
 Beloved taught certain Chosen Ones con- 
 cerning the substance and meaning of 
 things high and low. And they said unto 
 the Chosen Ones: Fear not the serpent 
 shafts of the lightning as they rattle loudly, 
 that the earth be replenished with their 
 children the serpents of water, the rivers of 
 life. Fear not the light of the Sun-Father, 
 though at first it seemeth to blind and 
 to blight, for beneath him he carries his 
 shield, so that the world is not seared as 
 he journeys along the path of day, — the 
 path that leads to the hollow mountain of 
 the sunset sea where he dies. But that is 
 his mother-home, and when he enters it he 
 is straightway born anew in the Under- 
 world ; yet again, when night is done, to be 
 born through the hollow mountain of the 
 sunrise sea, his father-home. 
 
 It is then at sunrise — after the nine 
 
 days of their nativity are numbered — that 
 
 the sisters of mothers carry forth the 
 
 new-born babes with fervent prayers and 
 
 32 
 
Commentary 
 
 breathings to receive the young light and 
 new breath of the ever-ancient but again 
 new-born Sun-Father ; and as he is newly 
 come from his father-home, so these little 
 ones are now first given into the arms of 
 their father's sisters, and named with the 
 names of their childhood. Thus even as 
 the Father of the Day is a new-made child 
 in the morning, even so we pray that the 
 light of his birth may linger long upon 
 them ere they have their setting. 
 
 We have learned why the Moon, fair 
 bride of the Sun, is thus the mother of all 
 maternity, and why, therefore, so often at 
 night she leans forth over the terraced 
 shores of the sky ocean, and reaches her 
 white arms down toward now some, now 
 others, of the mothers of men, according 
 to their appointed days of sacrifice in Her 
 waxing and waning ; while her younger 
 sister, Goddess of the White Shells, 
 beckons to men, — telling them that all 
 maidens may become daughters of her 
 elder sister, as their own mothers be- 
 came, won by love-presents of her white 
 shells from the shores of her home in the 
 sea. 
 
 33 
 
Commentary 
 
 Our ancients tell how the Twain Be- 
 loved who first guided them forth from the 
 Under-world became warriors, — grim and 
 misshapen, so ugly that all maidens jeered 
 at them. Yet, forsooth, they would rival 
 all youths ! 
 
 "What are the most beautiful flowers 
 that grow ? " said one. " The seven-hued 
 flowers of Te-na-tsa-li," said the other. 
 "Lo! we will seek him afar!" They 
 found a measuring-worm greater than any 
 ever seen by man. They called him 
 "Grandfather," and with other winsome 
 words won him to help them. 
 
 " Sit ye astride me, little fellows," said 
 he. Then he arched his back with such 
 mighty strain that he stretched himself to 
 the sky, and, plunging westward, reached 
 even to the far mountain of Te-na-tsa-li ! 
 There they found T6-na-tsa-li, aged and 
 white-haired with all the winters that had 
 ever been. And long they shouted ere He 
 heard them, so old was he ! Hearing, he 
 passed his hand before his breast, breath- 
 ing mists, whence he issued, a youth glo- 
 rious and happy to see, young with all the 
 springtimes that had ever been. Flowers 
 34 
 
were growing bright and fresh from his 
 head-dress. Flowers sprang up all around 
 his mountain from the mists of his breath. 
 " Pluck these ! " he said, smiling gladly. 
 And they plucked countless flowers from 
 his head-dress, and countless the flowers 
 grew where they had plucked. But when 
 they returned to A'-mi-to-lan-ne, the mea- 
 suring-worm, he was devouring the flow- 
 ers at the foot of the mountain. " Nay, 
 I will not bear ye back," said he, " ere I 
 have plucked all these flowers ; for so great 
 am I grown with my journey that no for- 
 est would surfeit my hunger." 
 
 "But we will deck thee. Grandfather, 
 with some of these brighter ones ; and for 
 food, consume the clouds of the sky as erst- 
 while thou didst the forest leaves." 
 
 Then he bore them back swiftly. And 
 with their flowers they won the smiles of 
 all maidens whose favor they chose to 
 win. But, decked by the flowers they left 
 on him, the measuring-worm of the skies 
 sprang aloft, streaking the full length of 
 his body with all their glorious colors. 
 Fadeless these hues as the sun, for, as 
 then he consumed the bright rain-clouds 
 35 
 
Commentary 
 
 and drew up the life of all flowers, so ever 
 it is to this day. 
 
 Evil and good are the gods, even as men. 
 The Morning Star, elder of the Beloved 
 Twain who descended, gives strength to 
 the Bearers of Bows, and wakes them at 
 the most fearsome time of the morning. 
 The Sun. - Father, following, makes the 
 world new each day, giving new life to all 
 men, and the light of wisdom to his fa- 
 vored children ; while the Moon-Mother 
 renews life from month to month and 
 generation to generation. But the light- 
 ning — good from Wi'-lo-lo-a-ne — is deadly 
 when sent by A'-nah-si-a-na, wielder of 
 thunder- bolts ; so we cut their jagged 
 swift lines on our arrows that these may 
 be made certain and fatal by the power of 
 likeness. And we paint on our shields the 
 hated bright form of A'-mi-to-lan-ne, con- 
 sumer of clouds, that our enemies, seeing 
 it and dreading, may be withered as by him 
 are green-growing things. Terrible is the 
 Whirlwind Man-Eagle of the skies, wind- 
 ing down from on high and striding over 
 the earth. His form, and the form of his 
 younger brother, the Eagle, whose plumes 
 36 
 
Commentary 
 
 we wear, we also paint on our war-gear. 
 For our Fathers of the Bow were taught 
 the potency of dread symbols. 
 
