JAPANESE MINOR RELIGIOUS PRACTICES.-Of miscellaneous minor religious practices, the name is legion. Such are the sprig of holly stuck to a door-post to keep out evil spirits, the imprint of a hand over the door or entrance to a house, and similarly the rude picture of a horse pasted up over the house doors to avert smallpox. What may be the rationale of this I know not, but Mr. Aston, in a private communication, suggests that the horse may be intended to hint to the evil spirit that the family is abroad. Another curious practice is that of depositing on some mountain-top the instrument with which a crime has been committed. Till within a few years ago Nantai-zan, a high summit in the Nikkō district, now that happy hunting ground of "globe-trotters," was littered with swords that had thus been offered to the mountain god. Or, leaving the land for the sea, how touching is the sailor's habit of scattering grains. of rice on the waves as an offering to Kompira or some other deity with power to still the billows.-B. H. Chamberlain in Jour. Anthrop. Inst., vol. xxii, London, 1893, p. 358. HOW INDIAN SOngs are BorrowED.-Indian songs, I have discovered, travel far, and those of one tribe are soon at home in another. There seems to have been quite an extended acquaintance between tribes, the Rocky mountains proving no serious barrier. Customs and songs borrowed from the Crow Indians have obtained for a century at least among the Nez Percé. Dakota songs are also found there with an equally remote introduction. The Omahas took from the Sioux the Ma-wa-da-ne songs, and from the Otoe the Haeka-ne. The Dakotas appropriated the Omaha Hae-thu-ska songs, as did the Winnebagos. I have had Omahas sing me the songs of many different tribes, but they were always credited to the tribe to which they belonged. I have never met an instance of plagiarism among the Indians. Certain kinds of songs can be purchased by individuals, and the song becomes personal property, but the purchaser would never claim to have composed it.-Alice C. Fletcher, "Omaha Indian Music," in Peabody Museum Papers, vol. i, 1893, No. 5. PIÑON GATHERING AMONG THE PANAMINT BY B. H. DUTCHER.* While on a trip into Death valley, Inyo county, California, in the latter part of the summer of 1891, I had the good fortune to spend two nights and one day in a camp of Panamint Indians, who were engaged in obtaining their annual supply of “piñons.” In company with John Hughes, the Indian mail-carrier to the Death Valley signal station, another Buck and a young squaw, I left Keeler, on Owens lake, September 18, and started eastward across the summits of the Inyo range toward Cottonwood cañon, in the Panamint mountains. Our first day's journey carried us to the eastern extremity of a high mountain ridge, extending east and west from the Inyo to the Panamint mountains, and separating Saline valley on the north from Panamint valley on the south. The crest or plateau top of this ridge was more or less rocky and broken and covered at its eastern end by a large grove of piñon trees (Pinus monophylla), among which the camp was situated. As this camp was but temporary and established only for shelter while the nutting was in progress, a brief description of it may not be out of place. In the shadow of a small group of piñon trees a number of small circles or "corrals" had been built. Perhaps there were some five or six of these in all, each seeming to accommodate one family or that fraction of a family that was present in the camp. In diameter they measured eight or ten feet, and their walls consisted merely of the broken piñon branches and of the small bushes that grew around, piled up into a loose row two or three feet thick and about as many high. The circle was broken or imperfect where entrance or exit was needed, and where two of these circles became tangent a passage was generally made from one to the other. Their uses seemed to be few-to secure a little privacy for the occupants; to serve as a slight wind-break during the night, when the family slept inside, and during the day to serve as a rack in holding out of the dirt the blankets, extra clothes, cooking uten*Of the Death Valley Expedition of 1891. sils, and other paraphernalia of the household. In the center of each circle was a small area where the fire was kindled, around which all gathered for a short time during the chill of the early morning and in the evening before retiring. The floor was smooth, clear of stones and weeds, and carpeted by a thick layer of fine, gray dust. The food supply, with the exception of the nuts, was scanty, consisting of a little tea and sugar, flour, salt, and the refuse from the Keeler slaughter-pen. A can of corn had been purchased, and was opened, as a great luxury. Their clothing, with the exception of hats and moccasins, was of civilized manufacture, consisting exclusively of sacks and skirts of greasy muslin or calico. One young squaw was engaged with thread and needle in fashioning one of these garments from some fresh print calico, apparently with some skill. Most of the women wore heavy skin moccasins, in which the soles were sewed to the uppers; the men invariably had shoes. For hats all the older squaws had small conical baskets, under which the hair was piled on top of the head. Shortly after daylight all hands, one after another, rolled slowly out of their scanty blankets and gathered around the feeble flames that the more energetic had succeeded in starting. Crouching down on their haunches, they endeavored to drive the chill from their bones by presenting first one side to the blaze, then the other, and to remove the sleep from their eyes by vigorous rubbing. Before sunrise a meager breakfast had been eaten, and they began the work of the day, the women betaking themselves to the nutting, the