EE RS EUR Ee Ee STEER ESET ED Peete CO OC Ree eo Se EC CP ee Seca Re PRO z TeSys vm e i 5 i eae co Se ve : hele Zn ad Bon wee ee tebe tne: = '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' ''_ UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PUBLICATIONS DEPARTMENT OF ANTHROPOLOGY The. following publications dealing with archaeological and ethnologicat: gables ~gnder the direction of the Department. of Anthropology are sent in exchange for 1 tations of anthropological departments and museums, and for journals devoted ¢ anthropology or to archaeology and ethnology. They are for sale at the prices stat include postage or express charges. Exchanges should ‘be directed to The Exchang -ment, University Library, Berkeley, California, U. S. A. “AL orders and Femiitany be addressed to the University Press. Buropean agent for the series in. American. ‘Ascine diac’ aa Ethnology, Class _ ology, Education, Modern. Philology, Philosophy, and Semitic Philology, Otto Har Leipzig. For the series in Botany, Geology, Pathology, Physiology, Zoology anda ican Archaeology and Ethnology, R. Friedlaender & Sohn, Berlin. - AMERICAN ARCHAFOLOGY AND ETHNOLOGY.— . L. Kroeber, Editor,“ volume $3. 50 (Vol. 1, $4.25). , "Vol. i . ‘Vol. 2. ‘Cited as Univ. Calif. Publ. hie, Arch. Ethn. “4; ‘Life and ( Culture of the Hupa, by Pliny Barle Goddard. Pp. 1 “plates 1-30. September, 1903 2. Hupa Texts, by Pliny Harle Goddard. Pp. 89-368. March, 1904 ... Index, pp. 869-378. i. The Exploration of the Potter Creek Cave, by William J. Sinc Pp. 1-27; plates 1-14. April, 1904 ANS. The Languages-of the Coast of California South of San Francisco Vol... 3.: Vol. 4. Vol. 5. Nol, 6. A. L. Kroeber. Pp. 29-80, with a map. June, 1904 2..20......... 3. Types of Indian Culture in California, by A. L. Kroeber. Pp. 81- June, 1904 4. Basket Designs of the Indians of Northwestern California, by A Kroeber, Pp. 105-164; plates 15-21. January, 1905 *..-..2.:. . The Yoknts Language of South Central California, by A. Th. Kro Pp. 165-377... January, 1907 . -~ Index, pp. 379-392. - ‘The Morphology of the Hupa Language, by. Pliny Barle God¢ > -344-pp.. June, 1905 aie 1, The Earliest Historical Relations ‘between Mexico aa Japan, : original documents preserved in Spain and Japan, by Zelia Nut Pp. 1-47. _ April, 1906: Contribution to the Physical Anthropology of California, based on lections in the Department of Anthropology of the Universit California, and in the U. S. National Museum, by Ales Hrdk Pp. 49-64, with 5 tables; plates 1-10, and map. June, 1906-...... 3. The Shoshonean Dialects of California, by A. L. Kroeber. Pp. 65 February, 1907, =:... 4, Indian Myths from South Central California, by A. L. ‘Kroeber, 167-250. May, 1907 .... . The Washo Language of East Central California and Nevada, by. Kroeber... Pp. 251-318. September, 1907.0... a we 6, The Religion of the Indians of California, by A L. Kroeber. Pp. 856. September, 1907- ~. “Index, pp. 357-374. . The Phonology of the Hupa Language; Part I, The Individual Sc -by Pliny Earle Goddard. Pp. 1-20; plates 1-8. March, 1907 . 2. Navaho Myths, Prayers and Songs, with Texts and Translation » Washington Matthews, edited by Pliny Earle Goddard. pt .. ~September, 1907 3.. Kato Texts, by Pliny Barle: Goddard. Pp. 65-238; plate 9. Dece: 1909 4, The Material Culture of the Klamath Lake and Modoc india Northeastern California and Southern - Oregon, by. 8. A. Ba 2 Pp. 239-292, plates 10-25, June, 1910 Henshaw’s*® and the writer’s informants Si-toptopo; and Henshaw locates the rancheria at Nordhoff. The prefix -si in the Indian original means ‘‘his’’ or aie Truckee City and River, in Nevada and Placer counties, are named after a Northern Paiute chief. See Gannett. The word appears con- siderably corrupted, but the exact original pronunciation does not seem to have been recorded. Tulucay, a grant in Napa County, is named from Tulukai or Tuluka, meaning ‘‘red,’’ a Southern Wintun or Patwin village near the State Hospital at Napa. Barrett, Pomo, 293. 35 California Farmer, May 4, 1860. 36 Bur. Am. Ethn., Bull. 30, u, 582 (Ao). ''64 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol.12 | Tunnabora Peak, in the crest of the Sierra Nevada, near Mount Whitney. Unknown. Possibly Shoshonean, Mono dialect. Compare Tunemah Peak and Pass not far to the north. Tuolumne County is evidently named after the river. According to Mashn, Tuolumne is a ‘‘corruption of the Indian word ‘Talma- >??__and which was the name of a large tribe of Indians who lived on both sides of the river.’’ There was a tribe (Kroeber, Miwok, 373; Merriam, 351) called Tawa- limni, Towolumne, or Tuolumne, possibly Miwok but more probably Yokuts, in the plains of the San Joaquin Valley in the vicinity of the lower Tuolumne and Stanislaus rivers up as far as about Knights Ferry. The word Tawalimni, which perhaps was really Tawalamni lamne’ which signifies ‘stone house or cave or Tawalumni, would easily give rise, in either English or Spanish, to Tuolumne. The signification is unknown, but its ending, -imni, -amni, or -umni, occurs In many names of Yokuts tribes and Miwok and Maidu villages in the valley portion of the San Joaquin-Sacramento drainage. Usually the stems of such words cannot be assigned a mean- ing even by Indians. The interpretation ‘‘stone house or cave’’ is very unlikely, since the California Indians never built in stone, and the term would therefore be applicable only to dwellers in caves or rock shelters, which demand a mountain habitat, whereas both the location of the Tawalimni and the distribution of nearly all Indian place names ending in -emnt seem to be confined to the plains. Turup Creek, in Del Norte County, is named from the Yurok vil- lage Turip, on the south side of the lower Klamath River. Tzabaco, a land grant in Sonoma County, may bear an Indian name, though it suggests Spanish tabaco. Ube Hebe, appearing on some maps as northeast of Independence, Inyo County, is an unidentified name. Ukiah, the county seat of Mendocino County, is named after the Yokaya grant extending from about four miles north of Hopland to north of Calpella, and including, therefore, Ukiah Valley. The word, according to Barrett, Pomo, 168, is Central Pomo, yo, ‘‘south,’’ and kata, ‘‘valley.’’ Yokaia is today the Indian name of a rancheria south- southeast of the city of Ukiah. Dr. Barrett says that the inhabitants moved to the site only since the American occupation, after their re- turn from the former Mendocino reservation (on the coast between Noyo and Ten Mile rivers). The reservation was discontinued in 1867. Before the coming of the whites, according to the same author- ity, the people of the present Yokaia rancheria lived ‘‘chiefly at ¢6’- ''1916] Kroeber: California Place Names of Indian Origin 65 kadjal (Shokadjal), a short distance northwest.’’ The designation Yokaia is, however, unquestionably older than the modern Indian village, as shown by the grant name. Whether it originally applied to the entire valley, to a part of it, or to some native settlement in it, is uncertain, but the interpretation ‘‘south-valley’’ must be considered the correct one. M. A. E. Sherwood, cited by Barrett, Pomo, 169, is re- sponsible for the definition ‘‘deep valley,’’ repeated by Bailey. Yo, it is true, is ‘‘down,’’ ‘‘under,’’ or ‘‘hole’’ in several Pomo dialects, but appears normally as a suffix, whereas yo, ‘‘south,’’ like other terms of direction, is regularly first in compound words. Ulatus or Ulatis or Ualtis Creek, in Solano County, bears a name evidently connected with that of the South Wintun or Patwin Indian division called Olulato, Ululato, or Ullulata. Compare, Powers, 218, and Bancroft, Native Races, 1, 452, 453. Ulistac, a land grant in Santa Clara County. The word is obvious- ly of Costanoan origin, as evidenced by the regular Costanoan locative case ending -tak, frequent on village names; but the name is not other- wise identifiable. It suggests Juristac, which see. ZL and r alternate in Costanoan dialects, and an initial h would be likely to be repre- sented by j by one Spanish writer, and omitted altogether by an- other. Ores, ‘‘bear,’’ and wri, uli, ‘‘head,’’ ‘‘hair,’’ or ‘‘forehead,’’ are the only Costanoan words known to the author which suggest the stem. Ulpinos—Rancho de los Ulpinos—a land grant in Solano County, is evidently named after the Chulpun or Khoulpouni Indians. The location of the grant, on the west side of the lower Sacramento river, would make these Indians of Wintun stock, according to all ethno- logical maps. Merriam, 348; however, declares the Hulpoomne (for the ending -umni, see Tuolumne) to have been a Northwestern (Plains) Miwok tribe whose principal rancheria was near Freeport, nine miles south of Sacramento City, and on the east side of the river. Un Bully Mountain, between Siskiyou and Trinity counties, is in Wintun territory, and ‘‘Bully’’ is apparently Wintun boli, literally ‘“spirit,’’? but much used in mountain names: compare Yallo Bally. The meaning of Un is not known. Unumhum, or Umunhum Mountain, in Santa Clara County, is named from an unidentified source. Usal, in Mendocino County, pronounced Yusawl, was in Atha- bascan territory but appears to be the Pomo word Yoshol, containing ''66 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 the stem yo, ‘‘south.’’? Sho is ‘‘east,’’ and -l- an ending of terms of direction in the same language; but it is not known whether these elements enter into the word. . Wahtoke, in Fresno County, appears to be Yokuts watak, ‘‘pine- nut.’’ * bici,* bax beitcidei* ba’ah* hahatci* waxu’,* waxuina® (pl.) hiwaxuahada,* hi- waxuha?xeb (pl.) hada,* hadabiha® (pl.) hanaé*tea* hicinan bihi’i* nictea* hiwax"* hota’* “I cr Gros Ventre Ha’dninin tcdideity nida nada’ yani yatani neitya"tos nida"tos naéda"tos arhabeta"tos beta"tos hineni hida tela "na nix ’A"t nidina® neina® nadaha’ neiha’ natan nabeseip niip — niisa& bes6@ beica bety1’ bitsit! biitani wanotan waéana wanot® batyetyi wa’a"ts nin, nin*® bat hotsi hisos hatou nets, nits nitsa® axa ’ana"tya® bita’awu isota" bis beitsit haha"tina® (pl.) wasiina® (pl.) hiwas ’hard hote hana"tyei hita "nan bihi’i na*sity hiwaso® hote ''76 English beaver rabbit bear wolf skunk eagle, bird crow magpie turtle supernatural large white black red yellow 1 From University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. Arapaho Hinana’eina habae matk" wox" ha?xei xouhu ni’ihi hou wa’uei ‘ba ana” nanaiba ’ana®, batina® banasa® na"k- wa’ota® ba- niha®ya™ Tall Bear. Nawadbindhdnar hamaha’ ma*kut mahom saod teasei hahaha’ mouxtia® ma ’ana"ha® nanamatit minacie wanatsia® moxtsia® maoxtaheini hitianie Southern People: Wood-lodge People? Bdsa*wiinena” habac* nak wox",* waxuina® (pl) ha™xé* xouhu* TM cisxs hou ba’an* tananaba ’ana™ banasa® na"k-* wa’otan* niha"ya®* NOTES ON VOCABULARY [Vol. 12 Gros Ventre Ha’aninin habes na"tse was hardei douu ni’ihi ouu wouxeil ba’anou bata- bisou nana*tsa wa’ota"ya™ ibaxacas niha*ya® 2 Unmarked words from the wife of Row-of-Lodges; starred words from Tall-Bear. 3s An 1 was recorded, but seems doubtful, as the Arapaho ordinarily are un- able to pronounce this sound. The word for ‘‘rain’’ in the same dialect was, however, recorded both as hié*sivaxta and ha*silaxta. 42 ¢Small:.? nena" form. 5 The manuscript record may be read either with final s or 8. & Additional Words—Arapaho Proper Evidently contains the diminutive suffix, as does the Basa™wt- young man young woman old woman old human being ghost head hair throat bone heart arm elbow sinew milk, breast-water penis testicle vagina tail rib liver kidney blood excrement shadow shaman hanaxa’aha hiteiyat batabi(a) baha’ei, behi’i hinenita™ Aik" hakuha® beide’& beita® hixu bata® binee batie haoti" badenete! hada® badas hahate batihi7i hitea™ hie hitidid ba ba, bi-hié batada® batat mountain night moon sky, cloud thunder fog ereek snow tent pole robe awl dress bed boat meat pipe tobacco corn fruits bush coyote buffalo cow fly louse worm fish ha2 ani? bika® bik6sis hama™ baxava> ba’ana® kaha’a?wu hi haka®x hou bei bixtti hat diwu haseinou — Tih, cisa™wa® beckatina® bina® bie kka®’an bii nouba® batei bisa", hisa™na® nawat ''1916] Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects 77 Some of the more readily noted correspondences in sound between Arapaho and the other Algonkin languages, and within the Arapaho dialects, will now be given. There is no pretense that these observa- tions are complete. The material used in the comparisons is familiar to students of the subject in the works of Baraga, Jones, Lacombe, Hayden, Rand, Petter, besides many others whose efforts have not been drawn upon. For this reason the Indian forms of the words referred to in English have not been given. The few who may follow up the present suggestions can verify them with ease, and will be at least as familiar with the material as the writer. The following ab- breviations have been used to designate groups, languages, anddialects: E-C Eastern-Central Algonkin Mi Micmac F Fox O ~~ Ojibwa Cr Cree Ch Cheyenne Bl Blackfoot A Arapaho group of dialects Ar Arapaho proper GV Gros Ventre iB Basa™wunena® N Na®waéinahina® Of the symbols used, ¢ is 8 or sh as customary in American phil- ology, 6 is the same as English surd th, x is a surd fricative approxi- mately in k position, 4 is a as of ‘‘bad’’ in American English, a? and a> are nasalized vowels, 6 is somewhat as in German, but probably unrounded, and ’ is the glottal stop. EXTERNAL PHONETIC CORRESPONDENCES OF THE GROUP K Assuming the Eastern-Central group of dialects, in which are included the great majority of those belonging to the family, to be most representative of the original or former condition of Algonkin, it is clear that original k is but rarely retained in the Arapaho division. It appears most commonly as s or h, or is entirely lost or represented only by a glottal stop. kek wolt. 3@b.) Bi A. ket: black HEC; k; Ch: xt: Ay: keto: metal Chk Bit ks, A te: k>s: neck, nose, eye, woman, antelope, one. Ch shows k, x, ts. GV usually has @ for s. k>h, x: beaver, deer, bone, bear, sun, skunk. E-C has k or sk; Bl, usually ''78 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 k; Ch is variable. k>’,—: bow, turtle, red, star, eagle, foot, nine. E-C again shows sk as well as k, also kw. Ch usually agrees with Arapaho, while Bl oftener retains k, but is variable. 1 Algonkin dental stops seem to be of two kinds. One appears with but little variation as t in all dialects, including Arapaho. The other varies between t, d, n, and | in the Eastern-Central group, is t in Cheyenne as in Gros Ventre and Na™wadéinahana", but 6 in Arapaho proper and Basa™wiinena®. t>t: bow, heart, fire, night, daughter, buffalo bull, ten, reflexive suffix. Bl has some inclination toward ts or st, N toward xt. t, d, n, 1>6: tongue, tooth, foot, star, metal, dog, five. Mi, t, d, 1; O, d, n; Blot, kts Ch. Nao Gy, t; Ar, Ba. é. t>>te: pipe, mouth, six. E-C, t; Bl, —; Ch,?; Ba, GV, tc; Ar, t, te. P Original labial stops begin to be lost or altered as soon as the Eastern-Central division is left behind, and seem to have disappeared entirely from the Arapaho group.* p, b>k: rabbit, white, sit, sleep. E-C, p, b; Bl, p, k; Ch, k, x; Ar, Na, Ba, k; GV, ts. These are the principal occurrences of k in Arapaho that the author can account for by any phonetic rule. p, b>te: tooth, water, night. E-C, p, b; Bl, Ch, p w; A, te. N N usually recurs unchanged in all Algonkin groups, though in some stems the sound varies between n and y. There may be two distinct original sounds involved. n>n: bone, man, daughter, turtle, one, two, three, six, sing, water, fish, drink. In the last three stems m sporadically supplants n. n, y>n, y: tongue, mouth, neck, wolf, four, five, sleep. All dialects except Mi and O have y in some of these stems. F and Na show ny. M M of original Algonkin seems to be retained quite regularly in Eastern-Central, in Blackfoot, in Cheyenne, and in the Na™waéina- hina® dialect of Arapaho. In the three other Arapaho dialects it is entirely lacking, and replaced by b and w. As between these two 3 E. Sapir, American Anthropologist, n. s., XV, 538, 1913. ''1916] Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects 79 sounds, the rule is that b occurs before the front vowels i, e, 4, 4", and w before the back vowels u, 0, a, a®.* This is a consistent phonetic law of Arapaho; even within the dialect the same stem changes from b to w if the vowel becomes a back one. Compare Ar neibaha™, my grandmother, and hiniiwaha®, his grandmother. It is also illustrative that in trying to say the English word ‘‘buffalo,’’ the Gros Ventre, whose idiom follows the same law, speak wa@anou instead of ba#anou. All Arapaho labial sounds seem to be derived from original m. m>b (i): eat, defecate, give, dog, deer, earth. m>b (e): metal. m>b (a, 4"): blood, red, bow, wood, turtle, beaver, ten, drink. m>w (a, a", 0): bear, fish, grass, black. In a few words m changes to n in Arapaho. In these Cheyenne has n also. m>n: eagle, house. WwW A more remarkable change is that of original w to Arapaho n. This probably represents the transition w>m>n. w>n: buffalo herd, antelope, rabbit, white; perhaps also ear. Ar, Ba, GV, regularly n; Na, sometimes m; Ch, Bl, E-C, w. Ss Eastern-Central s, like t, sometimes recurs in Arapaho, sometimes becomes 6. There is thus the possibility that eastern s, with which ce (sh) has been included, represents two sounds originally distinct. s>s: sun, fire, wind, rain, tobacco, two, three. Bl, Ch, and Na show —, h, or x frequently. GV alone has @ sometimes: tobacco, two, three. s>6: hair, nine, eat, defecate. E-C, s, te, dj; Ch, Na, s; Ar (and Ba?), 9. s>h: stone, yellow. A dialects have h, except Na t. Perhaps allied to the change k>s, h. VOWELS The vowels of Arapaho also evince fairly regular correspondences with those of other dialects, though the cause of their most marked peculiarity, the frequent nasalization of 4 and a, is not clear to the writer. Counting 4" and a” for the present with 4 and a, four prin- cipal equivalences are noticeable. 4ba’a", road, and baha’a*, thunder, are exceptions noted in simple stem words. ''80 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 Mi F Cr, O Bl Ch Na, Av; Ba, Gav Type 1 i i i i i i i Type 2 Vans a, € a G) (i) a a,e Type 3 a, 0; Ul a a a, 0 0 a a Type 4 var. a a var. 0,u 0,u u It is evident that there is a special similarity between Fox and the Arapaho group, at least under the orthographies that have been em- ployed ; that Na™waéinihana®™ leans towards Cheyenne; that the latter favors a sound usually written o,° and Blackfoot the vowel i. Type 1—i>i: nose, eye, tooth, sun, fire, water, eat, defecate, give, two, re- flexive suffix. GV alone several times has 6, which in most its occurrences in that dialect seems to replace Ar i. Subtype la—i, e>i: woman, pipe, six. F, e; Cr, O, Bl, Ch, i, e, a; A i, some- times ei. Type 2—i, A>: heart, bow, wood, dog, beaver, turtle, red, drink, two, three, four, ten. Mi, ?; F, 4; Cr, O, i; Bl, Ch, i often, but not always; Na, 4, oftener a; Aa Ba: GV, a: Subtype 2a—i, e>e: hand, man, water, metal. Mi,?; F, e; Cr, O, i; Bl, i; Ch, a back vowel; Na, e, 4; Ar, Ba, GV, e. Type 8—a>a: daughter, wolf, buffalo, rabbit, turtle, fish, star, stone, pipe, yellow, jump, sleep. Mi, back vowels, possibly only variant orthographies for a; F, Cr, O, a; Bl, a or 0; Ch, 0; A, a, a®. GV occasionally shows ou. Subtype 3a—Same, except Bl i, A sometimes 4: tongue, neck, beaver, dog, five, ten. Subtype 3b—Same, except Ar, and sometimes other A dialects, open o for a: neck, bear, black, sit. Type 4—a>u: bone, bear, skunk, rabbit, grass. INTERNAL PHONETIC CORRESPONDENCES OF THE GROUP BASA"WUNENA® Within the Arapaho group, Basa™wiinena® differs little from the principal dialect. S or ¢ sometimes appears for 4, as in tooth, foot, white man. This is not a reversion to original s which Arapaho 6 at times represents, but a further specialization, since Arapaho @ in these words stands for original t. On the other hand, Arapaho s, or e, becomes 6 in Basa™wiinena® in the word for nose, and x in fire and wood. In other stems Arapaho 6, s, and ¢ recur unchanged in Basa®- wiinena™. T occasionally appears as te: tree, mouth, six, ten. All the Basa™wiinena® body-part terms obtained from both in- formants begin with the possessive prefix of the third person hi-, instead of the indefinite wa-, ba-, of Arapaho, which elsewhere in the family is represented by ma-, mi. 5 Petter, Mem. Am. Anthr. Ass., 1, 448, 1907, denies that Cheyenne properly possesses the vowels i and u. ''1916] Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects 81 GROS VENTRE Gros Ventre presents greater changes. Ar x>GV s: grass, elk, bear, eight, ten. GV evidently clings to the older sound which Ar has altered. Ar x>GV 6: wolf, skunk. GV apparently has specialized. Ar 6>GYV t: tongue, white man, dog, buffalo, buffalo herd, star, metal, five, ‘nephew’? (when not called ‘‘son’’), father-in-law, son-in-law, brother or sister- in-law of opposite sex.6 Comparison shows Gros Ventre to be the more con- servative, as the Ar sound stands for original t. ‘An 05> GV ts; te: toot. Ar t>GV te, ty: mouth, hand, six. Ba shows a similar tendency. In many other words, on the other hand, such as ear, belly, fire, mountain sheep, black, eight, ten, both Ar and GV have t. Ar s, c>GV @: eye, neck, woman, tobacco, two, three, seven, eight, father, older brother, ‘‘niece’’ (when not called ‘‘daughter’’), daughter-in-law, wife.® In some of these words Ar s represents original s or h, in others original k. In other instances Ar s of both origins remains s in GV. Ar te was usually heard as either ts, or ty, nearly ky, in Gros Ventre. Ar k>GYV ts: rabbit, white. Ar i>GV 6: eye, sun, fire. NA" WU¢GINAHANA® Na"wuéinihana” not only departs farthest from Arapaho proper but stands nearest of the known Arapaho dialects to Cheyenne and Eastern-Central. It presents enough peculiarities, however, to be more than a mere transition. Na™wuéinahina® agrees with Cheyenne in retaining m which Ara- paho has converted to b and w; in fact the dialectic pronunciation of ‘‘Washington’’ was given as mo"cten. It agrees with Cheyenne and Ojibwa in having w, or b, in certain words which possess n in Arapaho. Like these two dialects, it shows n as the initial of the words for four and five, where Arapaho has y. In all these points it departs from the Arapaho group of dialects in the direction of the Central and Cheyenne groups. As regards s and h sounds, correspondenees of all three types, s>h, x>s, s>s, are found between Arapaho and Na™wuéinihana™. Ara- paho x is probably an h with partial stricture rather than a true palatal fricative. In place of it Na™wuéindhana™ sometimes has s, sometimes a sound written xs. In ‘‘bear’’ h equals x. Arapaho 6 was usually rendered by t, once or twice by s and ts, in the Na“wuéinahina® words obtained. Three words in this dialect 6 Bull. Am. Mus. Nat. Hist., xvi, 9, 1902. ''82 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 were recorded with 6, but the sound does not agree regularly with any Arapaho sound in these cases, and must be considered doubtful. Arapaho & was sometimes rendered by & in Na™wudéinahana”, some- times by a. Ei becomes e. The x or h so frequently written before t, ts, and s in Na™wuéi- nahana® causes the suspicion that the informant was exaggerating a real or imaginary greater degree of aspiration, either of vowels or of consonants, than he believed Arapaho to possess. It seems somewhat doubtful whether full xt, xts, and xs were really spoken. Cheyenne, however, shows a similar parasitic x or h before t, as well as before k. Yurok also has xk, and Fox ‘k. ''1916 | Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects Sor PART II SKETCH OF ARAPAHO PROPER PHONETIC ELEMENTS It is fourteen years since the writer has heard Arapaho or Gros Ventre. At that time his understanding of the nature and formation of spoken sounds was vague. Some experience with and much interest in the two languages have, however, left many distinct motor impres- sions of words; and a comparison of variant orthographies makes other points clear which inability of interpretation rendered baffling at the time. The following notes may therefore still have some value. Arapaho vowels are: u, U, open. 0, very open, often confused with a®™; long, ou. a", a", nasalized, possibly spoken with the tongue slightly more raised than in the following. a fa A, less clear than a, was often written, but not regularly, and has been omitted from the present orthography. a, 4, as in American English ‘‘bad.’’ a", 4", nasalized. e, very open, sometimes resembling 4; long, ei. i, 1, open. Gros Ventre adds to these a mixed vowel 6, sometimes heard as almost 0, sometimes as ii. This is a derivative from i. Arapaho ei was sometimes heard with an approach to the quality of 6i. The extreme openness of most of these vowels, as well as the pres- ence of a, are conspicuous resemblances to the phonetics of Yurok, now that Dr. Sapir has shown the connection. Long vowels are more or less doubled. See text mm, note 1. Final vowels, unless long or accented, are surd or whispered. The nature of surd vowels was not understood by the author at the time his notes were recorded ; they were therefore sometimes omitted, some- times written as sonant, sometimes indicated by small superior char- acters. So far as it could be restored with what seemed reasonable safety, the latter orthography has been employed in this paper. The writer is strongly of the impression that no word in Arapaho really ends in a consonant, a final surd or sonant vowel being always present ; ''84 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 but proof or disproof of this belief must be left to future investigators. Gros Ventre may furnish an exception in the case of final surd n; but this sound seems to owe its quality to the surdness of the preceding vowel. In Gros Ventre, also, the surdness of final vowels seems more complete than in Arapaho. Vowels followed by a glottal stop (’) show usually, perhaps always in distinct speech, an echo. Naha and nahiaa, this, were written indis- eriminately for naha’a, perhaps more exactly naha’*. The orthog- raphy naha’ should be sufficient. Arapaho consonants: k, t, and te (English ch) are probably sonant during part of the explosion, as in so many Indian languages. The g mentioned by Dr. Michelson was not observed. When final, these stops seem to be entirely surd, and their explosion takes on a vowel color. In Gros Ventre, te is replaced by two sounds: ts, the general equivalent of Arapaho te, and ty, which often stands for Arapaho t. The two are however not as different in articulation and sound as the orthographies might indicate. Ty seems to be a very posterior t; it is sometimes heard as ky, and the Arapaho so render it in trying to reproduce Gros Ventre. b is a full sonant, as would be indicated by its origin from m, and by its alternation, both in Arapaho and Gros Ventre, with w. w, y, and n need no discussion. Gros Ventre surd n has been mentioned in connection with the surd vowels. s and e (sh) are difficult to distinguish. They were very much confounded by the writer, though he is inclined to consider them two sounds. x and h were also much confused. It seems that x is really an h with con- ‘siderable stricture, and that h is fainter than in English, so that h and * might have been better orthographies. If this is the case, the nature of the two sounds is the same as in Yana, Mohave, and other Californian languages.7 In Gros Ventre initial h is par.icularly faint, and was often not heard. Final h or x, that is, h followed by a surd vowel, is strong in both languages. @ is a surd dental fricative like English th in thin. Voealic changes are illustrated throughout the grammatical and textual material presented below, but are very complex. Changes proceed from stem to suffix, from suffix to stem, and from stem to prefix; they are sometimes in the direction of assimilation, at other times of contrast. Consonant alterations, especially between b and w, follow the vowel changes. Here again the similarity of process to Yurok is marked. Consonantal changes are also somewhat obscure, but it is of note that in part at least they follow the interdialectic equivalences be- tween Arapaho and Gros Ventre. 7 Present series of publications, x, 62, 1911. ''1916 | Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects 85 COMPOSITION The intricate subject of word composition is too little plain in Arapaho to allow of more than a listing of some of the principal forms which word compounding has been observed to take. These comprise nouns containing two or more elements used also as inde- pendent words, a few words containing elements occurring only as ‘“yrefixes,’’ and a larger number ending in elements which are always > ‘“suffixes.’’ Verbs consisting of two verb stems, or of a verbal and an adverbial stem, are more conveniently considered in connection with the subsequent section treating of the structure of the verb. A. NOUNS COMPOUNDED OF TWO SEPARATE WORDS Noun and noun, the first determining the second: ha®-n-isei, ‘‘ Bed-Woman’’ heéa-bic, dog bush he@a-w-a"wu, dog lodge hi-tce ’Hox-a®wu, club lodge, club dance bis&"-n-ox"-ina", worm weeds waxu-sei-na", bear, women nitcihe-hinen, Kiowa (nitciye, river) nih ’a*é-ousei, white-man woman, American woman ciclyé-n-axu, snake weed, snake medicine Verb with a noun as its object, which can also be used as a separate, independent substantive : wan-isei-na-hidi, they go after women, burrs noti-sei-n-a"t', looks for a wife hi-netci-bi-ni6!, the giver of water, he who owns the waters It will be seen that the noun comes before as well as after the verbal element. It is not certain how far these examples are to be interpreted as being verbs or as being nouns. Hence the term “‘incor- poration’’ is avoided for them. Noun with following verb or adjective stem, the former determin- ing the latter, but the entire word being nominal. It will be seen that the majority of the forms are proper names. Compare the verbal suffix -ni. ha’ati-n-aha"ka", ‘‘Lime Crazy’’ wax-tciyei, ‘‘Bear Creeping’’ (cici, creep) wax-kukatini, ‘‘Bear Spotted (Is) ’’ ha"xd-ba’ani, ‘‘ Wolf Red (Is) ’’ hisei-waoté"ni, ‘‘ Woman Black (Is) ’’ icita"-kuda*, fire drill ''86 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 Verb, adjective, or adverb preceding and determining a noun: h-ax4"6-inenina", funny men, name of a band (axa"t-éhi, laughable) na"wu-nenitiaina®, south people hawah-a"wi, many houses, town ha™wa"-t-n-anaxa’aha, praying young man habat-a0, large dog (he@) habat-A"xe, large knife (wa™xe) habaéd-inen', large man habéd-i-waxt, large bear (wox") hatecax-a"xe, small knife hatcdc-inen', small man kaha’t-ci-nin, half a day haseihi-n-axucitana®, sacrifice (sun dance) paintings niha®-n-ouha®, yellow buffalo calves (wou) waotad"-n-ou, black crow (hou) ka"ku-na"tinei, ‘‘One-eyed Sioux’’ (ka"kou-iya", patch on) ka"kuiy-adabi, scabby dogs hi"t-etc!, large water, ocean (netc', water) citci-ni-waxu, lasting weed (cicitci, stretch) teayataw'-inenité™, untrue person, spirit dawad-inenita", real person, human being B. NOUNS AND VERBS FORMED WITH PREFIXES wot-i-, in fire, into fire. woti-tan-éhi, fire-starter wot'-tana-tana-na", they burn it ha*ix-woti-0-a®, they put him in the fire woti-ka"hu-na®, they ran into the fire woti-tané", added wood to the blaze si’é-, si71-, flat. si ’a-bixa®, flat wood, boards sd’ei-tea’a", ‘‘flat’’ (straight tubular) pipe si ’a-hidi, flat ones, bedbugs tah*-si’i-ci, after she lay siiui-beitci@a, flat metal, spade si’i-ce-dana", roof si ’A-sana®, sliced meat ha*ix-sd’d-se’esi, then cut them: into slices si i-di-xa-h-uden', I peg you out flat si’i-Gi-xa-h-un, the crucified one, Christ si’i-ci-w-anaxa i, ‘‘Lie-abed-long Young-man’’ na-, relating to clothing. nj-ta"nei, take off moccasins ni-tataha", take off leggings ni-dibi, take off clothes nd-ya"-un, dress! ''1916] Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects 87 kaka-, relating to mental action. kaka’-uéetca®-na", thoughts kako-xa’anata", think about it C. NOUNS AND VERBS FORMED WITH SUFFIXES -]-ni, on measures of time. Compare the suffix -ini on the numerals 11 to 19, which is no doubt the same. kahat-ci-ni-n, half a day tihi’-si-ni, yesterday tayu-ni-n', tatayou-ni-n', autumn (tai, cold) teatci-n', winter, year isibi-ta-ni-ni, bedtime, time for lying down xa"taei-ni-n', shortly after, sometime later tah®-teaini-bihiya®-ni, when it was late in the night -Atit', on names of ceremonial acts. The last part of this suffix is almost certainly an ending denoting the third person. tea’-atit', welcoming teeita®-h-atit', ear piercing tiaxa™-n-atit'!, foot touching, an invitation teatceci-n-atit', untying, a redeeming teaoxu-teabi-h-atit'!, foe-shooting, the settling of a dispute by a game or test -ah®wa"ti, dance. Also seems to contain the ending of the third person. hou-n-ah*wa"t', crow dance hasa?-n-ah*wa"t', rain dance nou-t-ah*wa"t', dancing out of sun dance ka’ei-n-ah*wa"t', round dance, ghost dance tawa-n-ah*watt!, cutting dance nari-n-ah*wa"t-aniba, all of you dance around me! -tana, burn, do to or with fire. woti-tana-t', he makes a fire ha-tana-hei, put the fire out! ha-tana-0-4"t, he extinguishes it ha-tana-kana-6ei, drench the fire wot!-tané-hokani, they burn it -tea-na, cook; probably from the same radical as the last. hi-tcana-at', gridiron teabitana-teana, fried bread ni-te-tcini-dayei-na", I maintain the fire constantly ''88 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 -1-etea™, think. kaka’-udetca"-na", thoughts wax-"detca", feel sad (wa"sa", wa"xeit', bad, ugly) ha”-s-idetca"-hoku, she thought bi’a"h-oudetca, I truly thought ha nd*-kaxtaw-Udetca"-t', then she thought something was wrong -Jibi, relating to clothing. This and the preceding three elements seem verbal and could with equal propriety be listed among the suffixes or stems of the next section. na-dibi, undress tci-dibi-t', he dressed -a™wu, water. haxeci-n-a"wunete'!, muddy water teanaita®-n-a"wunetec', blue or deep water didi-a"wu, high or rough waves kaha’-a"wu, creek kakuiy-a"wu, sticky liquid, molasses -(i)yei, tent: nina”, ninan, tent. nayei, hayei, hiyei, my, your, her tent yeiyi, set up a tent sis-iyei, take down a tent n-eiha"wu-uyei, I have no tent -akae, -akay, tent, house. habat-akay', large tent hiateax-akay', small tent wardei-n-akay, waéei-n-akac, an old brown tent waotii"na-h-akay-eit', ‘‘ Black Lodge,’’ his tent is black bataibi-h-akae, old woman’s tent hi-beitciéei-n-akay-anit', who has the metal tent hina-n-akay-a", ‘‘main’’ pole, by which tent is raised teit-akahay-ina"t', enter-tent-song, sung when water is brought into the peyote tent hedaw-akay-a-ni, in the dog tent -40a’, fire. binds-40a’, a large fire hi-bixutein-04, when the fire became low kox-k-adii-ya"-na", kindlings -anihi’, pet, domestic animal; perhaps contains the diminutive suffix quoted below. tciy-anéhi, furry, shaggy dog ta’-anihi-hi’, short-legged dog n-eiha"wut-t-anihi’, I have no horses ''1916] Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects 89 -h-A"x", plural -h-a"xabi, horse, domestic animal. n-abit-a"xabei-t', steals horses or cattle noti-n-a"xabi, looks for horses hiwaxu-ha"xabi, horses (hiwax", elk) -A’ei, head, hair, neck. The independent word for ‘‘hair’’ is beige’a, for ‘‘his head’’ hakuha". ot-a’ei-hi, comb hair ha*tit-&’ei-ni#i, beheaded ones tea ’a’ei-n-axa’ana™x", round-head-ax teiste-&’ei-nidi, scratched head baba’-a’ei-n', you are curly haired na"-ta®-h-icib-&’ei-nei-t!, and when he laid his head down ka'k-&’ei-0i, Blackfeet (with erect hair) kax-4’ei-sibat', fractured his skull ka?-xu-ha*"ix-tab-&’ei-kt-0-Ana", then again they cut off his head behic'-tab-&’ei-éhi, all cut off heads tab-a’ei-bas-1, cut-head-wood, stumps tab-&’ei-na", cut-head, hornless saddle tcih-tis-a’ei-ci, lay your head on! na*k-a’ei-n, white-neck, starched collar tah*-tcih'!-ba-teit-a’ei-xa®-01, when they all put their heads in -1-6i, nose. The independent word is beic. tab-164-bic, cut-nose-bush, whose fruit appears noseless like a skull -éhi, face. kou-éhi, swell-face, mosquito kahan-ehi, hair burnt off ha’-ni-tabi-eihi-t', struck him in the face -946-1, fingers, hand. Independent word, batcet. hahis-04°0-0hu, wash hands -a™t, leg. Independent word, wa’a'. hawah-a"t-it!, many legs, centipede -ixta™, nail, claw, foot. was-ixta", bear claws, bear foot (wox", bear) ha"s-ixta*-cisa™, ‘‘Sore-foot-child’’ -ineihi, tail. Independent word, batihi’i. ta*ta*ka-n-ineihi, raccoon (twisted, ringed tail?) taxa"-n-ineihi, opossum (smooth tail?) waéeinié-ineihi, bat, also Satan (brown, or old, ugly tail?) ''90 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 -hi’i, -ha’, -hahi, diminutive. hanaxa’aha, young man, hanaxa’d-hi’i, boy batabi(a), old woman, batabi-hahi teia®, child, teia®-n-aha’ ciciteci, duck, cicitce-ha®’ ta’anahi-hi’, short-legged dog VERBS WORD-FORMING PREFIXES Among the elements prefixed to verbs, it is clear that those which are essentially word-forming come nearest the stem, while those whose purpose is more strictly relational or grammatical on the whole pre- cede them. As might be expected, no hard and fast line can, however, be drawn between the two classes. Word-forming prefixes, in turn, are often difficult to separate from independent words. Thus, tas-i- and teiéin-i- mean ‘‘on’’ and ‘‘under’’ in verbs; but provided with the locative suffix -i-hi’ they are adverbs Pehet which stand alone. Just so xou-wu-hu’, ‘‘straight,’’ and xanou, ‘‘im- 22, mediately,’’? are employed, in the forms xou- and xanou-, as prefixes to verbs. Verbs themselves, like teisis, ‘‘to begin,’’ and éa™ku-h, ‘‘to follow,’’ are used as prefixes to other verbs. Apparently related to this last group are such elements as ta’. tou-, ‘‘to stop,’’ and ta, tou, ‘‘to strike, tie, or be or come in contact with’’; kax-, ‘‘through,’’ and kax, ‘‘to impact violently’’; tc&6-1-, and teaé-i, ‘‘to depart or elope’’; teab-i-, ‘‘past, alongside,’’ and teab-i, ‘‘to travel.’’ It is true that even when these elements are themselves verbs they are not used merely with the personal suffixes, but that second elements such as -hi, -ni, -ku, -xa, -h are added to them. Now these added elements, which are frequent on indubitable verb stems, have all been listed as suffixes. But the possibility is by no means precluded that these ‘‘suffixes,’’ whose significance usually is of the vaguest and most general, are themselves the real stem of the verb; in which case the preceding element, which is so much more specific in meaning as usually to carry the principal idea conveyed by the complete word, would after all be a prefix of the adverbial or prepositional type familiar from so many other languages. For instance, 6i- or 6ei- occurs as the first etymological element of a considerable number of verbs or nouns in all of which the idea of ‘Cin’? or ‘‘on’’ or ‘‘projecting upward’’ is contained. Thus, @i-aya”, 9? ‘away, outdoors, ''1916] Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects 91 ‘‘a post’’; dei-ka-h and Gei-wa-n, ‘‘to carry on the back.’’ On the other hand, the frequent element -ku is always at the end of words, and often adds little if anything to the meaning of the stem to which it is attached, as in 4bita-ku, ‘‘to steal,’’ of which the stem appears without the -ku, but with the same denotation, in Abita, ‘‘to steal,’’ n-abit-ihi, ‘‘thief,’’ h-abit-a"xabei-ti, ‘‘he steals horses.’’ When, how- ever, the prepositional ‘‘prefix’’ 6ei- and the vague ‘‘suffix’’ -ku are put together they form 6ei-ku, ‘‘to put in.’’ In the same manner the combination of the variant 6i- with the suffix -ok", apparently an intransitive equivalent of transitive -ku, results in 6i-ok", ‘‘to sit.’’ Which part of 6ei-ku and 6i-ok" is what in other languages would be called the stem? If the first element is a verb stem, then 6ei-wa-n, and such parallel forms as tcii-n-a"™ha-b, ‘‘to enter in order to see,’’ are clearly compound or double verbs. If the second element is a verb stem, then abita-ku must be a compound of two verbs. That Arapaho, like Shoshonean and some other American lan- guages, possesses true compound verbs—verbs functioning as such and composed of two verbs—is thus probable. But either 6ei- or -ku, or both, and with them a large number of other elements, are lost as affixes. And yet the process involved in these cases is not one of mere simple word-compounding, for apparently 6ei- never occurs with- out a following element and -ku never without a preceding one. In short, it would seem that the Arapaho verb is frequently, perhaps normally, compounded of elements which themselves either are, or can become, verbal in force. It is therefore possible that the old terms ‘‘polysynthesis’’ and ‘‘holophrasis,’’ which in recent years have been in justifiable disre- pute on account of their vagueness and their implication of processes totally foreign to other languages, may, when the Algonkin, and for that matter the Iroquoian and Caddoan languages, are more precisely understood, be rehabilitated with a new and exact meaning. And still extreme caution seems called for in drawing any such inference. ‘‘Ineorporation’’ is another linguistic concept which has been re- established of late years; and yet the justification was brought about only by an abandonment of the very traits which ‘‘incorporation’’ was originally and long believed to denote. Bandied about without standing for anything definite, the term ‘‘incorporation’’ was abused until the very existence of the process was challenged and denied. And when the reality of the process was finally demonstrated the proof resolved itself into the recognition of pronominal incorporation Mo. LPR ARY SN y/ ''92 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 as a familiar and purely grammatical method represented in some degree in most languages, and of nominal incorporation as a form of the equally familiar process of etymological word-compounding, with only the one distinctive feature that in ‘‘incorporating’’ lan- guages noun and verb can be combined to form verbs, whereas in other idioms they combine only into nouns. In short, the concept of incorporation involves only a new application of a widespread and well known linguistic process, not a new and unique process itself. Or it might be said that incorporating idioms differ from non-incor- porating ones in degree, not in kind. In an analogous manner it seems possible that we may ultimately be justified in speaking of Algonkin as truly ‘‘holophrastic’’ or ‘‘nolysynthetic.’’ But if so, these terms will essentially be only a convenient designation for the linguistic process which allows two verbs to consolidate into a single one. In fine, the Algonkin verb, so far as Arapaho is representative of it, cannot in any off-hand manner be broken up into the usual elements of ‘‘prefix,’’ stem,’’ and ‘‘suffix’’; and any attempt to apply such a procedure leads quickly to contradictions and inconsistencies that reveal the arbitrariness of the method. The late Dr. William Jones reached exactly the same conclusion as regards the Fox dialect. He does not separate ‘‘prefixes’’ and ‘“‘suffixes’’ from ‘‘stems’’ in the verb, but distinguishes ‘‘initial Bee 2? stems, and ‘‘secondary stems making these elements differ from each other not so much in their kind of meaning or in their ability or inability secondary stems of the first order, ? of the second order,’ to appear as separate words, as in their mere order or position in the word-compound. This classification is a valuable and important de- parture from the all too frequent method of forcing new languages to fit old schemes or the categories established in other tongues. That the principles of Algonkin verb formation are in some respects con- spicuously different from those of Indo-European Dr. Jones has made very clear; and a realization of this fact is the first requisite to a true understanding of Algonkin structure. At the same time, while Dr. Jones has cleared away the brush and brought us face to face with the trees, he has not led us out of the forest. This task he would no doubt have achieved, save for his untimely death; but it remains undone. The realization that the Algonkin foot does not fit into the grammatical shoe built around the Indo-European last is, however important, only a first step. The ''1916] Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects 93 next and necessary one must be the construction of a new type of shoe which upon suitable modification for individual cases will fit both feet. Or, to drop the metaphor, while an application to Algonkin of linguistic categories derived from Indo-European leads to misun- derstanding, the construction and use of an entirely novel set of categories for Algonkin is meaningless. The types of structure rep- resented by the two groups of languages obviously have something in common, however different these common principles may in reality be from what superficial acquaintance or a one-sided approach would lead one to suppose. In fact, the determination of what they have in common, involving as it does the recognition of that in which they are different, is an essential purpose of the study of both; for whether our interest lies in the problem of the nature or that of the origin of human speech, a classification is involved. In its widest ultimate aspect philology is concerned not with Algonkin as such nor with Indo-European as such but with all languages. Only when speech in general, its scope and its methods, are better understood will both Algonkin and Indo-European, or for that matter any particular group of languages, be more truly understandable. The real aim of the study of any American tongue, as well as the aim of any deeper research in Indo-European philology, must therefore be the more precise and fundamental determination of their relations to all other languages; and this necessitates concepts and terms which are applic- able in common. It is impossible to characterize the wolf in terms of his skeleton, the elephant of his embryology, the whale of his habits, and then to construct a classification which will help to reveal the inherent nature, the development, or the origin of the animal king- dom. True tribute to the memory of Dr. Jones’s work will be paid, not by a standing still where his labors were unfortunately broken off when chiefly their negative or destructive side had been completed, but by carrying his efforts and formulations on through a constructive phase to a point, denied to him by time, at which Algonkin will once more appear in a definite relation to human speech as a whole. What this relation will be the writer does not have knowledge or understanding enough of any Algonkin language to say. But until the science of language is revolutionized by entirely new methods of thinking about it there seem to be only three possible descriptions of the Algonkin verb that have a usable meaning. The first interpretation is that of the verb as the result of a process of composition similar to that of noun composition, but extended in ''94 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 Algonkin also to verbs. This essentially is the conclusion of Dr. Jones; and it is also the inference of the present writer. But it can- not be too clearly recognized that even if this explanation is in sub- stance the correct one we do not yet really know anything as to the rules and conditions and limitations of this verb-compounding. The second interpretation of the Algonkin verb is that of a stem followed by a greater or less number of suffixes. In this case the ‘initial stem’’ of Dr. Jones would be the only true stem, his ‘‘sec- ondary stems’’ the suffixes. In support of this explanation is the fact that the initial elements of verbs come nearest to having the power of forming words by themselves, in both Arapaho and Fox; and the statement of Dr. Jones® that on the whole initial stems more definitely perform the function of verbs. If this view is correct, the type of Arapaho verb-building would be somewhat analogous to that of Eskimo. The third possible interpretation is also that of a verb stem with affixes, the word-forming ones, however, being chiefly or wholly pre- fixes, the stem coming last, except for grammatical endings. In favor of this last view is the fact that practically all the ‘secondary stems of the second order’’ given by Dr. Jones are nat- urally translated by words which in most other languages are verbs, whereas substantially all his cited ‘‘initial stems’’ and ‘‘secondary stems of the first order’’ can actually be rendered, without much dis- tortion, as adverbs, nouns, auxiliary verbs, or modal particles. It is not certain how far Dr. Jones’s examples of each class are fully rep- resentative of that class, his lists obviously aiming at well translated instances rather than at fullness; but it is clear that his own presen- tation of evidence leaves the interpretation of the ‘‘secondary stems of the second order’’ as being true verb stems defined by prefixes, in a position where it cannot be summarily dismissed. Thus the ‘‘secondary stems of the second order’’ listed by Dr. Jones® are most simply rendered as follows: egii, dance; teim (Arapaho tcawou), swim; isi, fly; istihd, jump; 5t8, crawl; us’ (Arapaho is-d, us-i), walk; gapa (Arapaho 6i-A"ku), stand; pahd (Arapaho i-ka®-hu), run; 6, carry on back; hogo, swim, convey by water; pugs, float. Initial stems cited1o are: ki, about; pem(i), past, alongside, incipiently; py, hither; pi(t), into; cdsk, straightly, smoothly; sag(i), projecting, holding; mik, assiduously; kg, wetly, with water; kas(i), by wiping; pas(i), suddenly, hotly; wi, with; tai(wi), painfully; nag(i), stop; pon(i), cease; 8 Some Principles of Algonquian Word-formation, American Anthropologist, n. s., VI, 401, 1904. 9 Op. cit., 394. 10 P, 388. ''1916] Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects 95 wip(i), begin; kask(i), can, be able; kic(i), completely; nota (pp. 394, 404), be unable; pag (pp. 393, 403, Arapaho kax-), by striking, with impact. Second- ary stems of the first order11 are atkw, wood, resisting; nag, hole; tag, color; nagu, appearance; itd, feel; ane, think; kam, expanse; and the following body part stems, used objectively or adverbially (in translation) to the verbal element in the verb complex: c&, ear; kum, nose; tun, mouth; wind, horn; ‘kwa, head, hair, nape; tea, belly. Compare also wap-usi-w*, ‘‘he begins to walk’’ (p. 386) —‘‘incipiently he walks’’ (or ‘‘he begins in his walk’’?); wiapi-pyi-tci-tetep-usd-w*, he begins to walk approaching in a circle=‘‘incipiently hither circularly he walks’’ (or ‘the begins his hither circular walk’’?); pagi-kumi-cin-w*, ‘‘he bumped his nose’’ (p. 393) = ‘‘with impact his nose he struck’’ (or ‘‘he struck his nose against it’’?); tawi-cin-w*, ‘‘he fell and hurt himself’’ (p. 386) —‘‘painfully he struck’’ (or ‘‘he hurt himself against it, he hurt himself by impact’’?); tiiwe-‘kwi-ho-w*, ‘‘he has a headache’’ (p. 394) =‘‘painfully as to his head he is’’ (or ‘‘he hurts as to his head’’?); pag-a‘kwi-tund-cin-w*, ‘‘he bumps his mouth’’ (p. 403) =‘‘with impact against something resisting his mouth he struck’’ (or ‘‘he struck against something resisting with his mouth so as to be stopped’’?). Translating these Algonkin words as compound verbs gives a third set of renditions, which are perhaps the truest, but, owing to Indo- European idiom, almost unintelligible in English: ‘‘he begin-walks,’’ ‘‘he begin-hither-around-walks,’’ ‘‘he hit-nose-strikes,’’ ‘‘he hurt-strikes,’’ ‘‘he hurts-head,’’ ‘‘he hit-hard-mouth-strikes.’’ The posthumous and fuller grammatical sketch of Fox by Dr. Jones in the Handbook of American Indian Languages’ gives some other forms, to which the reviser, Dr. Michelson, has added a hundred odd further initial stems taken from the Fox Texts of Dr. Jones. But this increased material does not alter the conclusion which can be drawn from Dr. Jones’s earlier work as here summarized. The secondary stems of the first order are clearly not the principal stems of the verb-complexes. The ‘‘initial stems’’ may be verbs. If they are, the ‘‘secondary stems of the second order’’ are either suffixes or other verbs compounded with the ‘‘initial stems.’’ That they are suffixes does not seem likely from the character of the examples given. If their number is substantially limited to those quoted, their suffix nature might be conceived of; but if their number is indefinitely large they cannot well be anything but true verb stems. The evidence of quantity, then, becomes as decisive on this point as that of quality ; and this evidence must be awaited with interest from Dr. Michelson or some other authority competent to carry on Dr. Jones’s analysis. Meanwhile the strong probability is that if the ‘‘initial stems’’ are truly verbal in nature the normal Fox verb is a compound binary 11 P, 391. 12 Bureau of American Ethnology, Bull. 40, 735-873, 1911. ''96 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 verb. If, on the other hand, the ‘‘initial stems’’ are essentially ad- verbial, prepositional, or modal in quality, they deserve only to be ranked as prefixes, even if some of them may have reached this con- dition by the way of once having been subsidiary verbs; and in that ease Fox, and with it no doubt Algonkin in general, possesses verbs that are built up around a kernel of a normal verbal stem or root, as in most languages, and these stems or roots are the ‘‘secondary stems of the second order.’’ The problem has a somewhat different aspect in Fox and Arapaho because Dr. Jones and Dr. Michelson have started their analysis of the verb from the concept of three kinds of stems, while the present treatment proceeds, though with full realization of the difficulties involved, from the more conservative premises of prefix, stem, and suffix. But Arapaho is so obviously Algonkin in its whole plan of expression and word-building that the fundamental problem is un- doubtedly identical in the two languages."* One suggestion to future laborers in this field may not be amiss. It is the dropping of the term ‘‘secondary stems,’’ at least as applied to those ‘‘of the second order.’’ If these ‘‘secondary stems’’ are suffixes, nothing will be gained by denominating them stems. If they are stems, that is, true verbal elements, they are either the real stem of the entire verb or at least one of a pair of stems, and in the latter ease probably the ruling and ‘‘determined’’ one of the pair. In that event the designation ‘‘secondary’’ will be misleading. Tentatively the name ‘‘final stems,’’ which parallels that of ‘‘initial stems’’ with- out any implication of primacy or dominance, is proposed. In short, the undetermined and, in the writer’s mind, fundamental problem of Arapaho, Fox, and Algonkin in general is whether these languages say ‘‘he enter-looks,’’ ‘‘he enters lookingly,’’ or ‘‘enteringly he looks.’’ The first solution seems indicated ; if it proves fallacious, the third appears more likely to be correct than the second. In either the probable first or third event, however, it can be said that the last element comes nearest to being the principal verb stem of the complex word. The thorough difficulty of judging this case in the present state of knowledge may be illustrated by the English words ‘‘contend,’”’ 13 It is a matter of great satisfaction to the author that since the preceding passages were written, two statements from the pen of Dr. Michelson (Am. Anthrop., n. s., xv, 475, 693, 1913) have been published which evince a very similar realization of the more important aspects of this intricate problem. Dr. Michelson’s knowledge of Algonkin is much the greater; that he should have come to nearly the same conclusions is therefore gratifyingly corroborative. ''1916] Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects 97 ‘‘eontest,’’ ‘‘conflict,’’ ‘‘combat,’’ ‘‘compete.’’ If English were as little understood in its basic structure and history as Algonkin, it would be a fair inference that ‘‘con-’’ in these words denoted the verbal idea of ‘‘struggle, oppose, fight,’’ and that the second syllables were adverbially modifying suffixes of this stem. That ‘‘-flict’’ and ‘“_nete’’? do not occur independently, and ‘‘tend’’ and ‘‘test’’ when separate words have an entirely different meaning from their com- pound forms, would only incline to confirm the conjecture. Obviously it would require a wealth of accurately understood and exactly ana- lyzable lexical material before the true nature of the elements of these words and their strict parallelism to the constituents of ‘‘offset,’’ ‘‘forbid,’’? or ‘‘withdraw’’ became clear. This understanding of Algonkin we do not yet possess; and therefore, tempting though it may seem to explain its verb as compounded of two verbal elements, or of a nominal or adverbial with a verbal element, it is wiser to proceed with caution. Accordingly, for purposes of presentation, the old concepts of stem, prefix, and suffix have been retained, subject to the qualifications discussed, as the categories underlying the following classification of Arapaho verb elements. A. PREFIXES USED ALSO AS INDEPENDENT, SEPARATE WorDS, OR MapE INTO VERBS BY THE ADDITION OF AN UNSPECIFIC, MERELY VERBIFYING SUFFIX teasis-, begin. tcasis-ina"ei, go off to hunt tcesis-ta-ka*hu, begin to flee tcedid-ouhu, begin to climb naye-, try. tah*-ba-nayei-6', when all tried nayi-kaxk-ati-wa’ou, tried to roll through niye-tawa-h-un', try to chop it down! da®k"-, following, behind. éa*ku-h, @ana"ku-h, follow da*ku-na™-usa, come back 6a” (k)-katouta", follow making dust ta’-, tana-’, tou-, tanou-, stop, cease. The element occurs also as an independent verb or characteristic first part of the verb in a ''98 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [ Vol. 12 number of words which denote contact, impact, or the meeting of an obstacle by a motion. ta’-usd, come and stop tana’-usa, stop when going kou-ta’-a"-ba-, lie abed long (a", bed) ha*tni-taux-tci-i-niéi, stopping place ha-tou-n-a"wi-n-edi, I hold it for you tanou-ku-hu6i, three first poles erected to hold up the remainder of the tent ni-tou-na*, I strike tou-ninat', coup, counting strokes tou-ku-hu-ta-ni-na®, they are tied up for tou-ku-hu-i-n-a"wt, tying-up house, jail tou-tei-hit!, belt ta’a-xa-n-eden', I kick you ta®-ya*-b-eden!, I bite you taa-w-a"ti, taa-b-a", struck him ta-wa-hei-na", I chop wood ha"t-ta-wa-h-at', he will cut down the tree nitawu-tou, ‘‘Striking First,’’ a name kax- seems to imply violent impact or penetration. Compare Fox pag-. kax-ka’ana*, it went through kax-k-oti-wa*, rolled through kah-’ei-si-ba-t'!, fractured his skull kax-aei-t', striking kaxa’-axuxa", wedge kaxa’-at', there was a fissure kax-ouhu, chipped off, shot off kaxa’-42-hik", shoots him kox-k"dahi"-na®, ‘‘breastpins’’ of tent kox-k-*6i-ya"-na", kindlings (‘‘through flame starts’’?) kox-ta-wu-h, touch, do to, copulate teiib-i-, passing, past, on, continuing. teab-i-hi-t!, travels teiib-i-si, pass on, pass by, be on way, walk, go continually teib-i-ka*hu, pass, come by teib-i-xa"t!, walks teab-i-xa-h-eden!, I carry you teit-, teid-i-, in, into, entering. teit-ei, enter, go indoors teidi-n-a"ha-b, go in to see teidi-x-tea-hi, run inside, go into teit-ii-n-a", takes him in teit-awa"t', dancing in teit-a"-bixtt', undershirt, inner garment teit-a"wt, indoors ''1916] Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects 99 B. PREFIXES USED ALSO AS INDEPENDENT, SEPARATE ADVERBS, OR SIMILAR PARTS OF SPEECH h-ixte-i-, up. hixte-aba, up, above he-tei’-ixtci-ku-s-1-ba, throw me up h-ixte-is, go up ha™dab-i-, to, reaching to, before, ahead. ha76ab', toward ha dab-i-nou-isé, go there haéab-i-na-sa, arrive t-a°ab-i-na-usa, when arrives ha0a’-ei-sa™-t!, before him hada ’-ei-ta", in front haéaw-unena", head men haéab-asei, chief woman hadawa-n-axu, ‘‘chief-medicine,’’ a root teiin-i-, far, down, headlong. teain-ihi’, under tein-isei, give birth to, ‘‘drop’’ teain-isi-b-eit!, threw him off teain-isd, fall off, go down, go far tein-i-xouka®, flew down teen-i-ta-ka"hu, flee far tah*-tcani-bihi’iya*-ni, when it was far into the night teen-a-naba’a-t', plunged headlong tas-, tax-, on, at the top. tas-ihi’, on top of, on, at the top hari-tas-A-n-4", then he put it on ta"s-isd"-6i, mounted (horse) tax-ohadi, put hands on hih!-ta"x-oku-ta-n', which he rode taisi ninana, top of a tent tasiha" tea’ota*ya", on top of the hill tasihi’ aba, on the bed a™xu-, across. h-a"x-ana", across the stream a'xu-n-oti-wa*, rolled across h-a"xu-x-a"t!, the crossing h-a"xu-ly-ei-n, sew tcih!-a"xu-s, come across! ''100 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 6i-, dei-, on, upon. Perhaps more properly 6i’-, 6ei’-. di-ok", sit, live di-a"k", stand #i-ana, put, place Oi-a-ya", post, monument dei-ku-0, put in dei-ka-h-&", carries on the back dei-wa-n-ohu, carrying on the back has-, ha™s-i-, hard, very, fast, violently. hana", hanou, hard ha’na’ei, ha’na&’ou, fast, very fast hasei-yei-hide-t', very good ha"si-i-ka"hu, run hard, swiftly hasa’a"-t'!, inesa’a", swift hasa’a®-n-oti’, ‘‘fast-wheel,’’ train haseisen', wind hasa®-nete', rain has-a"ha-b-eti-t!, looking at oneself has-a"ha-dana*, sights (h)asi-ba", a sore ha*s-ixta™-cisa", ‘‘Sore-foot-child,’’ a name dsi-na-ta, hungers for it asi-na-n-at', anger asi-ni-h, to make angry t-is-owa-bi-x-t', when he became sick nou-, na™d-, naha-, out, around, down. na‘u-hu’, down nana-hi, go out, come out nara-si, walk about na™i-ka"hu, run around nou-ta-n-in, bring her out! nou-sa-n, drive out nou-t-ahawa"t!, dancing out, a ceremony nou-ditaa", went out in file nohu-ku-6, lift up, carry na‘i-n-ahawa"t-ani-ba, dance around me! a"wu-, Ina™wu-, hani-, down, falling. ha"wu’, hanawu’, down n-a*wu-hu’, south n-a®wu-bii’ei, southern berries teih!-a"wu-ina®, let it come down! tah*-na"sou-n-a"wu'-nihi-si-t!, while he traveled down-stream h-a®wui-nihihi, down-stream t-a"wu-n-iho-a", floating down-stream ina®wi-si"-hik", dived, went under water h-ina"wit-a®, it sank hani-naa®*, fall hani-ku-6a", throw down ''1916] Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects 101 kou-, kanou-, long, far. kana®-a*ya®, ‘‘oblong,’’ extended ka™i"n-ihi’, slowly kanou-ci-bi-6i-hi-na", I eat a long time kou-6-inat-it', long life kou-ta’-a”-ba-, lie abed long kou-6ihi’, some time later kanou-ta"ta", long xou-, xanou-, straight. xanou, Xaxanou, straightway, immediately xouwu, xouw-uhu’, straight, straight in xoub-a", straight xanoub-i-x-t', straight tani-xoub-ei, a very straight one xouwu-xati, take this straight xana"-ku-ba, ‘‘straight (across) red,’’? name of a design xouw-usa, go straight teeib-i, aside, crookedly. teeib', crooked teeib-a", crooked (cf. xouba*, straight) tceeib-i-s, step aside! teeib-i-sa-na", I get out of the way tceib-i-tcena’a", jumped aside tead-1-, away, off. tcaéi’, outdoors tcad-i-a"t', he elopes tee6-i-ka*hu, escape, start off, leave tceé-eia"t', goes, departs teed-akouuhu, go farther up tea6-1-0a"ci-b-eit', blew him away wata"-, into the camp circle. wata"-ni’, into a camp watia"-s", go into the camp circle wata"-ka"hu, go (run?) to camp ci-, cix-, seci6-, senix-, into water, in the water. sec'é-a"wu, at the bank, near the river hit’ tcih-cih-ki-6-i, throw me into the water here! hana”-cih-ki-6-a"t', then he threw him into the water seniex-tcahit', jumps in the water na*-tci-ci-eisi", come right into the water! hana®-nisa"-ci-eisi"-6i, then both entered the water wa"-ci-e-b, take into the water ''University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [ Vol. 12 nanab-, north. nandba’, ninabi’, north nanab-isa-t', goes north nis-bis-, east ; nis-na-, west. nis-bis-isd, go east nis-né-isé, go west naxk"-n-, with, also. naxki-hu’, with, together, including, also ha®-ba-naxku-ha*, you might be included nanaxku-ni-hi-tawa, I include it naxku-n-isa, travel with ha*t-naxk-a-tced-ei-a"t', he will go away with him nas-, hainas-, thus; compare the demonstratives na-ha’, hi-na. nas-inat-it', thus lived again nas-it-a"t!, did accordingly hanas-idetca"-tana-hok", thought of him thus taba-, just then, begin to. taba, then! lo! just then! being about to, when taba-bana, begin to drink taiba-tawa-h-at', begins to chop down ka™x"-, ka"xa"-, again, once more. ka®x", ka"xt,, ka"x4"i, again, another time, then at last ka™xi"i-kade-n-d, again lost him ka"xé"i-naxaw", again was near ka®-xi"i-ane@eia-n-i, once more he struck one down by kicking hana’uti-, hana’a-, all, completely, enough, sufficiently, until. hanaut' bitcixa™ tcin-isei, all leaves are falling haix-hana’uta-ya", now was complete hana ’ut!-hi"ix-ya@ani-sibihei, until he had killed (all) five hana’ut!-ha"t-icite-n-a", indeed I will catch it hana’ut!-hih’-naha-’ou, until I killed them all ba-, behi-, behic-, babanei-, all. bahihi’, all, everyone, anybody, completely bi-hi-nihini-x-t', the owner of all bi-tani-ci-nidi, all have a hole cut bi-hi-niha"-you, all are yellow bi-hi-yeiya"-und"-6i, all have four arrows ba-h-axa"-it', shot all ha*éei-, all, all who. ha*éei, all. See Text 1, note 5 hidei-hideti-ni, all that were good hi6ei-wana-ineiti-nidi, all who still lived ''1916] Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects 103 C. PrerrxEs Not Yet FounD AS INDEPENDENT PARTS OF SPEECH 1. Apparently Verbal— wan-, go to, go for, go after. hanié"-wan-bi-n-a"t', then he went to give it to him wan-i-bi, go to eat ni-wa?-ka™huwa, I went and cut wan-ote-n, go and gather wan-i-tcena’a", go in order to jump wan-isei-ni-hidi, burrs, ‘‘they who go after women’’ nabi-, nawu-, make a motion to, move forward. nabi-x-tca-hiéi, made a motion forward tcena-naba’-a-t', plunged headlong nis-, to, tied to. nis-axiiya™, wire fence nis-i-Adeiyo, trousers, ‘‘tied leggings’’ na-nis-a"ku-hu-niéi, the tied ones na’-, to, arriving. na’-usd, na™-us, arrive, come to cit-, continue. cit-isé, journey, go on, keep going haéa’a®-, truly, surely, indeed, necessarily. haéa’a®-biti, indeed I shall be revenged haéa’a"-ha®-t-icite-n-a", surely I shall catch him haéa’a®-ha"ni’itcei, it must be eatable 2. Apparently Adverbial, Referring to Manner— hinix-, hanux-, very. hinix-ideti, very good hanux-uéeti-n, very good hin-tea-b-it', water-monster (‘‘ very-shooter’’?) hinix-hanixt', very tall ni’-, good, well. ni’-bi-ni, good to eat ni’-ina*ei, good hunting ni’-baha®, smell good ni’-teei, eatable ni’-tca®-t!, is sweet ni’-owa-be-hi-na", I feel well ni-eh-t', is fine-looking ''104 Uniwersity of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. | Vo! V2 tani-, indeed, very, skillfully. tani-xoub-ei, very straight one nih!-tani-tca-imati-hok", skillfully he lived again ina-, fast, more swiftly. nih'-ina-sa-t', quickened his pace h-ini-nawa, without delay nani-, nani-, constantly. nani-bani, drink frequently neni-na"ku-t', blind ni-neni-s-ei-ka"hu-t', mole (‘‘ who constantly runs’’?) in-i-, aimlessly, randomly, about. in-i-sé, wander, go aimlessly, ‘‘bum around’’ in-i-kuhi, was chased about in-id-i-ka"hu, went around in-i-tad-ka*hu-h-eit', dragged him along 3. Apparently Adverbial, Referring to Space— tea-, tei-, back, again, returning. teé’-isd, tei’-isd, tei-saé, go back tea-yi-ka®hu, run back tea"-w-oti-wa®, rolled back teai-nadih-a"-t', ‘‘again killing,’’ a place Iy-i-, near. h-iy-i-sA, come near, approach i-ha®-n, iyi-ha"-n, go after, pursue a®y-, in front. aty-ei-ka"hu, go ahead tei-bixa”-, out of the woods, into the open. tei-bixa"-u-ka", came running out of the timber bisi-, up, out. ha*ix-bis!-teena’a", sprang up ''1916] Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects 105 WORD-FORMING SUFFIXES The etymological ‘‘suffixes’’ of Arapaho verbs are not only less numerous than the “‘prefixes’’ but far less concrete and specific, to the degree of being almost grammatical. They comprise transitives, intransitives, causatives and similar derivatives of wide applicability oe but general meaning. -ni, to be, to have; verb-forming. hiha"w-aha’anaka"-ni-n, there are no stones hit-aka*xu-i-ni-t', he who has tentpoles n-eiha®wu-uta-ni-hi, I have no horses n-10e-ti-ni-n, that which is good hinana’ei-ni-na®, I am an Arapaho inenita-ni-n', you would be well, living bahiei-ihe-ni-t', becomes an old man ni’-bi-ni, good to eat natci-ni, wet (netc', water) hi-netci-bi-ni-6', the water-giver, owner of waters niha”-ni-x-t', is yellow (niha?-ya?) tea ’otaya-ni-na®, I am hump backed nana-ni-na*, I, it is I -6i, intransitive. na ’d-0i-x-t, resembled (na’a-si, thus) bi-6i-, eat (bi-n, eat something, bi-6', food) ana"-6i-, be different in appearance -hi, intransitive. h-idei-hi-nixk", if you are good bihi’i-hi-n, be a deer bani-6i-hi-na", I eat kanane-hi-na*, I am a coward nandba-hi-t', what is sacred hida"wu-tai-hi-na®, truly I am cold -hu, intransitive. i-ka®-hu, run ta-ka"-hu, flee na-ka*-hu, come, bring ni-sa"ku-hu-6i, were tied nitou-hu-t', shouts teabixa’-hu-t!, flies yana-hu-t', pledger, he who vows tea’otaya-hu-t!, hump backed ''106 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 -awul-nl, become, begin, be. t-intcabit-awui-ni-t', he became a water-monster ka™na"-n-awui-ni-6i, they opened it bani-awui-n', spring (bani-tce, summer) -owa, feel; bodily condition. ni’-owa-be-hi-na®, I feel sick has-owa-, sick -si, be in the condition of. isi-si, be lying ba-tani-si-ni-6i, all have a hole cut na ’d-si, na’ei-si, thus, thus it is kah-’ei-si-ba-t', fractured his head -ba-n, -wa-n, cause, make, bring about. t-aseinou-ba-na", I get meat axa?-ba, made laugh axa-ba", axa-wu, fed them, give me food! waxu-ba-, to have medicine oti-wa®, roll (hoti’, wheel) -h, causative. See the starred forms under the ‘‘connective’’ suffix -h. -el, causative. haka®x-ei, make tentpoles h-A"xu-iy-ei-n, sew (A™xu-, across) teA-teib-ei-6i, making pemmican (tceb!') tie-tcibat-ei-t', after he made a sweat-house -xa-h, cause to be in condition of. teibi-xa-h, make travel; transport (tcab-i-, passing) nata-xa-h, bring in (nou-, na™d-, out) tei’e-xa-h, take back (tca-, back) si ’ii-xa-h, peg out flat (si’é-, flat) xouwu-xa-ti, takes it straight (xou-, straight) teii-bi-xa"-hu-t', flies (tea-b, shoot) ni-tana-xa-hei-na", I dig a hole (tana-t', hole) ba-xa-h, strike What at first appears to be the stem preceding this suffix is in most cases an element which itself is normally a prefix. Whether the ‘‘prefix’’ teibi- or the ‘‘suffix’’ -xa is the true verbal ‘‘stem’’ remains to be determined, as in so many other cases. ''1916] Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects -ku-6, to make a motion leading to the condition or (This stem’? in, turn 1s: often a ce seribed in the ‘‘stem. other words. dei-ku-@, put in (tcidi-, dei-, in, on) nohi-ku-6, lift, carry (nou-, out) tceei-ku-0, release, let go (tca-, tci-, back; tcad-i-, away) ha*ix-ixtci-ku-6-4", threw him up (hixte-, hixtcaba, up) tou-ku-0, bind ka*ka"ni-ku-0-4", he uncovered him 10i-ku-0, seize abita-ku-6, steal ba-ku-ta®, ‘‘red stand,’’ a head-dress Probably the same in origin as -ku-6 is an intransitive di-a"k", stand (@i-, on, projecting) di-ok", sit, be sitting tein-ok", sit down, seat oneself (tcan-i-, down) ta>x-ok", ride (tax-, tas-, on) -i, to make, bring, cause to be. bas-a-, carry, bring wood (bis') teit-i-n-a", takes him in -ta-n, -ta-na, for, to, of, about. ci-ta-n, capture for ic-ta-n, ici-ta-n, make . kousa’a?-ta-n, attack da®wa-ta-n, believe clyi-ta-0, make disappear for aréi-ta-n-a"t', tells it to him axé"-tana-w-a"t', makes fun of him dheisi-ta-ni, gave to be washed (dheisi-ou, wash one’s self) hinis-idetca®-tana-hok", thought of him thus h-i0i-ku-ta-n-a"#i, when they seized them isi-bi-ta-ni-ni, bedtime, time for lying daha ’i-ta-n, be agreeable (to?) kaha/’u-sa"-ta-b-a", took half of her tou-ku-ta-n-a", tied to him tou-ku-hu-ta-ni-na", they are tied up for na-ni(h)a-ta-n-eina®, he killed them for us -wu-n, to, for, with. waéanaha-wu-n, write to ata-wu-n, eat up for neidna®-wu-n-a", holds it tight for him ni-tana-wu-hei-na*, I dig a hole kox-ta-wu-h, do to, meddle with 107 position de- “preax in ending -ok". ''108 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 -t' (-i-t!, -a"-ti), forms abstract nouns. This ending seems to be that of the third person subjective. bixa®-6-et-it', love ’ bi-6i-h-it', food, eating basa-iha"t-it! (ceremonial) touching (by old men) hind-t-it', life hinen-tan-it', tribe tceita"-h-at-it', ‘‘ear-piercing’’ ceremony tee’-dt-it', ‘‘welcoming’’ ceremony has-owa-be-h-it', sickness anet-it', speech, voice waxu-c-it', paint, the painting ka’ue-h-it', a bleeding tou-tei-h-it', belt bat-a"t', a dance Asina-n-a"t', anger h-axu-a"t', a crossing -éhi, dhu, agent, action, instrument, thing for. h-abit-thi, thief aneti-b-ehi, speaker habaé@-ehi, a large one kata-dhu, beadwork (kata-, cover, hide) teawouw-thu, swimmer -42, -y-a", that which. 0i’a-ya*, post, monument, goal hasei-ya*, an offering ba-@a"to-a", hemorrhage baéi-ya", property, clothing bani-ya", night, darkness bihi’i-ya", at night kana™’a?-ya", long, oblong niha®-ya", yellow (niha®-ni-x-t', is yellow) niha-ya", self (niha-ni-, to own) ''1916] Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects 109: GRAMMATICAL PREFIXES Grammatical affixes of verbs are prevailingly prefixes, except for most of the pronominal and a few other elements. k- interrogative k-ih'- k-a2- k-athei- k-anha- k-a™hu- j-ha®wu- negative tei-, teih- negative tei-ba’-, tci-bih- negative imperative tei- sometimes positive imperative ni-, nihi- incompleted action -1s1- completed action nih-isi- : ha-n-isi- ha"t- future, probably of purpose or intent ha*t-1- ha*t-a™n-1- t- when, after, because ti-, tih!- action incomplete ta®-, tah?- tisi- action complete tisini- tathisi-, ta"htisi- ta*husini- ha®-ti- optative, ‘‘let me’’ ha?-tih'- hihi- ““would that! ’’ 6i- optative, ‘let me? -slet us” 16i- har- meaning not determined hd-ih-, ha?-ix- ‘then’ ’14 ha?-nar- ‘then’ ’14 ni- relatively subordinating or noun-making: ‘‘he who, which, where’’ nih- hi- nihi- hini- ha®-tar- where har- while; continuing; ‘‘—ing’’ ha*-tcis- na*sou- the same meaning as the last ti-na*sou- hawa-tih'- although GRAMMATICAL SUFFIXES -eti reflexive -uti -hok" “‘it is said,’’ quotative sexe conditional, subordinating -haxk" -naxk" 14 These two frequent prefixes, whose exact force is not clear, are evidently introductory and appear to contrast with each other. See text 11, notes 4, 29. ''+110 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 PRONOMINAL ENDINGS The pronominal endings of intransitive verbs, including numerals, adjectives, and independent pronouns, are: I -na® you -ni he -ti, or a vowel we -na® you -na® they -0i, or a vowel These endings are usually added directly to intransitive stems. bana-na® I drink n-aneti-na® I speak dioku-t! he sits diatki-t! he stands The intransitive imperative is the stem. The intransitive negative with the prefix iha"wu- is formed with prefixed pronominal elements. 1b n-eiha"wu— you h-eiha"wu— he h-iha"wu— we n-eiha"wu—ba (or -hi-ba) you h-eiha"wu—ba (or -hi-ba) they h-iha®-wu—na® (or -hi-na*) In these forms -na™ recalls the commonest plural suffix of nouns, -bi is probably the stem for ‘‘all,’’? and the vowel change in the third person, as well as the initial prefixes, are suggestive of the posses- sive prefixes. Perhaps the division should be nei-ha"wu instead of n-eiha™wu. The transitive conjugation is formed by suffixes. These are: Me: You Him Us You Them it Ee — eden! ean — -edena® -ou -awar You un! — -anti -ela® — -atel -aw" He -eina® -ein! -anti1s -Ina® -eina® -ant! -a’ We — -ain' -ati -— -hna" au. -awina® You -elana" — -ana® -eiana® — -ana" -awina® They -16i -einani = -an@i16 -eina®™ -eina® -ardi -ou The above forms have been found on most stems. Some verbs, including teii-b- and ka™u-s, replace the first vowel of the suffix, be it e, ei, A, or u, by i, except for the inanimate object, the “‘I-them’’ form -ou, and perhaps certain other forms of the third person object. Thus, tei-b-i-na", ka™u-s-ifeni. Some other verbs, including baxa-h- and sii’idixa-h-, substitute u for e, ei, 4 as the first vowel of the suffix 15 Second form: he (B) to him (A): -eit'. 16 Second form: they (B) to him (A): ei6'. ''1916] Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects 111 in the first and second persons object, but contrariwise in the third person object change a to 4, and ou to ei. On the other hand, the stem vowels change according to the suffix in some verbs: na-niha’, kill, occurs before all persons of the object, animate and inanimate, except the ‘‘A’’ form of the third person: nénaha’-eina™, ninahi-ein’, naniha’-eit', but nanaha’-a"ti. The endings themselves cannot be analyzed in all cases into fegu- larly recurring subjective and objective constituents, although -ni for the second person singular object, -né® second plural subject and object, -ei first plural object, are clear. The impression given by the endings is that the two elements of each occur in a fixed order not so much according as they represent the subject and the object as according to the person denoted. The second person comes last, whether subject or object; between the first and third persons prece- dence is not so clear. This is confirmed by the transitive negative conjugation with the prefix -i-ha"wu-. In this the second person is always prefixed; the first is suffixed as against the second, but prefixed as against the third, while the third is prefixed only when there are two elements of this person. Such a form as hei-ha™wu-bixa®-6-e6 also corroborates the inference that -e6 in bixa®-6-e-en' is the part that means ‘‘I’’. Me You Him Us You Them Tt ED hei—eé@ nei—a® hei—eéeba nei—a"na’ nei—17 You hei-—" hei—a* hei—eiai" hei—a"na’ hei—17 He nei—e hei—e hi—a hei—ein hei—eiba y hi—a hii—17 We hei—a nei—aba hei—aba ‘ nei—ab&a nei—awubi You hei—uba hei—a"bi hei—eia"ba hei—a"ba hei—awubi They nei—ei hei—ei hi—ana™ hei—ein hei—eib&a hi—dna™® hi—awi The transitive imperative forms differ somewhat from the indic- ative: -un, -in, implies the object of the third instead of the first person. Probably it expresses only the subject of the second person. bixa®-x-u like me! bixa®-x-un! like him! like them! hi-s-in! fear him! haseind-b-ini hate him! bixa®-t-a™ like it! bixa®-6-eia" like us! bixa?-6-& do you (pl.) like him! The negative imperative, with prefixed tci-ba-, has the same suffixes. The forms referring to an animate object of the third person are preceded by connective consonants which in the indicative of the same verbs occur before the first and second persons objective. 17 Possibly a final surd * has escaped notice in these forms. ''112 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 CONNECTIVE SUFFIXES The transitive pronominal endings are not added directly to the stem, but are invariably preceded by one of five consonants: b, n, s, 6, h. At first regarded as part of the pronominal suffix, later as a connective characteristic of each verb, these consonants were later seen to correspond to the ‘‘instrumentals’’ of Dr. Jones.'* Before this, in fact, -h had been recognized as a causative. The four other con- sonants, on the other hand, do not appear to be significantly instru- mental in Arapaho, except in so far as they all occur only on transitive verbs. They certainly do not in most cases refer, except by the re- motest implication, to a part of the body or a type or shape of instru- ment. There are also scarcely any observed instances of one stem appearing, under the same or an altered meaning, with any other than its characteristic consonant.’® The designation ‘‘instrumentals’’ there- fore seems of dubious applicability in Arapaho.”° It may be added that a search for a possible phonetic relation between stem and connective consonant gave no results. Meaning Verb Me You Him Us You Them It see atha b21 b Ww b b Ww t strike tan b21 b w b b w t hate adseind 21 b Ww b b Ww ey shoot tea b b b b b b t tell itawu n n n [n] [n] n t eat bi n n n n n n Ww reach ouxa-ta n n n [x] {n] n Ww fear i s 8 x s s [x] t cut katu s 8 s s s s x like bixal 622 6 6 0 0 é t peg flat sa’ifi-xa h h h h {h] h h strike ba-xa h2s h h h h h h kill na-naha 7” : : z ; ° t These connectives or instrumentals change somewhat according to the person of the animate object expressed in the pronominal endings which follow them, and in part according to the stem. Such varia- tions, which are illustrated in the following table, are clearly of a phonetic origin. But a radical change undergone by the consonant 18 Am. Anthrop., n. s., VI, 403, 1904; Bur. Am. Ethn., Bull. 40, 807, 1911. 19 Except bii, find, which occurs both as bii-n and bii-h; ana*ka-b, ana"ka-n, loosen; and ci-n, ci-h, capture. 20 Compare Michelson, Am. Anthrop., n. s., Xv, 476, 693, where substantially the same contention is advanced as regards Fox. 21 w with subject of second person singular and third plural. 22 x with subject of second person singular and third plural. 23 This is the only stem found with the glottal stop. ''1916] Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects 113 when the object denoted by the pronominal suffix is inanimate, especi- ally from -w to -t, can scarcely be due to any merely phonetic laws. The author sees in this thorough difference of form when the object is inanimate a further argument against the instrumental nature of these connectives. . CLASSIFIED LIST OF STEMS A number of transitive verb ‘‘stems’’ follow, arranged according to their ‘‘connective’’ suffixes. This list is followed by one giving the principal ascertained intransitive verbs, which lack connectives. TRANSITIVE -b, -w atha-b : see ana"ka-b loosen (also with -n) a"tana"ta-b buy abita-b steal aseina-b hate ayiata-b pursue closely bas-ana-b think of highly ka’a?-b bite ni-b marry tousa-b bathe ta-b strike ta"ya-b bite tahi-b help ta-b eut, break off - tea-b shoot wa?