 So, the fathers of our other sacred as- 
 semblies were taught that with feather- 
 stroking and fearless thought they could 
 quell the anger of a venomed serpent, or 
 command the fiercest beasts at night-time, 
 with magic circles of yucca and crystals of 
 divination. For by mystic motions and 
 the power of the eye, they could draw their 
 souls forth in the moonlight, and through 
 those loops of rebirth enter their bodies 
 and learn all their ways ; yea, and the craft 
 of their gods themselves. So learned they 
 of the great mountain lion of the North- 
 land how to subdue alike the elk or the 
 strong bison, how even to stay the flight of 
 the grouse over the snow ; so of the bear 
 and coyote, masters of the Westland, how 
 to overreach even the mountain sheep ; 
 and so of the wild-cat and the badger, mas- 
 ters of the Southland, how to capture the 
 red deer and draw fire from the cedar ; 
 and of the gray, gaunt wolf-god of the 
 Eastland they learned how his children 
 overtake the fleet-footed comrades of the 
 37 
 
Commentary 
 
 dawn on far mesas, the antelopes ; so, too, 
 of the eagle-god of the Over-world, how to 
 be, as are his children, far-sighted and un- 
 failing; and of the preymole and gopher, 
 masters of the Under-world, how their chil- 
 dren burrow pitfalls for unwary walkers. 
 Gods, all of these, of all the Six Regions, 
 in semblance of beasts who command sepa- 
 rately in each. 
 
 Magical as were our fathers, neither the 
 master -gods, nor their messengers the 
 beast-gods, would show aught to others 
 than their own children among men, the 
 elders of the clans named after them- 
 selves, and they willed not that their se- 
 crets be revealed to any others. Where- 
 fore we have sacred assemblies of wise 
 priests — of the North, twain brotherhoods, 
 wielders of cold, makers of war ; of the 
 West, world of waters, twain also, — hold- 
 ers of the seed of rain and spring making ; 
 of the South, twain, — masters of fire and 
 scourgers of sorcery and fevered sickness ; 
 of the East, twain holders of the seed of 
 soil, of the secret of maturing, interpreters 
 of the meaning of light to the Spirits of 
 Men ; of the Over-world twain, — priests 
 38 
 
Commentary 
 
 of the eagle-kind, and of daylight to mor- 
 tals ; and of the Under-world twain, — 
 priests of the serpent and darkness, who 
 know how begotten are all seeds and beings. 
 These be the four brotherhoods of Win- 
 ter, Spring, Summer, and Autumn ; of the 
 medicines of Air, Water, Fire and Earth, 
 whereby all beings live ; and the two bro- 
 therhoods of the two states wherein all 
 things and all creatures are, — waking or 
 sleeping, — Light and Darkness. But over 
 them all and wiser than all are our seven 
 foremost fathers, guardians and priests of 
 the prayers, songs and dances of our sacred 
 A'-ka-ka ; first, the six masters of the re- 
 gions six, then the Father of them all. 
 Priest Speaker of the Sun, and the Mother 
 of us all. Priestess Keeper of their seed, for 
 they are of the mid-most place. 
 
 So wise are these our fathers, that they 
 can tell us why, when serpents, younger 
 brothers of the Lightning, have stilled 
 their rattling, the Thunder too is hushed, 
 and the Bear lazily sleeps, no longer guard- 
 ing the Westland from the cold of the Ice- 
 gods and the white down of their mighty 
 breathing. How, when the Bear awaking, 
 
 39 
 
Commentary 
 
 growls in springtime and the answering 
 thunders mutter, the strength of the Ice- 
 gods being shaken, the flute of Pai'-ya- 
 tu-ma, god of dew and the dawn, sounds 
 afar, and the breath of his corn-maidens 
 singing, comes warm from the Southland. 
 Lo ! their song-birds and butterflies, dan- 
 cing to their music, forthwith bring Sum- 
 mer. Then they tell us 't is the time to 
 pluck the flowers of Te-na-tsa-li, renewer 
 of seasons, whose flesh in the flowers re- 
 news our flesh, as his breath in their fra- 
 grance makes this the time of growing. 
 
 Our fathers, priests of the Over-world 
 and seers, teach us of things afar, and the 
 hidden meanings they divine with the crys- 
 tals we find, and they tell us of the sky- 
 hero, God of the Turquoise ; how, when 
 mortals became greedy of his gifts and 
 importunate, he wearied, as did his bride, 
 the white-plumed Goddess of Salt. So, to- 
 gether they fled away, and wherever rained 
 the sweat of their journey, on hilltop or 
 mountain, it hardened to salt and tur- 
 quoises. 
 