men to further sleep, tobacco, or cards. In fact, with the exception of acting as rather disinterested spectators at times and of eating the piñons on all possible occasions, the men took no part in the industry. My guide at one time during the morning attempted to shoot some of the quail that abounded in the neighborhood, but failed. Immediately after the meal several of the women equipped themselves with large, conical pack-baskets and beating sticks and sallied forth to gather the cones from the trees in the vicinity. The baskets were made of light wicker-work, shaped like the frustum of a right. cone, about two to two and one-half feet high and nearly as broad. The upper base of the frustum, or the bottom of the basket, was flat, and from three to five inches in diameter. A leather thong was fastened into the side just below the rim, passed around the forehead, and similarly inserted into the wicker-work on the other side of the head, thus serving to bind the basket to the carrier. The beating or pulling sticks were straight rods, about an inch in diameter and five or six feet long, stripped of bark and with all the branches removed, save one at the outer extremity, which was cut off about six inches from its union with the main staff. The stick itself terminated immediately beyond this point. To prevent this spur or limb from being split off by the rough usage to which it was subjected a stout thong was wrapped around from one branch to the other about three or four inches from the vertex of the angle. To give a clearer idea of this instrument, it may be compared to an A, in which the uprights stand for the limbs, one being greatly prolonged, and the cross-bar for the binding thong. Thus equipped with basket and stick, a squaw would advance to some untouched tree and proceed to beat and pick the cones from the limbs until her receptacle was full, when she would return to camp, empty the load onto the ground, and start off again to refill the basket or remain to open cones, as necessity dictated. Those not engaged thus in keeping up the supply of fresh cones busied themselves in removing the nuts. The cones of Pinus monophylla are small, perhaps three inches long by two in diameter, with strong, thick scales, under each of which are found two, rarely one, of the small seeds called "piñons" or pine nuts. Being quite tough when fresh and having moreover an abundant supply of sticky pitch, they are rather difficult to open, unless subjected to a drying treatment. To this end a dense pile of brush is prepared, six or eight feet across and two feet high, and caused to burn slowly or rather to smoulder, the density and close packing of the mass preventing any strong or rapid combustion. On top of this heap and through it the fresh cones are mixed and left until the heat has dried the pitch and caused the cone leaves to open out to an angle of perhaps 45° or 50° and expose the nuts beneath. When a sufficient number of the cones had been dried and opened and the mass had cooled the women would seat themselves in a circle around the heap, each with a shallow, shell-shaped basket, a small stick, and two stones, and proceed to work. One of these stones was flat, of the size of a small plate, and was laid on the ground as an anvil; the other, about the size of the fist, was used as a hammer. Having raked out a few of the dried cones with her stick, she would grasp one in her left hand and, holding it with its base on the anvil and its apex upward, would strike it from one to three sharp blows with the hammer; then, dropping the hammer, she would grasp the cone in both hands, hold it over the basketsaucer, and by a slight twisting motion, moving the hands in opposite directions, accompanied by a shaking up and down, dislodge the already loosened nuts from under the opened leaves. This operation almost invariably resulted in the removal of all the nuts; but to guard against loss each cone was examined immediately after the shaking, and if any remained they were picked out by the fingers. The empty cones were tossed aside into a heap. So completely do they remove the kernels by these operations that though I carefully searched many of the discarded cones not a single nut did I find in any of them. the This labor occupied the greater part of the day of my sojourn in woman camp, all the ten or a dozen women taking active part, save one young squaw, who was nursing a week-old child. Toward noon, a party arriving with a supply of watermelons from Cottonwood cañon, in the Panamint mountains, all hands ceased work and proceeded to refresh themselves, after which the labor was again resumed. During the entire day no one seemed to exert herself to any great extent, all keeping steadily employed in rather a leisurely manner. The nuts thus secured were of course mixed with more or less "chaff" or cone leaves, which had to be removed before the product was used or packed away. To accomplish this, toward evening, when enough had been secured to make the operation pay, a squaw would spread out on a smooth patch of ground a blanket or piece of cotton cloth, and, placing a number of nuts in a broad, open dish or saucer of wicker-work, would hold it over the cloth and, tossing the nuts up and down, let the wind fan out the lighter leaves and dirt. After being thus cleaned, the kernels were laid aside and eventually packed into gunny-sacks to be stored or 'marketed. The quantity of nuts secured from this single day's packing I should roughly judge to be about one or two bushels, though the number of small lots constituting the whole rendered accurate estimate impossible. The nuts seemed to be very plentiful indeed. I saw several filled grain-sacks that had been set aside, and a number of broad wicker dishes were always kept replenished for immediate use. |