-ci-e-b take into water —n outaya™-n hang up to dry awitna-n pity a™ina-n know iyiha®-n, yiha?-n go to, go after, pursue isa-n alarm, scare up icita-n, ite-n, ata-n, ta-n take, catch, seize nou-ta-n bring out tei-ta-n take in, bring basa-n touch bi-n eat bi-n give bii-n, bii-h find koutesa’a-n chase, drive off ka"adei-n cut open belly kade-n lose grip on ka™koua-n envy ka™ne-n open (kau-s, cut) kayei-n pull out, pull off nouxa-n meet nou-sa-n drive out nota-n ask, question (noti-h, seek) n-1da-n go with, come with nitou-n breathe in, suck in ''University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 ci-n, ci-h einouhu-n tou-n, tanou-n ta-n ta’xa-n wa’awa’a-n With suffix -ta: ouxa?-ta-n ici-ta-n, ic-ta-n da®wa-ta-n kousa’a"-ta-n na-naha-ta-n e1-ta-n touku-ta-n tea’a-ta-n teei-ta-n With suffixes -wu, -ba: ata-wu-n isi-ba-n dei-wa-n, ei-ka-h tawaha-wou-n waéanaha-wu-n waxu-ba-n (n-)i-s ita-s, ita-s ba-s ka"u-s nou-ta™-s tana-s teei-s wahani-s waxu-s a0a2-6 a"01-0 a™ka?-6 aneti-0 bixar-0 ka"koutei-0 sixaha-6 clyi-ta-0 With suffix -ku: (i-)tou-ku-6 dei-ku-6 ka®ka"ni-ku-6 nohu-ku-6 nisa®-ku-0 teei-ku-0 ata-h -axa-h, -Axa-h *4sini-h -i-Oetca®-h take, capture resemble hold pour kick go in, draw in, suck in reach make (n-ici-h, make) believe attack kill for capture for tie to perceive, notice visit eat up for lay down, go to bed with earry on back cut tree down for write to imitate a bear -S, -X fear meet, reach, arrive at, come to touch cut (ct. ka"ne-n, open) earry out pierce, make hole in give here unite paint -6 rub narrate take home speak to like, love scratch do thus, show make disappear for bind, tie to put in uncover lift up, carry bind release -h24 give bring, take, carry (in, back, etc.) anger, be angry at (isina-na-t', anger) think 24 Starred forms show this suffix with an indisputable causative force. ''*h-itea"-h iya-h ba-xo-h, ba-xa-h *bata-h bii-h, bii-n douu-h, 0a%a-h da"ku-h dei-ka-h, dei-wa-n *@ia"ku-h koxtawu-h katkax"ka-h kataya-h *noti-h natani-h n-ici-h, ici-ta-n nicka-h sa 7i0i-xa-h ci-h, ci-n *teabi-xa-h *teitei-h wawa-h ouhu oud ot a™ku-a" a®t-a" awuna® adixtee-hi ana"6i atei-ni atei-yaka-ni hida"bei jxane-hi jna?-ei inenité-ni inikati isi-bi isi-si itou, atou, atei-a™ h-itou ita?-ei bAl-ni bei-tcixu baba-a ei bana, ben! banaéei basayei bixou biwa?-hu hahisi dia"ba 6ibi diya-hu koxuna koxahei ka’-us ka’uye- ka*out- ha*hei, kohayei katkou kaxou-hu Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects 115 give pipe to, cause to smoke ignore, not know strike give medicine to, doctor find crush, grind, chew (@axan, forcibly) follow carry on back make stand do to, meddle with, copulate with stab, pierce, sting cover up search for, seek (nota-n, ask) deceive, trick make whip peg out flat capture, take carry, transport, cause to travel cause to enter, let in throw over, scatter INTRANSITIVE climb hang comb thaw, be warm stand be closed shove be different make camp, stay over night come to a camp be true, right, so provide for, favor hunt be well, live play lie down, go to bed be lying shout, make noise, roar (cf. n-itou-hu) beg take arms be bloody, bleed be red hot be curly haired drink smell touch emerge, rise to surface of water weep, cry wash snore have to do with clothing cut hair hide, enter a hole dig drop, fall pick fruit make dust get up, rise, ride patch on chip off ''University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [ Vol. 12 kaxa’a crack, fissure, dent kanane-hi be a coward kana"ni, kana™a"ni be slow kou, kanou, kana" swell (kou-, kanou-, long, far) kaya’a-hu fly away na-, niya™ take off (clothing), dress nara stay néidkudei push na™nou get ready nainide menstruate natea, netce die, be dead nenina?k" be blind niha-ni own nih ’4*, nih aa sting, hurt, irritate nibou-ha use perfume n-itou-hu shout, whistle, breathe (cf. itou) sise-hi play, trouble, make noise saya chew cicitei stretch clyiha*ti disappear tou strike (tou-ku, bind) tai be cold taye-hi be ashamed teena’a" jump teaini skin, flay teaste seratch teatecti eut, hurt tein plant, bury wua"™ rest in water wanda, wanardar abound waxusi paint yana-hu pledge, vow In general, transitive stems are used intransitively, or vice versa, so far as their meanings permit, without further change than that ‘ produced by the loss or insertion of an ‘‘instrumental’’ connective. The following are the principal observed cases of a more extensive modification. Intransitive a"ku-, thaw, be warm a"in-, know hanita-, live, stay isi-bi-, lie down; isi-si, be lying ici-hi-, n-ici-ti-, Aci-ta-, do, make basi-yei-, touch bii-ti-, bii-ha-, find bi-0i-, eat noti-hi-, look, search na’ihei-, ndiha®-, kill ni-ni-, marry tea-ba®-, shoot sa"ku-hu-, be tied Transitive aku-hu-, cook a™ina-n, know hinita-(t), inhabit isi-ba-n, lay down ici-ta-n, n-ici-h, do, make basa-n, touch bii-n, bii-h, find bi-n, eat noti-h, seek, nota-n, ask naha’, naha’, kill ni-b, marry tea-b-, shoot sa"ku-0, bind ''1916] Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects ae Nouns PLURAL Arapaho nouns take a plural suffix whether animate or inanimate, this distinction of gender being expressed by the verbs, adjectives, or numerals referring to them and not in the nouns themselves. The most common plural suffix is -na™. This has been observed on hic(i), liver; baseit', urine; ha"xéi, wolf; hou, raven; bitei’i, dove; haha"ti, cottonwood, tree; kaka™x(‘), tent pole; haha’ukta", hair braid; haxa’ana"ka", stone; hada", penis; ha"kuha", head; natcii®, chief ; hinad™tcé”, buffalo bull; hinen‘, man; hisei, woman; wa’a, wa’aha, moceasin ; kakuiy, tube, gun, whistle; cisa"wa", tobacco ; teibati, sweat- house; wana’, wrist; hiéeina™, buffalo; bisé?, worm. ‘ With some slight or apparent change of final vowel, this ending occurs also in the following words: : wax", grass, herbage, waxuina® (contrast waxu’, medicine, below) waxucit', painting, waxucitana®™ haka"x", saddle, ha"ka™xuina® nic'teceinan', buckskin (probably antelope skin), nic'tceinana® (for nic'- teeinan'na"?) batceot(‘), watceot('), stomach, batceotana® @ik", ghost, deikana®™ fiw", bridge, boat, #éiwana® -a", -ha™ (probably really -a™’, -ha™’) is also common. Before it -d, -e, change to a; and -x becomes -6, -c becomes -6 or -x, 6 becomes -t. bata", heart, bata™ha™ nicitca®, antelope, nicitcaha® ni’ihi, eagle, bird, ni’&hiha®™ nitciye, river, nitcihaha™ hou, robe, houwa® (ct. hou, raven, above) ha*kthu’, mouse, ha*kihuha® hani’i, ant, hani’iha™ hanaxa’ahi’i, boy, hanaxa’ahiha® hata", sinew, hataha™ waxu’, medicine, waxtiwa™ (ct. wax", above) wou, buffalo calf, wouha® tea ’einox, bag, teaé’einada ha’uwanux, parfleche case, ha’uwanaéa" beic(‘), nose, beiéa? benec, arm, banoxa? bas', wood, baxa" wa’a"é!, leg, wa’a"ta™ beitci9, tooth, beitcita™ teaox", foe, Comanche, tcaoda" ''118 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 tee’a"ox", club, tomahawk, tce’a"o06a" bitecic, leaf, bitcixa™ teicihi, night hawk, tciciha® (sic) hiti0i0, kidney, hiti#iéa® (sic) Lengthening or vocalization of the final vowel is fairly frequent: il; Was A> el; a, a®>on;au. ho6', arrow, hodi bihi’i, deer, bihi’i tea*éani’i, prairie dog, tea éani’i wox", bear, woxu wa’ax", nail, wa’axtl netc', water, netci miveter, Jake, nieter ha"tetc!, ocean, ha"tetci wasa"é(!), arrowpoint, wasaréi habas('), beaver, habasi hida®xu, guts, hifa®xu kaha’a"wu, creek, kaha’a"wil hoseina®, meat, hoseinou watkete('!), cattle, wa"ketc1 hota’, mountain sheep, hotei ba"cisa’, eye, ba™cisei ha™w", house, ha®wu haa®’, star, ha@éa’t (ct. haa", penis, above) wanatana’, ear, wanatana’i Apparently formed by a special suffix: heé@, dog, he@abi ka’a", coyote, kaxawu hiwaxuha"x, horse, hiwaxuha*xabi CASES An oblique ease, usually an objective, was observed on a few nouns. It seems to be formed by -n'. hisei, woman, objective hisei-n('), compare text 11, note 28. wot nahi’ nitcihe-hinen' ni’babandhaxk", this Kiowa was handsome; ha"ixnouxané nitcihe-hineni-n', he met a Kiowa. tuxkani’ banina"t! nitca-ou-ni bitcineni-n', Tuxkan&’ gives a blanket to Bitcinen!. nihi’ hinen! tawa"t! hi’ihi’ haxa’and"k4" hind’ hineni-n', this man struck with a stone that man. ''1916] Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects 119 A general locative, also serving as an instrumental, is more fre- quent. It takes the forms -ha’, -na’, -ba’; also -i’, n’‘, -i, -i, recalling both one type of plural and the objective. niyei, my tent, nayeiha’ hi’a"6', his leg, hi’a"tii’, hi’a7din' (plural) bei, awl, beiha’ nitciye, river, nitciha’ haxa’ana™x, ax, haxa’ananéa’ nina’, tent, nina™na’ ha®xeb!, spring, ha™xebinai’ ba’a", road, ba’a™na’ ha"ktha", head, ha™kuha"na’ haka"x, tent pole, haka"x"ina’ kakuic, kakuiy, gun, kakuiyana’ tetcena®, door, tetcena™na’ tcAseix, one, tcaseiya™n’’, in one spot wax", grass, waxu’una’ h-a®, bed, h-a"ba’ hoti’, wheel, hotiba’ netc!, water, netci tea’ota"ya®, hill, tea’ota™ni haha*t', cottonwood tree, haha*ti’, hahati-n' bita’a"wu, earth, bita’a "wi waw", ice, wa’awu heé-aw-akay-a-ni, in the doghouse POSSESSION The personal possessive affixes of nouns are illustrated by the following examples: Word Father Mother Older brother Daughter Vocative neixa? na’a? nata y neisana®™ neina®™ nasaha 7a natane Your (s.) heisana® heiha™ hasaha’a hatane His hinisana"(n') hinan! hisaha’a® hitana® Our (incl.) heisananin! heinaénin! hasiha’ehin' hatanihin! Our (excl.) neinanina® nasaha ’ahina®™ Your (pl.) heinanina®™ Their hinisananina® hinaninina® hitanehina® Somebody ’s beisana® beina®™ basaha 7a Word Grandfather Son : Sons Robe Vocative nabaciwa® Mey (hou) My nabacibaha neih ’a” neih’a"ha™ natou Your (s.) habacibaha heih a” heih’a"ha® hatou His hibaciwaha® _ihi’a? hi’atha® hitouwu Our (incl.) habacibei-hin' heih’ehin' Our (excl.) Your (pl.) Their hibacibahaina®™ Somebody ’s ''120 University of Califor Word Robes Vocative (houwar) natouwa™ Your (s.) hatouwa® His Our (incel.) hatouwun*® Our (excl.) Your (pl.) Their hitouwuna® Somebody’s Some of the above forms under ‘‘our, nia Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 Penis Dog Tent (haéa*) (he@) (nina") neida® netadabibi nayei heida® heta@abibi hayei hinida® hitaé#abiwu hiyei hetadabibin' _hayeihin! nayeihina® hayeihina® hitadabibina™ hiyeihina"™ bada" 99 66 your,’’ and ‘‘their’’ may really denote plural instead of singular nouns. The ‘‘vocative’’ in the terms of relationship In the other words given, the nominative. Several nouns show a is the term of direct address: ‘‘father!’’ the corresponding form in parentheses is suffix with labial consonant in all three persons. This perhaps denotes acquirement of possession. nat-aha"ti-bi, my tree hit-aha"ti-wu, his tree net-’0abi-bi, my dog na-nouhuhia-bi, my kit-fox na-na"tca"-wa", my chief Ss na-teia"ni-wa®, my children PRONOUNS The demonstratives, which are alike for singular and plural, ani- mate and inanimate, are: naha’, nuhu’ hina’ hini Compare: na’asi, thus, this that, visible, or near the person spoken to that, invisible, or of reference only nA’eisi, na’isa™, it is thus, resembles, nani- hisou, alike, na’aéixt', he resembles. Interrogatives : hana’ ha"you hA"ta*, ta*ti, ta"teiha®™ han tax tou tousa® tahou, tahoutax" toudouhu’ who what where whenever when why, what kind how many for how much, at what price A real personal pronoun does not exist. Independent words trans- latable by English pronouns occur only in answer to questions, or ''1916] Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects 121 oceasionally for tautological emphasis. They are verbs formed from a demonstrative stem. nana-ni-na® 1b is dec nana-ni-t' it 1s he, she? nand-haxk" it must be-he, ‘‘he’’ Compare : hineni-ni-na® it is a man that I am, ‘‘I am a man’’ hisei-ni-na” I am a woman haha*ka?-ni-na® I am a fool, I am crazy The ‘‘independent possessive pronouns’’ are also verbal sentences, with a possessive prefix and a subjective suffix of the third person. mine neinis'ta"t! (‘‘he is mine’’) yours heinis'ta*ti his hinis!ta"t! ours neinis'ta*tibina™ yours heinis'ta*tinina® theirs hinis'ta"tinina® ADVERBS -ihi’, -uhu’, is the commonest ending of independent words of adverbial or prepositional force. Without the suffix, several of the stems occur as prefixes of verbs. teain-ihi’, under (tcan-i-) tis-ihi’, on (tas-i-, tax-) kata"-n-ihi’, slowly (kou-) xou-w-uhu’, straight (xou-) ba-h-ihi’, all (ba-) na*-ihu’, out from the river or valley (nou-) hanawu-n-ihi’, ha™wui-nih-ihi’, down-stream n-a"wi-hu’, south hawaho-uhu’, many times hi’-ihi’, hu’-uhu’, with, on account of hiéa®w-ihu’, really, truly (hida*bei-, to be so) dei-n-ihi’, Oeinei-si, inside koud-ihi’, some time later kox-6-ihi’, over, beyond (kax-, violently, through) ka"-kaxu0-ihi’, over a hill kanaw-ihu’, meanwhile, at the same time kanax-uhu’, obstinately, unduly nih-ihi’, along, during tou-do-uhu’, at what price (tou, what) ka"kaé"6-ihi’, homeward -bi, -bi, -wu, is another ending of adverbs, whose stems in some cases also serve as prefixes of verbs. hixte-a-ba, up, above (hixtc-i-) hi*64-b!, toward (hada-, hi"04-bi-) nani-ba, nana-bi, north na"ti-ba, at the rear of the tent, opposite the door ''122 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 -a"wu refers to the ground: bita’a "wu, earth hida™wu, on the prairie hidawa"wu, under ground naxuta"wu, above ground —OUls: han-i", hard, hiin-ou, very hard ha’na’-ei, fast, ha’na’ou, very fast na’asi, thus, nindhis-ou, alike ha-né’, who, ha?-y-ou, what NUMERALS The Arapaho numerals given in the vocabulary are those used in counting, and mean ‘‘— times.’’ The cardinals used in sentences are formed like verbs with the prononinal endings -i-6', animate, and -el, -1-1, inanimate. They occur either with a prefix hia- or with prefixed reduplieation. In this reduplication initial y of the stem turns to n. The relationship of these two sounds has been mentioned before. The stem of the cardinal numeral ‘‘one’’ is the same as that of ‘‘two,”’ nis, but has the corresponding singular suffixes -ix-ti and -e-t'. In the ordinal and the forms for ‘‘six,’’ the stem for ‘‘one’’ appears in what may be its original form, nit. The stems for ‘‘nine’’ and ‘‘ten”’ are used without reduplication or the prefix ha-. The ordinals are formed, with reduplication, by the suffix -awa. This is sometimes further enlarged by the ending -na’ when inanimate, and when ani- mate has the ending -ti. Numeral classifiers have not yet been ob- served, except -a"naé, which is employed when camps, towns, herds, or portions are referred to, and which may be a locative or collective: ? yaneiy-a"né"-na™, four bands. Counting Cardinal Cardinal Ordinal 1 teadseix ha-nisi-xt' (an.) na-nisi-xt! na-nit-awa-t! hi-nis-et! (inan.) nii-nis-et! na-nit-awa-(na’) 2) nist hi-nisi-6! (an.) nii-nisi-6! ni-nisi-awa-t! hii-nis-ei (inan.) mna&-nis-ei na-nisi-awa-(na’) 8 nidsa",nisax hi-nii-6! na-niii-d! na-nasi-awa-t! 4 yein! hia-yeini-6! ya-neini-6! ya-neini-awa-t! 5 yaéan! hi-yiéani-6' ya-naéani-6' ya-naéani-awa-t! 6 nit-a"-tax" hi-nit-a®-taxu-6' ni-nit-a®-taxu-0! ni-nit-a®-taxu-awa-t! 7 nis-a?-tax" hi-nis-a®-taxu-0' na-nis-a"taxu-6! né-nis-a®-taxu-awa-t! 8 nids-a®-tax® hi-nds-a"-taxu-6! nii-nis-a™-taxu-6' na-nas-a"-taxu-awa-t! OF ere 6i’a-taxu-6! 6i’a-taxu-awa-ti 10 bata-tax" bata-taxu-6! bataé-taxu-awa-t! ''1916] Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects 123 The numerals from 11 to 19 are formed from those for 1 to 9 by the suffix -ini, which occurs also on words denoting measures of time; the tens by the ending -a™’, -a’, or u’, with change of preceding con- sonant. 1 teiseix 11 tefseini 4 yein! 14 yeinini 40 yeiyu’ 5 yaéani 15 yaé@anini 50 yadaya’ i misattaxt 17 nisa"tax"ini 70 nisattasax” 8 nasa "tax" 18 ni&dsa"tax"ini 80 nadsa"tasa’ Other forms: nita™, first, before; nisa™ouhu’, nisaha’a, both; tei®xa™, another one; tcadseix, one, inanimate; teasd’, one, animate. The suffix -tax", in 6 to 10, appears to be found also in tahoutax®, how many, and ha™tax", whenever. TEXTS Only enough textual material is presented here to illustrate some of the leading structural and phonetic features that have been out- lined. Several hundred pages of Arapaho texts were secured by the writer. But the foregoing description is, after all, not more than a sketch of part of the salient traits of the language; and any analysis making a pretense at even approximate completeness was impossible, without a study so thorough-going that it would have crowded into the background indefinitely other work which was a nearer duty. With the possible exception of Eskimo, Algonkin, as represented by Arapaho and Yurok, is far the most difficult form of speech encoun- tered by the writer at first hand. How much remains to be done in Arapaho before the language is really understood is revealed by the notes that have been added to the appended texts. The purpose of these notes is elucidation; but whoever consults them will not need the advice that for nearly every point explained there is a problem raised, and several that are not even touched on. For these reasons the entire body of texts recorded has been put in the possession of the Bureau of American Ethnology, in the hope that under the hand of Dr. Michelson or some other investigator better fitted by capacity or long occupation with Algenkin than the writer, their publication will ultimately result in greater usefulness than could be attained now. ''124 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol.12 TEXT I—A PRAYER! haé?-heisana’nin‘” nanitané’ina™ na-h*biacibé’hin‘* hage’i® Ha! our father, hear us, and grandfather. All naha’a™sé’hi’it nanaxkunihi ’ita’wa”® hici”’ ni‘ha"ya™ the shining ones I also mention, day yellow, Hasetsen™ hiiéeti na‘yeitci ‘171'fetin® bita’a’’wu ’éetin® wind good, timber good, earth good. teaisié’ hi ha*ditea’étini?? hida™’ wa"wu!! naxuta” wut Animal listen under the ground! above the ground teasie’ihi nate!” teesdehe’iha™!* teibah ’teaiha’6ti* animal, in water animals, all listen! hatciyawa™ni’na™ ha™twani’bini’® ha™tihi’19é’hi™” Your food-remnants we will go to eat. May they be good! ha"tihiteihika”’ta2'® ha™wadéa’w* hinditi’t?® ha"tihiawa"ho’ua® May there be long breath life! May increase hina"tani't?? teia™nd’ ’?° hanatciha"ye’it** hise’ hihi?” the people, children of all ages, girl naha-hana’xa’aihixi** nax’-hine’n hanateixa*y@’it hi’sei and boy and man of all ages, woman, bah#e’ihahin?® handteixa™ye’In Datiabi’ —_ha™tninioxané’ia™nou”! old man, of all ages, old woman. It shall give us strength bi’eiwa®?> ha™neika®™’huéi’® hici’e ha®’ a> Mein! the food while runs the sun. Oh that! my father! teixte’ a’ 6ti?® naba’eiwar?* Dasma ate kaka gerean listen, my grandfather! for what I ask, thoughts, batar’s? bixa™éeti't?? hanawnati’t ha™tninidixanabeden*®® heart, love, happiness! We will eat you. Notes 1 Bull. Am. Mus. Nat. Hist., xvi, 315, 1907. 2 1st pers. pl. inclusive: neisana", my father. 3 -n-, connective; -eina®, he—me or they—us: thou—us is -eia". 4na®’ or nah® is ‘‘and’’; the -h*- may be part of this or part of the possessive elements hi—h-in', our; naibacibéa, my grandfather. 5 Also a prefix of verbs. 6 na-, for na®’ or nah*, and; -naxku-n-, with, a prefix of verbs; nih'-, incom- plete action; ita, stem; -w-, connective; -a", I—him. 7 Cf. hicic, sun, below. 8 Cf. hasa’a*t', swift, and the prefix of verbs his-, swiftly, violently, very, hard. 9 These two words were heard as parts of the preceding ones, to the final vowels of which their initial vowels are assimilated. 10 hi"6i- apparently equals hié"ti-, optative; -in', transitive imperative. 11 -4"wu, an ending of adverbs referring to the ground. 12 Locative of nete', water. 13 -ha®, plural; -éhi, -ehei, may be -éhi, denoting the agent, -éhi, face, or -hi’i, -hahi, diminutive. ''1916] Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects 125 14 tei-, imperative, regular in the negative, occasional in the positive; -bah’-, all; teihi6-t-1, compare tceié-t-, note 10, is or contains the stem. 15 “¢Crumbs.’’ Plural, with 2nd pers. possessive. 16 ha"t-, purposive future; wan-i-, go to do; bi, eat; -n-, connective. 17 h#tih'-, optative or precative (ef. note 10), -ih' probably denoting incom- pletion of action; i#e appears to be the stem meaning good, cf. above, note oF -hi, intransitive. 18 hiitih'-, as in last word; -tcihi-, possibly tci-, imperative, and n-ih’-, in- complete action; ka"-t-’" suggests the ‘‘prefix’’ kou-, kanou-, long, far. 19 Cf. hinen!, man, hinenit&", person, hinana’ei, Arapaho, hiteni, life symbol; -it', no doubt containing the pronominal ending of the 3rd pers., recurs below on abstract nouns. 20 Plural (?) of teia®, child. The form has the appearance of a locative. 21 Unanalyzed, except for the abstract ending, cf. note 19. 22 hisei, woman; -hi’i, -hi’, -hahi, etc., diminutive; hanaxa’aha, young man. 23 bahii’ei, behi’i, old, with perhaps the diminutive suffix. Compare the stems for old woman, in the second word following, and for grandfather, as in note 4. The ending of the next word changes from -t to -n, evidently to agree with the unexplained -n of the present noun. 24 ha™tni-, or ha"t-, ha"ta™ni-, purposive future; -ni-, perhaps ni’-, good; -oxa-, the stem, cf. axa-wu, give me food, -axa-h-, to bring, take, carry; -n- appears to be the connective, in spite of the -h- of -axa-h; -eia"nou then would be the pro- nominal ending, not fully clear, though -eia" is thou—us. 25 Unknown derivation from bi-, eat. 26 hit-, while, continuing; -ne-, for ni-, nih'-, incomplete action; i-ka®, stem, to move, especially to run, usually with the intransitive suffix -hu. 27 <‘ Voeative,’’ Ist pers. possessive, regularly a shortened form in terms of relationship. 28 Imperative: cf. notes 10 and 14. 29 ni®-, perhaps my; nih-, nihi-, ni-, hi-, that which, he who, where. 30 -i@etca®-h-, to think; kaka-xa’dndta™, thought, think. 31 Indefinitive possessive prefix b-a-, b-ei-, w-a-. 32 pixa®-6-eden', I love you; for -it see note 19. 33 ha"tni-, one form of future of intent; -ni@ixand-, unanalyzed; -b-, connec- tive; -eden, I—you. TEXT II—AN ADVENTURE! bihi’i ha*ixina™ei? ~- hitaxa™hok* wotix touciniehin “Deer” now went hunting. He came to accidentally one who was pretty hisein* behicinicitea™® hinaninouyuyaxkan xanou® woman. All antelope was her clothing. Straightway ha*ixteetcidana" tah®nahawa"t’ hisein* hi*ixinéitaxawuini®’ | then he wanted tocourther when he saw the woman. Thenshe motioned for him to approach. wathei ha™tibia™de6en ha™da™hok® bihi’1 nah’nihiya" “Well, let me love you,”’ said to her “Deer.” ‘‘And yourself hacita™nani ha?6eihok? hanaiyiha™t!® tarba please,”’ she said to him. Then he went to her. Just ha"tnitena*hok'? hina™nanax ha™ixwositouhin'? teestecitcena’a™ he will be about to touch her, to his surprise then she cried (like « deer), suddenly jumped, teitcebita’eixa™’® ha™i’biniha™haba*® bihi7i bihi7 -ha@ixtaye ran off looking back. Then he saw she was a deer. ‘Deer’ then was ashamed ha™wo-nihiot-bia ’a™t1" ha"nateatecka"hut*® taxtayéhit!® at being deceived in loving. Then he returned ashamed. ''126 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 ha"ixxa"ta ’einin bihi’i ta’bihi’ihina"tin?° nayééa na” Now later “Deer’”’ became like a deer. In the camp-circle ha™ixinikuhina®™*? bihi’1 wa"ti bihi’i wa"ti bihi7i then was chased “Deer”’ like a deer. Like a deer nidetouhak?? wa"ti bihi’i teaiteena’a™" wa"ti bihi’7i he cried, like a deer he jumped, like a deer hahna*kuhnahak" habahiyeihana™tak"”* ticitanat”* he fled on the prairie; all pursued. When he was caught, ha™ixnana™nida"kua® bihi’i ha"ixtatina” ha™ixbahaneiana>”® then his eyes looked different. “Deer’’ now had his mouth open. Then all held him. ha"ni ha*ixteinini bihi’ihin?® na’aéicihiti bihi’i At last then he ceased being a deer. For this he isnamed ‘‘Deer.”’ Notes 1 Bull. Am. Mus. Nat. Hist., xvi, 20, 1902. 2 For ha™ix-, see note 29 to following text; ina", hunt; -ei, causative, here: go to. 3 -hok", it is said, they say. Cf. Michelson, Bur. Am. Ethn. Ann. Rept., XXVIII, 237, 1912. 4 An apparent instance of the objective or oblique case: hisei, woman. 5 ba-, behi’i-, behici-, baibinei-, all, completely; na™sitca*, nisitca", antelope. 6 Also a ‘‘prefix’’ of verbs. 7 tah*-, when; n-a"ha-w, see; -a"t', he—him. 8 Cf. h-itaxa® in the third word of this text; with this ‘‘stem’’ compare ita-s, ité-s, reach, meet. For ha™ix-, see note 2: -wuind™, from -wu-n, to, for, with, or more probably from -awui-ni, become, begin, and -n-, connective, -a", -a", he—him (a form different from those given above in the table of transitive pronominal endings, and no less common; but their relation is not yet clear). 9 For hat-i-bixa"-0-eden', I will love you. 10 hini-— ha™na"-, which see in note 29 to next text; iyiha"t suggests the analysis iyi-h-a"t!, but the form otherwise found is stem lyiha™ with connec- tive -n-. 11 Also a prefix, but here heard as a separate word. 12 ha*t-ni-; ite-n, take; -hok", see note 3. 13 hi"ix-; wos-,?; tou, itou, ery, make a noise, shout; -hi, intransitive; -n,? 14 Of. tcesis-, begin; tc4-, again, back, or perhaps reduplication here, ‘‘ jumped about’’; teena’a®, jump. 15 Cf. tci-, backward, again; tceib-i-, aside, crooked; the stem seems to be the same verb of motion as in the word referred to in note 8, 16 h8%ix-, as ante; bini-h-, possibly from bii-n, bii-h, find; a™ha-b-a, he sees him. 17 Perhaps from bixa”-6, to love. 18 hi"nd®-, as above; tci-, back, again; -te-,?; i-ka®-hu, run, travel; -t', he. 19 tah*-, when, because; tiye, be ashamed, as in the preceding sentence; -hi, intransitive; -t', he. 20 ta’-, for tah*- (?); bihi’i, deer; -hi-na"ti-n, compare ni-waxt-na"t', she who turned into a bear, and the independent word warti in the next sentence. 21 ha"ix-; in-i-, about, aimlessly, at random; -ku-hi-ni", possibly from -ku-6, make a motion to, transitive, and -hi, intransitive. 22 ni-0-,2; etou, for itou or tou, shout; -hik, for -héxk", conditional, subor- dinating. 28 hii-,(?); bah-, all, as in note 5; iyeiha-n-, for iyiha*-n, pursue; a"tak*, un- certain, but evidently contains the ‘‘conditional,’’ as the word in note 22. 24 tic-i-, when; ite-n, catch; -At, for -d™t', equals -a™t', he—him. 25 Again the prefix ‘‘all,’’ as in notes 5 and 23. 26 Perhaps the intransitive verbifying suffix -hi. ''1916 | Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects 127 TEXT III—TANGLED HAIR1 hinen hi®nixa"tihok®? ni™ha™ina™eihok"? ha®eita"wina™hok" A man lived alone. He went to hunt. He told her hinini ha™ta™ninareiti® ha™na"ya™ teiba"ta®ka"ha®wuna™ his wife, when he was about to go to hunt: ‘Mind! do not look at him ha"™tanita®seini° na®nateiti® hina"ha"teineiti® hiha"wuxuwa™ when he comes to you a powerful one with tangled hair who is hard to satisfy abou} a"titei ha"ina"ya™ ha"ta®nita™sa,* na® teiba"yei#a"eini plates. He will make a noise when he will come and do not look there hiti®seinihiné®ku’ ha™ind"ya™ hota™nitoutca™na™di®? ha™na®ya™ where he comes. He will make a noise; he will shout; mind! _teib’™neia"ha"wuni™ na™na"teiti ha™ba™tciteciteit? ha™yeia™’an™ do not look at him the powerful one, he might enter your tent,” hi "Gathoku’2 hininin™® ta™tcei®éeia™ti!t na ™nd™ted™dicina™eihoku’ he said to her his wife when he went away. And he went to hunt ticinihida™ti'® hinini na™na™na™éa"hoku tina™eiti"* after he had told his wife; he left her to hunt. na"ha"na"eitaé™seiniéi° hinini hina"ha"teineini6i'* And then he came to his wife, he whose hair was tangled. na*ha"tcita"ka"ha™wa*hoku* na ™na*tea"Isd"ya™ka™nei’® And she did not look at him. And he went back ta™tcineia™ha®wa"ti* ha"ted™1sa"ya"kari” ha"tisa™ni6i?° nuhu when she did not look at him, he went back to where he had come from, that hina"ha"teinihini6i'® ta®éaniheiti nuhu ta"ba"tita*seiti® one with the tangled hair, he failed that one on first coming nuu a®ha"k#™neineifi2! ha™yawita"seifi® nitcita"ka™ha™wa"hoku* that demented one, whenever he came to her who did not look at him. na"yé"™neinia™wa"ni~” ha"ta™na"hoku?® ha™tea?c1 Hein But the fourth time she made a hole by means of an awl ha?xiti nina'nd!! ta®hini™tea™eia"nid'* hi’ihi’ beiha’a™ attheleftofthedoor inthetent, when he turned back, with an awl, ta*hahifiwa"ha™wa"ti* 74 Hiha a hidi?® ha"haku as she looked through, ‘Let me see him!”’ she said. ha™nd"eiwa"ha®wa"tit hihidi’i nuu 4"ta™na™tihini ha®xiti Then she looked out through that hole at the left of the door hii’i ha’heite ha™éeihoku™” na"ind™sa"ya™kani through. “Here!’’ he said to her as he turned back. tatciteia"neiti?® ha™@eihoku ta®™nid™cina™na®® naé™tcia®xa™wu?? When he came in he said to her: “T am hungry, give me to eat, ''128 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [ Vol. 12 ha™éa"hoku™ nuhu’ hiseini?® hana"a"titciheiti?? ha™eina2®° he said to her that woman. Then she gave him for a plate a clay one. hiha®wninisou’u** na"titcita"na®®? hana"a"titciheiti?® “Tt is not the kind I use for plates.’ Then she gave him for a plate bacina®®° hiha®wnéd"isou’u na"titcita™na® haha"ku a wooden one. “Tt is not the kind I use for plates,”’ he said. ha™naé"a"titciheiti ka" ka"ha"wa*ti ka"xu ha™inaeihiti Then she gave him for a plate a war-bonnet. Again he said the same. ha™naé"a"titciheiti hibixiita™nini** ta®na™na”’ ha™éa"hoku Then she gave him for a plate her dress. ‘Very nearly!”’ he said to her. na*ha"na?a"titciheiti hiwa?nina®*? ta"na™nd®’ ha"@a"hoku And then she gave him fora plate her moccasins. “Very nearly!’ he said to her. ka®xu hd™nd™icibinidi®* ha™éideineihi’i?® na™na"™’ ha™éa"hoku Again then she lay down flat on her back. “That is iti" he said to her. na"ta*ha™ta"wa"niéi** ha naka" eineiti*® wa"ha*inisei®® And when he had eaten then he slit her open. She was pregnart with twins, nisatu’®? ha®na® ’a"hia™*° nisa™na®®® ha®na™1 1ta42na"ti** both were boys, the twins. Then he took them; tcaswas = nuu ha®na®’a"hiat®° ha™nd™iwa*cielwa"ti*® one that boy then he put in the water ha®xiibeiné’”"? na” tea™xa® a™ha™ideiktidan** da"ya"ka™xu’ in the spring, and one he threw under the right side of the door nina nga” ha"™na"naited™ia™ti*® ticbeikiida™ti*® teliyana”’ at the tent. Then he went away after he had placed the children. ha™ma"kei na-hiné™ni*® ha™einici’1a*° hinini He returned, this man, he called his wife, haitead™tidini ta™nicia™ti*® hinini na™ xa’xa nou’? she did not answer, when he ealled her, his wife. And straightway nee ini” ta™nd"einei6i>? ta™tea™tideinifi>? he knew that she was dead when she did not answer. ha"né"tcidina"ha™wa"ti®® ha"hareika™éeini®* neitcinihida™na"ou®> Then he went in to see. She was slit open. “T told you,” ha"éa"hoku ha™naibiwathuti*® ha™n4"nainathiti he said to her. Then he cried. Then he went off. Notes 1 Field Columbian Museum Publications, Anthrop. Series, v, 378, 1903. The informant spoke with elaborate slowness and distinct syllabification. To this are due the numerous nasalized vowels, which, as Dr. Michelson says, tend to disappear in rapid speech. The slow utterance of the present informant may have caused nasalization to be heard where it was not organic. Dr. Michelson nasalizes o and perhaps other vowels; the author noted only a® and 4", though a® was sometimes confused with o. Arapaho long vowels were usually heard ''1916] Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects 129 and written as geminated or doubled, particularly from this informant. As the writer in studying other languages has, however, found this apperception to be largely an individual peculiarity, such double vowels have in this paper been represented by single letters with the macron, except long e and o, which are represented, as heard, by ei and ou. The tendency to double crest long vowels seems nevertheless actually to be fairly marked in Arapaho, although the slight importance of the trait at best, and the cumbersomeness of its ap- pearance in print, probably make its orthographical neglect preferable. 2The ending -hok", given by Dr. Michelson as a stem meaning ‘‘say,’’ is common as a quotative. Text 1, note 3. 3 na"-,?; ina-ei, hunt, go to hunt, probably containing -ei, causative; -hok", ““quotative’’; ha™ta™ni-, ha™ti-, ha"t-, purposive future, as in the preceding text; -ti, for -t', he, intransitive. 4tcl-, negative, tci-ba-, negative imperative; ta™k-, nei-, not determined; ta®-, when; na®-, nah*- (also independent, perhaps regularly loosely proclitic rather than prefixed), and; ha®-, probably related to ha™ix-, ha™na®-, see note 29; atha-w, stem, to see; -hok", ‘‘quotative’’; -ti, -a™-ti, ei-ti, 3rd pers.; -na7, not clear, but evidently pronominal, -n&é occurring quite regularly as the subjective and objective element of the 2nd pers. plural. 5 ha"tani-, future; na®-, and; ha nd-, ‘‘then’’; ta™ba-, just, only, first begin to; ha"yaw-, if the translation obtained is literal, would mean ‘‘whenever’’ (inde- pendent, ha"-tax", whenever, ha™-you, what); ita™-s, to come to; -ni, -ni6i, -6i, modal-pronominal; -ti, see note 6. 6 These two words contain the 3rd pers. ending -(ei)-t', and are to all ap- pearances verbs. 7 jha"wu-, with pronominal prefix, a frequent form of the negative in verbs. 8 Cf. note 5. 9 hota®ni- for ha*ta"ni-, cf. note 1; itou, stem. 10 teitei, enter; cf. tcit-, tci@-i-, in, entering. 11 These words all contain a locative suffix. 12 ha"-ga™-hok", he (A) said to him (B); ha®-dei-hok", he (B) said to him (A). Cf. Michelson, Bur. Am. Ethn., Ann. Rep., xxv, 237, 1912. It appears that a similar distinction is made in other verbs in the transitive pronominal endings. The two contrasting forms are probably related to the two forms of the third person in Central Algonkin; but the writer is under the impression that, in Arapaho at least, the ‘‘suus-ejus’’ distinction has been far transcended, the two forms serving rather as a convenient and valuable means of expressing over considerable passages the ideas which in our legal documents are ren- dered by ‘‘the party of the first part’’ and ‘‘the party of the second*part.’’ If this view proves correct, the force of the paired Arahapo forms would be somewhat similar to the contrasting Yuki particles sa™’ and si’, of which one indicates the continuance and the other a change of grammatical subject or agent in the sentences which they open. 13 Without the final -n in other occurrences in this text, as ante. 14 ta®-, when; tcA"6-ei-, tcad-i-, off, away. 15 na®-, and; tc&d-i-, away; ina®-ei, go to hunt; -hoku, quotative. 16 tic-, ticini-, when, after, with implication of completed action; hi-,?; -@a"-, ef. ha"-0a"-hoku, note 12; -ti, he. 17 t-, ti-, tih'-, ta™-, tah*-, when, after, to, because. 18 Compare the corresponding form in note 6. 19 na®-, and; tcea"-, back; 1-s4", go, come. 20 ha"t-, ha™t-a®-, where; 1-sa", go, come. 21 haha"ka", crazy. 22 ya-neini-awa-t', the fourth, animate, yd-neini-awa-na’, inanimate. The ending -ni is evidently the same as is found on the cardinal numbers from 11 to 19, and on words denoting measures of time. 23 tana-s, pierce, make hole in. Cf. ta’-, tana’-, tou-, tanou-, to stop, or by stopping; also the fourteenth word below in the text. 24 ta™-, when, as; a™ha-w, a™ha-b, see; hthidi-w- is evidently a form of the independent word hihi6i’-i or hi#i’i (as below), probably for hihi@-ihi’. 25 @i-, 10i-, let me. 26 Asini-h, to anger; asina-na-t', anger; the same stem seems to be used to express the meanings of anger and hunger, which both imply stirring emotion; or has the similar sound of the English words led to confusion in translation? The ending -na™ is the regular intransitive of the 1st pers. ''130 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 27 tel-, positive or negative imperative; axa™-wu, axa-wu, give to eat! 28 Objective of hisei. 29 antitci, plates, ante; -h-ei, causative; hini™-, ha™n"-, correlative with ha"ix-, mentioned in the preceding text. The force of these two common pre- fixes is not clear. Informants left them untranslated or rendered them by “‘then.’’? They appear to be relational to the discourse as a whole rather than syntactical or grammatical. For h&®- alone see note 4. 30 Compare Gros Ventre ha’a™ty', lime, white earth; and haaninin, better ha’aninin, the Gros Ventre name for themselves, translated, perhaps in false etymology, as ‘‘lime-men.’’? The myth refers to a time when the Arapaho at least knew pottery. For the ending -i-na™ compare bicina®, a wooden one, just below, from biac!, wood. 31]-ha™wu-, negative of verbs. 32 a™titci, plates, as in note 29; -ta-n, -ta-na, to, for, of; either the initial n- or the final -na™ denotes the first person. 33 hi-, her; bixit', dress; wa’a, wa’aha, moccasin, plural -na®. 34 i¢i-bi, isi-bi, lie down. 35 -jhi’i, -ihi’, the commonest suffix of adverbs. 36 Compare n&ha’, nuhu’, this; hind’, that, visible; ninf-ni-na®, I, it is I; nana-haxk", he, it must be he. 37na™-, and; ta™-, when; ha®t-, future intent, and a™wa®", eat; or h-a"ta®-, eat (cf. ata-wu, eat up for), and -wa, -b&, cause. 38 1-ka"éei-n, cf. ka™éOei-n, cut open belly (ka’a®-b, bite, ka"ne-n, open, ka™u-s, cut off); -eit', he (B)—him (A). 39 nis', two (counting), ha-nis-ei, two, inanimate; -na*, plural. 40 hanaxa’aha, young man; -hi’i, -ha’, -haihi, diminutive; -a", for -a"’, -ha?, plural. For: hanaxa’ahiha”’. 41 ite-n, take, catch. 42 Compare tciseix, one, in counting. 43 |-wa"ciei-w for wa"cie-w, wa?cie-b, take into water. 44 j-0ei-ki-6 for Oei-ku-0, put in; -42, he—him. 45 naéi-,?; tca7éi, for tca6-i-, away, usually a ‘‘prefix,’’ here obviously the ““stem,’’ since it is followed directly by the pronominal ending. 46 tic, or tisi-, when, after, completed action. 47 teia®, child; -na®, plural. 48 For: naha’ hinen'. 49 This transitive stem seemingly is used without the usual connective con- sonant. Compare the endings of the two occurrences of the stem: -a"t' and eit', the A and B forms according to the table of pronominal endings, occur, here and elsewhere in the text, in subordinate verbs; -4", as in note 44, and notes 8 and 16 of Text 1, is found on independent verbs. 50 Or xanou; also a prefix. ' 51 Transitive 4ina-n. This form seems to be intransitive and without pro- nominal suffix. 52 ta™- once means that, once when. 58 tei0-i-, in, entering, to enter; a*ha-b, a™ha-w, to see. Perhaps best: he entering saw, he enter-saw. This word illustrates excellently the difficulty in distinguishing in Arapaho between verb stems with adverbial prefixes and binary compound verbs, as discussed above in the first part of the section dealing with verbs. 54 See note 38. 55 The expected ending -eéen', I—you, is lacking; n-ei- seems to be the part of the word meaning I. 56 biwa™-hu, to cry. ''1916] Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects 131 PART TET NOTES ON GROS VENTRE PHONETICS The sounds of Gros Ventre have been discussed in connection with those of Arapaho proper. Certain sound correspondences between the two languages have been pointed out in Part I. Voealic changes, consonantal substitutions, increments, and redu- plications or similar expansions, are frequent, but the laws by which they are governed are not often clear. wos, bear; waota®--n-os, black bear. hitana™(n)-i-bi, buffalo cow. nixa"t-ou-10a, white-man woman. na™ts®, rabbit; na™k-a"ts, ‘‘ white rabbit,’’ jackrabbit; nawat-a"ts, ‘‘ left-hand rabbit,’’ cottontail rabbit. na"ts-ou-hitana®, white buffalo. na*k"-6-otei, ‘‘ white belly,’’ donkey; wanot*, some one’s belly; na-na"ty-ix-ty', he is white. ha’a"-ty', white clay, lime; ha’a-n-inin, Gros Ventre; ha’a-n-i#i, Gros Ventre woman. b'-teibyi, louse, ‘‘some one’s louse’’; bei-teibyi, ‘‘red louse,’’ flea; dei-teibyi, “‘flat louse,’’ bedbug; baxa’a"-teibyi, ‘‘thunder louse,’’ butterfly. a?wu, down; a™wu-nihi’i, down along a stream; n-a"wi-na"tyinei, ‘‘lower- Assiniboines,’’ Sioux. kaka-ya®, flat, it is flat; kaka-tyi, he is flat; kak-ou-bid, ‘‘flat wood,’’ cut lumber, planks. baé-ani’i, ‘‘large gopher,’’ prairie-dog; b&é-a"tsu, ‘‘large mouse,’’ rat; bAs-ou, bad-ei-(y)a", bindé-ei-(y)-a", large (inanimate), it is large, a large thing; banaé-ei-tyi, he is large, a large one; bis-initaé", ‘‘large person,’’ a giant; habaty-inita™ (haiba-ty'-inité7?), a ee person. baxa-a", red, inanimate; bei-x- ty’, he is red, red (animate); bana-ty', he is red; baa" bis, red wood; hae -ou, ‘‘red porcupine(?),’’ badger; nix-ba-4’a-na®, I was red headed; banaba-’ti-na*, I have red ears; bana*b(a")-a"tsd-na", I have red eyes. COMPOSITION Some body part stems when in composition are dissimilar to the independent stems of the same meaning; others are the same. Distinct: -iba-, nose ; be-ic#, nose. Arapaho: -i-0i-, b-eie. #a-n-iba-ty', ‘‘flat nose he is,’’ pig ta-n-iba-ts, ‘‘pierced nose they are,’’ Nez Percé Indians ba™as-6ba"-na®, ‘large nose I am,’’ I have a large nose ''132 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 -i,’-, head ; bi-t®’8" (or bit-*’8"?), head. Arapaho: 4’ei-; ha-kuha”, head ; bei-6e’a, hair. banid-i’f-na", I am large headed kaka-i’a-nin, ‘‘flat head men(?),’’ Flat-head Indians -taxi-, belly ; wa-n-ot®, belly. Arapaho: wa-not. ha"tyis-tixa-na", I am small-bellied -a"tsd-, eye; be-s00, eye. Arapaho: ba-cisa. wana"wa"é-a"tso-na", I have ugly eyes Identical: ityi-, mouth; be-tyi’, mouth. Arapaho: ba-ti. wana"d-ityi-na", I am ugly mouthed -itin-, ear; wa-n-otan, ear. Arapaho: wa-natana’. ban&ibid-itain-(n)a", I have large ears -a tsdti-, tooth ; bi-tsit', tooth. Arapaho: bei-tci. nindn!