 Our fathers of the midmost place, mas- 
 ter priests of the six sacred Kiva-Houses, 
 40 
 
Commentary 
 
 go forth when the Sun-Priest calls them 
 from the housetops, and with prayer-meal 
 mark out the lines of the Six Regions 
 whereby we shall plant our first corn hills ; 
 and they counsel for us our plumed prayer- 
 wands, that the Beings of all the great 
 spaces may see in these plumes winged 
 with meaning the needs of our children 
 and corn-plants. 
 
 Alas ! when we plant not these plumes 
 with our hearts as well as before the eyes 
 of men, no more may be seen the night- 
 god of new waters, the Toad with the 
 markings of turquoise, of coral and sun- 
 shine on water. Nay, he sleeps in the 
 Earth, until with labor and fasting our 
 hearts are made right, and until by wor- 
 ship in song and dance and with the sound 
 of flutes and drums, we invoke the beloved 
 Rain Gods until they must needs grant 
 our beseechings. Then the Toad, appear- 
 ing, wins further their favor. 
 
 " Be ye true," said the Gods when time 
 was new, " Be ye true, and by these things 
 we give you, and by the customs we teach 
 you, ye shall have power, even over our- 
 selves." And lo ! our fathers in that time 
 41 
 
Commentary 
 
 toiled sleeplessly, nor feared they pain, 
 that they might still their hearts of all 
 other longing save to gain these things. 
 
 All that they sought and gained has 
 been yearly untied from the strands of 
 song and story kept unbroken through all 
 the lives of men by our sacred assemblies, 
 and by the fathers of the Ka'-ka. For, as 
 did our ancients, so do these, labor and 
 watch and fast enduringly through all ap- 
 pointed nights, keeping silence by day, that 
 their sacred thoughts may be unbroken 
 and their hearts be kept likewise true. So, 
 in the perfection of their lives, our precious 
 forms and things of the gods are kept 
 potent, and even we are fitted to bring 
 them at times into the sacred precincts 
 of the shrines of all the Six Regions, and 
 to join there our fathers in their vigils and 
 fasts, and with our dances and songs to 
 aid the power of their incantations and 
 prayers. 
 
 But even in the sight of these our fa- 
 thers, we are poor of heart and halting of 
 speech concerning sacred things. Where- 
 fore, our fathers purify us with water and 
 honey -dust consecrated by their living 
 42 
 
Commentari? 
 
 breaths, and bid us wear all of our trea- 
 sures from sea, earth, and sky, shells of the 
 ocean, turquoises of the mountains, and 
 plumes of the eagle and birds of the sum- 
 mer ; to apparel ourselves only in the dress 
 of our Fair Goddess of Cotton, robes broid- 
 ered brightly with symbols of meaning 
 which shall speak for us — speak with the 
 figured vases, wands and mantles we bear 
 into the presence ; speak for us and save 
 us from fear and disfavor, when at the call 
 of their dread but beloved names, the 
 Mighty Gods from the far Regions lay 
 hold of their parts in our altars. By these 
 fulfilments of our worship we win all gifts, 
 not corn alone, but length of life. Aye, 
 we live, live, though for ages danger and 
 war have sore encompassed us here in the 
 midmost place. 
 
 Even so said the Twain Beloved when 
 they led men forth into daylight, and the 
 borders of the world were new and all un- 
 stable with earthquakes and thunder : " Seek 
 ye the place of the middle, the lap of the 
 Earth-Mother, — there only may ye bide 
 in safety." And they led them for count- 
 less years through far journeys. Great 
 43 
 
Commentary 
 
 were our people, greater and greater grew 
 they, walking with Gods as they eastward 
 came. 
 
 In the tales of those times their wisdom 
 is told us. We are their children ! Until 
 our hearths are blackened, these tales shall 
 be told. Naught else will keep our fires 
 from dying ! 
 
 There was a man, — born ere the Twain 
 Beloved descended. Alone he walked the 
 Path of Day. His prayer that men be 
 born to the sunlight was granted ! But 
 no man knew, and ages passed away, Lo! 
 he was born again, poor and lonely, when 
 men had grown evil. It was his prayer 
 that he be born again, which was granted ! 
 Oh, our Master P6-shai-an-k'ya, we did not 
 know him ! Only few knew him. These 
 followed him to his wondrous City-in-the- 
 Mists-Enfolded, and were taught by him 
 all that men lacked of good ; all that men 
 knew not of the mysteries of worship ; all 
 that men needed for the ways of life. " He 
 who lives the perfect life," said P6-shai-an- 
 k'ya, the master, " so living shall perfect 
 the lives of the imperfect. He who lives 
 the perfect life, his heart must be undi- 
 44 
 
Commentary 
 
 vided and unwavering. He who would be 
 heard by the silent Surpassing Ones, must 
 pray in his heart ; speaking or not speak- 
 ing, he shall be heard ! " Saying such 
 things, — as the sinking Sun is instantly 
 gone, the Master left them and never came 
 again. But when we pray in the words he 
 taught us, it is His prayer that is granted ! 
 Yea, and shall be so long as we keep burn- 
 ing in our hearts his sacred fire, and with 
 willing hands from season to season light 
 it anew on our altars. 
 
