RISING AND FALLING OF THE SKY IN SIOUAN MYTHOLOGY.-On page 344 of the AMERICAN ANTHROPOLOGIST for October, 1892, appeared an article on the "Rising and falling of the sky in Iroquois legends." The present writer calls attention to the Omaha myth of "The Chief's Son and the Thunders," published in Contributions to North American Ethnology, vol. 6, "The Dhegiha Language, Myths, Stories, and Letters," pp. 185-188. In that myth it is said that the chief's son and his followers came at length to the end of the sky, which was perpendicular and, after descending quickly into a chasm in the earth, ascended as quickly to its former place. Thus it acted continually; therefore, in order to pass across the chasm in safety, one must watch his chance. The chief's son and all his followers but the last one crossed the chasm, but the warrior at the end of the line hesitated too long and was carried down into the chasm; but on the return of the party the followers were sent over the chasm in advance of the leader, who, as he sprang over, extended one arm down into the chasm and drew up the dead man, whom he thus restored to life.

J. OWEN DOrsey.

AMERICAN FOLK-LORE SOCIETY.—At the annual meeting of this Society, held in Boston, December 28th and 29th, the following papers were read:

Abby L. Alger. Survival of Fire-sacrifice among Indians in Maine. Fanny D. Bergen. Animal and Plant Weather Proverbs.

Franz Boas. Doctrine of Souls among the Chinook.

H. Carrington Bolton. A Modern Oracle and its Prototypes.

A. F. Chamberlain. Christ in Folk-lore.

J. Owen Dorsey. Two Biloxi Tales.

Adolf Gerber. The Relation of the Tales of Uncle Remus to the Animal Stories of other countries.

George Bird Grinnell. Algonquian Blackfoot Creation Myths.

J. C. Hamilton. The Algic Manabozho.

H. R. Kidder.

George F. Kunz.

Henry R. Lang.

John Maclean.
Henry Mott.

W. W. Newell.

Chippewa Tale of the End of Hiawatha.

Folk-lore of Precious Stones.

Folk lore of the Azorian Colonies.
Blackfoot Mythology.

Medicine Men.

D. P. Penhallow.

Examples of Forgery in Folk-lore.

Customs and Traditions of the Ainos of Japan.

Archibald R. Tisdale. Tales of the Abnakis.

PRIMITIVE DISTILLATION AMONG THE TARASCOES.

BY JOHN G. BOURKE.

During the month of September, 1891, it was my good fortune to be able to visit the romantically beautiful and fertile region of Lake Patzcuaro, in western Mexico.

It may be of interest to know that Lake Patzcuaro is the highest body of water in the world navigated by steamboat; that it is 45 miles long, 16 miles wide at its widest point, and 360 feet deep, with water crystalline and cold, and with scenery strongly recalling that of Lake Luzerne, in Switzerland. On its banks is situated the good-sized city of Patzcuaro-old, well built, and quaint-whose gentlemen still cling to the long, graceful Spanish cloak, the legitimate child of the Roman toga, and whose "young bloods" cavort about on spirited ponies, wearing suspended from their waists elegant silver-handled swords, probably one of the very last instances, at least on our own continent, of an adherence to this obsolete proof of gentility.

My purpose in going down there was to visit the famous coffee district of Uruapan and to examine the ruins of the college established by the Franciscans in 1581 for the education of the young men of the Tarasco race.

To get to these ruins, which are on the island of Tzintzontzin, it was necessary to hire a chaloupa or skiff, paddled by six stout Tarascoes. It was quite early in the morning when the water. sprinkled from our paddles, and the Hotel Ybarra-the pompously • titled inn wherein I had rested over night-faded from view astern. Our craft looked somewhat like a second-hand, unpainted Venetian gondola, with an absurdly high prow, upon which was perched the bow sculler or oarsman. The crew were jolly and good-natured, and two or three of them were able to speak Spanish with fluency. Many questions were plied by the natives as to the object of my going upon the lake and what business had brought me so far from my own country; but all these I answered gladly, intent on making up for it all in time. My note book was kept in hand all the while and soon began to give good evidence of the

patience and generosity of the Tarascoes, in turn, in responding to my interrogatories.