-a"tsdta-na®, I have pretty teeth -O@ana-, neck; wa-Oana, neck. Arapaho: ba-sona?. bands-d@ana-ni-na®, I have a large neck -tini, mammae; be-ten, breast. Arapaho: bi-6en-etc', breast-water, milk. banibis-tini-na", I have large breasts Several other nouns occur in two forms: -okay-, house, in composition only; -yei, house, independent word with possessive pronoun; nin®”, house, independent word without pos- sessive. Arapaho: -akac or -akay, -1-yei, nina”. wux-n-okay-in, ‘‘ (?)-houses,’’ the Minitari wasdin-hiyei-hi-ts, ‘‘grass their houses,’’ ‘‘they have grass houses,’’ a Shoshonean tribe -A"w"-, water, in composition only; nets', water. Arapaho: -a"wu, netci. ba2-a"w"hanéa"-nets!, red rain nana*k-a"w" nets!, white water tsok-a"w", clear water hou-n-A"w", muddy water waoti?-n-a"w", black water waoti"-nots!, ‘‘black water,’’ coffee nixa"t-ou-nets!, ‘‘ white man’s water,’’ whisky bete(n)-nits', ‘‘breast water,’’ milk bed'-nits', ‘‘ wood-water,’’ sap ''1916] Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects 133 VERBS AFFIXES OF MODE AND TENSE The tense and mode affixes observed are substantially the same as in Arapaho. Prefixes n-, ni-, na®-, incomplete action, present; Arapaho: ni- nih'-, ninih'-, incomplete action, past; Arapaho: nih'- nih-ise-n-, completed action, past; perhaps: once continued action now completed; Arapaho: nih-isi- hatta"-, ha™ta™ni-, future, probably of intent; Arapaho: ha*t-, ha*t-1-, ha"ta™ni nih'-a"ta”-, ‘was about to’’; nih'- and ha*ta- hat-€-, interrogative, present; Arapaho: kih'-, ka®-, ka™hei-, ka"ha-, ka™hu- ha®-ex-, interrogative, past ha®’a"ta®-, interrogative, future ts6-, tsu-, tsa-, tse-, negative; Arapaho: tci-, tcih- ha®-(n), optative, ‘‘let me’’; Arapaho: ha?-ti-, ha™-tih! hax-, that, when, subordinating; Arapaho: ta®-, tah?- ihi-, if, past unreal supposition na*gei-, perhaps; Arapaho: na*xei- A few etymological affixes have also been distinguished : naye-x-ts0-, niya-x-ts6-, try to; Arapaho: naye- tea"-so-, begin to; Arapaho: tcasis- na wa-, na"bi-, make a motion to; Arapaho: nawu-, nibi- Suffixes -etyi, reflexive; Arapaho: -eti, -uti -ehi, -ohu, agent; Arapaho: -ehi, -ohu -n-axku, added to personal ending, conditional; Arapaho: -h-’xk", n-axk" -ya", ending of many adjectives in the absolute or inanimate form; Arapaho: -a, Via PRONOMINAL ENDINGS AND CONNECTIVES The intransitive endings are: Gros Ventre Arapaho I —na® -na® You nn -n! He -ty! ti We -nin -na® You na" -nan They -ts(‘) Oi The intransitive imperative is expressed by -ts; dnity-i-ts, talk! This ending has not been observed in Arapaho. ''134 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 The transitive conjugation is substantially the same as in Arapaho. Gros Ventre Arapaho I—you -etin -eden! I—him out -gn’ I—~you (pl.) -etina® -edeni® I—them -ou -ou I—it -awa" -awa" you—him -ots! 7 ante he—me : -ein®™™ -eina® he—you -ein! -ein! he—him -aty! -ant! they—you -ein®n(') -einanil they—him -ots! -a" Oi The preceding consonant or connective also undergoes change much as in Arapaho. Meaning see strike shoot kick tell kill Verb Me You Him You Them It atha b kw25 b w it tam b b w eA by by by bit?6 tada n n n-i t27 t27 t27 naha u The transitive imperative is -in; Arapaho, -in', un'. tei-by-in nihi’-in shoot him! kill him! The transitive endings occurring with the interrogative prefix ha®ex- are evidently the same as the Arapaho personal suffixes used in the negative formed by -i-ha"wu-. Gros Ventre Arapaho I—you -eti -e6 I—him -An -an you—him, them -an -a?, -a™na,’ he—me -€ he—him, them a “Bi they—me -el they—him, them , 7a? -ina® One of the two personal elements seems to be expressed, the other understood. The negative conjugation appears to be based on the use of the prefix ts6- (and its phonetic modifications), corresponding to Arapaho tei-. The equivalent of the Arapaho negative in i-ha™wu- has not been observed. ne-tsi-fisa", I am not swift ni-tsi-atcesdu-hi, I am not small he-tsu-na*ha-b-et!, I do not see you 25 Unparalleled in Arapaho. 26 As in Arapaho. 27 Corresponds to Arapaho s. ''1916] Kroeber: Arapaho Dialects 135 Nouns The plural of nouns shows the same types as in Arapaho. -n, -in, -an, corresponding to Arapaho -na®, -i-na®. bear wos (6) wosd'n elk (h)iwaso (h)iwasohin wildcat be@attya beda*tyan crow (h) ouu (h)oun fly nouba" nouban feather bii biin bone hig" hiéan tent Ta ninan stone (h) axa ana tya" (h)axa ana tyain -a, -ha™, as in Arapaho. mouse ~ a"tsu a*tsuhih*n antelope natsity na*sitya®™ rabbit na"ts® narts ’ha® gopher (h)ani’i (h)ani’iha® muskrat 100s 10o0sa® otter néi nein squirrel dadarya ei dada"yaeiha® cat, puss wus wusha? donkey na*k"@otei na*k"doteihiha® bald eagle na*k"tiyehi natk"tiyehi™ turtle ba ’anou ba ’anouha® fish na?w" na®wuh*. butterfly baxa’a-teibyi baxa’a-teibyihiha®28 river nitsa nitsaha® Lengthening of the final, often surd or inaudible, vowel to -i, -i, or a phonetic equivalent, as in Arapaho. deer bihi’i bihi’ihi beaver (h)aibes (h) abes6i skunk dou doue cattle warkety! watketyi mountain sheep Ch) ot (h) ot @i wooden house batyidou batyi#ou’u ear wanatan wanatanou water nets!, nots notsa® louse biteibyi b'teiwuh28 Words for ‘‘domestie animal,’’ or compounded with it, take -ibi, Arapaho -abi. dog (h) ot® (h) otibi horse, ‘‘ elk-dog’’ hiwas had hiwas ’ha*debi dragon-fly, ‘ ‘insect dog’’ bida"hard bida"ha*dibi A few words change final -s or -ts to -t. tooth bitsits bitsit horn ninis ninit parfleche bag houwanos houwanot 28 Apparently different plurals on the same stem. ''136 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 Animateness or inanimateness of nouns is indicated in the con- joined verb, adjective, or numeral; or, as they should collectively be called, the verb. The ‘‘animate’’ gender, however, includes many names of lifeless things. Such are: sun, moon, stars, thunder, wagon, mowing-machine, which travel; and snow, stone, tree, log, cedar, pine, pipe, and money, which do not move. Inanimate are the nouns for sky or clouds, lightning, rainbow, rain, water, river, spring, earth, iron, willow, sage, grass, mountain, gun, bow, arrow, and wind, several of which denote moving objects. A locative is formed by a voealic suffix, as at times in Arapaho. earth bita ’aw" bita’awt stone (h)axa’ana"tyar (h)axa’ana"tyei parfleche bags houwanot houwanote bed (h) aw’ (h)a"bii’ The types of possessive pronominal prefixes are those occurring in Arapaho. The third person frequently shows a vocalic suffix increment. Word Father Mother Son Grandmother vocative niga" na’ar neihe’ nip my nidina® neina® eihe’ eip. your idina® eina® tha ’aha? iniwaha his iniéina® inan* our (incl.) idinan our (excl.) aniéinan'n your idinanina™ Word Grandchild Mother’s brother Hair Mouth vocative nis6 nis har my nis& nis’ nanit™ netyi’ your isa as’ amma" etyi’ his inisaha®™ righ 2 ipayte2 ityi’ somebody’s bites betyi’ It is probable that an h-, which is fainter in Gros Ventre than in Arapaho, occurs before all the above words written as commencing with a vowel. PRONOUNS As in Arapaho, the so-called ‘‘pronoun’’ is a verbal sertence. ni-na it is it, that is it ni-nii-ni-na®™ (oe? Mnterally. at 1s 1 nih-ni-ni-na® it was I ha"ta®-na-ni-na® it will be I ni-na-ni-ts “/tasna"ka’ni hou’xa’atso’u Aman was living alone. In the morning he went hunting, hitd’/uani wa"tyinaéné”’niia"ty@’ity' nohutte'ha’ntinan nohut’da"ts in the evening he returned. ‘‘When I am away, when comes mita® tesabihei tsdtitsnehin wattyvtattyi min® fa far a person, do not invite him!”’ he told her his wife. “Even hana’yeiso" tsdtya™ts tsd’tya"ts tsaibhi’isiin a*hi’ta"wi’ if he is about to enter, enter do not let him.” And indeed a™'t’as0jha®’te'i in-ini/n hotu’ta"wit nounenta"té’ihini when he was away this man, surely some one came. 29 Or: ha®-yatani-ts, animate; ha"-yatan-ei, inanimate. ''. 138 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 i/ninin naxka™’ka® hitso’wateateini ath no’/hu ini’ta™ His wife just would not say anything. And that person katka”’ houxnarardan’ti hini’n’a”™ ha*hitso’watyatyin just walked about. His wife would not say anything. hi/nidin hou’xtani idawa tso'tsod ja” ha"hu’ityina- He made as if to in enter, but he did itsowatyi-istso’dji" nah’now’uda’nts hi’n-inin hoti’xna"tcitana not enter. Returned this man, asked her: ha™Axtsd-nouné’nita™t ni’watyita™t hini/n wa’é'idy'ya™ts “Has some one come?” he said to her his wife. “Indeed he did!” niwatei'teity' hih®’a™ ni’watcita® hana” dya® ta’ta™ she said to him. “Is that so?” he said to her. “Now even hana’yeiso hidaww’ tixi’l’ tsdtya™ts' tsdtya ts tsa’bhe’isi’n if he is about to in enter, enter do not let him!”’ wa"tyl'ta"tyl ini’n naxta’é ho’uxats’6u nu’hu-inen he said to her his wife. And again went hunting that man. haxkouta’nixty! houxtei’ noune’nita™té’hinin nu’hu ini’n When he was away long, again some one came that man. wa"tyina’xni’1’ tayani’ ti’1s0’ tsdtyanits nu’hu ini’tiin He was about to but did not enter, that person nuhut’ indunenita™téitan hdi’xka™kanitaéko’utyin — hitidjé’na™ who came. Then he flapped the door. wa"tyinehi 7’tsa™nine’ixty! tsddja"ts wa"tyita”’ ty! a"h’ine’n She began to restrain herself no longer. “Enter!”’ she said to him. And aman duxtsd’djani wa"tyinéhi 7’ byitsiwa™na” hd’hiso”’ it was who entered. She began to cook for him. When she had byitsi’wa™na wa"tyinehi’1’ hada’wa"ty! a*hiyo’u-wa"tyi'nits cooked, she went to’ give him food. And he said: itsiinéni’ ’100u na"tyi'tsdta™ wa"tyi'teity! wa"tyinehi’1’ “That is not the kind I use as plates,” he said to her. She went to i/niitetyin a™tyi’tsha”’tyi amhta™@ itsdnani’fou na™tyitsd’tan change his plate. Andagain, ‘‘Thatisnotthe kind I useas plates,” wattyi'teityi ni’watci-ka’sd anatyi’tsaha’a® a"h = how’uxni’é# he said to her. Constantly she changed his plates and the same nité’idji wa"tyine’hi’i bihi hatyi’tsaha™ i/nan he said. Then she began all to use her plates, every kind. wa"tyina?’ni’1 ityho’uwin atyi’tsha"tyi wa"tyina’ ’ni’1’ Then she began not to know what to use as a plate. Then she began notyana"ta™ otna"dji’ts*ha"tyi wa"tyiné hi’ nat’a’hni’i to think what to use as a plate. Then she went and drew off axni’detyin hiwéa’xa’ wa"tyina’n a"tyitsha™ty! wi'uu one of her moccasins. And she went and used it as a plate. eoelev tana’ning® = wa"tyite’ity! that is very near,’’ he said to her. ''UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PUBLICATIONS IN AMERICAN ARCHAEOLOGY AND ETHNOLOGY Vol. 12, No. 4, pp. 139-194 June 24, 1916 MIWOK MOIETIES BY) EDWARD WINSLOW GIFFORD CONTENTS PAGE AMtROGWUChiON: wee eur tse See ee ae SS ek Ske aie 139 Moieties te eas 140 RO OTN ay |e a ee ee ere 141 Totemism . 142 Ceremonies ee ee i ces Ae 145 Personal (Na@mesi ses a ea ea Eee . 146 Mia rrr ses en ee 161 Genealogies : 165 Nerms Of Relationship) ss): ee ee ee ee 170 Terminolosyand: Social, Customs 32.5285 ieee eee ee 181 Cross-cousin Marriage 189 Conclusion Ea RE IS Eh EY i area ae ee Ueto 193 INTRODUCTION The Miwok Indians of the Sierra Nevada of California are divided by anthropologists into three dialectic groups, termed Northern or Amador, Central or Tuolumne, and Southern or Mariposa. These three groups occupy the western slope of the mountains from El Dorado County in the north to Madera County in the south.t. Their social organization takes the form of totemic exogamic moieties with paternal descent. To Dr. C. Hart Merriam and to Dr. S. A. Barrett belongs the credit of calling attention to the Miwok moieties.2. The present contribution, "4 For ‘geographical information see C. Hart Merriam, Distribution and Classi- fication of the Mewan Stock of California, Am. Anthr., n. s., 1x, 338-357, 1907; and 8. A. Barrett, The Geography and Dialects of the Miwok Indians, Univ. Calif. Publ. Am. Arch. Ethn., vi, 333-368, 1908. 2C. Hart Merriam, Totemism in California, Am. Anthr., n. s., x, 558-562, 1908; S. A. Barrett, Totemism Among tke Miwok Indians, Journ. Am. Folk-Lore, XVH, 237, 1908} ''140 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol.12 while treating of the moieties in a general way, deals especially with two subjects with which they are closely interlocked, viz., personal names and terms of relationship. The former are connected with the totemic features of the moieties, the latter with the exogamic features. The writer has recently found an organization, bearing a resem- blanee to that of the Miwok, among the Shoshonean Mono on the western slope of the Sierra Nevada in Madera County, and among the Chukchansi, Gashowu, and Tachi, which are Yokuts tribes. The Chukchansi inhabit Madera County north of the San Joaquin River; the Gashowu inhabit Fresno County south of the San Joaquin River ; and the Tachi inhabit the plains north of Tulare Lake. These discov- eries, which will be treated in a forthcoming paper, indicate that social organization on a dual basis was common to a large part of south central California.® The data here recorded refer, except where otherwise noted, to the Central Sierra Miwok, and were obtained during three visits to their territory in Tuolumne County. These visits were made in 19138, 1914, and 1915. Information was also obtained from people who spoke the Northern Sierra dialect and who were employed on ranches in the vicinity of Elk Grove, Sacramento County. These people had come down from their homes in the Sierra Nevada foothills of Amador County. A brief visit was also paid to the Southern Sierra Miwok of Madera County. In the preparation of this paper I am indebted to Dr. A. L. Kroeber, who has unstintingly given me the benefit of his knowledge of Californian ethnology. MOIETIES As already related, the Central Sierra Miwok are divided into ex- ogamic moieties with paternal descent, usually spoken of as kikua (water side) and tunuka (land, or dry, side). Frequently the former are referred to as ‘‘bullfrog people’’ (lotasuna) and the latter as ‘‘pluejay people’’ (kosituna). The presence of two exogamie divisions with animal nicknames has at least a superficial analogy to a case mentioned by Dr. W. H. R. Rivers as occurring on the island of Raga or Pentecost in the northern New Hebrides.* 3 For a preliminary notice see Dichotomous Social Organization in South Central California, Univ. Calif. Publ. Am. Arch. Ethn., x1, 291-296, 1916. 4 Totemism in Polynesia and Melanesia, Journ. Roy. Anthr. Inst., xxxix, 172, 1909. ''1916] Gifford: Miwok Moieties 141 With the Miwok the moiety has no subdivisions. At first glance the fact that 16 per cent of the Central Sierra Miwok are named after bears, and the remainder after numerous other animate and inanimate objects and phenomena, would seem to suggest a phratral system, with numerous totemic gentes, gone into decay. The Indians, nevertheless, positively deny the existence of smaller divisions. They in no way regard the people with bear names, for example, as forming a special group. Nothing in the information obtained points to a phratral system ever having been in operation. Individuals from the Northern Sierra division of the Miwok were found to disagree as to the occurrence of the moiety system among their people. An informant from West Point in Calaveras County and one from Jackson in Amador County stated that the dual divisions were in force in those places. Two other informants, one thirty and the other about forty years of age, from Plymouth, in Amador County, knew nothing about the moieties. EXOGAMY The exogamic rules of the moieties were not rigidly adhered to even before the coming of the whites. Out of a series of four hundred and thirteen individuals, whose names were obtained, one hundred and eighty-four, or 45 per cent, belonged to the water moiety, and two hundred and twenty-nine, or 55 per cent, to the land moiety. The greater number of these four hundred and thirteen individuals were either of the generation of the oldest Indians of today or of the pre- ceding generation. Had the exogamic rules been strictly enforced it would have meant that ten people out of every hundred went un- married or else married late in life. The natural result of this pre- ponderance of one moiety over the other would be the breaking down of strict exogamy in actual practice, especially in a case like the present, where the system lacks the rigidity of the Australian marriage- class system. Informants stated that strenuous efforts were never made to prevent improper marriages. The relatives merely objected and pointed out the impropriety of such marriages. Under the head- ing ‘‘Marriages’’ are listed the recorded Miwok marriages, of which actually 25 per cent are improper. The figures in the last paragraph show the division into moieties of the Central Sierra Miwok as a whole, at least sovfar as the data go. A list of the inhabitants of only one village was obtained. This village ''142 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 was located on Big Creek near Groveland. The total number of indi- viduals listed is one hundred and two and includes people of all generations within the knowledge of the informant. Out of this total, 56 per cent belonged to the water moiety and 44 per cent to the land moiety. This is the reverse of the situation among the Central Sierra Miwok exclusive of the Big Creek people. A table will perhaps make the situation clearer. ~ Percentage Percentage of water of land moiety moiety Central Sierra Miwok-in general -._..-..0..-.----------+-ec00---- 45 55 Village at Big Creek 56 44 Central Sierra Miwok, except Big Creek people ............ 41 59 Unfortunately no other village censuses have been taken, so that in comparing the Big Creek people with the remainder of the Central Sierra Miwok we are comparing with a very miscellaneous and scat- tered lot of individuals. Roughly stated, however, they may be said to be mainly Jamestown and Knights Ferry people. At Big Creek twelve people out of a hundred were ineligible for monogamic mar- riage within the village, if strict exogamy were enforced. In the region outside of Big Creek, however, eighteen people out of a hun- dred were ineligible. TOTEMISM That totemic symptoms of one sort or another are present in the Miwok organization cannot be denied; yet, on the other hand, it must be acknowledged that the classing of the Miwok with totemic peoples is based on a rather weak foundation. The claims for such classifi- cation rest on three well established facts. First, all nature is divided between land and water, in a more or less arbitrary manner, to be sure, as shown by the classing of such animals as the coyote, deer, and quail on the ‘‘water’’ side. Second, the exogamic moieties are identified respectively with land and water. Third, an intimate connection exists between the land and water divisions of nature and the land and water moieties. This connection is through personal names, which usually have an implied reference to animate or inanimate natural objects or phenomena, although not infrequently to manufactured objects instead. The objects or phe- nomena referred to in personal names belong, as a rule, either to the water or to the land side of nature. The names are applied according ''1916] Gifford: Miwok Moieties 143 as the individual is of the water or of the land moiety. Hence, it may be said that each moiety is connected through the personal names of its members with a more or less definite group of objects and phenomena. The ensuing very incomplete lists, the contents of which were spontaneous on the part of informants, give some idea of the dual classification of nature. The reason for placing on the ‘‘water’’ side certain ereatures which are actually land animals is hard to under- stand. An informant explained two of the cases to me as follows: The quail is placed on the water side because a turtle once turned into a quail; while the coyote is placed on the water side because Coyote won a bet with the creator and the latter had to go to the sky and take a land-side name, while Coyote remained on earth and took a water- oe side name. On the water side are coyote, deer, antelope, beaver, otter, quail, dove, kingbird, bluebird, turkey vulture, killdeer, jacksnipe, goose, crane, kingfisher, swan, land salamander, water snake, eel, whitefish, minnow, katydid, butterfly, clouds, and rainy weather. On the land side are tree squirrel, dog, mountain lon, wildeat, raccoon, jay, hawk, condor, raven, California woodpecker, flicker, salmon-berry, ‘‘ Indian potato,’’ sky, and clear weather. Another, though slender, bit of evidence in favor of totemism is a fragment of a myth recounting the origin of the moieties. It was obtained from a woman of the water moiety, Mrs. Sophie Thompson, formerly chieftainess at Big Creek, near Groveland. She stated that her father, Nomasu, told her the story. In this myth it is interesting to note that, although an animal of each side is concerned, it is the coyote, usually classified by the Miwok as a water animal, which actually gives birth to the four founders of the moieties. However, the part the coyote plays may perhaps be as much that of culture hero as of water totem. The myth, the scene of which is laid in Hetch- Hetchy Valley, runs as follows: Coyote said to his wife, Bear, as he was about to cohabit with her: ‘‘We will have a boy and a girl.’’ His wife gave birth to twins, a coyote-boy and a coyote-girl, who grew up. Coyote-girl married a bear. Coyote himself dreamed and ‘‘made the first four people when he was dreaming. He dreamed how he was going to make two kinds and how he was going to call them.’’ Coyote-girl and her husband told each other they would have four children, two girls and two boys. Coyote- girl gave birth to them and they were the first four people about whom Coyote dreamed. ''144 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 Coyote named one of the male children Tunuka and one of the female children Kikua. The other male child he named Kikua and the other female Tunuka. Coyote thus made the moieties and gave people their first names. The new couples, although brothers and sisters, married and had children. The gopher acted as messenger and told Tunuka (woman) to come and help Kikua (woman) give birth to her child. After his wife Kikua had given birth, Tunuka (man) went out and killed a turkey vulture so as to wrap his baby in the feathers. Next Tunuka (woman) had a baby and gopher went to Kikua (woman) and asked her to come and assist at the delivery. Then Kikua (the husband of Tunuka) went out and killed an eagle to wrap his baby in. He also killed a deer and tanned the hide to make a cradle-board of it for the baby. Coyote-boy also married his sister’s daughter Tunuka, the wife of Kikua. The above myth is the only one obtained which points to a belief in actual descent from animals. When applied to people with bear names it looks very much like a myth of descent from the totem, or at least from the animal after which these people are named. Especi- ally is this true if a genealogy shows bear names continuously on the male side of the family. Such was very nearly the case with the family of the informant’s husband (see genealogy III). With one exception, all possessed bear names, at least during the four generations shown in the genealogy just mentioned. When asked if her husband be- lieved his paternal ancestors to be descended from a bear, Mrs. Thomp- son replied in the affirmative ; but the bear she referred to was Coyote- girl’s husband, who, according to the myth, was the paternal ancestor of all the Miwok regardless of moiety or personal name, and not merely the paternal ancestor of the Miwok with bear names. Negative an- swers were received from all other informants when similar questions were propounded to them. They were usually amused at the idea of one of their ancestors being a bear, the sun, a dance-pole, or some other object. In short, the Central Sierra Miwok as a whole do not believe that they are descended from animals. They do believe, however, that they succeeded the animals on earth, which is the belief common to the typical central Californian stocks. This belief, that before the coming of the Indians animals possessed the world, is very different from the idea of descent from the totem. Informants stated that in former days it was customary for people to ‘‘show respect’’ to the bear, the eagle, and the falcon after any of these had been killed. This was done by laying the body of the slain creature on a blanket and having a little feast in honor of it when it was brought to the hunter’s home. So far as I could ascertain, this ‘was not a ceremony connected with moieties or with totemism. It was no different in import from the offerings made by the Miwok when ''1916] Gifford: Miwok Moieties 145 a condor was killed or when the young of a certain hawk were taken from the nest.’ This type of ceremony was common to a large part of California. The purpose was to appease the animal or its spirit. The ceremony was based on the belief that the animals possessed dangerous supernatural power. Obviously the three cases in question are no different in motive from the above, or from the practices of other stocks, of which a notable example is the Maidu treatment of bears.° The supernatural powers obtained by shamans from animals were not received, except by coincidence, from the animal after which the shaman was named. A man of the water moiety might become a bear shaman just as readily as a man of the land moiety, even though bears and bear names are associated only with the latter moiety. Appar- ently a man’s moiety and his personal name had no influence on his acquisition of supernatural power. The animal he was named after did not become his familiar or guardian spirit, except, as I have said, by coincidence. CEREMONIES The participation of the moieties as such in games and cere- monies was unimportant. Out of forty-four known ceremonies, the \ moieties took part as such in only four—the funeral, the mourning ceremony, the girl’s puberty ceremony, and a dance known as the ahana. At least at Big Creek the moieties had reciprocal funerary functions, it being the duty of one moiety to care for the dead of the other. In the washing of the people which terminated the mourning ceremony washers of the water moiety tended one basket and washed people of the land moiety, while washers of the land moiety tended another basket and washed people of the water moiety. This custom, together with that of the moieties taking sides in games, obtained regu- larly at Big Creek, but not to such an extent elsewhere. This perhaps points to Big Creek as a place in which the moiety system was more firmly established. In the girl’s puberty ceremony it was customary for some girl, for whom the rites had previously been performed, to exchange dresses with the initiate. In all cases the two girls belonged to opposite moie- ties; if the initiate was of the water moiety, the girl who exchanged dresses with her must be of the land moiety. In the ahana dance the 5 See the meaning of Tcuke in the list of personal names, p. 157. 6 Roland B. Dixon, The Northern Maidu, Bull. Am. Mus. Nat. Hist., xvi, 194, 1905. ''146 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 spectators, who made gifts to the dancers, were always of the opposite moiety but of the same sex as the dancers to whom they gave presents. Among the Southern Sierra Miwok of Madera County dancers indicate their moiety by means of paint, especially on the face. The land moiety is indicated by stripes, usually horizontal; the water moiety by spots. The latter are said to represent the spots of fawns, which are water moiety animals. Informants did not know what the land moiety stripes represented. PERSONAL NAMES A child was named shortly after birth, preferably by a grand- father, but not infrequently by any one of the near relatives. The name received at that time-was kept throughout life. Names of men and women did not differ. Occasionally a person received a nickname later in life. The literal meanings or derivations, in part at least, as well as the connotations, of one hundred and forty-four personal names were cbtained. Thirty-four of these names prove to be nouns or deriva- tives of nouns, and one hundred and two verbs or derivatives of verbs. Of the remaining eight names, three are adverbial, while five may be either nouns or verbs. It is likely that a similar proportion will be found throughout the remaining two hundred and eighty-seven names, of which record was made, when the literal meanings are worked out. It is interesting to find that in the use of both nouns and verbs Yokuts personal names, as obtained by Dr. A. L. Kroeber, agree with the Miwok.' To a strange Indian, not acquainted with the individual whose name is mentioned, verb names have only their lteral meaning. To the friends and acquaintances of the individual, however, the name has more than its literal meaning. It has an implied meaning, which usually brings in a reference to an animate or inanimate object. For example, the personal name Wiiksii is a form of the verb meaning ‘‘to go.’’ Yet to the friends and relatives of the man his name meant ‘‘Sun going down.’’ Another interesting case is found in the per- sonal names Hausii and Hauteu, both derived from hausus, to yawn, or to gape. The former is a land moiety name and a bear is implied ; the latter is a water moiety name and a salmon is implied. An ex- treme case, but, one which throws light on the mental attitude of the 7 Yokuts Names, Journ. Am. Folk-Lore, xix, 142-143, 1906. ''1916] Gifford: Miwok Moieties 147 name-giver, is that of the name Kuyunu. This name, according to the informant, had the connotation, ‘‘Dog wagging its tail.’’ Kuyunu contains the same root as kuyage, to whistle. Apparently the name- giver thought of the whistling of a man to a dog as the causé of the dog wagging its tail, and, instead of naming the child after the action of the dog, named it after the cause of the dog’s action; namely, whis- tling. Without knowledge of the individual, a Miwok, on hearing any of the above names, would be unable to decide as to the person’s moiety or as to the animal or object implied. In the seventy bear names obtained, the word for bear is actually used in only one ease. In other words, among the Miwok there is absolutely nothing in the literal meanings of over 79 per cent of the personal names even to suggest totemism. It is only in the implied meanings that the totemic element appears. In this respect there is a striking resemblance to the Mohave custom of calling women by names which have only an implied and perhaps esoteric reference to natural objects or phe- nomena, the coyote, for instance.® A close parallel to Miwok names is found in Hopi personal names, as set forth in the Rev. H. R. Voth’s paper on ‘‘ Hopi Proper Names.’’® The names as a rule are considerably longer than the average Miwok name, because they are usually made up of two or more elements, in many cases a noun and a verb. Pure verb names among the Hopi are searce, but, when they do occur, they do not differ from Miwok verb names in their application. For example, consider the name Una, which means ‘‘remember’’; in this there is nothing to indicate the animal or object for which the person was named. Yet the coyote is implied, and the name ‘‘refers to the fact that a coyote is said to remember some food that he has buried somewhere and that he then gets.’’ As stated above, each Miwok name has an implied or actual reference to an object associated with the moiety to which the pos- sessor of the name belongs. Each Hopi name, however, does not refer to the clan totem of the possessor, except coincidentally, but does refer to the clan totem of the name-giver. The most striking resemblance between the Miwok and the Hopi systems of naming lies in the fact that in each system names identical in form, when applied to different individuals, may connote entirely different objects. Half-breeds born of Miwok mothers and white fathers are always considered as belonging ‘to the moiety of which the mother is not a 8A. L. Kroeber, Preliminary Sketch of the Mohave Indians, Am. Anthr., Nn. 8., Iv, 278, 1902. 9 Field Col. Mus. Anthr., vi, 61-113, 1905. ''148 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 member. For example, if the mother is of the land moiety, the half- breed child will be of the water moiety and his or her name will refer to an animal or object identified with the water side of nature. The matter of naming foreigners who take up their residence with the Miwok proceeds after a somewhat similar fashion. It is particu- larly well exemplified by a number of Yokuts and Costanoan men who lived with the Miwok and married Miwok women. As a rule these men were: placed in the moiety to which their wives did not belong. The same practice is shown in the marriage of Yottoko, a negro, to Ukunulumaiye, a Miwok woman of the land moiety. Yottoko was given a water moiety name. The above custom is just the reverse of the Winnebago practice, in which foreigners who marry Winnebago women are given a name from the wife’s clan.1° Descent with the Winnebago is paternal as with the Miwok, hence the children of such marriages belong to the mother’s clan, not directly through the mother, however, but through the father. The ensuing list gives the names for which complete or partial derivations have been worked out. The sex and moiety of each indi- vidual is indicated as follows: (m.) for male, (f.) for female, W. for water moiety, L. for land moiety. The italicized words in this list indicate the animals or other objects to which the personal names refer. It is to be noted that the connotation of a name occasionally brings to light an interesting old custom, for example, in the case of the name Teuke (see p. 157). Lack of familiarity with the language prevents a fuller linguistic analysis of the names. Akaino. L. (m.) Bear holding its head up. Akaiye, to hold one’s head up. Akulu. L. (m.) Looking at the sun. Akule, to look up. Apanta. W. (m.) Salamander in the water. Apanta, salamander. Atee. W. (f.) Cutting and drying salmon. Ate, to split off. Awanata. W.(m.) Turtle. Elki. L. (m.) Bear hanging intestines of people on top of rocks or bushes. Elkini, to hang on top of or over. Efieto. L. (m.) Bear’s manner of walking. Efa, bent or crooked. In this case reference is made to the bear bending its foot when walking. Epeta. L. (f.) Lizard lying on top of rock. Epetitci, to lie on the belly. Etu. L. (m.) Sun rising from the hills. Etu, sun; etumu, to get warm in the sun, that is, to sun one’s self; etumii, to ascend a hill. According to a Big Creek informant, etu is the term for sun at that place. Cf. watu, sun, in Southern Sierra dialect. Among the Central Sierra Miwok, other than Big Creek people, hiema is the term for sun. Etumu. L. (m.) Bear warming itself in the sun. Etumu, to sun one’s self. 10 Paul Radin, The Clan Organization of the Winnebago, a Preliminary Paper, Am. Anthr., n. s., XI, 212-2138, 1910. ''1916] Gifford: Miwok Moieties 149 Etumiiye. L. (f.) Bear climbing a hill. Etumi, to ascend a hill. Hatawa. L. (m.) Bear breaking the bones of people or animals. Hate, foot; hate, to press with the foot; atwa, to split. Hateya. L. (f.) Bear making track in the dust. Hate, foot; hate, to press with the foot. Hausii. L. (m.) Bear yawning as it awakes. Hausus, to yawn, to gape. Hauteu. W. (m.) Salmon gaping when out of water. Hausus, to yawn, to gape. He’eluye. L. (f.) Bow, arrows, and quiver placed against tree while warrior rests. Seelutco, to lay on side. Helaku. L. (f.) Sunny day without clouds. Helaku, sunny day. Helki. W. (m.) Jacksnipe (?) digging into ground with bill. Hele, to touch. The Miwok name for the bird alluded to its kuiatawila; it is said to come only in the winter. Helkimu. W. (m.) Hitting bushes with seed beater. Hele, to touch. Heltu. L. (m.) Bear barely touching people as it reaches for them. Helat, to reach for and barely touch. Hesutu. L. (m.) Lifting a yellow-jackets’ nest out of the ground. Hesa, yellow- jackets’ nest; hesute, to take out yellow-jackets’ nest. Hesutuye. L. (f.) Getting yellow-jackets’ nest from the ground. Hesa, yellow- jackets’ nest; hesute, to take out yellow-jackets’ nest. Heteltci. L. (f.) Leaning against pota ceremony pole. Helitcu, to lean against. Hisokuye. L. (f.) Hair growing on bear. Hisoku, body hair. Hopoto. W. (m.) Frog eggs hatching in water. Hopoto, round. Hotutu. W. (m.) Round rocks hurting the feet, when one is walking. Hoto- wun, to walk on round rocks; hotolum, to roll. Howotmila. L. (m.) Running hand down (encircling) branch of a certain kind of shrub to get off the seeds for beads. Howotu, beads. Hunipte. L. (m.) Looking ‘‘high-toned’’ when getting seed. Hunepu, to look proud. Hupaiye. W. (f.) Making boiled ‘‘wild cabbage’’ into a ball for lunch when cooking acorns. Hupaiye, to squeeze. Huyana. W. (m.) Rain falling. Kalmanu. W. (m.) Lightning striking tree. Kala, lightning striking. Katuye. W.(m.) Damming water in pool. Kata, to close, to shut. Kilikila. L. (m.) Small hawk (kilikila) calling, making a cry which resembles name. Koho. L. (m.) Limping. Cojo, Spanish for lame. Kolenya. W. (f.) Fish coughing. Kole, to cough. Kolotomu. W. (f.) Getting oak-leaf gall-nuts. Kolotu, a spiny red oak-leaf gall-nut. Kosumi. W. (m.) Going fishing with a spear for salmon. Kose, to throw at; kosumu, salmon. Kukse. W. (m.) Valley quail starting to fly from ground. Kukse, to be fright- ened. Kusetu. W. (f.) ‘‘Wild potato’’ sprouting. Kusetu, to bloom. Kusetu. L. (m.) ‘‘Wild potato’’ growing out of ground. Kusetu, to bloom. Kusetuye. W. (f.) ‘‘Wild potato’’ sprouting. Kusetu, to bloom. Kutattca. L. (m.) Bear scattering intestines of a person as it eats him. Ku- tatcnani, to throw away something not wanted. Kutcume. L. (m.) Unburned ends of wood after fire dies out. Kuteuyak. L. (m.) Bear with good hair. Kutci, good. ''150 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 Kututeanati. L. (f.) Bear eating people. This name is undoubtedly of the same derivation as Kutattea. Kuyunu. L. (m.) Dog wagging its tail. Probably from kuyage, to whistle, in which case the meaning is entirely a matter of implication. The reason for such a meaning lay in the mind of the name-giver, who connected the wag- ging of a dog’s tail with the whistling of a person to the dog. Labakse. W.(m.) Getting elderberry wood. Lapa, elderberry. Lilepu. L. (m.) Bear going over a man hiding between rocks. Lile, up, prob- ably used here with the idea of over, or on top of. Lifiugse. L. (m.) Tule growing in water. Lifia, tule. Lipteu. W. (m.) Dropping of eggs of female salmon when it is lifted up. Lipisa, to drop. Liptuye. L. (f.) Getting pine-nuts from cones which have dropped from the tree to the ground. Lipisa, to drop. Litaia. W. (m.) Hummingbird darting down after having gone straight up. Litafii, to dart down. Liwanu. L. (m.) Bear growling. Liwani, to talk; liwa, to make noise. Lumai. W. (m.) Humming of hummingbird’s wings when it is flying fast. Lumana, to go by with a noise. Lutaiyet. W. (f.) Fresh-water snail (Physa). Luyu. W. (m.) Dove shaking head sideways. Luyani, to shake head sideways. Luyunu. L. (m.) Bear taking off leg or arm of person when eating him. Luyani, to shake head sideways. Liitemt. W. (m.) Salmon going fast up riffle. Lutsu, to ascend. Maiyefio. L. (f.) Chieftainess. Matcumpaiye. L. (f.) Eating farewell-to-spring seed raw. Matcu, farewell-to- spring (Godetia williamsoni). Memtba. W. (m.) Tasting farewell-to-spring seed after it has been mashed with pestle and while still in mortar. Memttu, to taste. Mituna. W. (m.) Wrapping a salmon with willow stems and leaves after catch- ing it. Mituye, to roll up. Moemu. L. (m.) Bears sitting down looking at each other. Mo’ani, to meet; moeye, to join. Molestu. W. (m.) Refers to the stone shaped like a deer’s foot, which brings good luck in deer-hunting to its owner. Mole, a magic stone. Mona. W. (m.) Getting jimson weed seed. Monoyu, jimson weed; monui, Yokuts for jimson weed. Muliya. L. (m.) Hitting farewell-to-spring seed with stick when it is on bush. Mule, to beat or strike. Mulya. L. (m.) Knocking acorns off tree with a long stick. Mule, to beat or strike. Miile. W. (m.) Hawk seizing quail on ground. Mule, to strike. Notaku. L. (m.) Growling of bear as some one passes. Notcaku, to growl. Notcitcto. W. (m.) Coyote, snarling over piece of meat under its foot. Notcu, to cry. Noteuuku. L. (f.) Any kind of animal calling. Noteu, to ery. Omusa. L. (m.) Missing things when shooting with arrows. Omsa, to miss with arrows. Another informant gave this man’s name as meaning, ‘‘ Miss- ing deer when shooting at them with arrows.’’ Otu. W. (m.) Collecting sea shells in a basket. Ote, to put in a basket. Oya. W. (m.) Naming or speaking of the kuiatawila bird (jacksnipe?). Oya, to name. ''1916] Gifford: Miwok Moieties 151 Pati. W. (m.) Twisting willows for carrying fish. Patiwe, to break by twisting. Patiwo. W.(m.) Taking bones from slain deer. Patiwe, to break by twisting. Pikatcé. L. (f.) Sifting acorn flour on flat basket by shaking. Pika, to sift. Pilekuye. W. (f.) Shell nose-stick staying in the ocean. Pileku, shell nose-stick. Polaiyu. W.(m.) Lake. Polaiyu, lake, valley, or ocean. . Polneye. W. (f.) Dove decoying a person by feigning injury. Polangas, to fall. Pootei. W. (f.) Cutting salmon’s belly. Putu, to cut open the belly. Posala. L. (f.) Pounding farewell-to-spring seed. Posa, to burst. Pusubi. W. (m.) Fog blowing up and covering everything. Puselum, to blow. Pususu. L. (m.) Calling a dog. Puus, Yokuts for dog. Puta. W. (m.) Cutting open a salmon. Putu, to cut open the belly. Putbana. W. (f.) Catching small fish with basket. Putbako, to scoop up. Putceyu. W. (f.) Evil smell of deer’s large intestine. Puseyu, to stink. Putkuse. L. (f.) Acorn soup boiling. Putkuse, to bubble. Sakati. L. (m.) Hawk (kilikila) catching a lizard. Sakati, a species of lizard. Sapata. L. (m.) Bear hugging tree. Sapatu, to hug. Sapata. L. (f.) Bear dancing with forefeet around tree. Sapatu, to hug. Sawa. W. (m.) Rock on edge of river. Sawa, rock. Septuye. L. (f.) Taking something, that is burning, from the fire. Sipe, to pull out. Sewati. L. (f.) Curving of bear’s claws.. Sewati, curved. Sibeta. W. (m.) Pulling white sucker fish from under flat rock. Sipe, to pull out. : Simutuye. L. (f.) Pinning together tree squirrel’s abdomen with stick after gutting. Simute, to pin together. Sipatu. L. (m.) Softening fox’s tail after skinning, by repeatedly shoving stick into it. Sipe, to pull out. Sipinyawo. W. (m.) Breaking deer’s bone for marrow. Sipe, to pull out. Sukumi. L. (m.) Great horned owl. Suletu. L. (m.) California jay flying out of tree. Sulete, to fly about. | Suletuye. L. (f.) Falcon flying from rock. Sulete, to fly about. Sumtciwe. W. (m.) Plenty of whiskers. Sumutcelu, facial hair. Sumtciwe. L. (f.) Fuzz on sugar pine cone when it is young. Evidently this name and the preceding are both derived from a common root, which prob- ably refers alike to fuzz and hair. Sumutcupti. W. (m.) A name having reference to the person’s whiskers. Sumutcelu, facial hair. Supatce. W. (f.) Mashing seed with pestle. Supa, to mash. Taipa. W. (m.) Valley quail spreading wings as it alights. Tapa, to spread wings. Tamulkuyo. W. (f.) From the north. Tamalin, north. Undoubtedly an ani- mate or inanimate object was originally implied. Compare with Tcumetoki, dove coming from the south. Tetmé. L. (m.) Dog picking up scraps thrown out. Tetém, to pick up. Tiponya. L. (m.) Great horned owl sticking head under body and poking egg when it is hatching. Tipe, to poke. Tiwatuyak. W. (f.) Trading and buying beads. Tiwako, to trade. Tiwitita. W. (m.) MKilldeer running on ground and calling. Tewititi, killdeer. Tolkatcu. L. (f.) Small ears of the bear. Tolko, ear in Southern Sierra dialect. Totokono. W. (m.) Sandhill crane. Tuiwt. L. (m.) California jay hopping on ground. Tuiyangum, to jump. ''152 Unwersity of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 Tukeye. L. (f.) Pine cones dropping and making dust. Tukini, to throw end- wise. Tukuli. W. (m.) Caterpillar traveling head first down tree in summer. Tukini, to throw endwise. Tumma. L. (m.) Beating drum. Tuma, drum. Tupi. W. (m.) Throwing salmon on to bank. Tupi, to pull up or out. Tutce. W. (m.) Small frog jumping. Tutneni, to squat. Teceweksu. L. (m.) Tree squirrel eating green pine cones. Tciwam, to chew. Teintiye. L. (f.) Pressing or pounding buckeye nuts. Tciniwa, to squeeze. Tcinwe. W. (m.) Squeezing intestines out of minnows. Tciniwa, to squeeze. Tcitepu. W. (m.) Shining of abalone shell. Tcitepu, to shine. Tcititi. L.(m.) Green like katydid. Tcitaku, green. Teumetokti. W. (m.) Dove coming from the south. Teumete, south. Uhubita. W. (m.) Drinking water in the river. Uhu, to drink, in Southern and Northern Sierra dialects. Uhubitu. W. (m.) Ill-smelling stagnant water. Uhu, to drink, in Southern and Northern Sierra dialects. Ukulnuye. L. (f.) Bear taking young into den. Uku, to enter. Ukunulumaiye. L. (f.) Bear going into den. Uku, to enter; emaiye, to visit. Utatci. lb. (f.) Bear scratching itself. .Utas, to scratch. Uzumati. W. (m.) Grizzly bear. A nickname applied on account of a dis- agreeable disposition. Wauna. W. (m.) Snow geese calling when flying. Woani, to bark; wou, to crow, to whine. Wialu. W. (m.) Dove going away. Wialum, to leave. Wootci. L. (m.) Coyote barking. Woani, to bark; wou, to whine, to crow. Woto. L. (m.) Coyote sitting on rock barking and moving tail. Woani, to bark; wou, to whine, to crow. Wunuti. W. (m.) Hunting-man. Wuntu, to hunt. Wiiksii. L. (m.) Sun going down. Wuksu, to go. Yotimé. L. (m.) Yellow-jacket carrying pieces of meat from house to nest. Yoote, to carry. Yotimo. L. (m.) Yellow-jacket carrying pieces of meat from house to nest. Yoote, to carry. This man is the son of the above. Yottoko. W. (m.) Black mud at edge of water. Yottoko, dirty; yotok, earth or dirt in Plains Miwok. The individual was a negro. Yutkiye. L. (f.) Chicken hawk lifting ground squirrel off of the ground. Yiitki, to hang. Yuttciso. L. (f.) Lice thick on chicken hawk. Yutuk, to stick on. Yutne. W. (m.) Falcon making nest damp by defecating on it. Yutuk, to stick on. Yutu. W.(m.) Coyote making feint to seize bird. Yutme, to claw. The list which follows gives personal names as rendered into Eng- lish by the Indians, but the exact denotations of which are unknown to the writer: A’a’me. W. (f.) Dove cooing to young. Akunatala. W.(m.) Retiring to attend to natural functions. Almase. W. (m.). Amayeta. L. (m.) Big manzanita berries. ''1916] Gifford: Miwok Moieties 153 Anawuye. L. (m.) Stretching bear’s hide to dry. Ape. W.(m.) Eating acorn mush with the fingers. Bakno. L. (m.) Missing people with arrows. Bosaiya. L. (f.) White down on head of young eagle. Ciisua. L. (m.) Hawk (kilikila) catching small birds. Elsu. W.(m.) Falcon circling high in air. Esege. L. (f.) Bear showing teeth when cross. Eskeye. L. (m.) Farewell-to-spring seed cracked open on bush. Ewentcu. W.(m.) Deer eating brush. Hahiyo. W. (m.) Salmon keeping mouth open when in shallow water. Haikiwisu. W. (m.) Salmon opening and closing mouth after being taken from river. Haiyepugu. L. (m.) Bear becoming angry suddenly. Hateaiya. W. (f.) Black clouds in streaks. Hehemuye. L. (f.) Bear out of breath from running. Hatetas—W. Gn.): Hoho. L. (m.) Bear growling. Hoiyitcalu. L. (m.) Bear becoming angry. Hokoiyu. W. (m.) Falcon hiding extra food. Hotamuye. W. (f.) Man on rockpile watching for deer. Hotcakme. W. (m.) Spearing salmon. Huata. W. (f.) Carrying seeds in burden basket. Huatama. L. (f.) Mashing seeds in mortar. Hulutuye. W. (f.) Abalone shell on necklace when dancing. Hulwema. L. (f.) Dead grizzly bear, killed by hunter. Hunui. W. (m.) Salmon fat. Huslu. L. (m.) Bear having lots of hair. Hustemeyak. W. (m.) Putting fresh-water snails (Physa) in bags. Hutamsi. W. (f.) Fish getting together in a bunch. Hute. L. (m.) Stars appearing which form handle of the Dipper. Hutcumi. L. (m.) Bear eating people. Huyube. W. (m.) White oak log lying on ground. Hiimiita. L. (f.) Gathering Indian tobacco (hutia) in sifting basket. Ilokuk. L. (f.) Softness of leaves of ‘‘ wild potato’’ when cooking. Iskemu. W. (m.) Water running gently when creek dries. Istu. L. (m.) Sugar pine sugar. Itcimuye. L. (f.) Magpie eating grasshopperr. Kaliska. L. (m.) Coyote chasing deer. Kamata. W. (f.) Throwing gambling bones on ground in hand game. Kanatu. W.(m.) Making mashed seed into hard lump. Kaptinii. W.(m.) Breaking ice in the creek. Kateuktcume. L. (m.) Bear lying down with paws folded, doing nothing. Ka’uwu. L. (m.) Acorn mush cooling and thickening in basket. Kauwiluye. W. (f.) Ice freezing on something. Kono. L. (m.) Tree squirrel biting through middle of pine-nut. Kulmuye. L. (f.) Bear eating young leaves just sprouting. Kulya. L. (m.) Sugar pine nuts burned black. Laapisak. L. (f.) Bear walking on one place making ground hard. Lanku. L. (m.) Said to be a Yokuts name. Lanu. L. (m.) People passing one another at the pota ceremony, when running around pole. ''154 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol.12 La’uyu. L. (m.) Mashed farewell-to-spring seed adhering to lips when eating. Leyati. W. (m.) Shape of abalone shell. Lii. W. (m.) Turtle poking head out of water. Liktuye. L. (f.) Bear licking something it has killed. Liluye. L. (f.) Chicken hawk singing when soaring. Lise. W. (m.) Salmon’s head just coming out of water. Litcitu. W. (m.) Salmon swimming in river. Loiyetu. L. (m.) Farewell-to-spring in flower. Loiyetuye. L. (f.) Farewell-to-spring in flower. Lokni. W. (m.) Rain coming through small hole in roof. Luituye. L. (f.) Bear crippled from being shot. : Lukulkatu. L. (m.) Making fox-skin quiver. Lupu. W. (f.) Iridescence of abalone shell. Lusela. L. (f.) Bear swinging its foot when licking it. Lutelu. L. (m.) Goldfinch flying. é Makuina. L. (m.) Bear hating people. Makuina. L. (m.) Knocking farewell-to-spring seed off bush with stick. Malataku. W. (m.) Clouds covering the sky. Malila. W. (m.) Salmon going fast up riffle. Malkuyu. W. (m.) Farewell-to-spring flowers drying. Matcinina. W. (m.) Salmon jumping falls and missing. Matcuta. L. (f.) Cracking and eating sugar pine nuts. Metikla. W.(m.) Reaching hand under rocks to catch white sucker fish. Metikla. W. (m.) Putting on metakila (feather apron). Miltaiye. W. (f.) Water in waves. Misu. W. (m.) Rippling water. Moitoiye. W. (f.) Valley quail’s topknot bobbing as bird walks. Molimo. L. (m.) Bear going into shade of trees. Momosu. L. (m.) Yellow-jackets piled up in nest in winter. Mosetuya. W. (m.) Dark-looking water on the ocean. Mu’ata. L. (m.) Little jellow-jackets in the nest. Mukuye. W. (f.) Old trail of deer. Musonota. L. (f.) Magpie jumping on the ground. Musonotoma. W. (f. ) Coloring of valley quail. Mutekuye. L. (f.) Taking bow and arrows from wall to go shooting. Mikii. W. (m.) Deer making trail when walking back and forth. Namino. L. (m.) Hawk (kilikila) pulling at food, lifting its head as it does. Naminu. W. (m.) Coyote feeling weak after eating salmon. Natecamila. W. (f.) Stirring acorn mush when cooking. Nepli. L. (m.) Bear eating a man. Newulo. W. (m.). Nikiti. W.(m.) Round and smooth like abalone shell. Nimo. W. (m.). Niwuye. L. (f.) Getting seed. Noini. L. (m.) Putting sonolu (feather head-ornament) on head. Nokonyu. L. (m.) Katydid’s nose being close to its mouth. Noksu. L. (m.) Smell of chicken hawk’s (suyu) nest. Nomasu. W. (m.) Giving away (handing to some one) seed. Another inform- ant said that nomasu was the name of a kind of seed. Oiyikoisiye. L. (f.) Getting salt at a place near Copperopolis. Ofialik. W.(m.) Making bows out of cedar. ''1916] Gifford: Miwok Moieties 155 Onpume. W. (f.) Coyote about to catch something. Osepa. W: C.): Osmokse. L. (m.) Hawk (kilikila) eating dead birds. Osoi. W. (m.) Becoming angry. Undoubtedly this name originally had an implied reference to some animal, since forgotten. _Panahateu. L. (m.) Twisting and breaking open sugar pine cones. Papina. L. (m.) Vine growing on oak tree. Rasapu.s: Ja. Gu) Beans big toot. Paseleno. W. (f.) Getting wild vetch. Patakasii. W.(m.) Small ant biting a person hard. Ratcuka. We (ns). Peeluyak. L. (m.) Bear flapping ears when sitting down. Pele’me. L. (m.) Coyote with head down passing person. Pelisu. W. (m.) Eating fish at river for lunch when on fishing expedition. Petno. W. (m.) Valley quail crouching in brush as hawk passes. Peusuye. W. (f.) Water spilling over. Piliteyano. L. (m.) Jack rabbit putting ears back when lying down. Piltcitema. W. (f.) Meadowlark singing. Pososu. L. (m.) Color of down of young great horned owl. Posululu. W. (f.) Frog puffed up when singing. Pota. L. (m.) One man running around pota ceremony pole. Poteu’e. W.(m.) Kicking football. Potce, to kick. Puitcitu.. VW. Gn). Pukuna. W. (f.) Deer jumping when running downhill. Pumsén6. W. (m.) Sucker fish jamping out of water. Pufioi. L. (m.) Tree squirrel jumping from pine to ground. Pusui. W.(m.) Turkey vulture putting rattlesnake to sleep by circling over it. Pusuwe. W. (m.) Cutting deer for skinning. Putepu. L. (m.) Chicken hawk (suyu) walking back and forth on limb. Putsume. L. (m.) Brushing ground around pole before pota ceremony. Putsume. L. (m.) Bear sitting on top of big rock with soles of feet turned forward, legs spread. Sakasaiyu. L. (f.) Chicken hawk (suyu) making a rough nest with holes in it. Samtuye. W. (f.) Reaching for deer meat when some one is handing it around. Sanuye. L. (f.) Red cloud coming with sundown. Sata. W. (m.) Throwing salmon out of water. Satuwiti. L. (f.) Rubbing farewell-to-spring seed with rock after it has been soaked. Selibu. L. (f.) Falcon flying along edge of bluff. Selipu. L. (f.) Falcon darting down obliquely in the air. Seliimtci. L. (m.) Shooting arrow up in air. Semeke. L. (f.) Bear lying down looking at ground. Semuki. L. (m.) Bear looking cross when in its den during snow. Semuki. L. (f.) Wizard (tuyuku) with fingers bent to shoot ‘‘poison’’ at victim. Siitu. L. (m.) Magpie’s head cut off. Sitala. W. (f.) Valley quail running uphill. Sitki. L. (m.) Putting arrow in quiver. Sitni. W. (m.) Drawing bow. Sitpu. L. (m.) Cracking bones of badger after it has been cooked. Situtu. W. (m.) Taking arrow out of quiver. ''156 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 — Situtuyu. L. (m.) Running hand down branch over basket and collecting berries that way. Siweno. L. (m.) Taking out bear’s gall. Siwili. L. (m.) Long tail of fox dragging on ground. Sokawa. W.(m.) Taking eye out of dead deer, or taking hide off. Sokono. W. (m.) Wizard’s ‘‘poison.’’ Solasu. L. (m.) Bear taking bark off tree. Soloni. W. (m.) A place name in Mariposa County. Solotci. L.(m.) Jack rabbit sitting with ears up in the morning or evening. Sofeyu. L. (m.) Bear walking with its short tail hanging down. Sopateu. L. (m.) Raven-feather sonolu (head ornament) shaking on head of dancer. Soso. L. (m.) Tree squirrel biting small hole in pine nut. Suave. li. (f.). Suki. L. (m.) Chicken hawk (suyu) having a long tail. Suk’kaa. L. (m.) Getting ahead of others in digging ‘‘ wild potatoes.’’ Sukukiye. L. (f.) Flat place near Rawhide. Sunumptea. L. (f.) Old and spoiled sugar pine nuts. Sutuluye. L. (f.) Bear making noise climbing tree. Ta’kawa. W. (m.) Mountain lion took his scalp off. Ta’kawa. L. (m.) White head of the bald eagle. Takefia. W. (m.) Falcon swooping and knocking down prey with its wing. Taktekaiyu. W.(m.) Deer running on the hills. Takutcima. L. (f.) Husking seed with stick on flat rock. Talalu. W. (m.) Big long flat rock. Tanatcio. W. (m.) Coyote poor and thin. Talatu. L. (m.) Bear walking around tree, steps close together. Talepuye. W. (f.) Polishing abalone shell. Talulu. W. (m.) Falcon eating bird. Taukiyak. L. (m.) Two arrows crossed, held by two warriors standing on either side of trail guarding it with drawn bows. Tawitci. W. (m.) Turkey vulture defecating around nest. Telumi. L. (m.) Tree squirrel taking shell off of nut. Telumu. L. (f.) Pounding farewell-to-spring seed in deep mortar. Tentpaiyu. W. (f.) A person feeling hungry while sitting beside one who mashes seeds. Tiimii. W. (m.) Black and yellow caterpillar coming out of ground. Tikmu. L: (m.) Tree squirrel digging in ground. Tikteu. W..(m.) Jacksnipe (?) digging ‘‘wild potatoes’’ (susa). Tiputa. W. (f.) Valley quail hiding young when some one passes. Titei. L. (f.) Bear making motion at every jump when running. Tiwinteu. W. (m.) Killdeer flying and calling. Tiwolu. L. (m.) Chicken hawk (suyu) turning eggs with bill when they are hatching. Tokkoko. W. (m.) Burrowing owl coming out of hole and calling ‘‘tok kok.’’ Apparently an onomatopoetic name. Tokoak. L. (f.) Refers to a place near Rawhide where the parents of the woman lived. Tokolasik. W. (f.) Black-oak acorns getting rotten in water, having been for- gotten. Toktokolu. L. (m.). ''1916] Gifford: Miwok Moieties 157 Tolikna. W. (f.) Coyote’s long ears flapping. : Toloise. W. (m.) Deer lying down and looking up at some one coming. Toloisi. L. (f.) Chicken hawk tearing gopher snake with talons. Tolol. L. (m.) Digging for ‘‘wild potato’’ (moa). Tolopoiyu. L. (m.) A big-leaved vine which grows on ground. Tolsowe. W. (m.) Deer standing, head up, ears erect, looking around. Tolsowe. W. (m.) Deer’s ears erect when it is looking around. Tonolu. L. (m.) Spotting on California jay. Tuehu. W. (m.) Turkey vulture lighting on rock or tree. Tuikuye. W. (f.) Wizard killing person with ‘‘poison.’’ Tuketti. L. (m.) Bear making dust when running. Tukubi. W. (m.) TYukutucu bird singing. Tulanu. L. (m.) Two or three bears taking food from one another. Tulmisuye. L. (f.) Bear walking slowly and gently. Tumakaiyu. L. (m.) Bear remaining stubbornly in hole when people try to get it out. Tumptea. L. (m.) Smoking Indian tobacco (hutia). Tunaa. W.(m.) Salmon’s intestines pulling out like string. Tunaa. W.(m.) Spotting on sununu fish (catfish?). Tufielu. L. (m.) Hawk (kilikila) roosting on top of a pine tree. Tusimi. W. (m.) Wizard’s ‘‘poison’’ hurting victim. Tusuwe. W. (m.) Poking deer’s stomach with stick, while it is cooking with meat and blood inside of it, to see if it is done. Tutaiyati. L.(m.) California jay ‘‘cackling’’ when singing. Tuwume. L. (f.) Arrow sticking in pota ceremony pole. Tiilemuyak. L. (m.) Morning star rising. Tint. W. (m.) Deer thinking about going to eat ‘‘ wild onions.’’ Tistiku. W.(m.) Easy breaking of shell nose-stick. Teaksepuye. L. (f.) Getting light in the morning (dawn). Teanatcimu. L. (f.) Tree squirrel ‘‘singing.’’ Tcanutuye. W. (f.) Valley quail scattering as they fly. Teasibu. L. (m.) Sun hurting eyes. Teatipi. W. (f.) Deer’s antlers hitting brush when deer is running. Teawiteu. L. (m.). Tcilawi. W.(m.) One getting ahead of others in gathering farewell-to-spring seed. Another informant gave the connotation of this name as ‘‘cutting salmon in strips.’’ Tcilikna. L. (m.) A certain species of small hawk flying. Meipliten. . 0. (m:s))). Tcipuyu. W. (f.) Tying up salmon in eal branches before cooking. Tcistu. L. (m.) A night bird calling ‘‘tcik! teik!’’ Teitatpo. L. (m.) Creeper (akantoto) going down tree. Tciwela. W. (m.) Sides of falcon’s nest. covered with excrement. Tciwu. W.(m.) Valley quail defecating as it flies. Teryino. W. (n:). Tcoileka. W. (f.) Water standing in one place. Tcokotca. W.(m.) Big cocoon on tree. Teotcka. W. (m.) Sound of water in creek. Tcuimukse. W. (m.) Big black bee, with yellow spots, gathering wae Tcuke. L. (m.) Throwing seed on roof of ceremonial house after catching young of hawk (ititu), so that people will not become sick. ''158 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. | Vol. 12 Teukitcko. W. (f.) Deer’s intestines. Teukpaiye. L. (f.) Piling up stems of farewell-to-spring. Teuktoko. W.(m.) People arriving on time to eat deer meat. Teukululuye. L. (f.) Bear making so much noise when walking that it frightens other creatures. Teulu. L. (m.) Cooking acorns in ashes. Teumaanuye. L. (f.) Crushing manzanita berries in mortar. Tcumela. L. (f.) Bears dancing in the hills. Teumutuya. L. (f.) Bear catching salmon with paws in riffle. Teuteubi. L. (m.) Sun hurting eyes as it comes up over a hill. Tcuttoko. W.(m.) Lumps around base of deer’s antler. Umlutuya. L. (m.) Soaking seed in water on arrival home after collecting. Umuye. L. (f.) Damp ground. Uptuye. W. (f.) Piling up buckeye nuts for cooking. Usepyu. L. (m.) Bear eating something it finds dead. Uskuye. L. (f.) Cracking sugar pine nuts. Utnepa. L. (m.) Bear rolling rock with foot when pursuing something. Utunya. L. (f.) Falcon, with feathers of neck ruffled up, dashing down for prey. Ututse. L. (m.) Tasting salt after it has been boiled down in hole in rock. Ulemsii. L. (m.) Bear sleeping in hole. Waketnu. L. (m.) Indians shouting as they draw bows when fighting. Wasekuye. W. (f.) Fragments of acorns being scattered by pestle. Wasilu. L. (m.) Putting on a quail-crest ear-plug. Wasilu. W. (f.) Putting on a quail-crest ear-plug. Wassusme. L. (f.) Bear standing on hind feet scratching tree. Wenitu. L. (m.) Mixing different kinds of seeds in same basket when gath- ering them. Wenutu. L. (m.) Sky clearing after being cloudy. Wilanu. L. (m.) Pouring water on acorn flour in leaching place. Wilu. L. (m.) Chicken hawk (suyu) calling ‘‘ wi.’’ Wiluye. L. (f.) Eagle singing when flying. Wininu. L. (m.) Falcon cireling in air. Wipupamu. L. (f.) Tearing people to pieces with mouth. This name may originally have had an implied reference to some animal, more than likely the bear. Witteuna. L. (m.) Falcon pulling feathers off quail. Wopemii. L. (m.) Bear bearing down a small tree when tees tbe Wuyi. W. (m.) Turkey vulture soaring. Yaluta. L. (f.) Women out on flat telling one another there is lots of farewell- to-spring seed. Yanapaiyak. W. (m.) Little clouds passing by sun and making small shadows. Yatcalu. W.(m.) Deer’s antlers spreading wide. Yeleyu. L. (m.) Going at night, walking in the dark. Perhaps this name orig- inally had an implied reference to some animal which habitually traveled at night. Yelutci. L. (f.) Bear traveling among rocks and brush without making noise. Yenateu. L. (f.) Little acorn just beginning to grow on tree. Yenene. W.(m.) Wizard pressing with fingers on a sleeping person to ‘‘poison’’ him. Yewetca. L. (f.) Bear wasting away at death. ''1916] Gifford: Miwok Moieties 159 Yokoa. L. (m.) Bad man killing every one. Yoskolo. L. (m.) Breaking off a piece of acorn. Yoskolo. L. (m.) Breaking off sugar pine cones. Yukukukuye. W. (f.) Noise made by dove with wings when flying. Another informant gave the meaning of this name as ‘‘the sound made by a rolling stone.” Yulestu. L. (m.) Hawk (kilikila) calling as it alights. Yuttefie. W. (m.) Seeds getting wet owing to a leaky roof. In sixteen instances I obtained more than one name for an indi- vidual. This was due in some eases to conflicting testimony as to the real name; in other cases the additional name was a nickname. A comparison of the meanings of real names and nicknames shows no special rule in the assigning of the latter. Sometimes the object mentioned or implied in the nickname is the same as in the real name; for example, the name Akaino and the nickname Huslu both refer to the bear. At other times the objects implied are different; for ex- ample, the name Lutelu refers to the goldfinch, while the nickname Wasilu refers to the quail-crest ear-plug. Some nicknames are ap- plied on account of personal peculiarities ; for example, the real name of one of my informants was Molestu, a name which referred to a magic stone connected with deer hunting, while among his nicknames were Sumtciwe and Sumutecupti, which were more or less derisive, names referring to his unusually full beard. Other nicknames such as Tikteu and Kaptinii are probably derived from Dick and Captain, the English names applied respectively to the two people in question. Typical connotations were obtained for these two nicknames, however, the first referring to a bird (probably the jacksnipe), the second to ice. The real names of the individuals who bore these two nicknames were Hunui, meaning ‘‘salmon fat,’’ and Luyu, meaning ‘‘dove shaking head sideways.’’ Still other nicknames refer to events in the person’s life. A man named Mosetuya, ‘‘dark-looking water on the ocean,’’ bore the nickname Ta’kawa, ‘‘mountain lion took his sealp off,’’ be- ea cause of his adventure with a mountain lion. None of the nicknames obtained apply to women. In the following table the first column contains the individual’s correct name so far as ascertainable. The second column contains another name alleged to be the real name, but which I have discarded as unlikely. The pres- ence of this column is due to conflicting testimony. The third column contains nicknames. In parentheses, following each name, is men- tioned the object referred to in the meaning of the name given in the preceding lists. ''160 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 Real name Alleged name Nickname Akaino (bear) Huslu (bear) Bakno (arrow) Yokoa (bad man) Elki (bear) Tulanu (bear) Enieto (bear) Ukunnunu (bear) Hunui (salmon) Tiktceu (jacksnipe?) Lutelu (goldfinch) Wasilu (quail-crest ear-plug) Luyu (dove) Kaptinii (ice) Luyunu (bear) Tumptca (tobacco) Molestu (deer) Wialu (dove) Iskemu (water) Sumtciwe (whiskers) Sumuteupti (whiskers) Mosetuya (water) Ta’kawa (mountain lion) Sapata (bear) Pasatu (bear) Sitni (bow) Puta (salmon) Totokono (sandhill crane) Oya (jacksnipe?) Tciyifio Nimo Akunatala Ukulnuye (bear) Semeke (bear) Yuttefie (seed) Tanatcio (coyote) The objects mentioned or implied in the personal names presented on pages 148 to 159 are listed below in three tabulations. The first two show the objects and phenomena mentioned or imphed in water moiety names and in land moiety names, respectively. The third table lists objects common to the moieties. The figures indicate the number of names which have reference to the objects listed. WATER MOIETY PAN AO MOU re si ae ers ee 6 Metakila (feather apron) .............. 1 Acorn 3 TNO Were I 1 ANT i RSC ee Rk ic ad 1 Mountains lon 223 ol Beads 1 Mud Bek SACD eey es es 1 Oakcleat calling, ee eee il IBOW. ALLOW, QUIVER 2-5 cos 3 Physa (fresh-water snail) -............. 2 Buckeye 2. oe Hf ipl a@e mame. oe ee 1 PS TLO WANS (OW, eet ee Rr 1 Rain 2 Catenpillan 2 oyu es ea 2 @uail-erest ear-plug 405) Hl louie tes ek 3 Rock 3 COCOOT ee as es 1 alameanden 22028 ae ea fl Woy ote ee eee 6 Salmon: <2 ee 21 Deer 23 Sand 1 IDO VG see ene cia 6 Sandhmllsename 020 fe ee al Orb Onin (ere 1 ease ll ees a il ARAGON eee ee eee 6 Seed 7 Harewell-to-spring. 225 et 3 Shell mose-sii@k 2 223 see eos 2 Fish 5 SNOW, COORG eee 1 Et ee 1 Sucker figh) 3s: Si 2k 3 POO Gules ee eee dl RON fig ees 1 Frog 3 MUG CUR ung eer eee i Gambling bones, 0 a 1 Munkey: willtune “3 ee 4 Hawk 1 Turtle 2 een des eee 2 Walley: qUuall: = seep ae 9 GN oe AM, eee 1 SVG CD see ee 1 Ice 2 Water 10 acksmipe (8) ce ees 3 Wihtskens 2 ee ee 2 SAINSON: WCC, 228s ee Se a SWihite Oakes sce ce 1 Renee: ees ees 2 eoWald: cabbarec? eres. 5 ee i Lake 1 COW ile PObATON hte ee ees. 2 oiler atm oh fesse eae ee 1 AWWA Bits ese cane ec 4 MVMioaiGOwlank: x x SG anager WH ie KO ea x SU Ree capes MRT is ROL O? eo is UGS ay Ee SU eC Se aise ca x Keolimare 3 es Dee epee »< x Si ieee ele Kumatsa rae ig) x Sree SEES SAA Wupuba 2 3205 x x x x ey ees Mitkas. sie sn) Se es 0s AE Be ee aera Con Neeeeatca Manisa x Sires x Da Ap ees at Moe x Xi ee ae x x SS sta ght Nafia x Xie ites Ma ae avai ened Oiyame x ee x SC ree Olona ae SE ean x Cite SMUT Osa x Sie re Me es SG eae Pansa x Keres x ~ SNe ee Paar ci) 32s ee as De eT Na een oe ees mike eee ee ST rae Nk IL Sg cg a Cun FOr A ei aa ae eee MAG OT ae ee Ae ate SCH ear ae x NINGHO etn hen re aoe) SG a a tee » Tomu Me Reet x SEU EOS er Ue ea yA MO se a tet ae Sc US VG Srna eee epee te TNGBler eG Mia eer ie Ma ee Sa x Upsaw ee eee x SESE HO LESS Sey ile er ee a Upii x Kena SO ewes eth HRN Ae Haas Uta x x » Ge eek haus Mc ea ain NYOMI Arte Maeno tnt he esis x Mee ees Terms* 13 26 6 28 aD) 9 5 * Number of terms in which each category is expressed. teale, and iipii, belonging to the opposite moiety only are his anisi, kaka, lupuba, manisa, olyame, osa, tomu, tipsa, and tta; belonging to both moieties are his ama, atce, hewasu, kawu, maksi, olo, papa, and wokli. With a woman the distribution differs. She uses thirty terms to the man’s twenty-nine. Fourteen she applies to relatives who be- long only to her moiety ; seven to relatives of the opposite moiety ; and nine to relatives who may belong to either moiety according to cir- cumstances. In the first category belong her ene, haiyeme, haiyi, kole, kumatsa, manisa, oiyame, pansa, pinuksa, tatci, tete, teale, ipsa, and iipii; in the second category belong her ajisi, anisii, kaka, nafa, tomu, tune, and iita; and in the third category belong her ama, apasti, atce, hewasu, kawu, kolina, maksi, olo, and papa. The terms of relationship with their principal applications are given below, together with any remarks that seem pertinent. The lists ''172 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 of meanings are incomplete in most cases, but are supplemented a few pages beyond by additional meanings derived directly from the gene- alogies. Unless otherwise stated the terms older and younger in the following lists mean older or younger than the speaker. At times the diminutive suffix -tci or -ktei is added for very young brothers, sisters, nieces, or nephews, as in tealektci (baby younger brother), kolektci (baby younger sister), iipsatei (baby nephew). Ama.12 Grandmother, grandmother’s sister, grandfather’s sister, great grand- mother. The reciprocal of this term is atce. Ami. Mother’s older sister, father’s brother’s wife if she is older than mother, mother’s earlier co-wife. This term is the Big Creek equivalent of the more generally used term tomu. The reciprocals are afisi and tune. Anisti. Mother’s younger sister, father’s brother’s wife (younger than mother), mother’s brother’s daughter (one of a person’s two female cross-cousins), mother’s brother’s son’s daughter (one of a person’s female cross first cousins once removed), stepmother, mother’s later co-wife. The recip- rocals of this term are afisi and tune. Afisi. Son, man’s brother’s son, woman’s sister’s son, woman’s father’s sister’s son (one of her two male cross-cousins), man’s father’s brother’s son’s son, woman’s paternal grandfather’s sister’s son (one of her male cross first cousins once removed), husband’s brother’s son, wife’s sister’s son, co-wife’s son, stepson. The reciprocals of this term are ami or tomu, anisu, haiyi, tipi, and iita, in other words, father and mother, and poten- tial stepfathers and stepmothers. Apasti. Husband’s brother, husband’s grandfather. The reciprocal of this term is olo in its meanings brother’s wife and grandson’s wife. Atce. Grandchild, man’s sister’s grandchild, woman’s brother’s grandchild, great grandchild. The reciprocals of this term are ama and papa. Ate. Younger brother, younger sister, father’s brother’s younger children, mother’s sister’s younger children, younger stepbrother, younger step- sister. This term is the Big Creek equivalent of the more generally used terms kole and teale. The reciprocals of this term are tatci and tete. Ene. Father’s sister, father’s father’s brother’s daughter. The reciprocal of this term is tipsa in its meanings woman’s brother’s child and woman’s father’s brother’s son’s child. Eselu. Child, man’s brother’s child, woman’s sister’s child. Haiyeme.. Later co-wife, husband’s brother’s wife. The reciprocal of haiyeme in the first meaning is pansa, in the second haiyeme. In this last respect, that is, being its own reciprocal, the term haiyeme parallels moe and maksi, and pinuksa in part. Haiyi. Mother’s sister’s husband, stepfather (providing he is not father’s brother when iipii is used). Nowadays there is a tendency to apply the term haiyi to father’s brother; this, however, is a modern innovation probably due to contact with the whites, for the ancient term for father’s brother is tpt. The reciprocals of this term are afisi and tune. 12 In the San Miguel dialect of Salinan this term is used for father’s parents. See J. Alden Mason, The Ethnology of the Salinan Indians, Univ. Calif. Publ. Am. Arch. Ethn., x, 170, 1912. ''1916] Gifford: Miwok Moieties 173 Hewasu. Parent-in-law, husband’s father’s brother, husband’s mother’s sister, wife’s father’s brother, wife’s mother’s sister, man’s brother’s wife’s parents, woman’s sister’s husband’s parents. The reciprocals of this term are manisa and oiyame. Kaka. Mother’s brother, mother’s brother’s son (one of a person’s two male cross-cousins, and in the light of Miwok cross-cousin marriage a man’s potential brother-in-law). The reciprocals of this term are tipsa and lupuba. Kawu. Sister’s husband, father’s sister’s husband, woman’s brother’s daughter’s husband, granddaughter’s husband. The reciprocal of this term is wokli. Kole. Younger sister, father’s brother’s younger daughter, mother’s sister’s younger daughter, younger half sister, female cross-cousin’s (anisii) younger daughter if not speaker’s daughter also, younger stepsister, younger foster sister. The reciprocals of this term are tatci and tete. At Big Creek ate is used in place of this term. Kolina. Husband’s sister, husband’s father’s sister, husband’s grandmother. The reciprocal of this term is olo. Kumatsa. Mother’s brother’s wife, man’s sister’s son’s wife (a man’s own daughter in case of Miwok cross-cousin marriage). The reciprocal of this term is pinuksa in its meanings husband’s mother’s brother and husband’s sister’s child. Two Jamestown informants gave manisa, with the meaning husband’s sister’s son, as a reciprocal of kumatsa. This of course would indicate cross-cousin marriage. Five other informants, however, gave pinuksa as the proper term for this relationship. Lupuba. Man’s sister’s daughter, man’s father’s sister’s daughter (one of a man’s two female cross-cousins). The reciprocal of this term is kaka. Maksi.13 Son’s or daughter’s spouse’s parents, son’s wife’s brother, daughter’s husband’s sister, man’s sister’s husband’s parents, woman’s brother’s wife’s parents. The reciprocal of this term is maksi; it is paralleled in this regard by moe and in part by haiyeme and pinuksa. Manisa. Son-in-law, man’s brother’s daughter’s husband, woman’s sister’s daughter’s husband, daughter’s husband’s brother. The reciprocal of this term is hewasu. Moe. Wife’s sister’s husband. This term is the reciprocal of itself, in this respect being paralleled by maksi and in part by haiyeme and pinuksa. Naiia. Husband. The reciprocal of this term is osa. Oiyame. Daughter-in-law, man’s brother’s son’s wife, woman’s sister’s son’s wife, son’s wife’s sister. The reciprocal of this term is hewasu. Olo. Brother’s wife, woman’s brother’s son’s wife, grandson’s wife. The reciprocals of this term are apasti and kolina. Osa. Wife. The reciprocal of this term is nafia. Pansa. Earlier co-wife. The reciprocal of this term is haiyeme in its meaning later co-wife. Papa. Grandfather, grandmother’s brother, great grandfather. The reciprocal of this term is atce. Pinuksa. Husband’s mother’s brother (a woman’s own father in case of Miwok cross-cousin marriage), husband’s sister’s child, man’s sister’s daughter’s husband, wife’s mother’s brother. In its first two meanings the recip- rocal of this term is kumatsa; the second two meanings are the recip- rocals of each other. 13 Cf. Yokuts makci, A. L. Kroeber, The Yokuts Language of South Central California, Univ. Calif. Publ. Am. Arch. Ethn., m1, 240, 1907. ''174 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 Tatci. Older brother, father’s brother’s older son, mother’s sister’s older son, older half brother, female cross-cousin’s (anisii) older son, older step- brother, older foster-brother. The reciprocals of this term are teale and kole, which are included in the one term ate at Big Creek. Tete. Older sister, father’s brother’s older daughter, mother’s sister’s older daughter, older half sister, female cross-cousin’s (anisii) older daughter, older stepsister, older foster sister. The reciprocals of this term are kole and tcale, which are included in the one term ate at Big Creek. Tomu. Mother’s older sister, father’s brother’s wife (older than mother), mother’s earlier co-wife. The reciprocals of this term are afisi and tune. At Big Creek the term tomu is replaced by the term ami. Tune. Daughter, man’s brother’s daughter, woman’s sister’s daughter, woman’s father’s sister’s daughter (one of a woman’s two female cross-cousins, and in the light of Miwok cross-cousin marriage her potential sister-in- law), man’s father’s brother’s son’s daughter, husband’s brother’s daughter, wife’s sister’s daughter, co-wife’s daughter, stepdaughter. The recip- rocals of this term are ami or tom, anisii, haiyi, tipi, and tita; in other words, father and mother, and potential stepfathers and stepmothers. Tcale. Younger brother, father’s brother’s younger son, mother’s sister’s younger son, younger half brother, female cross-cousin’s (anisii) younger son if not speaker’s son also, younger stepbrother, younger foster brother. At Big Creek ate is used in place of this term. The reciprocals of this term are tatci and tete. Upsa. Man’s sister’s son, woman’s brother’s child, man’s father’s sister’s son (one of a man’s two male cross-cousins), woman’s father’s brother’s son’s child. The reciprocals of this term are kaka and ene. Upii. Father, father’s brother, father’s father’s brother’s son. The reciprocals of this term are afisi and tune. There is a modern tendency to use the term haiyi for father’s brother. Although iipii is the vocative form for father’s brother, he is sometimes distinguished otherwise by the addition of the words tuni (younger) or upela (older), and is then spoken of as younger father or older father. If father has only two brothers and he himself is either the oldest or the youngest, the one intermediate in age is spoken of as middle father, the word kauwina (middle) being added. uta. Mother. The reciprocals of this term are afisi and tune. Wokli. Wife’s brother, wife’s sister, wife’s brother’s child, wife’s father’s sister, wife’s grandparents. The reciprocal of this term is kawu. A demonstration of the use of the preceding terms of relationship is given below. Mrs. Sophie Thompson (39. Pilekuye) and her daugh- ter, Mrs. Lena Cox (58. Kulmuye), gave me the status, so far as they were concerned, of ninety-one other inhabitants of Big Creek known to them. Of these seventy-nine stand in some relation, either blood or marriage, to the two informants. The list of Big Creek inhabitants by no means exhausts the people whom the informants reckoned as relatives. A few of their many relatives who lived elsewhere are also included in the list given below. ''1916] Gifford: Miwok Moieties 175 For the sake of brevity in the following list I have used the number assigned to each individual in the genealogies, in place of the indi- vidual’s name. Where any special remarks have been considered neces- sary they have been inserted. The terms applied by each individual to the two informants are not given below, but they can be derived readily enough by looking up in the preceding list the reciprocal of the term applied to the individual by the informant. 1. Papa (father’s father’s brother) to 39; papa (mother’s father’s father’s brother) to 58. 5. Papa (father’s father) to 39; papa (mother’s father’s father) to 58. 6. Ama (father’s mother) to 39; ama (mother’s father’s mother) to 58. 7. Upti (father’s father’s brother’s son) to 39; papa (mother’s father’s father’s brother’s son) to 58. 9. Same as last. 11. Upti (father) to 39; papa (mother’s father) to 58. 12. Ami (mother’s earlier co-wife) to 39; ama (mother’s mother’s earlier co-wife and father’s father’s father’s brother’s daughter) to 58. 13. Same as last. 14. Same as last. 16. Upii (father’s brother) to 39; papa (mother’s father’s brother) to 58. 17. Ami (father’s brother’s wife older than mother) and ama (father’s mother’s brother’s daughter) to 39; ama (mother’s father’s brother’s wife and mother’s father’s mother’s brother’s daughter) to 58. 18. Ene (father’s sister) and hewasu (mother-in-law) to 39; ama (mother’s father’s sister and father’s mother) to 58. 19. Kawu (father’s sister’s husband) and hewasu (father-in-law) to 39; papa (father’s father) to 58. 20. Tatci (father’s father’s brother’s son’s older son) to 39; kaka (mother’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s son) to 58. 21. Same as last. 22. Olo (father’s father’s brother’s son’s son’s wife) to 39; no relation to 58. 39 first said that 22 was no relation; then on second thought gave the above. 58 had ceased to think of 22 as a relative at all, although 22 stands in the relation of kumatsa (mother’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s son’s wife) to 58. 23. Same as 20. 24. Same as 20. 25. Tete (father’s father’s brother’s son’s older daughter) to 39; ami (mother’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s daughter older than mother) to 58. 27. Kawu (father’s father’s brother’s son’s daughter’s husband) to 39; haiyi (mother’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s daughter’s husband) to 58. 28. Same as 27. 29. Same as 27. 30. Tatci (older half brother) to 39; kaka (mother’s half brother) to 58. 31. Tete (older half sister) to 39; ami (mother’s older half sister) to 58. 32. Same as 30. 33. Olo (half brother’s wife) to 39; kumatsa (mother’s half brother’s wife) to 58. ''176 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 34. Same as 30. 