 The soul of the dead when but newly 
 done with the daylight of life is like an 
 awakened dreamer, dazed and seeing 
 naught, dumb and hearing naught. It is 
 lost until severed wholly from the sunlight- 
 life. So, we of the nearest kin break be- 
 side the still waiting soul a vase of the 
 water of bodily life, giving back to the Sun 
 at his setting the Life of Days as he gave 
 it in the morning of childhood, — that the 
 soul, set free, shall sink like him, to live 
 again with the souls there below the dark 
 waters of Ka'-thlu-el-lon, and, like him, rise 
 again to breath in the clouds here above 
 us. Therefore, too, we give the body to 
 45 
 
Commentary 
 
 the Earth-Mother, that it call not the soul 
 forth to be a lonely ghost, or vex it while 
 it is taking part in the glad councils and 
 dances of the Ancients. So also we plant 
 by the river-side plumes of the westward- 
 winging summer-birds, as the signs of Life 
 and of the way and of our prayers, to waft 
 the unwakened soul thither, and speak for 
 it whilst as yet it knows not the life of the 
 Lake of Spirits. Verily we lie down to 
 the sleep of fulfilment fearlessly and well 
 content. We do not forget that the light- 
 ning is not dimmed by the darkness. It 
 but gleams the more brightly. Even so is 
 it with the souls of men in the night-time 
 
 of death. 
 
 ***** 
 
 The ruined towns of the Ancient People 
 lie scattered throughout the valleys and 
 plains of our vast southwest. Whilst some 
 of these mark the paths of their slow mi- 
 grations, others were their homes for ages. 
 This was conclusively shown by the ex- 
 tensive and careful excavations continued 
 for nearly two years by the Hemenway 
 Archaeological Expedition, in some of the 
 ancient cities or great clusters of pueblos 
 46 
 
Commentary 
 
 in southern Arizona. There, in the lower 
 plain of the Salado River alone, I found 
 and examined some thirteen of these Pue- 
 blo cities. Each of them was buried from 
 sight save for a great solitary earth mound 
 which stood surrounded by low, wide- 
 reaching and seemingly natural undulations 
 of the soil. Traversing the plain almost 
 from border to border were wavering, faint 
 lines of water-stones, and here and there 
 dim furrows. These — so it proved later 
 — showed the courses of canals, once well 
 lined with hardened clay. Each slightest 
 elevation around the great mounds covered 
 the foundations of many-roomed houses, 
 while the central mounds themselves proved 
 to be great Kiva-Temples. The arrange- 
 ment of the rooms in these was so like the 
 plans marked out in prayer-meal for priest- 
 ly ceremonials in Zuni to-day, and the 
 paraphernalia we unearthed from them 
 were so like what is used in these same 
 Zuni ceremonials, that one must needs be- 
 lieve the builders of those and uncounted 
 other such cities to have been near kin- 
 dred to the Zunis, at least in culture. Be- 
 lieving, as the Zunis do, that they were 
 47 
 
Commentary 
 
 more than this, that these ruins were the 
 homes of their own ancestors and " Lost 
 Others," — those who faltered in seeking 
 the Middle of the World, and so drifted 
 away southward, no one knows whither, 
 — we cannot wonder that they speak of 
 theirs as the " Waning Moon," likening us 
 palefaces in number to those same dead 
 ancestors and Lost Others. 
 
 And again, if one thinks as they so often 
 think, of the times when they fled from 
 their beloved plain at the middle of the 
 world, and rebuilt on the broad and lofty 
 summit of Thunder Mountain their citadels 
 of stone, and that in those days as far as 
 the eye could reach from their topmost 
 terrace, all the plains and valleys were 
 their own possessions, stoutly held in stress 
 of war at fearful odds ; we can imagine 
 what they think and feel to-day when all 
 too easily they look across the narrow 
 strip of land we let them call their own. 
 Miss Proctor tells us in words so like their 
 own that it seems almost vain to add an- 
 other. Yet this is what their old men 
 say : — 
 
 " Beasts in a tempest do not bellow at 
 48 
 
Commentary 
 
 the wind ; they know it would not heed 
 them ! Let us then turn our backs to the 
 coming time of stormy thoughts, our faces 
 to the mighty past of our ancients, — that 
 past which never ceases, — that we may 
 remember we are their children, and be 
 strong yet a little longer." 
 
 In such wise do the old men answer 
 when some one younger wonders how it 
 will seem when they are all like " Ameri- 
 cans," as some Americans promise they 
 shall be. " Ye will not be like them," I 
 once heard a venerable sage reply, " ye will 
 be dead ! Aye, and 't is better so ! " 
 49 
 
By JOHN FISKE 
 
 X 
 
I. " Ours is the ancient wisdom." — The 
 kiva, better known to us, perhaps, by its Span- 
 ish name estiifa, is, among other things, the 
 university, or perhaps we might say the divinity 
 school, of the Pueblo. Here the young man 
 is orally instructed in all the sacred rites and 
 ceremonies of his people, their genesis and 
 their traditions. So careful are they that no 
 mistakes shall be made, the youth is obliged to 
 go over, day after day and year after year, these 
 oral instructions and the long rituals, until he 
 is able to repeat them without the loss of a sen- 
 tence or word, thereby proving himself quali- 
 fied to succeed the older men of his people, 
 and so transmit this sacred knowledge to com- 
 ing generations. 
 
 The picture represents a daily occurrence in 
 the kiva life. The priests have taken their 
 proper places about the fiat altar, where a 
 small fire is kept burning ; a youth stands be- 
 fore them, in class, so to speak, receiving his 
 lesson. 
 