It was a very interesting boat ride and one productive of most startling information. The patron or captain of the chaloupa assured me and all the crew confirmed his statement-that there was once a whirlpool in the middle of the lake, into which their ancestors in the olden time were accustomed to throw one or more babies every year. An earthquake or some other convulsion of nature some years ago had closed up this outlet (for such it would seem to have been), and ever since then the waters had been gradually deepening until they had now encroached upon fences, sheds, houses, and fields formerly high above their reach.

We passed by the rocky islet of San Piedrecito, to which priests still go on certain occasions to bless the waters of old Patzcuaro and the labors of the dark-skinned fishermen who sit stolidly and reverently in their home-made wooden chaloupas at its foot.

When I suggested that before the coming of the padres the medicine-men of the tribe must have occupied that isle of the fisherman the patron responded urbanely: "Yes, that is true; but in those times, you know, our grandfathers used to throw little babies into the water and eat human flesh."

We made side excursions to many points to see the fishermen setting their nets or making hauls of the silvery sardine-shaped charraras, so highly prized by the epicures of the city of Mexico, and to watch the women and children on the bank industriously plaiting petates of tule or corn leaves, making baskets, or baking pottery beautiful in contour, fine in grain, and rich ruby-red in color. Many chaloupas passed us, hurrying to Patzcuaro to sell or to buy. The whole scene was interesting, animated, and varied. Soon a thin line of smoke was seen issuing from the foliage on the crest of a knoll, and each Tarasco looked anxiously at me as the patron said: "They are making mescal over there. Would you not like us to row over? It is not very far." I replied that I would, but intimated that they must show me all about the mescal-making and keep their promise to guide me to Tzintzontzin. No sooner agreed than the prow of the chaloupa was ploughing its way to the primitive alembic.

I may omit any references to the kind treatment received from all the family on the island of Tzintzontzin-as this proved itself to be-and need not describe the shrine of the Madonna, in front of

which, in an earthenware brazier, was burning a small piece of copal, a favorite offering made by the Aztec tribes to their gods.

The still was erected at the edge of a vertical bank of hard clay, a situation which simplified labor very much. The whole apparatus was of the most primitive kind, but the product was exceptionally good and clear.

At a was the fire, with outlet for smoke at b; c and d were hoops, against which were placed the staves, secured on the outside by other hoops or circles apparently of willow. At e was the mashed mescal in a large earthen bowl; f, on top of the still, was another large bowl full of cold water, which was ladled out by an attendant as it became heated and supplied afresh. The steam arising from the heated mescal condensed against the bottom of the bowl (ƒ) filled with cold water and then dropped into a bowl (g) placed at

at angle. This bowl was called the cuchara or spoon.

From the

cuchara the mescal ran out through the tube k, made of mescal stalk, into the olla or water jar 7. On one of the staves, at h, was a rudely incised crucifixion, marked there, as I was told, to ensure buena suerte ("good luck ").

The entire process of preparing the mescal for distillation was in operation at the time and was explained in detail. Only the center of the plant, resembling a cabbage head and called the heart, was used, the exterior leaves being rejected, although they are rich in saccharine matter and are used as food by the Apache and Navajo Indians.

These hearts were first baked in "mescal pits" lined with heated stones and covered with wet grass and earth. Upon being transferred to shallow basins made in the ground and lined with flat rocks they were mashed into a coarse pulp with heavy wooden mallets, then exposed to the sun to insure fermentation. It was this fermented mass which I saw placed in the kettle of the still (at e).

In this description, bald as it is, I desire to call attention to what seems to me a very curious point. There was nothing used which was not strictly aboriginal; the crucifixion need not be excepted, as the sign of the cross has been a religious emblem of the American tribes and observed as such from Gaspe to Yucatan.

The wooden barrel was very rude in construction, the gaping seams being closed with wet clay and gum. The Tarascoes, from time immemorial, have been celebrated workers in wood and have felled and cut large pine trees of which they have built their chaloupas 25 or 30 feet long. They also make all the wooden spoons, ladles, and other kitchen ware used in that part of the country.

I am far from committing myself to the proposition that the Mexican Indians were acquainted with distillation before the time of the conquest. Indeed, when and where distillation was first practiced will perhaps never be known. The Chinese claim the discovery for one of their kings who lived 2600 B. C. I do not recall any reference to the distillation of liquors in the works of Sahagun, Motolina, or other early clerical writers on the manners and customs of the Aztecs. The omission, however, is not of great significance. Those writers have preserved for science much valuable ethnological material, but they observed and wrote from the standpoint of the missionary and not from that of the anthropologist. The word