35. Same as 33. 36. Same as 31. 37. Same as 31. 38. .Tatci (older brother) to 39; kaka (mother’s brother) to 58. 40. Afisi (father’s sister’s son) and nafia (husband) to 39; iipii (father) to 58. If 40 were not the husband of 39 and the father of 58, he would stand in the relation of tatci (mother’s father’s sister’s son) to 58. Hence it might be said that 58 is both the daughter (tune) and younger sister (ate) of 40, a paradox which is the product of cross-cousin marriage and a system of relation- ship which does not fit that form of marriage. 41. Ate (younger sister) to 39; anisiti (mother’s younger sister) to 58. 42. Kawu (sister’s husband) to 39; haiyi (mother’s sister’s husband) to 58. 43. Afisi (mother’s sister’s daughter’s son) and kawu (sister’s husband) to 39; haiyi (mother’s sister’s husband) to 58. 43 must also stand in the relation of tatci (mother’s mother’s sister’s daughter’s son) to 58, although the in- formant did not state this to be so. 58 regarded 43 rather as an uncle (haiyi) than as a brother (tatci). 44. Ate (father’s brother’s younger daughter) to 39; anisti (mother’s father’s brother’s daughter younger than mother) to 58. 45. The informants stated that this man was no relation. Nevertheless to 39 he stands in the relation of kawu (father’s brother’s daughter’s husband) and to 58 he stands in the relation of haiyi (mother’s father’s brother’s daugh- ter’s husband). It is quite possible that the informants made a mistake in the case of this man, although, on the other hand, they may not have thought of him as related to them even by marriage. As a matter of fact, 39 and 58 have an ancestor in common with 45; this ancestor is 75. The blood relationship to 39 would be that of father’s mother’s half sister’s son’s son. Compare 82, 83, 84. 46. Tune (father’s sister’s daughter) and kolina (husband’s sister) to 39; ene (father’s sister) to 58. 47. Upsa (half brother’s daughter) and pansa (earlier co-wife) to 39; anisi (mother’s half brother’s daughter) and ami (mother’s earlier co-wife) to 58. Pilekuye (39) stated that she drove Atce (47) out of her husband’s house after she (Pilekuye) became co-wife, a statement which sheds light on the probable condition in many polygynous Miwok households. 48. tpsa (father’s father’s brother’s son’s son’s daughter) to 39; anisii (mother’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s son’s daughter) to 58. 49. Kawu (father’s father’s brother’s son’s son’s daughter’s husband) to 39; haiyi (mother’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s son’s daughter’s husband) to 58. 50. Tune (father’s father’s brother’s son’s daughter’s daughter) to 39; tete (mother’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s daughter’s older daughter) to 58. 51. Upsa to 39, which relationship was not traced out owing to lack of time. By marriage to 50, however, 51 became manisa (father’s father’s brother’s son’s daughter’s daughter’s husband) to 39 and kawu (mother’s father’s brother’s son’s daughter’s daughter’s husband) to 58. 52. Same as 50. 53. Same as 51 by marriage. 54. Same as 50. 57. Afisi (son) to 39; tatci (older brother) to 58. 59. Afisi (son) to 39; ate (younger brother) to 58. ''1916] Gifford: Miwok Moieties 177 60. Kolina (husband’s father’s mother’s half sister’s son’s daughter) and oiyame (daughter-in-law) to 39; ene (father’s father’s mother’s half sister’s son’s daughter) and olo (brother’s wife) to 58. 61. Same as 59. 62. Tune (daughter) to 39; ate (younger sister) to 58. 63. Same as 62. 64. Same as 59. 65. Same as 59. 66. Same as 59. 67. Afisi (sister’s son) to 39; tatci (mother’s sister’s older son) to 58. 68. Same as 67. 69. Tune (father’s brother’s daughter’s daughter) to 39; tete (mother’s father’s brother’s daughter’s older daughter) to 58. 70. Afisi (father’s brother’s daughter’s son) to 39; ate (mother’s father’s brother’s daughter’s younger son) to 58. 71. Kolina (husband’s father’s mother’s half sister’s son’s daughter) and oiyame (son’s wife’s sister and father’s brother’s daughter’s son’s wife) to 39; ene (father’s father’s mother’s half sister’s son’s daughter) and olo (mother’s father’s brother’s daughter’s son’s wife and brother’s wife’s sister) to 58. 72. Atce (father’s father’s brother’s son’s daughter’s daughter’s son) to 39; afisi (mother’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s daughter’s daughter’s son) to 58. 73. Olo (father’s father’s brother’s son’s daughter’s daughter’s son’s wife) to 39; oiyame (mother’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s daughter’s daughter’s son’s wife) to 58. 74. Atce (half brother’s daughter’s son) to 39; ate mother’s half brother’s daughter’s son) to 58. 78. Papa (father’s mother’s brother) to 39; papa (mother’s father’s mother’s brother) to 58. 82. The informants stated that this man was not related to them, meaning undoubtedly that they did not normally think of him as a relative. He actually stands in the relation of tipi (father’s mother’s half sister’s son) to 39. The informants did not treat 83, 84, 45, or 85 as related to themselves through 82. 83, 84, and 45 were considered non-relatives. 85. Olo to 39; kumatsa to 58. For the facts bearing on this questionable relation see the remarks following 114. 90. Apasti (husband’s father’s father) to 39; papa (father’s father’s father) to 58. 93. Kawu (father’s collateral sister’s14 husband) and hewasu (husband’s father’s brother) to 39; papa (father’s father’s brother) to 58. 95. Maksi (son’s father-in-law) and hewasu (husband’s father’s mother’s half sister’s son) to 39; maksi (brother’s father-in-law) and papa (father’s father’s mother’s half sister’s son) to 58. 96. Maksi (son’s mother-in-law) to 39; maksi (brother’s mother-in-law) and ama (father’s father’s mother’s half sister’s son’s wife) to 58. 97. Tune (father’s collateral sister’s daughter) and kolina (husband’s father’s brother’s daughter) to 39; ene (father’s father’s brother’s daughter) to 58. 98. Kolina (husband’s father’s mother’s half sister’s son’s daughter) and oiyame (son’s wife’s sister) to 39; ene father’s father’s mother’s half sister’s son’s daughter) and olo (brother’s wife’s sister) to 58. 14 Collateral sister is the daughter of father’s brother or mother’s sister, in other words, an identical cousin. ''178 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 99. Apasti (husband’s father’s mother’s half sister’s son’s son) and maksi (son’s wife’s brother) to 39; iipii (father’s father’s mother’s half sister’s son’s son) to 58. 102. Hewasu (husband’s father’s father’s brother’s son) to 39; papa (father’s father’s father’s brother’s son) to 58. 104. Kolina (husband’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s daughter) and anisti (mother’s co-wife’s brother’s daughter) to 39; ene (father’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s daughter) to 58. 105. Same as last. 107. Apasti (husband’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s son) and kaka (mother’s co-wife’s brother’s son) to 39; tipii (father’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s son) to 58. 108. Said by informants not to be regarded as a relative. Nevertheless 108 stood in the relation of haiyeme (husband’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s son’s wife) and kumatsa (mother’s co-wife’s brother’s son’s wife) to 39, and in the relation of either ami or anisii (father’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s son’s wife) to 58. 109. Ate (mother’s co-wife’s brother’s daughter’s son) to 39; kaka (mother’s mother’s co-wife’s brother’s daughter’s son) to 58. i 110. Afisi (husband’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s son’s son) and kaka (mother’s co-wife’s brother’s son’s son) to 39; ate (father’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s son’s son) to 58. 113. Ate (mother’s sister’s younger daughter) to 39; anisii (mother’s mother’s sister’s daughter) to 58. 114. Kawu (mother’s sister’s daughter’s husband) to 39; haiyi (mother’s mother’s sister’s daughter’s husband) to 58. The individuals,115 to 122 are related to 39 and 58 because Nomasu (11) ‘‘used to spark with Posululu’s [120] mother’’ [117]. I do not know whether this statement by Mrs. Thompson meant that 11 was actually the father of 118, 120, and 122 or not. At any rate, the terms applied by her to these three individuals were the same as those ap- plied to real brothers and sisters. The following relationships and also that of 85, the informant said, are based on the above. 115. Ene to 39. 115 being ene to 120, who is counted as tete to 39, 115 is reckoned as ene to 39 also. The relationship is not logical whether reckoned by descent or by marriage. 116. I did not obtain the relationship to 39 and 58. 117. I did not obtain the relationship to 39 and 58. 118. Tete to 39; ami to 58. 119. Kawu to 39; no relation to 58. 120. Same as 118. 121. Counted as no relation. However, if 119 stands in the relation of kawu to 39 this man ought to also. 122. Tatci to 39; kaka to 58. Many of the above meanings of the terms of relationship are addi- tional to those already given in the list of terms. These additional ''1916] Gifford: Miwok Moieties eT) meanings are listed below, and may be summarized in the statement that they represent the usual collateral application of terms common to the so-called classificatory systems of relationship. Meanings of terms already given in the list of terms of relationship are omitted in that which follows. It should be remembered that the ensuing use of terms is entirely from the standpoint of a woman as the speaker. Ama Father’s mother’s brother’s daughter. Father’s father’s mother’s half sister’s son’s wife. Mother’s father’s brother’s wife. Mother’s father’s mother’s brother’s daughter. Ami Mother’s older half sister. Mother’s earlier co-wife. Mother’s mother’s earlier co-wife. Mother’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s daughter. Father’s father’s father’s brother’s daughter. Anisii Mother’s half brother’s daughter. Mother’s mother’s sister’s daughter. Mother’s co-wife’s brother’s daughter. Mother’s father’s brother’s younger daughter. Mother’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s son’s daughter. Aisi Father’s brother’s daughter’s son. Husband’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s son’s son. Mother’s sister’s daughter’s son. Mother’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s daughter’s daughter’s son. Apasti Husband’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s son. Husband’s father’s mother’s half sister’s son’s son. Atce Half brother’s daughter’s son. Father’s father’s brother’s son’s daughter’s daughter’s son. Ate Father’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s son’s younger son. Mother’s half brother’s daughter’s younger son. Mother’s co-wife’s brother’s daughter’s younger son. Mother’s father’s brother’s daughter’s younger son. Ene Father’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s daughter. Father’s father’s mother’s half sister’s son’s daughter. Haiyi Mother’s mother’s sister’s daughter’s husband. Mother’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s daughter’s husband. Mother’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s son’s daughter’s husband. Hewasu Husband’s father’s father’s brother’s son. Husband’s father’s mother’s half sister’s son. ''180 Kaka Kawu Kolina University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 Mother’s half brother. Mother’s co-wife’s brother’s son. Mother’s co-wife’s brother’s son’s son. Mother’s mother’s co-wife’s brother’s daughter’s son. Mother’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s son. Father’s father’s brother’s son’s daughter’s husband. Father’s father’s brother’s son’s son’s daughter’s husband. Mother’s sister’s daughter’s husband. Mother’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s daughter’s daughter’s husband. Husband’s father’s brother’s daughter. Husband’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s daughter. Husband’s father’s mother’s half sister’s son’s daughter. Kumatsa Mother’s half brother’s wife. Manisa Father’s father’s brother’s son’s daughter’s daughter’s husband. Oiyame Olo Papa Tatci Tete Tune Upsa Upii Father’s brother’s daughter’s son’s wife. Mother’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s daughter’s daughter’s son’s wife. Brother’s wife’s sister. Half brother’s wife. Father’s father’s brother’s son’s son’s wife. Father’s father’s brother’s son’s daughter’s daughter’s son’s wife. Mother’s father’s brother’s daughter’s son’s wife. Father’s father’s brother. Father’s father’s father’s brother’s son. Father’s father’s mother’s half sister’s son. Mother’s father’s brother. Mother’s father’s father’s brother. Mother’s father’s father’s brother’s son. Mother’s father’s mother’s brother. Father’s father’s brother’s son’s older son. Father’s father’s brother’s son’s older daughter. Mother’s father’s brother’s daughter’s older daughter. Mother’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s daughter’s daughter. Father’s brother’s daughter’s daughter. Father’s father’s brother’s son’s daughter’s daughter. Half brother’s daughter. Father’s father’s brother’s son’s son’s daughter. Father’s father’s father’s brother’s son’s son. Father’s father’s mother’s half sister’s son’s son. ''1916] Gifford: Miwok Moieties 181 My oldest informant, Tom Williams of Jamestown, stated that in the case of endogamic (as to moiety) marriages the terms of relation- ship for persons connected through the marriage were altered. Every other informant denied this. Tom, however, volunteered the infor- mation in such a straightforward manner that it seems not unlikely that this was the practice in former times. All of the terms which are said to be changed by the tabu marriage denote relationships which are normally the result of marriage. Furthermore, each expresses a relationship which is at least one generation removed from the speaker, never in the speaker’s generation. In each case of change a term is substituted which brings the person addressed one generation nearer the speaker. No change is made in the case of relatives connected by the marriage are of one generation. The motive of the change would seem to be the desire to ignore the improper (endogamic) marriage. This alleged peculiarity of the Miwok kinship nomenclature has been disregarded in the inferences drawn in this paper owing to lack of verification. The data are presented as a matter of record, the ex- amples given by Tom Williams being tabulated below. Had the nae riage been proper (ex- On account of the ogamic) the Its most direct In case of endogamic below-named persons term used normal applica- marriage it is applied being of the wrong would have The term tion is to moiety been Eselu Child under 15 years Grandchild (through son) Grandchild’s parents Atce of age under 15 years of age Aiisi Son Grandson (through son) Grandson’s parents Atece Tune Daughter Granddaughter (through Granddaughter’s Atce son) parents Upii Father Paternal grandfather Speaker’s parents Papa Tomu Mother’s older sister Paternal grandmother Speaker’s parents Ama Upsa Sister’s son (m.s.) Grandson of sister (m.s.) Sister’s husband (m.s.) Atce Apasti Husband’s brother Husband’s father Husband Hewasu Olo Brother’s wife Son’s wife (m:.s.) Son’s wife Oiyame Kolina Husband’s sister Husband’s mother Husband Hewasu Kolina MHusband’s sister Son’s wife (w.s.) Wife Oiyame Tatci Elder brother Sister’s daughter’s hus- | Husband if older Pinuksa band (m.s.) than speaker Teale Younger brother Sister’s daughter’s hus- Husband if younger Pinuksa band (m.s.) than speaker TERMINOLOGY AND SociaL Customs Of the female relatives who are normally of the opposite moiety, a man may sometimes marry his anisti who stands in the relation to him of cross-cousin or first cousin once removed (mother’s brother’s daughter or mother’s brother’s son’s daughter).1° He may not marry 15 See the discussion of this matter under the heading ‘‘Cross-Cousin Mar- riage,’’ p. SL IG ''182 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [ Vol. 12 the anisii who stands in the relation to him of mother’s younger sister. There seems to be no objection, however, to a man marrying his anisii who is his mother’s collateral sister. The marriage of 41 and 48 in genealogy I, generation D, and genealogy V, generation H, is of this type, 41 standing in the relation to 43 of mother’s mother’s sister’s daughter. A man may not marry his lupuba, his tomu, or his oiyame. Speech with his oiyame (usually daughter-in-law) is tabued. Of the female relatives who may belong to either moiety, he may marry only those individuals who are not of his moiety, as follows: upon the death of his brother, his olo who stands in the relation of brother’s wife; and upon the death of his wife, his wokli who stands in the relAtion of wife’s sister, wife’s brother’s daughter, or wife’s father’s sister. He may form a polygynous union with any of the last three during the lifetime of his wife. The marriage of 40 to 39 after his marriage to 47 (genealogy I, generations D and E) affords an example of a man marrying his wife’s father’s [half] sister. A woman may sometimes marry her afisi who is her cross-cousin, or first cousin once removed (father’s sister’s son of father’s father’s sister’s son), or her afisi who is her collateral sister’s son, as in the ease cited above (41 and 48 in genealogies I and V). She may not marry the afisi who is her own son or her sister’s son. She may not marry her kaka. Of the male relatives who may belong to either moiety a woman may marry those who are not of her moiety, as follows: upon the death of her husband or of her married sister, her apasti, who stands in the relation of husband’s brother, or her kawu, who stands in the relation of sister’s husband, father’s sister’s husband, or brother’s daughter’s husband. She may also become a co-wife in a polygynous union with either of the last three. The marriage of 39 to 40 in genealogy I, generation D, exemplifies this, for 40 was already the husband of 47 (generations D and E), who was 39’s [half]! brother’s daughter. If 40 had married 39 first and then 47, the second marriage would have been an example of a woman marrying her father’s [half] sister’s husband, or to state it from the opposite stand- point, an example of a man marrying his wife’s [half] brother’s daughter. The marriage of 11 to 14 (genealogy I, generation C) is another case in point. 14 stood in the relation of iipsa (probably -brother’s daughter) to 12 and 13. Hence when 11 married 14 he married his wives’ brother’s daughter. 12, 13, 14, and 15 were co- wives married to 11; 39 and 47 were co-wives married to 40. ''1916] Gifford: Miwok Moieties 183 Speech tabus between relatives among the Miwok are correlated, so far as they go, with certain of the types of marriage. Between people of the same moiety tabus operate as follows: between a man and his mother-in-law, between a man and his mother-in-law’s sisters, between a man and his mother’s brother’s wife, and between a woman and her son-in-law’s brother. Tabus between relatives of different moieties are those between a woman and her father-in-law, a woman and her father- in-law’s brother, and a man and his daughter-in-law’s sisters. It is to be noted that when it is permissible for relatives to marry after the death of the connecting relative, no speech tabu is imposed upon them during the life of the connecting relative. Conversely, tabus continue in operation after the death of the connecting relative, just as terms of relationship do, for example, mother-in-law and son-in-law. If it becomes necessary to address a tabu relative on account of the absence of a go-between, the plural form is used, and, as an Indian expresses it, he talks to his relative as though she were more than one person. For example, a man would address his kumatsa (mother’s brother’s wife) by the plural kumatsako. In the succeeding paragraphs the application of terms of relation- ship, which apparently have been conditioned by social customs, will be discussed. The social phenomena, outside of exogamy, which I believe to have been particularly potent in molding the features of the Miwok terminology, are the right of marriage to certain of the wife’s relatives and descent in the male line. Then, too, a psycho- logical factor may be invoked, namely, the feeling that one brother may be substituted for another, or, in other words, that brothers are essentially alike. The use of the term tipii (father) for father’s brother indicates this sentiment, and shows that the father and the father’s brother were regarded as more or less interchangeable as husbands and fathers. This use of the term tipii might be interpreted as indicating polyandry in which two or more brothers married a single woman. There is not the slightest pretext, however, for be- leving that such a form of marriage ever existed among the Central Sierra Miwok. The concept of the similarity of brothers found ex- pression in the practice of a man marrying his brother’s widow and thus becoming the father of his brother’s children. The inclusion of the father and his brother in the term tipii is just the reverse of the careful distinction of the mother and her sisters by the terms iita, mother; tomu or ami, mother’s older sister; and anisii, mother’s younger sister. ''184. University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 Upon the death of his wife a man might marry her sister, in case he had not already done so in a polygynous marriage. These two customs, the marriage of a man to his brother’s widow and to his wife’s sister, readily account for the applications of the twelve terms of relationship which follow. It is not claimed that the terms have resulted only from these two types of marriage, but it is claimed that the types of marriage and the use of the terms are in agreement and certainly seem to stand in the relation of cause and effect. Upi Father. Father’s brother. Afist Son. Man’s brother’s son. Woman’s sister’s son. Husband’s brother’s son. Wife’s sister’s son. Tune Daughter. Man’s brother’s daughter. Woman’s sister’s daughter. Husband’s brother’s daughter. Wife’s sister’s daughter. Kole Younger sister. Father’s brother’s younger daughter. Mother’s sister’s younger daughter. Tateci Older brother. Father’s brother’s older son. Mother’s sister’s older son. Tete Older sister. Father’s brother’s older daughter. Mother’s sister’s older daughter. Teale Younger brother. Father’s brother’s younger son. Mother’s sister’s younger son. Hewasu Father-in-law. Husband’s father’s brother. Wife’s father’s brother. Mother-in-law. Wife’s mother’s sister. Husband’s mother’s sister. ''1916] Gifford: Miwok Moieties 185 Manisa Son-in-law. Man’s brother’s daughter’s husband. Woman’s sister’s daughter’s husband. Daughter’s husband’s brother. Oiyame Daughter-in-law. Man’s brother’s son’s wife. Woman’s sister’s son’s wife. Son’s wife’s sister. Haiyeme Later co-wife. Husband’s brother’s wife. Anis Stepmother. Mother’s younger sister. Father’s brother’s wife. The term anisii denotes among immediate relatives the mother’s brother’s daughter, the mother’s younger sister and the father’s brother’s wife, providing she is younger than the mother. The mother’s older sister and the father’s brother’s wife, providing she is older than the mother, are called tomu, or, among the Big Creek people, ami. The identity of the terms in each of these pairs of re- lationships need not be taken as an indication of double marriage, although informants stated that two brothers did at times marry two sisters, and such indeed would be the case were cross-cousin marriage rigorously adhered to. The identity of the terms undoubtedly arises from the two marriage customs mentioned above, which have nothing to do with either double marriage or cross-cousin marriage; namely, the marrying of the brother’s widow and of the wife’s sister. Hence, regarded from the standpoint of myself, my mother’s sister and my father’s brother’s wife are both the potential wives of my father and both my potential stepmothers. To my mind this accounts for the identity in terminology without involving double marriage or cross- cousin marriage. As I will show later, cross-cousin marriage is un- doubtedly a late and not general development and has had no effect on the terminology of relationship. The identification of the mother’s brother’s daughter with the mother’s younger sister and the father’s brother’s wife younger than the mother is apparent in the use of the term anisii for these three relationships without any qualifying term. As corroboration of this identification, it must be.noted that the reciprocals of the various ''186 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 meanings of the terms anisii and tomu are identical throughout. They are asi and tune, that is, son and daughter. Furthermore, a man or a woman calls the children of the anisii cross-cousin (mother’s brother’s daughter), when they are not the man’s own, his or her brothers and sisters, just as is done with the children of other anisii relatives, notably mother’s sister’s children. Light is thrown on this identification of the mother’s brother’s daughter with the mother’s younger sister and the father’s brother’s wife younger than the mother by the Miwok custom of a man marrying his wife’s brother’s daughter in cases of polygamy or after the death of his wife. In some eases, if she were too young for him to marry, she was held for him until she had reached the marriageable age, when she was handed over to him. To myself, therefore, my mother’s brother’s daughter also stands in the relation of father’s potential wife or potential stepmother, just as do my mother’s sister and my father’s brother’s wife. The re- flection, in the term anisii, of this form of marriage; namely, of a man to his wife’s brother’s daughter, is indicative of its antiquity. The term anisti might be translated, not by its various applications, but by the term potential stepmother, a translation which would apply consistently to the individuals included under the term. Other Miwok terms of relationship give additional proof of the marriage of a man to his wife’s brother’s daughter. The term wokli is applied not only to wife’s brother or sister but also to wife’s brother’s son or daughter. This means that a man’s wife’s brother’s daughter may become his wife, thus making the remaining children of his first wife’s brother his brothers- and sisters-in-law. The apph- cation of the reciprocal of wokli, kawu, to sister’s husband and father’s sister’s husband indicates the same kind of marriage, which, as already pointed out, is the actual custom. This type of marriage is reflected altogether in twelve terms, to wit: anisii, afisi, kaka, kawu, kole, lupuba, tatei, tete, tune, teale, tipsa, and wokli. A woman calls her father’s sister’s children, who are her cross- cousins, son and daughter, terms which seem to have arisen from this form of marriage. Viewed from the standpoint of the woman, she marries her father’s sister’s husband; hence his children become her stepchildren. In Miwok terminology, whether she marries the man or not, his children (her ecross-cousins) are called afisi and tune (sou and daughter) by her, and she is called anisii (potential stepmother) by them. The principle is carried into other terms, for her brother is ealled kaka (mother’s brother) by them, while he applies the terms ''1916 | Gifford: Miwok Moieties 187 iipsa and lupuba (sister’s son and daughter) to them, according to their sex. We thus find that the Miwok classification of cross-cousins seems to be based entirely on this form of marriage; namely, that of a woman to her father’s sister’s husband or of a man to his wife’s brother’s daughter. The cross-cousins are: Man’s mother’s brother’s daughter—anisi. Man’s mother’s brother’s son—kaka. Man’s father’s sister’s son—tipsa. Man’s father’s sister’s daughter—lupuba. Woman’s mother’s brother’s daughter—anisu. Woman’s mother’s brother’s son—kaka. Woman’s father’s sister’s son—ajfisi. Woman’s father’s sister’s daughter—tune. It is to be noted that the mother’s brother’s son and daughter are called by the terms for uncle and potential stepmother (kaka and anisii), whether the speaker is a man or a woman. A woman’s father’s sister’s son and daughter are called son and daughter, while a man’s father’s sister’s son and daughter are called nephew and niece. The practice of cross-cousins applying to each other the terms used by children and parents, or by children and aunts and uncles, is closely paralleled elsewhere in the world. Dr. R. H. Codrington’® has re- corded a ease in the Banks Islands which Dr. W. H. R. Rivers’ has cited. Exact parallels to the terminology in the Banks Islands are found among the Minnitarees, Crows, Choctaws, Creeks, Cherokees, and Pawnees.'® All of the above cases would be the result, Dr. Rivers claims, of the marriage of a man to his mother’s brother’s wife. This type of marriage is impossible among the Miwok on account of moiety exogamy and descent in the male line, so that here the parallel be- tween the Miwok, Melanesian, and eastern North American cases ceases. The Miwok terminology is probably caused, however, by the reverse custom of a woman marrying her father’s sister’s husband, or, stating it from the standpoint of a man, of a man marrying his wife’s brother’s daughter. To me it seems probable that this custom is responsible for the uniting of my mother’s brother and his male descendants, immediate and through males, ad infinitum, in the term kaka. Likewise it is probably responsible for the uniting of my ~ 46The Melanesians, Studies in Their Anthropology and Folk-Lore (Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1891), 38-39. 17 Kinship and Social Organization (London, Constable & Co. Ltd., 1914), 28. 18 [bid., 53. ''188 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 mother’s brother’s female descendants immediate and through males, ad infinitum, in the term anisii, for all are the potential wives of my father. Dr. Robert H. Lowie points to an identical combination of male descendants of the mother’s brother among the patrilineal Omaha, Oto, Kansa, and other Siouan tribes.*® He would lay this to the operation of exogamy and to the extension of the use of terms of relationship to clan brothers and sisters, rather than to a special mar- riage custom, as Dr. Rivers would. Among the Miwok there are no clan or moiety brothers and sisters, all relationship being based on blood and marriage ties. Marriage custom and terminology among the Miwok would seem, therefore, to support Dr. Rivers’ contention. Other features which would arise from the type of marriage just dis- cussed are also present both among the Omaha and the Miwok; for example, the classing together of father’s sister’s daughter and sister’s daughter. Among the Omaha my mother’s brother’s daughter’s son is my brother; so he is also among the Miwok, where my mother’s brother’s daughter may be my stepmother, for my father has a right to marry her in ease of my mother’s death, or in case he desires to have more than one wife. To sum up, I do not deny the potency of exogamy to bring about the Omaha and Miwok type of nomenclature, but I do claim for the marriage custom cited an equal potency to bring about such a result. The combining of woman’s sister’s husband and woman’s brother’s daughter’s husband in the term kawu, and of wife’s sister and wife’s father’s sister in the term wokli, are reflections of the marriage of a man to his wife’s father’s sister and conversely of a woman to her brother ’s daughter’s husband. . In Miwok polygnous marriages it is said to have been not un- common for a man to marry two sisters. Such a marriage is shown in genealogy I, generation C. Nomasu (11) married Wiluye (12) and Tulmisuye (13), who were real sisters (see genealogy IV, generation C). This type of marriage is reflected but faintly in the nomenclature of relationship. The remarks under 107, page 178, in the demonstra- tion of the terms of relationship based on the genealogies, bring to light a reflection of this type of marriage. The term kaka, usually applied to mother’s brother and mother’s brother’s son, is here applied to mother’s co-wife’s brother’s son just as if mother’s co-wife was mother’s sister, which she is not in this ease. The fact that this term is here applied to a person through a co-wife who is not mother’s 19 Exogamy and Systems of Relationship, Am. Anthr., n. s., xv, 238, 1915. ''1916] Gifford: Miwok Moieties 189 ¥ sister leads one to believe that co-wives were usually sisters. For similar examples see 109 and 110. Other terms of relationship are also used on the basis of treating co-wives as sisters; for instance, see the use of anisii in 104, of ate in 109, and of ami in 12 and 47. In the last two instances the mother’s co-wife is called by the term used for mother’s older sister. CROSS-COUSIN MARRIAGE When asked if it were proper for a man to marry a cousin, Miwok informants always replied in the negative. In obtaining genealogical information, however, cases came up in which a man married his mother’s brother’s daughter. I called my informant’s attention to this fact and received the reply that the individuals concerned were not regarded as cousins, for they stood in the relation of ansi and anisii to each other, which translated into English would be son and aunt, or potential stepmother. This affords an excellent example of the futility of using English terms of relationship with natives when discussing native customs. Every Miwok to whom the question was put stated that the proper mate for a man was a woman who stood in the relation of anisti to him, providing she was not too closely related to him.*° Although a man might marry his anisii cross-cousin, who was the daughter of his mother’s brother, he could under no circumstances marry his lupuba cross-cousin, who was the daughter of his father’s sister. This one- sidedness of cross-cousin marriage among the Miwok in no way affected its popularity, or, to be more exact, the popularity of anisii-afisi mar- riages, of which the cross-cousin marriage is one form. In many cases my informants would state that a certain man and his wife stood in the relation to each other of afisi and anisii. Although these instances were not substantiated, except in four cases, by genealogical proof, they show the popularity of this form of marriage. At Big Creek six of the listed marriages are of this type, eight are not, and on the remaining eight I have no information. Cases were encountered in which a husband and wife claimed to stand in the afisi-anisii relation to each other, but, when asked to demonstrate the relation, were unable to trace the connecting links. This state of affairs shows clearly that afisi-anisiti marriages must have been the vogue, otherwise married 20 See meanings of term anisii on pages 172 and 179; also discussion of term under ‘‘Terminology and Social Customs.’’ ''190 University of Califorma Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 people who could not prove such a relationship would not lay claim to it. Even among the Northern Sierra Miwok at Elk Grove, among whom the moiety system does not seem to exist, afisi-anisii marriages were the custom. The Southern Sierra Miwok of Madera County state that these marriages were proper, but that the contracting parties must be only distantly related. Informants at Jamestown, while stating that anisii-afisi marriages were prevalent there as elsewhere, said that marriages between first cousins, who stood in this relation, were commoner higher in the moun- tains than at Jamestown. The men at Jamestown and lower in the foothills were inclined to marry an anisii further removed than a first cousin. There seems to have been a sentiment at Jamestown against the marriage of first cousins. One woman was asked if she would consider it proper for her son to marry her brother’s daughter. She replied, ‘‘No, she is too much like his mother,’’ meaning herself. Her reply may have been engendered by the Miwok custom of a man marrying his wife’s brother’s daughter. By this marriage his new wife, who is also his son’s anisii cross-cousin, would become his son’s stepmother ; hence perhaps the woman’s statement with regard to her son’s anisii cross-cousin, ‘‘too much like his mother.’’ The identification of the anisii cross-cousin with the mother’s younger sister and father’s brother’s wife younger than mother has already been discussed under the heading ‘‘Terminology and Social 29: Customs.’’ As stated there, there are twelve terms which reflect the marriage of a man to his wife’s brother’s daughter. Turning now to cross-cousin marriage, let us search for terms which reflect it. We find that there are none. With the popularity of cross-cousin mar- riage in the minds of the people at present, one might expect to find identical terms for such relationships as mother’s brother and man’s father-in-law, mother’s brother’s wife and man’s mother-in-law, son and daughter and son and daughter of a man’s anisii cross-cousin, but such terms are lacking.