 53 
 
Among the Moquis, the kiva is excavated out 
 of the rock below the surface of the mesa, and 
 then covered over, leaving an opening through 
 which descent is made by a ladder. The kivas 
 of the Zuni and the Pueblos of the Rio Grande 
 are built above the ground, although entrance 
 to them is made from the top, as with the 
 Moquis. 
 
 In each Pueblo there are as many kivas as 
 there are groups or classes of esoteric socie- 
 ties ; as, for example, the orders of the Ante- 
 lope, the Snake, the Bear, the Eagle, etc., etc. 
 The basket, co-ja-ni-na (people of the Willows), 
 so called from the tribe that live at the foot 
 of Cataract Canon, among the heavy grove of 
 willows that grow there, contains pe-ki, the na- 
 tive bread, of a slate color. The embroidered 
 sash is used in ceremonies. The jar, or olla^ 
 containing water, can be found in all the kivas 
 when work is going on. 
 
 The men all smoke during their ceremonies, 
 sometimes their ancient pipes, but more gen- 
 erally cigarettes. 
 
 2. The Sun-god, the chief deity of the Pueblo 
 Indians, is believed to be the Father of all 
 men. He dies every evening with the setting, 
 and is born anew every morning with the ris- 
 ing sun. '* The Sun-father, soaring above the 
 54 
 
sun, moon, and stars, ... is surrounded by the 
 symbols of the principal phenomena in nature 
 that are regarded as essentially beneficent to 
 mankind." (Bandelier, The Delight Makers, p. 
 I47-) 
 
 2. " We carry our netv-born children forth'^ — 
 Among the Moqui Indians, it is customary, 
 twenty days after the birth of a child, to intro- 
 duce the infant to the sun. The godmother, 
 after wrapping the baby in an old blanket, and 
 placing it in its cradle, laces the child, together 
 with an ear of corn, snugly in its place. 
 
 The father watches for the coming of the 
 sun, and when he announces its faintest ap- 
 pearance, the godmother with the child, fol- 
 lowed by the mother, steps out of the house, 
 and they stand on each side of the door, the 
 mother at the right, the godmother at the left. 
 They both scatter sacred meal as the sun ap- 
 pears. As soon as the child has been thus pre- 
 sented they retire into the house, where their 
 relatives are awaiting them. For a complete 
 account of this ceremony, see the article " Na- 
 tal Ceremonies of the Hopi Indians," by J. G. 
 Owens, in the journal of American Ethnology 
 arid Archceology, vol. ii. p. 163. In Zuni the 
 ceremony, which is very similar, is performed 
 on the tenth day. See Mrs. Stevenson, " Re- 
 
 55 
 
ligious Life of a Zuni Child," in M/tk Report 
 of the Bureau of Ethnology. 
 
 3. ^^ A'-mi-to-la7i-ne" is one of the Zuni names 
 for rainbow. There are distinct Rainbow gods 
 and goddesses, as there are distinct Lightning 
 deities. Nearly all phenomena, personified as 
 
 gods, are in a measure regarded as animals, I 
 
 and of each kind there are apt to be many, 
 
 male and female, good and evil. Thus the 
 
 principal Rainbow god is a male, ''false and 
 
 cruel " like the " ruthless worm " that devours 
 
 the buds. He is called " consumer of clouds," 
 
 *' stealer of the thunder-ball," etc. On the 
 
 other hand the " Rainbow of the Mist," A'-mi- 
 
 to-la-ni-tsa, is a fertile female, a kinswoman of 
 
 the Dew or Morning-Mist. She is the bearer 
 
 of salubrious breaths and good tidings from 
 
 " Those Above," i. e., the immortal Cosmic 
 
 Gods. 
 
 4. " The Corn-maids " are mythological be- 
 ings supposed to give fertility to the soil and 
 foster the growth of the corn. In the Corn- 
 Drama they are personated by virgins regarded 
 
 as their own human sisters. '■ 
 
 During the planting season, and until the 
 ripening of the corn, these virgins are fre- 
 quently employed in watching the fields, that 
 the ravens may not raid them and destroy the 
 56 
 
 1 
 
i]5otc0 
 
 prospect of a crop. They build bowers of 
 cotton-wood limbs, for shade, and in these 
 make their summer homes, having with them 
 their blankets and furs, and such needlework 
 as they occupy their time with. The picture is 
 from a sketch made in the Zuni basin, some six 
 miles from the Pueblo. 
 
 The costumes of all the Pueblo women are 
 quite the same. All the blanket-dresses are 
 made by the Moquis, and sold by them among 
 the other Pueblos. Sometimes they receive 
 money in return, but more often ponies, shell 
 beads, turquoise beads, silver ornaments made 
 by the Navajos, and larger and more fanciful 
 blankets for general covering. 
 
 In this picture of the Zuni girls one can 
 fancy one's self looking at a bevy of Moqui 
 maidens (barring the cart-wheel pufifs), or any 
 of the young women of the Pueblos of the Rio 
 Grande. The type is the same among them 
 all. 
 
 5. " The eagle, bird of the Whirlwind-God" 
 figures often in Zuni folk-tales, where he per- 
 forms marvelous feats. *' Eagle feathers are 
 highly esteemed for religious purposes. Eagles 
 are kept in wattled corrals on the west side of 
 Zuni Pueblo, in the plaza near the church, and 
 here and there throughout the Pueblo, some- 
 57 
 
0OttSi 
 
 times even on the housetops, without cages. 
 They are often sorry -looking birds, poorly 
 representing an emblem of national power." 
 (J. W. Fewkes, jfournal of American Ethnology 
 and ArchcBology, vol. ii. p. 26.) 
 
 5. " Wile the wolf fro7n his den.'' — The In- 
 dians have peculiar calls which they use in 
 alluring game within shooting distance of the 
 bow and arrow ; and sometimes so close that 
 they can dispatch a wolf or coyote with their 
 stone axes. 
 
 The call which allures the wolf is the pecu- 
 liar sound uttered by the female wild turkey. 
 Then they use the bone of the turkey leg for 
 a whistle, with which they imitate various 
 birds, calling the larger ones by uttering the 
 notes of the small ones, upon which they prey. 
 These are the methods most obvious to us, 
 but regarded by the Indian as comparatively 
 clumsy. Priests of the hunter societies, through 
 their intimate knowledge of animal habits and 
 aptitudes, exhibit remarkable powers of charm- 
 ing beasts and birds. They sometimes pro- 
 duce effects analogous to hypnotism. Mr. 
 Gushing tells me that he has seen prairie-dogs 
 lured out to the edges of their burrows by cries 
 half-imitative, half-musical ; and then held mo- 
 tionless there by the flashing of light into their 
 58 
 
 I 
 
eyes from prisms of rock-crystal, until they be- 
 came stupefied and could be captured alive. 
 
 The landscape in this picture is from the 
 butte and canon country of northern Arizona. 
 
 7. " The lilies of Te-na-tsa-li." — This person 
 is the hero of a folk-tale. He attempted to woo 
 a lovely maiden, who, with her three beautiful 
 sisters, lived at Kiakima on Thunder Moun- 
 tain. These maidens were very rich, and made 
 beautiful baskets. Many young men tried to 
 woo them, but each one disappeared mysteri- 
 ously, having been killed by these cruel but 
 beautiful girls. T^-na-tsa-li, a child of the gods, 
 the brother of the god of Dew, loved the elder 
 one, and went to her house. The maiden said 
 if he could hide from her so she could not find 
 him, then she would wed him ; but he, know- 
 ing her magic arts, refused to go first, and in- 
 sisted upon her hiding from him. This she 
 tried to do, but by means of magic he found 
 her. Then he tried to hide from her, but, know- 
 ing that she could find him, by magic, any- 
 where on earth, he mounted on a sun's ray to 
 the Sun-father. The maiden followed his foot- 
 steps till they stopped, and then, filling a shell 
 with water, looked into it and saw the reflec- 
 tion of the sun, and T^-na-tsa-li hidden there. 
 When he found he was discovered, Td-na-tsa-Ii 
 59 
 
came to the earth again, and asked the maiden 
 what her commands were. Without answering 
 she drew a sharp obsidian knife from her robe 
 and cut off his head, buried the body, and 
 dragged the bleeding head to her house, where 
 she hid it. As Te-na-tsa-li did not return home, 
 his brother went to find him, and was able to 
 trace him by the beautiful flowers which had 
 sprung up where he had stepped or his blood 
 had dropped. The bright-colored lilies which 
 grow near Zuni are called the lilies of Te-na- 
 tsa-li, and are said to have the power to heal 
 the sick and those who have suffered in war. 
 (Abridged from a Zuni folk-tale, translated by 
 F. H. Gushing.) 
 
 7. ^''Flant the earliest maizes — In aboriginal 
 American mythology the beautiful Indian com 
 plays as prominent a part as the cow in an- 
 cient Aryan folk-lore. Dr. Fewkes observes 
 that "this characteristic American plant may 
 rightly be called the natural food of all the 
 Pueblo people. Their folk-tales teem with ref- 
 erences to it, and it is regarded as one of the 
 best gifts of the gods. Their language is rich 
 in names for maize in its different stages of 
 growth, and for the products made from it." 
 
 7. '■'■ Prayer-plumes " are "painted sticks to 
 which the feathers or down of various birds 
 60 
 
(according to the nature of the prayer they are 
 to signify) are attached. The aborigine depos- 
 its these wherever and whenever he feels Uke 
 addressing himself to the higher powers, be it 
 for a request, in adoration only, or for thanks- 
 giving. In a certain way the prayer-plume or 
 plume-stick is a substitute for prayer, inas- 
 much as he who has not time may deposit it 
 hurriedly as a votive offering. The paint which 
 covers the piece of stick to which the feather 
 is attached becomes appropriately significant 
 through its colors ; the feather itself is the sym- 
 bol of human thought, flitting as one set adrift 
 in the air toward heaven, where dwell those 
 above." (BsLndeVier, T/ie £>e//g/if Makers, p. loo.) 
 
 " While she stands and gazes and dreams, a 
 flake of down becomes detached, and quivers 
 upward in the direction of the moon's silvery 
 orb. Such a flitting and floating plume is the 
 symbol of prayer. It rises and rises, and at 
 last disappears as if absorbed by moonlight. 
 The mother above has listened to her entreaty, 
 for the symbol of her thought, the feather, has 
 gone to rest in the bosom of her who watches 
 over every house, who feels with every loving, 
 praying heart." (/h'd. p. 154.) 
 