*!' The only evidence which possibly favors antiquity of cross-cousin marriage lies in the speech tabu which exists between a man and his mother’s brother’s wife or kumatsa, who in view of cross-cousin marriage is his potential mother-in-law. The 21 As mentioned on page 173 in the discussion of the term kumatsa, two James- town informants gave the term manisa (normally son-in-law) for husband’s sister’s son instead of the usual term pinuksa. If this usage were established it could be said that cross-cousin marriage did have a reflection in the nomen- clature. However, five other informants gave pinuksa, not manisa, as the proper term. ''1916] Gifford: Miwok Moieties 191 Miwok, like other California Indians, imposed a tabu upon a man and his mother-in-law. The situation there is this: There is in the Miwok terminology of relationship an undeniable reflection of the marriage of a man to his wife’s brother’s daughter ; on the other hand, there is no reflection whatever of cross-cousin marriage. This imphes that the former is the more primitive custom of the two. It may be shown in a diagram as follows: = | a & =. In this diagram, if H marries f, who is £’s mother’s brother’s daughter (anisii cross-cousin), A cannot marry f, who is his wife’s brother’s daughter, because f has already become his son’s wife, and all intercourse between a man and his daughter-in-law is tabued. If E did not marry f, A would have a perfect right to her, for f is his wife’s brother’s daughter and his potential wife. Thus we have the two types of marriage in conflict, for either a man or his son may claim the same woman, A claiming f because she is his wife’s brother’s daughter, # claiming f because she is his anisii (mother’s brother’s daughter). Informants and genealogies vouch for the occurrence of both forms of marriage, which if taken as synchronous for any one woman would mean polyandry, of which there is no trace, a man and his son having one woman in common. It is easily conceivable, how- ever, that the two practices existed side by side. An attempt to show the connection between these two intimately related forms of marriage will now be made. It has already been pointed out that the marriage of a man to his wife’s brother’s daughter is reflected in twelve terms of relationship. Evidently, therefore, a man regarded his wife’s brother’s daughter as his potential wife, for in some cases of polygyny, and of the death of the first wife, ie mar- ried her. Here seems to me to be the key to the mystery of the one- sided Miwok cross-cousin marriage. The man who thus had a right to marry his wife’s brother’s daughter may have passed that rigint on to his son. In other words, the marriage right of the father became vested in the son in cases in which the father did not avail himself of it. This hypothesis explains why two blood relatives, who recip- ''192 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 rocally used the terms for son and potential stepmother, or aunt, and who might actually become stepson and stepmother, should marry. The theory that cross-cousin marriage has been thus evolved from another form of marriage through descent in the male line, displays it as a secondary, and perhaps recent, form of marriage, which has not yet affected the nomenclature of relationship. If it were found in future investigations that the father paid for his wife’s brother’s daughter and then let his son marry her, our hypothesis would become almost an established fact. Two terms of relationship, which are reciprocals, seem to support this hypothetical origin of cross-cousin marriage. They are kolina and olo. In kolina are united the husband’s sister and the husband’s father’s sister, which would be the case where both a man and his father had the right to a woman. To fit our hypothesis more exactly, however, the meanings combined should be husband’s sister and hus- band’s son’s sister (that is, stepdaughter). If we admit the cogency of the above theory as to the origin of the unilateral Miwok cross-cousin marriage, we immediately have at hand an explanation of why the other form of cross-cousin marriage is for- bidden. When a man marries his wife’s brother’s daughter he marries a person who is normally not his blood relative. As I have already pointed out, it is but a simple step to extend to the man’s son the privilege of marrying the same woman, providing the man himself does not do so. Now let us try to imagine the forbidden cross-cousin marriage arising in a similar manner. In the first step this involves the marriage of a man to his son’s lupuba eross-cousin, that is, to his son’s father’s sister’s daughter, who is his own sister’s daughter. She is called lupuba by both the man and his son. In the diagram D and f are the cross-cousins. A has absolutely no right to f, his son’s cross- a pe D f cousin. In the first place, she is not related to his wife b, and in the secohd place she is the daughter of his own sister e, and hence a close blood relative. As we recall, his right to his son’s other female cross- cousin (anisti) was based on the fact that she was his wife’s brother’s daughter and normally not his blood relative. It would seem that the ''1916] Gifford: Miwok Moieties 193 prohibition against a man marrying his lupuba, who is his sister’s daughter, had been extended to the son, thus preventing the latter from marrying his lupuba, who is his father’s sister’s daughter and his own cross-cousin. If Miwok cross-cousin marriage had arisen in any other way than the hypothetical way already outlined it is hard to imagine why it should be restricted to only one pair of cross-cousins. The very fact that it is so restricted strengthens the theory of origin primarily through the passing on of a privilege in the male line. In allowing the one kind of cross-cousin marriage and not the other the Miwok evidently considered inheritance as more important than consanguin- ity ; yet where inheritance had no weight consanguinity became active and prevented the other form of cross-cousin marriage. Two first cousin marriages of the cross-cousin type were recorded. The first case is in generation C, in genealogies I and II; the indi- viduals are numbered 16 and 17. Talalu (16) married Niwuye (17), who is the daughter of his mother’s (6, Simutuye) brother (78, Pee- luyak). The second case is in generation D of genealogy I; the indi- viduals are numbered 39 and 40. Sapata (40) married Pilekuye (39), who is the daughter of his mother’s (18, Miltaiye) brother (11, No- masu). One marriage between first cousins once removed was re- corded. The marriage is that of Sapata (40) and Atce (47). It is recorded in generations D and E of genealogy I. Sapata (40) mar- ried the daughter (47, Atce) of his mother’s (18, Miltaiye) brother’s (11, Nomasu) son (32, Pelisu). CONCLUSION The discovery of a dual social organization among the Mono and the Yokuts tribes, as mentioned in the introduction, indicates that they together with the Miwok form a compact unit socially. Judging from Dr. J. Alden Mason’s statement*? as to the presence of a bear and a deer ‘‘totem’’ among the Salinan Indians, it seems safe to infer that the moiety organization will be found to extend to the coast. Among the Central Sierra Miwok the bear is the animal associated most frequently through ‘personal names with the land moiety; the deer is the animal associated most frequently in a like manner with 22 The Ethnology of the Salinan Indians, Univ. Calif. Publ. Am. Arch. Ethn., Xe N89) 1912: | ''194 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 the water moiety. These facts suggest that the bear and the deer ‘“totems’’ among the Salinan may stand for two moieties. The greater complexity of the moiety organization among the Tachi Yokuts about Tulare Lake as compared to the Central Sierra Miwok organization leads to the impression that the latter people are on the periphery of the moiety area. Although it is too early in the study to advance a positive opinion, the distribution of the institution, to- gether with its varying complexity, seems to point to the San Joaquin Valley as the region from which the organization spread to the moun- tain tribes, perhaps to the west as well as to the east.** . 23 For a preliminary notice see Dichotomous Social Organization in South Central California, Univ. Calif. Publ. Am. Arch. Ethn., x1, 291-296, 1916. Transmitted September 18, 1915. ''UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PUBLICATIONS IN AMERICAN ARCHAEOLOGY AND ETHNOLOGY Vol. 12, No. 5, pp. 195-218, plates 1-5 October 11, 1916 ON PLOTTING THE INFLECTIONS OF THE VOICE BY: CORNELIUS B. BRADLEY PREFATORY NOTE ‘When first undertaken, the study which forms the subject of this paper was no more than a mere incident in the attempt to clear up the confusion and uneertainty which till then had beset a certain question of phonetics, namely, the precise nature of the tonal inflec- tions or modulations which, in languages of the Chinese type, are essential features of every spoken word. The conclusions reached through scientific analysis and measurement of wave-lengths could not be made convincing and conclusive without the help of a thoroughly accurate and trustworthy scheme for representing them visually. The time and the effort actually spent in perfecting such a scheme, which is, of course, a mere instrument, may seem altogether disproportionate to the end in view. But the perfect instrument was in this case absolutely necessary to the attainment of the end; and a scientific quest is not to be lightly abandoned because the tools for it are not ready to hand. The scheme finally worked out is one which enables the student to translate accurately to the eye the physical facts which the ear reads as figure or movement within the field of pitch. It was shaped for a definite and single use. But a perfected instrument often finds much wider use than that for which it was shaped at first. So I have been encouraged to make it known, in order that it may be within the reach of all who may have occasion to use it. Already it is likely to be tried in the attempt to improve and enrich the speech of deaf- mutes, which is pitifully lacking in the element of tone, chiefly because of the difficulty of conveying to the sufferers any intelligible ideas or suggestions concerning modulation of the voice. ''196 University of California Publications in Am. Arch.and Ethn. [ Vol. 12 To my colleagues of the Department of Anthropology of the Uni- versity of California—Drs. Pliny E. Goddard, A. L. Kroeber, and T. T. Waterman—I am greatly indebted: to the first for the initial impulse received as I watched his work in recording Indian speech; to all of them in succession for generous and untiring assistance in securing the numerous records of the voice which formed the material of my studies; and especially to Dr. Waterman for the unfailing interest and enthusiasm with which he has followed my work—a_ stimulus without which I doubt whether this particular phase of that work would ever have been brought to completion. Some years ago I chanced to call one day at the Anthropological Laboratory of the University of California, and found my colleagues there deeply engaged in study of instrumental records of Indian speech. They were kind enough to show me the Rousselot apparatus, and to illustrate its working by taking a few records of my own utterance of Siamese speech, which is my other vernacular. My friends were interested at once in the peculiar sharp explosion (without aspiration) of my oriental p, ¢, and k, as shown in the record, contrasting strongly with the windy utterance given these consonants in our speech. But as I followed the delicate sinuous tracing of the vowels, it suddenly flashed upon me that each of those tiny waves was the record of the air-pulse from one vibration of the vocal chords; that its length was the direct measure of the time elapsed during that vibration, and consequently of the pitch of the voice at that particular instant. I knew then that I had within my grasp the definite settlement of the age-long dispute over the ‘‘tones’’ of oriental speech. The pitch of every portion of the vowel-note could be absolutely determined by physical measurement of those waves, and the whole movement or inflection of voice could thus be accurately plotted on paper. We then should have irrefragable demonstration of the precise nature of these ‘‘tones,’’ instead of irreconcilable discrepancies between the sense-impressions of untrained observers on the one hand, and, on the other, the idle fancies embodied in the native tradition and nomenclature. So, with Dr. Goddard’s kind help, I presently secured a series of records of each of the five ‘‘tones”’ of the Siamese language.’ 1A number of these records are shown in Plate 1. Those used in this study were all taken at the highest speed of the apparatus, so as to facilitate measurement by giving the greatest possible length to the waves in the tracing. The working of the machine and the method of securing the records may be ''1916] Bradley: On Plotting the Inflections of the Voice 197 Finding myself at that time too busy with my regular duties to carry this investigation further, I laid the records aside; but later, when I went abroad for a year of study in the Orient, I took the records with me. There, in the intervals of a larger quest, I found time to work out the results. First came the measurements. The records of the various ‘‘tones’’ showed anywhere from 50 to 150 separate waves. At first an attempt was made to measure these one by one with a micrometer. After full trial, however, this scheme was abandoned, not so much because of the time and effort it involved, as because time and effort so spent were largely wasted. The exactness attainable by the micrometer was rendered of no avail because of the impossibility of determining with equal exactness the points between which the measurements were to be taken. For, while the larger phases of the waves were obvious enough, the determination of the exact point which should mark crest or hollow was as nearly impossible as it would be in the case of a sea-wave. So, to reduce to a minimum the inevitable errors of judg- ment, recourse was had to measuring the waves in small groups together, and reading the scale with a vernier-glass to the nearest hundredth of an inch.2 Of the measurements so made, the smallest briefly described as follows: The various air-pulses originating in the vocal apparatus are transmitted to a sensitive tympanum or drum, which in turn actuates a recording pen. Every separate impulse received by the tympanum gives the pen a slight thrust to one side, from which the elasticity of the tympanum promptly brings it back. The recording point lightly touches the surface of a sheet of smoked paper wrapped about a revolving brass cylinder driven by clock-work at a uniform rate of speed. So long as the tympanum is undisturbed by air-pulses, the point traces a perfectly straight white line around the cylinder. If one speaks into the receiver, each consonant breaks the smooth straight line for an instant into sudden and angular commotion, while the vowel-tones ruffie it into a series of regular waves which are often embroidered or fringed by delicate ripples or cusps caused by the overtones of the voice or by the resonance of the chambers of the vocal apparatus. These features of the vowel-tracings may be readily seen in the examples shown in Plate 1. Since the paper moves at a uniform rate under the record- ing point, the measurement of any one of the primary waves in the record will give its pitch relatively to the others; for pitch is determined by frequency of vibration. For a fuller description of the apparatus and of its workings, see P. E. Goddard, ‘‘A Graphic Method of Recording Songs,’’ in Boas Memorial Volume, p: 137. 2In the first experiments the waves were measured in groups of three. Later the number was increased to five, with no appreciable loss in accuracy. For the inflections of speech, unlike those of music, are true glides, with no abrupt steps or breaks which might be concealed or obscured under these averages. And in any case the thing sought is the general figure or pattern of the voice-inflection rather than its minute detail, which varies greatly with every utterance. These measurements were recorded just as they were taken, without reduc- ing them to the average of each group. Reduction was unnecessary, since in either case they represent ratios, and not concrete quantities. Furthermore, they are liable to reduction later to adjust them to the amended scheme yet to be described, and that single operation suffices for all. ''198 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. — [Vol. 12 in the whole series was 18 hundredths of an inch, and the largest 64 hundredths, showing a compass of a little less than two octaves. All that now remained was to plot the results on the chart. But just how was this to be done? To this question I had so far given almost no thought, feeling sure that some form of the co-ordinate system now everywhere used in statistical work could easily be adapted to the needs of the case. But confronting the problem directly, and with no record of previous attempts to guide me, I found myself at a loss. On reflection, however, it occurred to me that since the whole purpose of this study was to secure a plotted figure which should supplement and correct the imperfect and fleeting image of the sound formed in the mind, the plotted figure must be really comparable with the mental one—must have the same essential plan and structure. That is, the two must have the same system of co-ordinates. This brought me to the question, How does the mind image pitch? In listening to the flow of speech, it is probable that the mind does not ordinarily form any distinct image of the sensation of pitch. For the attention is then directed to the ensemble by which the mind recognizes words and phrases, and follows the general drift of thought rather than any one of the many separate elements which together make up the utterance.? Ordinarily the function of pitch in speech is a very subordinate one, being either incidental to emphasis, or suggestive of the syntactical or modal features of the utterance. So far is it from being an essential element, that it is entirely omitted in the written form of all languages except, of course, those in which voice-inflection is as truly an organic feature of words as are their vowels and consonants.t Within the field of speech, therefore, we shall look in vain for any clear answer to our question, How does the mind image pitch? If, however, we turn to music, we find that in it pitch is no longer 3To this fact is due in large part the difficulty which European students experience in understanding and mastering the ‘‘tones’’ of Chinese speech. Their minds have never been trained to take note of the pitch of individual words, and therefore they never really hear it. 4 Chinese writing represents a word in its entirety by a single ideographie symbol. The ‘‘tone’’ is inherent in the word itself, just as are all the other phonetic elements which together make up its complex. It therefore needs no separate indication. So far as known to the writer, the only modern language which consistently marks voice-inflection in writing is the Siamese, which, though an offshoot of the Chinese stock, spells its words phonetically and indicates the ‘‘tone’’ of each. either by the choice of letters in which tone is inherent, or else by diacritical marks. The accents of ancient Greek, however, were doubtless also tonal inflections essential to the right utterance of the syllable, and were undoubtedly present in speech long before it became necessary to invent marks to indicate their nature and position in the word. ''1916] Bradley: On Plotting the Inflections of the Voice 199 subordinate or incidental, but a matter of prime importance. There is no doubt that when the mind pauses to consider the notes of music, it does actually image their tonal relations—does translate them into 3 figures of location or of movement in space. To discover the essential features of ‘this imaging we shall not need to have recourse to the psychological laboratory. They are plainly indicated in the terms which the speech of widely different races commonly applies to musical tones. Degrees of pitch are indicated by such terms as “‘high’’ and ‘“‘low.’’ Direction of change, or movement in pitch, are indicated by such terms as ‘‘rising,’’ ‘‘falling,’’ and ‘‘level.’’ And further, wherever these terms occur, they are invariably used in the same sense. That is, notes of great frequency of vibration are always ‘‘high,”’ and those of small frequency are always ‘‘low,’’ and never vice versa.? The whole scheme of our musical notation is nothing but an elaborate development and enforcement of this same principle. Its ‘“‘staff’’ is a veritable ladder on which the notes are visibly ranked according to pitch. It should be remarked, however, that this particular usage of speech is not the only one that has been current in the world, or that is now current. And it is probably not the earliest usage, but one that has gradually won its way over the others. For example: of the three Greek accents already referred to, one was called o€dvs (sharp), and another was called Bapi’s (heavy)—terms certainly of an order alto- gether different from our terms ‘‘high’’ and ‘‘low,’’ and apparently unrelated to each other. The third, wepsomv@pevos (twisted about), is probably of our spatial order, for it designates the circumflex tone, which first rises and then falls, and so is actually turned about upon itself. Thus it appears that at the period when the tonal features of Greek speech came to be matters of thought and reflection, three separate analogies were already in the field, and each furnished one of the names then given to them. But it is significant that later still, when it became necessary to mark these inflections in writing to save them from being lost, the three marks were all of one system, and that ae ee seems to be nothing either in the physics of sound or in the nature of the mind to bring about this unanimity, it must be ascribed to some very early and widespread convention based, perhaps, on some external and incidental thing in musical art, such, for example, as the relative positions in which the various notes of some primitive musical instrument were produced or played. One can easily imagine that the particular instrument was the pipe, a thing of immense antiquity, and still in use throughout the greater part of the world. It is, in fact, nothing but a whistle with a tube long enough for finger-holes, and played in the flageolet position. The notes lowest in pitch are thus sounded from the openings which are lowest in actual position, and those higher in pitch, from openings higher up on the tube. ''200 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 one is our own of spatial representation. For the marks are really nothing but tiny diagrams of the gestures by which one might instinct- ively illustrate the three movements in pitch: / rising, \ falling, — circumflex. ‘‘Sharp,’’ the equivalent of the Greek term o€vs, still survives as a technical term in modern music for a note slightly raised in pitch; but its counter-term ‘‘flat’’ seems to be a recent invention, the logical basis of which is not clear. We have turned from the field of speech to that of music because only in music have the phenomena of pitch received the full attention necessary to the formulation of a usage which clearly reveals the workings of the mind in dealing with this matter. The usage of music shows that the modern mind at least has learned to visualize pitch spatially, as position on a vertical scale, with notes of shorter vibration above, and notes of longer vibration below. But pitch is not the only thing to be provided for in our scheme. Inflection of the voice has also the element of movement and change, and these can take place only in time. The chart must provide also for this other dimension, time. Fortunately there is here no difficulty, for the mind habitually co-ordinates space and time, and readily translates either one of these into terms of the other. It images time as the track of a moving point—that is, as a line. Unless otherwise determined by outside circumstances, the movement seems generally figured as horizontal, and from left to right across the field.® The results of this excursus into the realm of psychology may be summed up as follows. The essential elements of the mental image of an inflection of the voice are two: pitch and time. Pitch is figured as position attained at a given instant on a vertical scale. Time is figured as advance from point to point measured on a horizontal scale. The inflection itself is figured as a line which is the resultant of these two components. ‘These principles determined the general scheme of the chart to be as follows: The series of numbers derived from measurements and representing the various levels of pitch, are the vertical elements of the chart, that is, its ordinates; and numbers representing the time- intervals are the horizontal elements, that is, its abscissas. There still remained the problem of spacing in both these dimen- 6 Both these features are doubtless due to convention—perhaps both to the same convention, namely to the direction taken by Indo-European writing. Both are abundantly attested by our modern cartographic treatment of all statistical matter involving the element of time. In antiquity we find the same idea reflected in the Greek accent-marks already alluded to. How Arabians and Chinese image time I am unable to say. ''1916] Bradley: On Plotting the Inflections of the Voice 201 sions. Following the common practice in the plotting of statistics, the spacing was made uniform throughout each of these dimensions, but not alike in both. Unit-spaces on the co-ordinate paper were assigned to the vertical series of measurement-numbers representing the various levels of pitch;? and a constant small interval, sufficient to give the requisite spread to the figure and to bring out its features, was chosen, after experiment, as the horizontal time-interval of advance between successive stations on the chart. This scheme was carried out as follows: Beginning at the left-hand margin, the first measurement was entered as a pencil-dot at the beginning of the line which bore its number. The second was next entered upon its own numbered line, but advanced toward the right by the interval determined upon. The other measurements followed in their order, each on its own numbered line and at the same constant interval to the right, till all the measurements of that particular record were plotted. A continuous curving line was then drawn through the series of plotted points, and the figure so completed represented visually the whole movement or inflection of the voice in uttering that syllable. In like manner the four other ‘‘tones’’ of the series were plotted upon the same sheet. Finally the whole was brought into approximate relation with concert-pitch by finding on a piano the pitch at which I habitually sounded the more level stretch of the “‘middle tone’’—which was F. From this the positions of the other notes of the diatonic scale were computed by the help of the well- known ratios of the musical intervals,’ and their places were marked upon the margin. So far as I can ascertain, this was the first attempt ever made to plot from measurements the inflections of the human voice. The chart was completed in November, 1908, and was exhibited at a public meeting of the Siam Society in Bangkok on February 2 following. The experiment was more successful than I had dared to hope. The results were perfectly clear and convincing. The general scheme was evidently right. Careful study, however, revealed a certain distortion of vertical values which interfered with accurate comparison of one of these figures with another in a different portion of the field —a distortion in kind not unlike the horizontal distortion of Mercator’s 7JIn this case the measurement-numbers ran from 18 at the top of the sheet to 64 at the bottom. Cf. plate 2 and p. 198 ante. 8 The figure so plotted is the rising glide shown in plate 2, which is a reproduction of my original chart published in the Journal of the American Oriental Society, xxx1, pt. 3, p. 286. 1911. 9Cf. Century Dictionary s. v. Interval. ''202 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 maps. The source of it was found to be the equal spacing of the vertical series of numbers representing the levels of pitch. While these numbers increase from above downward in arithmetical pro- gression, the musical intervals, as plotted on the chart, increase in geometrical progression, with the result that any given interval of the lower octave occupies a vertical space just twice as great as the same interval of the upper octave. An upward sweep of an octave from middle pitch would appear only half as long as a descending sweep of an octave from the same starting-point. This distortion is brought out unmistakably if one compares the rising glide in plate 2 with the falling one. The rising glide covers fourteen semitones, while the falling one covers six and one-half. Yet on the chart the vertical reach of the former is only a trifle greater than that of the latter.’ The distortion would be very much greater if voices of entirely different range, such for example as the masculine and the feminine, were plotted together according to this scheme and brought into comparison. In such a ease, indeed, effective comparison would be almost impossible. Now the ear knows nothing whatever of measurements such as we have been making; but beyond question it recognizes all octave cycles as equal. Whether this is due to the recognition directly by the ear of eyeles of recurrent unison, or whether it was first suggested by the fact that, in instruments like the pipe, the upper and the lower octaves are played from the same openings and over the very same length of tube, are questions which need not detain us here. But if the octaves are equal, then it follows inevitably that the semitones— if they be equal divisions of the octave—are all equal to each other. This equality, moreover, is enforced by the almost universal use of the tempered scale for musical instruments played either with keys or with frets. Thus our visual imagination and our thought too, unless sophisticated by physics, follow suit of the ear and make the semi- tones equal. The error being thus located, the first step toward rectifying it was obvious and easy, namely, to make the semitone-intervals equal i 40 This element of vertical distortion, coupled with another of horizontal distortion to be noticed later, may also be clearly seen if one compares figure 1 of plate 5, where both errors are uncorrected, with figure 2 of the same plate, where both are eliminated. The vertical element works as gravity does, progressively diminishing all upward movement as represented ‘on the chart, making it fall short of its due height; and progressively increasing all down- ward motion, making it overshoot its mark. The other (the horizontal) distortion gives to ascending motion a greater spread than is its due, and to descending motion a spread proportionately less. The two together make the plotted figure of the rising inflection both shorter and flatter than it should be, and that of the falling inflection both deeper and steeper. ''1916 | Bradley: On Plotting the Inflections of the Voice 203 upon the chart. So the symbols of the twelve semitones took the places previously occupied by the measurement-numbers on the unit-lines of the paper. But the next step—to find new places for those ousted numbers—was not by any means so easy. Indeed, it was long before any clear lead appeared. After much vain groping it suddenly flashed upon me one day that each semitone of the octave has its distinct numerical value, namely, its ratio to the fundamental note of the scale. And this numerical value it brings with it to the new position in which it has been placed. These decimal ratios of the semitones therefore, equally spaced, form the determining series of the corrected chart, in the intervals of which the integers of the measurements must be interpolated, each in its proper place. I had found the clew, but was by no means out of the labyrinth. The ratios of the diatonic scale already mentioned would not answer here, for their intervals are not equal. I was where no books of refer- ence were accessible, and I am not at all sure that I should have found what I wanted, if I had had them. Thrown back thus upon my own resources, I reflected that the octave ratios form a series in geometrical progression—1l, 2, 4, 8, 16, and so on—with the constant ratio of 2. The semitone-ratios of the tempered scale, therefore, must also form a geometrical progression of twelve terms within each octave. Since 2 is the constant ratio of the octave series, the constant ratio of the semitone series must be that quantity which multiplied into itself twelve times will make 2—that is, the twelfth root of 2. Fortunately my desert island afforded an article of furniture not often found in such places—a table of logarithms. With its help I soon worked out the series of ratios shown on the left-hand margin of plate 4 and in table 1 below. For convenience in plotting, and to get rid of a decimal place, 10 rather than 1 was assumed as unity. The computation cov- ered two octaves—twenty-four semitones—with numerical values ranging from 10 to 40, providing compass enough for any ordinary speaking voice in experiments such as these. The earlier scheme, it will be recalled, was concrete and practical, based on a series of numbers derived from actual measurements. This new scheme was begun with an ideal series of ratios, and I proceeded to work it out as an ideal scheme to the end, leaving to a later stage the question of its adjustment to concrete cases. So dealing with it, the problem of interpolation referred to above became a problem of finding the places, within this ratio-series, of the natural numbers from 10 to 40. The ratios are mostly decimal, though 10, 20, and 40 ''204 University of California Publications in Am. Arch.and Ethn. [Vol. 12 at the octave points are integers, and two others, at the fifth below in each octave, differ but infinitesimally from 15 and 30. Five numbers were thus located at the start, and the particular space within which each one of the other numbers must be located was plainly disclosed. Their exact positions, however, were not so easily determined. The method of proportional parts was first tried, and it furnished an approximation sufficiently close to serve the purpose immediately in view. Indeed, that was the method used in plotting the ‘‘tones’’ of Chinese speech." Here I should have stopped. But the ‘‘pagan curiosity’? with which I am sometimes reproached drove me on. There must be a real solution to a mathematical series so wonderfully strict and sym- metrical; and I must find it. Nevertheless I groped long in darkness before light broke upon me at last one morning as I awoke out of sleep. If I were to plot the curve of those semitone ratios, the levels at which the curve cuts the vertical unit-lines would be the true location of the integral numbers. Without delay I set myself to work. | The result is shown in plate 4, figure 1, where the vertical distances (ordinates) of the integer levels may be read directly from the milli- meter divisions of the paper. Even so I was not satisfied. The solution was perfect of its kind, but the kind was instrumental and mechanical—not of pure science. I marvel now at my infatuation with the problem, but still more at my stupidity. Long before this, in computing the semitone-ratios, I had used—without recognizing it or so formulating it—the equation y =a", wherein a is 7*\/2, and x is in turn each of the numbers of the natural series from 1 to 24. But the equation is really one of two variables. All that I now needed to do was to turn the equation about and solve it for the values of x when, a remaining constant, y is in turn each number of the natural series from 10 to 40. This all the time being within my reach, and with the diagram fully drawn and under my eyes, it was weeks before I recognized in it the solution I was seeking. Thus at last my calculus, fifty years out of mind, came back to me and laid the uneasy demon that'so long had plagued me. The distortion of figure, in so far as it arose from the unequal spacing of the semitone intervals, was now completely corrected by respacing unequally the numbered levels of pitch in such a way that 11 Cf, plate 8, from a chart first published in Proceedings of the American Philological Association, XLV, page xliv, with abstract of the paper read. The paper was subsequently published in full in the Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, North China Branch, August, 1915. ''1916] Bradley: On Plotting the Inflections of the Voice 205 their intervals diminished from above downward just fast enough to leave the semitone intervals equal throughout the chart. Still another element of distortion, however, lurked in the equal horizontal spacing which was adopted at the start. The spaces there ought to vary also, for they represent the time-intervals between successive points in the record, and these vary of course with the pitch. It was some time, I am ashamed to say, before it became clear that the very same measurement which I plotted vertically as pitch, gave me also, in its aspect as time, the measure of forward movement. The single measurement, that is, gives both co-ordinates of the plotted point—a most unusual and surprising thing. It must not be supposed, however, that the whole of the measure- ment-number must be taken as the increment of advance. To do so would be to flatten the figure almost beyond recognition. All that is necessary is that the increment in each case be proportional to the number representing pitch. Some constant fraction of that number —say one-half or one-third—will suffice to give the figure the necessary spread. Reviewing now the discussion so far, we see that the general scheme for plotting inflections of the voice involves two dimensions, each with a different system of spacing. In the scheme as originally worked out, there was an error of distortion in each of these two dimensions, due to the equal spacing which was tentatively adopted in each. In the readjustment of the scheme described above both errors have been eliminated by substituting for the equal spacing in each dimension a spacing graduated proportionally to the measurement-numbers— inversely proportional in the case of the vertical intervals; directly proportional in the case of the horizontal. Inflections so plotted are capable of strictest comparison in all their features both with each other and with the records. It is difficult, moreover, to see how any other systematic error can creep in, for there are but these two dimensions in which it could operate, and but the one door of measure- ment by which it could enter. The revised scheme, as has been noted, is not built upon actual measurements, as was the first one, but upon an ideal system of abstract numbers or ratios, on the one hand, and of positions deter- mined by these, on the other. It is, moreover, limited to two octaves, a compass which includes the extreme range of voice in ordinary speech. The special advantage of such a scheme is that, being ideal, ''206 Uniwersity of California Publications in Am. Arch.and Ethn. — [Vol. 12 it is capable of being adapted without difficulty to any concrete case. The essential feature of the plot (that is, the spacing of the numbered levels of pitch) is arranged once for all, and is never to be changed. Adjustment has to do only with the numbers which are attached to these levels, and it may be accomplished in either of two ways: (a) the numbers of the scheme may be raised to meet the actual measure- ments by use of a suitable multiplier, or (6b) the measurement-numbers may be reduced by division to the dimensions of the scheme. There is little to choose between the two methods, save that there is probably less chance of mistake or confusion if the plotted scheme of numbers be kept unchanged, and the particular voice or the particular meas- urements be reduced to the standard, just as all barometric readings, for purposes of comparison, are reduced to sea-level. The whole process may be made clear by means of the following example together with its illustration in figure 2 of plate 4. In table 3, column 2 (p. 207), are given two series of measurements made in the course of my experiments with the ‘‘tones’’ of Siamese speech. The two are taken almost at random from my notes, and represent respectively the rising and the falling inflection. The measurements are of groups of six waves throughout. The extreme measurements are 30 and 110—a large compass of voice, falling only a little short of two octaves. The smallest number in our scheme is 10. The measurements may therefore be reduced to standard by dividing them throughout by 3. The results of the reduction are tabulated in column 3, and these are the figures to be used in the plotting. In table 2, column 1, are given the numbers attached to the levels of pitch in our scheme; and opposite these in column 2 are given the ordinates of those levels, that is, the vertical distance of each measured from the starting-point at level 10 at the top of the sheet. These ordinates are the results of the computation described above (p. 204). We turn now to the co-ordinate paper on which the inflections are to be plotted. Vertically it should have twenty-four unit spaces—one for each semitone of the two octaves. Horizontally, the eighteen unit spaces usually found in the millimeter sheet will be ample for all needs. Beginning at the upper right-hand corner, we number each unit- line along the margin from 0 at the top to 24 at the bottom. This marking has nothing to do with the final plot and is not absolutely 12Tn many cases it may be found simpler to perform the reduction by multiplying and pointing off one decimal place. Thus, if the extreme measure- ments had been 27 and 95, we might have multiplied by 4 and pointed off thus: 10.8 and 38.0. ''1916] Bradley: On Plotting the Inflections of the Voice 207 necessary, but is only intended to facilitate the reading of the milli- meter distances in the next operation. It should be done lightly with a pencil, so that it may be easily erased when it has served its purpose. It therefore does not appear in plate 4. Next, at a little distance within the right-hand margin, we mark the top line 10, the level with which our scheme begins. Its distance of course is zero. From table 2 we take the second distance, 16.5, and find its place between the 16th and 17th millimeter lines directly below 10, where we mark it with a short horizontal pencil-line, and number it as level 11. We find in the table the third distance, 31.6 (measured also from line 10), and with the help of the marginal numbering of the unit-lines, we enter it in its place as level 12—and continue the operation with constantly diminishing spaces, until we reach the 40th level at the 24th line near the bottom. This completes the preparation of the chart. TABLE 1 TABLE 2 AWNEneIDy The Semitone The Levels of Measurements Ratios Pitch Series 1 Numerical Vertical Horizontal No. Value No. Distance No. Original Reduced Interval 0 10.00 10 00.0 mm, al 56 18.7 9 mm. al 10.60 il 16.5 2 55 18.3 9 P, 123 2, a6 2B 56 18.7 9 3 11.89 13} 45.5 4 55 18.3 9 4 12.60 14 58.3 5) 54.5 18 9 5 3835 dy 70.3 6 53.5 17.8 9 6 14.14 16 81.5 Tf ol ey 9 i 14.98 ia 92.0 8 50 NG 8 8 15.87 18 101.8 9 48 16 8 9 16.81 19 slate A: 10 46 aS 8 10 AV. 20 120.0 ole 43 14.3 Ol slat 18.87 21 2 SE5) 12 40 Loe f te 20.00 22 136.5 alts 37 123} 6 13 21.20 23 144.2 14 36 12; 6 14 22.46 24 151.6 15 BOD 11.6 6 ay 2238 25 158.7 16 Bo) 1S 6 16 25.20 26 G5. 5) ae Be. 11 6 ue 26.70 27 eek 18 30 10 5 18 28.28 28 US} : 19 29.96 D0. ae3 Series 2 20 31.74 30 190.3 1 50 16.7 8mm. Dil 33.60 ile 196.0 2 a2 feo 9 22 35.62 32 201.5 3 54 18 9 23) 37.74 Bo 206.9 4 56 SH 9 24 40.00 34 212.0 a) Bile 19 10 35 21760) 6 58 193, 10 36 22168) tf 61 20238 2 0) 37 226.5 8 66 22, fet 38 O23. 