 7. "As/u// to the east we ktieel." — The cere- 
 mony of planting ba-hos (prayer-sticks) at the 
 61 
 
watering-places is common among all the Pue- 
 blo Indians. A certain order, called K5-K5, is 
 composed partly of unmarried women, who take 
 a vow of celibacy before entering the order. 
 They repair to the springs before dawn, and 
 place the ba-hos about the water. This is to 
 invoke the aid of the water-god to send them 
 plenty of rain, that their crops may be bounti- 
 ful. 
 
 The feathers attached to the ba-hos symbol- 
 ize thought, and in this ceremony waft their 
 prayers to the water-god above ; the sticks to 
 which the feathers are attached are fashioned 
 to represent lightning, the water-deity. 
 
 The Pueblo Indians, not being able to sepa- 
 rate the subjective from the objective, recog- 
 nize a likeness between the snake and the 
 lightning, therefore they are related ; and for 
 this reason we account for their high venera- 
 tion of the snake. They believe lightning to 
 be the water-god himself. When he appears 
 he strikes a cloud, and the report of the blow 
 is the thunder which follows ; the effect is rain. 
 
 This ceremony is performed two or three or 
 more times a year, according to the condition 
 of the weather. Drought will bring the Ko- 
 Ko together for this ceremony more frequently, 
 of course. 
 
 62 
 
i]5otC0 
 
 Prayer-sticks of similar construction to the 
 ba-ho are placed about the graves of the de- 
 parted. 
 
 7. ^^And the water-god, the jeweled toad.^^ — 
 In the Southwest during and after a rain the 
 beautiful desert toads come to the surface, and 
 when wet their bodies reflect the light and shine 
 like jewels. The Indians believed that these 
 toads had power to bring rain, and so they used 
 to make images of toads which they placed 
 along their watercourses to guide the water. 
 Very few of these fetishes are known to exist 
 now; but beautiful ancient specimens, encrusted 
 with turquoises and coral-shells inlaid in gum, 
 were found by the Hemenway Expedition in 
 the buried Pueblos of the Salado valley. 
 
 9. '■'■The dance and prayers of the A'-kd,-kd,.^^ 
 — The A'-ka-ka (called Ka-tci-nas by the Mo- 
 quis) is the brotherhood of the Mythic-Drama- 
 Dance, and its members represent symbolically 
 the souls of the first ancestors of mankind. 
 For further accounts see Mrs. Stevenson, " Re- 
 ligious Life of a Zuiii Child," in Fifth Report of 
 the Bureau of Ethnology. 
 
 1 1. " Crosses, terraces, slanting bars^ — " The 
 red cross is the symbol of the morning star ; 
 the white, of the evening. The terraced pyra- 
 mids are the clouds, for the clouds appear to 
 63 
 
r 
 
 0Ott3 
 
 the Indian as staircases leading to heaven, and 
 they in turn support the rainbow, a tri-colored 
 arch." (Bandelier, Tke Delight Makers, p. 147.) 
 
 12. '■'•Twin children of the Siinr — There is 
 a tradition among the Zuni and Moqui Indians 
 that two youths, called " twin children of the 
 Sun," bade adieu to their people, and started 
 upon a pilgrimage to find where day began. 
 They were never heard of afterward, but it is 
 supposed they are now the guests of the Ka- 
 tcf-nas. They are the " Twain-Beloved " men- 
 tioned in the Zuni Familiar's Co?nmentary. 
 
 These young men are represented in the tra- 
 ditional primitive costume of the cougar skin, 
 bow and quiver, and the eagle feather. 
 
 12. ^^Po-shai-an-k-ya, the master." — A great 
 character in Zuni mythology, the leader and 
 saviour of the people. See Mr. Cushing's 
 Commentary, above, p. 42. The conception of 
 P6-shai-an-k'ya, as here presented by Mr. 
 Gushing, suggests the query whether it does 
 not betray the influence of Christian ideas. 
 
 15. ** The silent heart's appeal." — Mr. Scott's 
 picture is an Arizona scene, the site of one of 
 tixe ancient cities, the ruins of which the In- 
 dians maintain have always been ruins ; no 
 traditions exist among them of a time when 
 they were standing, and were the abode of men. 
 64 
 
The figure is a middle-aged woman who has 
 had trouble ; she has ascended the high mesa 
 to where the altar stands, and is alone with her 
 sorrow. These altars are found in an almost 
 perfect state of preservation (so sacred are 
 they held by all the Indians) among the vast 
 ruined towns that are found on the mesa tops 
 that skirt the valleys of Arizona and New Mex- 
 ico. 
 
 15. '■^The rare tobacco leavesJ" — Dr. Fewkes 
 says {journal, vol. iii. p. 76) that native to- 
 bacco was used in the sacred ceremonials. 
 Although he supplied the Indians plentifully 
 with white men's tobacco, he never saw them 
 use it in sacred rites. The bark of the red 
 willow is often used in place of tobacco. 
 
 16. *' By the dead a vase of zvater clear." — It 
 is the custom to break a bowl of clear water 
 beside the dead, that the soul may have an 
 easy and speedy passage to the other world. 
 
 16. ''Through KA-thlu-el' -Ion's Lake." — This 
 is a sacred lake about sixty miles southwest of 
 Zuni, through which the A'-ka-ka are believed 
 to have come up on the earth, and through 
 which, after death, the soul passes to Shi-papu, 
 where there is eternal dancing and feasting. 
 
 18. "Far to west, Francisco's peaks." — Mr. 
 Scott's picture is a view under the mesa of Shi- 
 65 
 
mo-pa-vi. The man is going for wood ten 
 miles away across the desert, while the girls, 
 on their way to the spring, are waving him a 
 good-by. 
 
 The pueblo of Shi-mo-pa-vi is the loftiest of 
 the Moqui villages. From its walls there is 
 a glorious view of the desert, with the snow- 
 capped peaks of the Francisco Mountains in 
 central Arizona, the range whence the Fran- 
 cisco River winds its way down to the Gila and 
 the weird Colorado, until its waters are lost in 
 the Vermilion Sea, as the old explorers used to 
 call the Gulf of California. These mountains 
 have nothing to do with San Francisco, from 
 which they are distant many hundred miles; 
 nor do they belong even to the Sierra Nevada, 
 but to the Rocky Mountain system. 
 
 The picture is taken from the upper terrace 
 of the mesa. There are three terraces below 
 as one descends to the sand dunes and debris 
 at the base, where you may still see the ruins 
 of the old town of Shi-mo-pa-vi, destroyed in 
 warfare three centuries ago. Its ancient water- 
 ing-places still remain, and supply the present 
 pueblo. 
 
 20. " We are the Ancient People." — The pic- 
 ture is a view of the Pueblo of Wdlpi, which is 
 the most southerly village on the first Moqui 
 66 
 
mesa; it is upon the terminal point of the 
 mesa, eight hundred feet above the desert. 
 Here the famous biennial snake dance takes 
 place about the Sacred Rock in front of the 
 Pueblo. 
 
 The rock about which the performance takes 
 place can be seen directly in front of the low- 
 est white dwelling. 
 
 The stone corrals in the foreground are for 
 the sheep which are taken down to the desert 
 and back daily. 
 
 The mesa just above the corrals is only 
 about twelve feet wide, and the trail to Walpi 
 over this part has been worn to eight and 
 ten inches deep by bare feet and soft mocca- 
 sins. 
 
 20. "(9z/r heralds call at sunset stilly — It is 
 still the custom in Zuni and Moqui for the her- 
 ald, who is a kind of town crier, to announce 
 events, make known the loss of goods, etc. 
 
 21. ^'■By towering Ta-ai-yat-lo-ne." — Mid- 
 way between the gateway of Zuni and the 
 Canon of Cottonwoods stands majestic Thun- 
 der Mountain, Ta-ai-yal'-lo-ne, magnificent in 
 the coloring and chiseling of its rocky sides. 
 From its hill-ensconced base to its almost level 
 summit, the height is about a thousand feet. 
 At the foot stand the ruins of the ancient 
 
 6; 
 
Zuni town of Kiakima. It was near this spot 
 that the negro Estevanico, companion of Fray 
 Marcos of Nizza, was killed by the Zunis in 
 1539. See Fiske, Discovery of America^ vol. ii. 
 
 P- 505- 
 
 22. " The trickling springs at the mesa foot." 
 
 — All the water at Moqui has to be carried up 
 to a height of seven hundred feet from the 
 springs at the foot of the mesa. Morning and 
 evening the women meet at the watering-places 
 to fill their large canteens and ollas, or earthen 
 jars. They take the occasion for rest and gos- 
 sip, and, after all, while their lives are full of 
 toil, they seem careless and happy, and cer- 
 tainly enjoy themselves more than when put 
 among civilized people whose advanced condi- 
 tion they cannot at all comprehend. 
 
 It is extremely interesting to go to the 
 springs early in the morning or at close of day 
 and study the groups that collect by them. At 
 first they are shy and restrained by the pres- 
 ence of a stranger, but on acquaintance they 
 resume their natural ways, and begin to chatter 
 and frolic. 
 
 The Moqui women dress their hair in differ- 
 ent ways to distinguish a maiden from a mar- 
 ried woman. The former wears upon the side 
 of her head, just above the ears, huge cart- 
 68 
 
wheel puffs, while the married women and old 
 women wear theirs braided, banged, tied in a 
 knot behind, or allowed to drop loosely by the 
 sides. The Spaniards noticed these cart-wheel 
 puffs in 1539. No other Pueblo women have 
 adopted this peculiar way of distinguishing the 
 maidens. 
 
 This scene is from under the second Moqui 
 mesa. 
 
 22. '^A'-sAi-wi^' is a Zuni name for the Zunis 
 themselves. 
 
 23. "77/^ mountain meadow'' s bloom'^ — In 
 the Zuhi Mountains there are little meadows 
 where the deer used to graze, and the picture 
 represents one of these green places about 
 twenty miles from Zuni. 
 
 It was the ancient hunting-ground of the 
 Zuni Indians, and is at the present time occu- 
 pied by a cattle company, whose herds have 
 supplanted the deer and antelope of other 
 days. In some of the valleys the pine-tree 
 grows to very great proportions. It should be 
 borne in mind that the altitude of these grazing 
 spots is not less than six and seven thousand 
 feet above the level of the sea. 
 69 
 
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