9 74 2A 12 39 235.6 10 83 ie Ae 40 240.0 iil 93 Dil 16 ee tO) 30. 8 ''208 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 We come now to the actual plotting. Referring to table 3 for the reduced measurements (in column 3) we take the first one, 18.7, and enter it with a pencil-dot slightly above level 19 traced across the chart. Taking the next number, 18.3, we note its place just below level 18; and finding in column 4 its horizontal interval, 9 (one-half of 18.3), we enter the second point at the level ascertained, and 9 millimeter spaces to the right of the first. The third point is again on level 18.7, and 9 mm. to the right of point 2. This process is continued until the series ends with point 18 at level 10, 126 mm. from the left-hand edge. Through this series of points a smoothly curving line is carefully drawn, which constitutes the figure or pattern of movement executed by the voice in that particular utterance. The plotting of the second series of measurements is carried out in the same way, and on the same sheet. Lastly, concert-pitch is found from the record of a C-fork taken at the same time with the other records, which in this case determines the level of C as 17.6, that is, near the 10th unit-line from the top. From this datum the places of the other notes of the musical scale are easily determined by assigning one unit-space to each semitone. This study demonstrates the immense superiority, in point of delicacy, of instrumental analysis over the trained ear. In plate 3, tone 1, are shown five examples of the utterance of the same short syllable in succession. The pitch was intended to be a perfectly level tone. The serpentine oscillations which our analysis reveals entirely escaped the sense of hearing, as did also the uncertainty of attack and finish, and the hesitation in mid-movement exhibited in many examples of other tones given in the same chart. In figure 3 of plate 5 may be seen the vagaries of a singer’s voice in ren- dering C natural—a continual wandering away from pitch followed by attempted correction and return. The ear fails utterly to detect errors of this dimension, for the whole portion of the note here shown on the chart occupied but 1.08 of a second of time. The instrument reveals even minute variations in the rate of a tuning-fork due to infinitesimal variations in the drag on the prongs of the fork as the recording point sweeps the surface of the paper. Transmitted April 3, 1916. '' ''EXPLANATION OF PLATE 1 Specimen records taken with the Rousselot apparatus, reduced to three- fourths of their original dimensions. Numbers 1 to 5 are records of the five ‘‘tones’’ of long vowels in Siamese speech, namely, 1, Rising; 2, Circumflex; 3, Middle; 4, Depressed; 5, Falling. No. 1 has been marked off into groups of waves for measurement. Number 6 is the record of an electric tuning-fork making 100 vibrations per second. The general features of movement and pitch which characterize these five ‘‘tones’’ are shown in plate 2; and a brief indication of the part they play in actual speech is given in the explanation of that plate. For an account of the way in which the records are made, see footnote 1, pp. 196-197. The extreme delicacy of which these records are capable is shown in the case of the electric fork, the rate of which would naturally be supposed to be absolutely uniform within the limits of a single record. But measurement shows that the rate varied during the fraction of a second of time occupied in the process. The first forty waves of the record together measure two one- hundredths of an inch more than the last forty. Tlis infinitesimal variation is probably due to infinitesimal differences in the drag of the recording point as it swings from side to side on the surface of the paper. [210] ''UNIV CARI PUBL ANT ARGH: EitiNw VO; |2 [BRADLEY] PLAT ee I, COON, COUN ION AA Na ea aa a a a er emrncernes areata arena in en in on tenet at ot ott DTW ISS 0 beac Die ae a eee a OD NaN ee DO DO ORO On Oe OOOO ACCU a aii Ae LPF PL PVP LAD LAL OPLOLIIVIPLPIIPIPF IIIS LF LIL LLL I LN NS NS AN A ta ll a a hn i '' '' ''EXPLANATION OF PLATE 2 Chart of the five ‘‘tones’’ of long vowels in Siamese, illustrating the earlier scheme of plotting. So far as known to the writer, this is the first attempt ever made to plot from actual measurements the inflections of the voice. It was made in November, 1908, and was exhibited at a meeting of the Siam Society held in Bangkok on February 2, 1909. 7 Eke figures here shown were plotted from records of the writer’s voice as he pronounced the one syllable n@ with the five modes of voice-inflection distinguished by the Siamese in their utterance of long vowels. The one syllable so uttered becomes five different words, which to the natives do not seem to be homophones at all, but as clearly different as seem to us the words bate, beat, bite, boat, boot, which differ only in vowel quality. The meaning of the five Siamese words, differing only in tone, are as follows: Syllable Inflection Meaning na rising thick circumflex uncle or aunt middle rice-field depressed indeed falling face, front [212] ''UNIV. CALIF, PUBL. AM. ARCH. & ETHN. VOL. 12 [BRADLEY] PLATE 2 SF WS '' '' ''EXPLANATION OF PLATE 3 Chart of the ‘‘tones’’ of Pekingese. In this chart the vertical distortion noted in the earlier scheme was corrected by giving to the levels of pitch a graduated instead of a uniform spacing. It has a further interest in its revelation of surprising eccentricities or inaccuracies in the performance of the human voice. Tone 1, for example, is heard by the ear as a tone perfectly level in pitch. Its serpentine oscilla- tions completely escape notice by the ear, as do also the uncertainty of attack and the hesitation in execution noticeable in many other figures of the chart. Pekingese scholars claim four separate ‘‘tones’’ for their dialect. But the chart would seem to show that there are really but three. The general figure or pattern of ‘‘tone’’ 2 is identical with that of ‘‘tone’’ 3, and instru- mental analysis fails to discover within the range of examples available any constant difference of detail which the ear could detect as a basis of distinction. It may be that there is a difference in vowel-quantity which does not appear in the examples chosen. [214] ''UNIVE: GALIE PUBL AM ARGH. 2 ETHN: VOL. 12 [BRADLEY] PLATE 3 '' '' ''EXPLANATION OF PLATE 4 Figure 1.—The semitone-ratios and the levels of pitch. The semitone-ratios are a series of numbers which express the relative time of vibration at the pitch of each semitone of the octave, when the vibration-time at the pitch of C is 10. These ratios, computed for two octaves, are shown at the left-hand margin of the chart, each on its unit-line. The ratios, it will be noted, are nearly all decimal. The problem is to find the precise levels within this decimal series at which the integers 11, 12, 13, ete., are to stand. The problem was solved graphically as follows: Each ratio (less 10, because we begin at the margin with 10) was plotted on the chart as a horizontal line. Through the ends of these lines a curve was drawn. The points in which this curve cuts the vertical unit-lines will mark the true levels of the various integral numbers. The vertical distance (ordinates) from 0 at the top of the chart to each of these levels may be read directly from the co-ordinate paper. The ordinates actually entered on the chart are those derived from a subsequent computation, and are carried out to one decimal place. Figure 2.—Illustration of the perfected scheme for plotting inflections without distortion in either dimension. aa is the figure of a rising inflection, and bb the figure of a falling inflection so plotted. For the data used and for detail of the method see table 3 and the adjacent text, p. 207, ante. [216] ''UNIV, CALIF, PUBL, AM. ARCH. & ETHN. VOL. 12 [BRADLEY] PLATE 4 '' '' ''EXPLANATION OF PLATE 5 Figures 1 and 2.—Direct comparison of the two schemes of plotting. Figure 1 is the rising inflection (aa) and the falling inflection (bb) as originally plotted in plate 2. Figure 2 shows these same inflections replotted according to the perfected scheme. Comparison shows that aa of figure 1 is shorter and flatter and shows a greater time-dimension than does the cor- rected aa of figure 2, while bb of figure 1 is deeper, steeper, and has less time-dimension than the corrected bb of figure 2. Figure 3 is a representation of the performance of a singer’s voice in rendering the C natural of a tuning-fork. It illustrates the same vagaries, the same uncertainties and attempted corrections which were shown in the Q case of the speaking voice in plate 3. [218] ''UNIV, CALIF. PUBL. AM. ARCH. & ETHN. VOL. 12 [BRADLEY] PLATEZ5 ''Da Roca : : : t ''UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PUBLICATIONS IN AMERICAN ARCHAEOLOGY AND ETHNOLOGY Vol. 12, No. 6, pp. 219-248 February 24, 1917 TUBATULABAL AND KAWAILISU KINSHIP TERMS BY EDWARD WINSLOW GIFFORD CONTENTS PAGE Tat ROMUGtION) | emer Se ee es Se ae a ee 219 Phonetic Transcription 220 PU etn I es ees a ee i ee nee 220 Saye As Ue oe eee ey 2 228 Comparison 20 OS a ae 232 Tibatulabal and Kawaiisu 232 Kawaiisu, Kaibab Paiute, and Uintah Ute 244 INTRODUCTION In November and December, 1915, the writer was engaged in an examination of the tribes inhabiting the eastern and southern slopes of the San Joaquin drainage basin to determine the limits in California of social and ceremonial organization on the basis of dual divisions.* Among the tribes visited were the Tiibatulabal of the Kern River region in the southern Sierra Nevada and the adjoining Kawaiisu of the Tehachapi Mountains at the southern end of the San Joaquin Valley. Both of these Shoshonean groups lack the dual organization for which the writer was seeking. The kinship systems of these two peoples are of especial interest, however, and the facts about them are presented in the following pages. Important features of these systems are the use of single terms for reciprocal relationships (identical- reciprocals), the use of diminutive suffixes, and the use of terms and suffixes denoting the condition of connecting relatives. 1 Dichotomous Social Organization in South Central California, Univ. Calif. Publ. Am. Arch. Ethn., x1, 291-296, 1916. ''220 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 The Tiibatulabal and their closely related western neighbors, the Bankalachi, form one of the four primary linguistic branches of the Shoshonean family, known as the Kern River branch.? The remaining branches are the Plateau, the Southern California, and the Pueblo. Compared with the territory of the Plateau branch that of the Kern River branch is infinitesimally small. Perhaps it is in consequence of this limited geographic range that scarcely a feature of the Tiiba- tulabal kinship nomenclature proves to be unique, and this in spite of the linguistic divergence exhibited by the Tiibatulabal language. The Kawaiisu, the southern neighbors of the Tiibatulabal, who are also to be discussed, speak a dialect of Ute-Chemehuevi,* and are included in the great Plateau branch of the Shoshonean stock. As will be pointed out in the comparative portion of this paper, it appears probable that the Kawaiisu and Tiibatulabal kinship systems have affected each other on account of the contact of the two peoples. Thanks are due Dr. Edward Sapir for the use of his unpublished notes on Kaibab Paiute and Uintah Ute relationship terms. PHONETIC TRANSCRIPTION In this paper e = sh, te = ch as in church, 6 = aw as in law, D—u as in run, and fi—ng as in sing. The sound represented by ii is neutral and is not to be understood as identical with German iti.t A period on the line between two vowels indicates that they have their ordinary phonetic value and do not form a diphthong. TUBATULABAL Forty Tiibatulabal terms of relationship were obtained. These include identical-reciprocals with diminutive suffixes. The diminu- tive suffix -bin or -vin is often added to an identical-reciprocal term to indicate the younger generation of the reciprocal relationship ex- pressed by the single term, as aka (father’s father) and akabin (son’s child, m. s.). The terms applied to relatives by marriage upon the death of the connecting relative have been omitted in the above figure. The term for grandparent and grandchild following the death of the connecting relative is included, however, as it is a special term (hoki), 2A. lL. Kroeber, Shoshonean Dialects of California, Univ. Calif. Publ. Am. Arch. Ethn., Iv, 97, 98, 100, 1907. 3 A. L. Kroeber, Shoshonean Dialects of California, Univ. Calif. Publ. Am. Arch. Hthn., tv, 97, 98, 100, 1:10, 1907. 4See the discussion of such sounds by A. L. Kroeber, Shoshonean Dialects of California, Univ. Calif. Publ. Am. Arch. Ethn., Iv, 90, 91, 1907. ''1917 | Gifford: Tiibatulabal and Kawaitisu Kinship Terms 221 and not merely the ordinary term plus a suffix as in the case of rela- tives by affinity. The terms applied to five such relatives by marriage upon the death of the connecting relatives were obtained. The suffix -paiyiifi or -piinifi is added in these cases, apparently with some such meaning as ‘‘used to be;’’ for this is the meaning given for the analo- gous Kawaiisu suffix -puni or -repuni. Doubtless the suffix is added to other Tiibatulabal terms of affinity besides the five mentioned, but examples were not obtained. It is not unlikely also that the term nawasu (child’s spouse’s parent) is changed upon the death of one of the connecting relatives, just as the corresponding Kawaiisu term teeni is changed (see p. 232). The Tiibatulabal term kali (father’s sister’s husband) and its identical-reciprocal take the suffix -paiyun or -piinif (see p. 222). On this account it is suspected that all other analogous terms for aunts, uncles, nieces, and nephews by affinity like- wise take this suffix. However, information on this point was not obtained. In the following list m. s. and w. s. stand respectively for speaking’’ and ‘‘woman speaking.”’ ‘ ‘man TUBATULABAL RELATIONSHIP TERMS® ana. Father (before death of a child, that is to say, before the death of a brother or sister of the speaker). Reciprocal: tumu (son, daughter). Compare kumu (father), abu (mother), and timi (mother). kumu. Father (after death of a child, that is to say, after the death of a brother or sister of the speaker), father’s older brother, mother’s sister’s husband older than father, stepfather. Reciprocals: tumu (son; daughter; brother’s child, m. s.; wife’s sister’s child), aiyawutawa (stepson), ano- ciwan (stepdaughter). It is interesting to note that kumu, the term for father’s older brother, is used for stepfather, while yugu, the term for mother’s younger sister, is used for stepmother. abu. Mother (before death of a child, that is to say, before the death of a brother or sister of the speaker). Reciprocal: tumu (son, daughter). Compare timiti (mother), ana (father), and kumu (father). timii. Mother (after the death of a child, that is to say, after the death of a brother or sister of the speaker), mother’s older sister, father’s brother’s wife older than mother. Reciprocal: tumu (son; daughter; sister’s child, w. s8.; husband’s brother’s child). 5 The terms anociwan, kufian, pauwan, soiyin, tohan, wiiflin, and yuguan were always given with the terminal -n, which means ‘‘my’’ (see A. L. Kroeber, Notes on Shoshonean Dialects of Southern California, Univ. Calif. Publ. Am. Arch. Ethn., vu, 262, 1909). The terms agist, amust, hiimtibic, impaiyis, wasumbis, wo.ict, and ya.ubic were never given with the terminal -n. The remaining terms were given both with and without it, and are here listed without it. In ref- erence, and sometimes in address, the suffix -nufi, also with the meaning ‘‘my,’’ is added to the term as in wasumbisnuf, tohanuf, and kutcinuf. ''222 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 tumu. Son, daughter, brother’s child (m. s.), sister’s child (w. s.), half brother’s child (m. s.), half sister’s child (w. s.), husband’s brother’s child, wife’s sister’s child. Reciprocals: ana (father), abu (mother), kumu (father, father’s older brother, mother’s sister’s husband older than father), imi (mother, mother’s older sister, father’s brother’s wife older than mother), tohan (father’s younger brother, mother’s sister’s husband younger than father), yugu (mother’s younger sister, father’s brother’s wife younger than mother). patei. Older brother, older half brother, male cousin older than speaker. Re- ciprocal: nalawi (younger brother, younger sister, younger half brother, younger half sister, cousin younger than speaker). nalawi. Younger brother, younger sister, younger half brother, younger half sister, cousin younger than speaker. Reciprocals: kutci (older sister, older half sister, female cousin older than speaker), patci (older brother, older half brother, male cousin older than speaker). kutci. Older sister, older half sister, female cousin older than speaker. Recip- rocal: nalawi (younger brother, younger sister, younger half brother, younger half sister, cousin younger than speaker). impaiyis. Brother (w. s.), male cousin (w. s.), sister (m. s.), female cousin (m. s.). Reciprocal: impaiyis. tohan. Father’s younger brother, mother’s sister’s husband younger than father. Reciprocal: tumu (brother’s child, m. s.; wife’s sister’s child). yugu. Mother’s younger sister, mother’s younger half sister, father’s brother’s wife younger than mother, stepmother. Reciprocals: tumu (sister’s child, w. s.; half sister’s child, w. s.; husband’s brother’s child), aiyawutawa (stepson), anociwan (stepdaughter). It is interesting to note that yugu, the term for mother’s younger sister, is used for stepmother, while kumu, the term for father’s older brother, is used for stepfather. aiyawutawa. Stepson. Reciprocals: kumu (stepfather), yugu (stepmother). anociwan. Stepdaughter. Reciprocals: kumu (stepfather), yugu (stepmother). pauwan. Father’s sister, mother’s brother’s wife. Reciprocal: amust (brother’s ‘child, w..s.; husband’s sister’s child). amust. Brother’s child (m. s.), husband’s sister’s child. Reciprocal: pauwan (father’s sister, mother’s brother’s wife). kali. Mother’s brother, father’s sister’s husband. Reciprocal: kalibin (sister’s child, m. s.; wife’s brother’s child). kalibin. Sister’s child (m. s.), wife’s brother’s child. Reciprocal: kali (mother’s brother, father’s sister’s husband). Kalipaiyiii. Wife’s brother’s child (after death of wife), father’s sister’s husband (after death of father’s sister). It does not seem likely that the ending -paiyiifi is added to kali with the meaning mother’s brother or sister’s child (m. s.), as the rela- tionship is one of blood, not marriage. aka. Father’s father. Reciprocal: akabin (son’s child, m. s.). It probably applies also to collateral relatives (see agist). akabin. Son’s child (m. s.). Reciprocal: aka (father’s father). It probably applies also to collateral relatives (see agist). apa. Father’s mother. Reciprocal: apavin (son’s child, w. s.). It probably applies also to collateral relatives (see agist). apavin. Son’s child (w. s.). Reciprocal: apa (father’s mother). It probably applies also to collateral relatives (see agist). '' 1917] Gifford: Tiibatulabal and Kawaiisu Kinship Terms 223 agist. Mother’s father. Reciprocal: agistbin (daughter’s child, m. s.). Inas- much as utsu (mother’s mother) and its reciprocal utsubin (daughter’s child, w. s.) apply to collateral as well as to lineal relatives, the term agist and its reciprocal agistbin, being analogous, doubtless apply like- wise to collateral as well as lineal relatives. : agistbin. Daughter’s child (m. s.). Reciprocal: agist (mother’s father). It probably applies also to collateral relatives (see agist). utsu. Mother’s mother, mother’s mother’s sister, mother’s mother’s half sister. Reciprocal: utsubin (daughter’s child, w. s.; sister’s daughter’s child, w. s.; half sister’s daughter’s child, w. s.). utsubin. Daughter’s child (w. s.), sister’s daughter’s child (w. s.), half sister’s daughter’s child (w. s.). Reciprocal: utsu (mother’s mother, mother’s mother’s sister, mother’s mother’s half sister). hoki. Grandparent or grandchild (after the death of the connecting relative). Reciprocal: hoki. saka. Great-grandparent. Reciprocal: sakabin (great-grandchild). sakabin. Great-grandchild. Reciprocal: saka (great-grandparent). kufian. Husband. Reciprocal: soiyin (wife). soiyin. Wife. Reciprocal: kufan (husband). w6.ict. Co-wife, co-husband. Reciprocal: wo.ict. wasumbis. Spouse’s parent, wife’s mother’s sister. Reciprocals: tasi (son’s wife), wiifiin (daughter’s husband). Wasumpaiyiii or wasumbisiptinifi. Spouse’s parent (after death of spouse). tasi. Son’s wife. Reciprocal: wasumbis (spouse’s parent). Tasipaiyufi. Son’s wife (after death of speaker’s son). wiifiin. Daughter’s husband, half sister’s daughter’s husband. Reciprocal: wasumbis (spouse’s parent). wiinitipaiyiii or wiinitiptinifi. Daughter’s husband (after death of speaker’s daughter). ya.ubic. Wife’s brother. Reciprocal: piya (sister’s husband). piya.6 Sister’s husband, half sister’s husband, husband’s brother, daughter’s daughter’s husband (w. s.). Reciprocals: tugu (brother’s wife), ya.ubic (wife’s brother), yuguan (wife’s sister, wife’s mother’s mother). Piya- paiyiii. Sister’s husband (after death of speaker’s sister, w. s.).7 yuguan. Wife’s sister, wife’s half sister, wife’s mother’s mother. Reciprocal: piya (sister’s husband, half sister’s husband, daughter’s daughter’s husband). tugu. Brother’s wife, daughter’s son’s wife (w. s.). Reciprocals: htimiibic (husband’s sister), piya (husband’s brother). hiimiibic. Husband’s sister. Reciprocal: tugu (brother’s wife). nawasu. Child’s spouse’s parent. Reciprocal: nawasu. There are certain relationships about which the statements of in- formants are unsatisfactory or contradictory. These are discussed in the following paragraphs and table. In the table the terms which I have considered as most likely correct are italicized. By one informant anociwan was given for daughter, by the same informant and one other for brother’s daughter (m. s.), and by a third 6 One informant applied this term also to wife’s brother, wife’s sister, and brother’s wife (m. s.). 7 Doubtless the ending -paiytifi is suffixed to piya used in other ways, and to ya.ubic, yuguan, hiimiibic, and tugu, following the death of the connecting rela- tive. The above example, however, is the only one obtained. ''224 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 informant for wife’s sister’s daughter. The third informant also gave alyawutawa for wife’s sister’s son. In the list on page 222 the meanings of these two terms appear as stepdaughter and stepson re- spectively, as these are the only positively ascertained meanings. Mrs. John Nicolas, a Kernville Tiibatulabal, gave osambis as the term for sister’s child (w. s.). She was very positive about it, and although it was obtained from no one else, it may represent a dialectic difference. An Onyx (South Fork of Kern River) informant, Tom Pope, stated that the people about Kernville, on the main Kern River, used certain terms which were not used on the South Fork. He mentioned as an example the term héki, which is the term for a grand- parent or grandchild following the death of the connecting relative. According to Mrs. Nicolas, there were two terms for great-grand- parents, saka for great-grandfather, ipi for great-grandmother, with reciprocals sakabin and ipibin. Other informants gave saka for both grandparents. This, too, may be a dialectic difference. .As shown in the case of the Miwok, such variations in a relationship system may occur within a few miles.® UNCERTAIN USAGES OF TERMS* Relationship Informants Bill Petra Clotilda Tom Mrs. John Indian Chico Miranda L. Gomez Pope Nicolas Henry Wife’s sister’s child kali tumu kalibin kalibin alyawutawa anociwan Wife’s sister yuguan — plya yuguan yuguan tugu Sister’s husband (w.s.) piya kumobie piya piya piya kumobic Brother’s wife (m. s.) tumubic plya piya tugu tugu Husband’s sister —— kumoanana tugu tugu himiibic hiimiibie Wife’s sister’s husband —— impaiyis patei piya Husband’s brother’s wife ——— eee anakutcim tugu * After this table was in type the following terms for brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law were secured from Mrs. Mary Imitirio, a Tiibatulabal woman living on Tule River Indian Reser- vation, Tulare County, California: Wife’s brother, piya; sister’s husband (m. s.), piya; wife’s sister, yuguan; sister’s husband (w. s.), piya; husband’s brother, ya.ubic; brother’s wife (w. s.), tugu; husband’s sister, hiimiibic, brother’s wife (w. s.), tugu. The analysis of the Tiibatulabal terms of relationship in the sue- ceeding table is on the basis of the eight categories set forth by Dr. A. L. Kroeber.® His eighth category, ‘‘Condition of the connecting relative,’’ is here amplified in meaning so as to cover the change of terms for father and mother following the death of one or more of their children (see abu and timii= mother, ana and kumu — father, 8 E. W. Gifford, Miwok Moieties, Univ. Calif. Publ. Am. Arch. Ethn., xu, 172-174, 1916. Compare the meanings of ate, kole, and tcale. 9 Classificatory Systems of Relationship, Journ. Roy. Anthr. Inst., XxxIx, 78, os ''1917] Gifford: Tiibatulabal and Kawaiisu Kinship Terms 225 in the preceding list on p. 222.) The cross used in the following table indicates the expression of a category by a term. In the following table the category ‘‘Generation’’ is undoubtedly expressed by more terms than would be the case if fuller genealogical CATEGORICAL ANALYSIS OF TUBATULABAL K1INSHIP TERMS Condition Blood Sex of Agein of con- Gener- or Lineal or Sex of connecting Sexof gener- necting Term ation marriage collateral relative relative speaker ation relative abu x i x x aoe ei ae x agist x x x x agistbin x x x x alyawutawa x x x aka x x x x akabin x x x x amust x a x oa x x ana x x >< ~ i x anociwan x x Ke apa x x x x apavin x x ee x x hoki aos x x ce x hiimiibie x x x x x pee impaiyis x oan kalibin x x on x x x kali x x K x x kumu x ae x Me x x kufan x x x x eee kutei x x x x nalawi oa x * nawasu x x patei x x x x pauwan x ae x x x oa piya x ets x x saka ™ x > sakabin * x x a solyin x x x x tasi x x Ge x x me x tohan x a x x x tugu Be x x tumu x ae utsu x x x x utsubin Bx x x K oe umii x nee x x x wasumbis oe x x wo0.ict x x Gas Le winin x x x x x ya.ubie¢ x x x x x yugu x x a nS * yuguan as K Hees DM x x ae Be Terms* 36 Bul 10 25 wy, ois 7 alee * Number of terms in which each category is expressed. ''226 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 evidence were available, for terms of affinity, such as hiimiibie (hus- band’s sister) and ya.ubie (wife’s brother), would probably be found to refer to more than one generation just as do piya (sister’s husband ; daughter’s daughter’s husband, w. s.), tugu (brother’s wife; daugh- ter’s son’s wife, w.s.), and yuguan (wife’s sister; wife’s mother’s mother). Even with this reduction, however, the category ‘‘Gener- ation’’ would stand out as one of those most frequently expressed. Probably the category ‘‘ Condition of connecting relative’’ really finds expression in far more terms than it appears to in the following table, for, as already mentioned, further investigation will doubtless demon- strate that the suffix -paiyiif or -piinifi is added to all of the terms of affinity upon the death of the connecting relative. If such is found to be the case, the number of terms in which this category finds ex- pression will be doubled. The fragmentary genealogy on page 227 is presented for the purpose of demonstrating the use of the Tiuibatulabal relationship terms. The genealogy was supplied by Wanamtt (number 11 in the genealogy), who is otherwise known as Mrs. Mercedes Linares, and by her daughter Teaigump (19), otherwise known as Mrs. Clotilda Linares Gomez. Names in italics are those of women. The following kinship terms were obtained from Wanamut (11) and Teaigump (19) as applied between them and the individuals ap- pearing in the above genealogy : 1 calls 11 héki (daughter’s daughter following death of 1’s daughter; 11 calls 1 h6ki (mother’s father following death of 11’s mother). 1 calls 19 sakabin (daughter’s daughter’s daughter); 19 calls 1 saka (mother’s mother’s father). 3 calls 11 tumu (daughter); 11 calls 3 tmti (mother following the death of a child). 3 calls 19 utsubin (daughter’s daughter); 19 calls 3 utsu (mother’s mother). 5 calls 11 tumu (sister’s daughter); 11 calls 5 yugu (mother’s younger sister). 5 calls 19 utsubin (sister’s daughter’s daughter); 19 calls 5 utsu (mother’s mother’s sister). 6, 7, and 8 call 11 tumu (wife’s sister’s daughter); 11 calls 6, 7, and 8 téhan (mother’s sister’s husband younger than father). 19 calls 6, 7, and 8 nothing; no reason was given. 9 calls 11 nalawi (younger sister); 11 calls 9 kutci (elder sister). 9 calls 19 tumu (sister’s daughter); 19 calls 9 timii (mother’s older sister). 11 calls 10 piya (sister’s husband). 10 ealls 19 tumu (wife’s sister’s daughter); 19 calls 10 kumu (mother’s sister’s husband older than father). 11 calls 19 tumu (daughter). 19 calls 11 timii (mother following the death of a child, that is, my brother or sister). 12 calls 11 soiyin (wife); 11 calls 12 kufian (husband). 14 calls 11 yugu (mother’s younger sister); 11 calls 14 tumu (sister’s daughter). 14 calls 19 nalawi (younger half sister); 19 calls 14 kutci (older half sister). ''227 Gifford: Tiibatulabal and Kawavisu Kinship Terms 1917] 1. Pahulin 3. Tcaigump (Tiibat.) (Tiibat.) =2. (Female) —4j =—4. Muyuk —— (Yokuts) 24. Sandkat 9. Kiyukii ca (Female) =10. (Male) (Mono) 11. Wanamit 15. Sumuklat =12. Aitza =16. Wisok (Kawaiisu) | _—s«(Yokuts) 17. Miisnik =13. Carlos Linares 5. Kutsiiipu (Tiibat.) =6. (Male) =7. Antonio (Mexican) =8. Santos | _ (Yaqui) * By “Fresno Indian” is probably meant |__ (‘‘ Fresno Indian’')* a Yokuts from Fresno County. =18. Carlos Castello 19. Tcaigump 20. Mela 21. Tealawa 22. Pahulin 25. Wimlat =26. Domingo Benecomo 29. Sintik (halfbreed) 30. (Female) =23. Samailot ''228 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 15 calls 11 timti (mother following the death of a child); 11 calls 15 tumu (daughter). 15 calls 19 nalawi (younger half sister); 19 calls 15 kutei (older half sister). 16 calls 11 wasumbis (wife’s mother); 11 calls 16 wiifin (daughter’s hus- band). 16 calls 19 yuguan (wife’s half sister); 19 calls 16 piya (half sister’s husband). 17 calls 11 timii (mother following the death of a child); 11 calls 17 tumu (daughter). 17 calls 19 nalawi (younger sister); 19 calls 17 kutci (older sister). 20, 21, and 22 call 11 timii (mother following the death of a child); 11 calls 20, 21, and 22 tumu (son). 20, 21, and 22 call 19 kutci (older sister); 19 calls 20, 21, and 22 nalawi (younger brother). 20, 21, and 22 call 19’s children kalibin (sister’s child); 19’s children call 20, 21, and 22 kali (mother’s brother). 23 ealls 11 wasumbis (husband’s mother); 11 calls 23 tasi (son’s wife). 23 ealls 19 hiimiibie (husband’s sister); 19 calls 23 tugu (brother’s wife). 24 and 25 call 11 utsu (mother’s mother); 11 calls 24 and 25 utsubin (daugh- ter’s daughter). 24 and 25 call 19 yugu (mother’s younger half sister); 19 calls 24 and 25 tumu (half sister’s daughter). 26 calls 11 yuguan (wife’s mother’s mother); 11 calls 26 piya (daughter’s daughter’s husband). 26 calls 19 wasumbis (wife’s mother’s half sister); 19 calls 26 wiifiin (half sister’s daughter’s husband). 27 and 28 call 11 apa (father’s mother); 11 calls 27 and 28 apavin (son’s child). 27 and 28 call 19 pauwan (father’s sister); 19 calls 27 and 28 amust (brother’s child). 29 calls 11 saka (mother’s mother’s mother); 11 calls 29 sakabin (daughter’s daughter’s daughter). 29 calls 19 utsu (mother’s mother’s half sister); 19 calls 29 utsubin (half sister’s daughter’s daughter). 12 calls 24 and 25 agistbin (daughter’s daughter): 24 and 25 call 12 agist (mother’s father). KAWATISU Forty-three Kawaiisu terms of relationship*® were obtained ; these include ten terms which are exact reciprocals except that they have diminutive suffixes. As with the Tiibatulabal system, there are a number of terms which take a suffix, said to mean ‘‘used to be,’’ to indicate the death of the connecting relative. In Kawalisu this suffix 10 The terms for wife’s sister’s husband and husband’s brother’s wife were not ascertained to my satisfaction. The evidence stands as follows: Relationship Informants J. Nichols M. Williams A. Brown R. Williams Wife’s sister’s husband nawabiu atamwoni- pavini saka.ini Husband’s brother’s wife — nama.ini nama.ini nama.ini pateini nabuzieni Mrs. Refugia Williams stated that the terms pavini and saka.ini are applied according to the ages of the women concerned, not according to the ages of the two men. This is in line with the Kawaiisu method of classifying aunts and uncles by affinity (see p. 235). Mrs. Williams also stated that the term nabuzieni becomes nabuzirepuni following the death of the connecting relative. The use of the terms brother and sister for these two relationships is paralleled in the analogous Tiibatulabal data (see table of ‘‘Uncertain Usages of Terms,’’ p. 224). ''1917] Gifford: Tiibatulabal and Kawaiisu Kinship Terms 229 is -puni or -repuni. It is also used in instances of divorce. For ex- ample, a woman adds this suffix to the term for son-in-law in case that relative and her daughter separate. Eight uses of this suffix were noted ; all were for terms of affinity. Doubtless there are other similar eases of its use, which were not recorded. The eight terms are in- cluded in the list of Kawaiisu terms, but are not included in the count of forty-three terms given just above. Not all of the meanings of Kawaiisu relationship terms were ob- tained. Enough, however, were secured to make clear the main features of the system. The terms for great-grandfather and great- grandmother are the only ones which are open to question. Only two informants were consulted on this particular point. They agreed on the terms for great-grandson and great-granddaughter ; but for great- grandfather one gave saka.ini, the other saka.itcini. For great-grand- mother one gave nama.ini, the other nama.itcini. One of these in- formants said that the term asiisiizini was sometimes used for great- grandmother ; she stated, however, that it was a term borrowed from the “Tejon Indians.’ 7+ KAWAIISU RELATIONSHIP TERMS?12 muwuni. Father (before death of child). Reciprocals: peditini (daughter), tuwuni (son). kuguni. Father (following the death of a child), father’s older brother, father’s sister’s husband, mother’s older sister’s husband. Reciprocals: kuutcini (younger brother’s child, m. s.; wife’s brother’s child; wife’s younger sister’s child), pediini (daughter; brother’s daughter, m. s.; wife’s brother’s daughter; wife’s sister’s daughter), tuwtni (son; brother’s son, m. s.; wife’s brother’s son; wife’s sister’s son). Compare muwuni (father), mawiitini (mother), and piyuni (mother). kuutcini. Younger brother’s child (m. s.), wife’s brother’s child, wife’s younger sister’s child. Reciprocal: kuguni (father’s older brother, father’s sister’s husband, mother’s older sister’s husband). piytni. Mother (before death of a child). MReciprocals: pediini (daughter), tuwtini (son). mawiiini. Mother (following the death of a child), mother’s older sister, father’s older brother’s wife. Reciprocals: mawiiiitcini (younger sister’s child, w. s.; husband’s younger brother’s child), pediini (daughter; hus- band’s brother’s daughter; sister’s daughter, w. s.), tuwtni (son; hus- band’s brother’s son; sister’s son, w. s.). Compare piytni (mother), kuguni (father), and muwuni (father). 11 By ‘‘Tejon Indians’? are meant those living near Tejon, Kern County, California. In language they might be either Yokuts or Shoshonean, as both stocks are found in that locality. 12 The ending -ni, of each term in the list, means ‘‘my. The non-vocative forms are not given in this list. In such forms -ni, -mi, and -na are the terminal syllables meaning ‘‘my,’’ ‘‘your,’’ and ‘‘his,’’ respectively. There are occa- sional modifications of the last stem vowel. In reference the full pronouns nugaia (my), imia (your), and onaia (his) may also be preposed. 6 a) ''230 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 mawiuiitcini. Younger sister’s child (w. s.), husband’s younger brother’s child. Reciprocal: mawiiiini (mother’s older sister, father’s older brother’s wife). tuwuni. Son, brother’s son (m. s.), husband’s brother’s son, wife’s brother’s son, sister’s son (w. s.), wife’s sister’s son. Reciprocals: muwuni (father), kuguni (father, father’s older brother, father’s sister’s hus- band, mother’s older sister’s husband), piytini (mother), mawiiiini (mother, mother’s older sister, father’s older brother’s wife), heeni (father’s younger brother, mother’s younger sister’s husband), nupbieni (mother’s younger sister, father’s younger brother’s wife). pediini. Daughter, brother’s daughter (m. s.), husband’s brother’s daughter, wife’s brother’s daughter, sister’s daughter (w. s.), wife’s sister’s daughter. Reciprocals: muwuni (father), kuguni (father, father’s older brother, father’s sister’s husband, mother’s older sister’s husband), piyuni (mother), mawiitini (mother, mother’s older sister, father’s older brother’s wife), heeni (father’s younger brother, mother’s younger sister’s husband), nupbieni (mother’s younger sister, father’s younger brother’s wife). pavini. Older brother, male cousin older than speaker. Reciprocals: nama.ini (younger sister, female cousin younger than speaker), saka.ini (younger brother, male cousin younger than speaker). saka.ini. Younger brother, male cousin younger than speaker. Reciprocals: © pavini (older brother, male cousin older than speaker), patcini (older sister, female cousin older than speaker). patcini. Older sister, female cousin older than speaker. Reciprocals: nama.ini (younger sister, female cousin younger than speaker), saka.ini (younger brother, male cousin younger than speaker). nama.ini. Younger sister, female cousin younger than speaker. Reciprocals: pavini (older brother, male cousin older than speaker), patcini (older sister, female cousin older than speaker). heeni. Father’s younger brother, mother’s younger sister’s husband. Recip- rocals: heetcini (older brother’s child, m. s.; wife’s older sister’s child), pediini (brother’s daughter, m. s.; wife’s sister’s daughter), and tuwiuni (brother’s son, m. s.; wife’s sister’s son). heetcini. Older brother’s child (m. s.), wife’s older sister’s child. Reciprocal: heeni (father’s younger brother, mother’s younger sister’s husband). nupbieni. Mother’s younger sister, father’s younger brother’s wife. Recip- rocals: nupbietcini (older sister’s child, w. s.; husband’s older brother’s child), pediini (sister’s daughter, w. s.; husband’s brother’s daughter), tuwuni (sister’s son, w. s.; husband’s brother’s son). nupbietcini. Older sister’s child (w. s.), husband’s older brother’s child. Re- ciprocal: nupbieni (mother’s younger sister, father’s younger brother’s wife). pahani. Father’s sister, mother’s brother’s wife. Reciprocal: pahatcini (brother’s child, w. s.; husband’s sister’s child). pahateini. Brother’s child (w. s.), husband’s sister’s child. Reciprocal: pahani (father’s sister, mother’s brother’s wife). cintini. Mother’s brother. Reciprocal: cinttcini (sister’s child, m. s.). cinttcini. Sister’s child (m. s.). Reciprocal: cintni (mother’s brother). kunoni. Father’s father, spouse’s father’s father. Reciprocal: kunotcini (son’s , child, m. s.; son’s child’s spouse, m. 8.). ''1917] Gifford: Tiibatulabal and Kawaiisu Kinship Terms 231 kunotecini. Son’s child (m. s.), son’s child’s spouse (m. s.). Reciprocal: kunoni father’s father, spouse’s father’s father). hutcini. Father’s mother, spouse’s father’s mother. Reciprocal: hutcitcini (son’s child, w. s.; son’s child’s spouse, w. s.). hutciteini. Son’s child (w. s.), son’s child’s spouse (w. s.). Reciprocal: hutcini (father’s mother, spouse’s father’s mother). té6goni. Mother’s father, spouse’s mother’s father. Reciprocal: tégotcini (daughter’s child, m. s.; daughter’s child’s spouse, m. s.). togotcini. Daughter’s child (m. s.), daughter’s child’s spouse (m. s.). Recip- rocal: t6goni (mother’s father, spouse’s mother’s father). kaguni. Mother’s mother, spouse’s mother’s mother. Reciprocal: kagutcini (daughter’s child, w. s.; daughter’s child’s spouse, w. s.). kagutcini. Daughter’s child (w. s.), daughter’s child’s spouse (w. s.). Recip- rocal: kaguni (mother’s mother, spouse’s mother’s mother). saka.itcini. Great-grandfather (literally ‘‘little younger brother’’). Another informant gave this term as saka.ini. Reciprocals: pavatcini (great- grandson, literally ‘‘little older brother’’), patcitcini (great-granddaugh- ter, literally ‘‘little older sister’’). nama.itcini. Great-grandmother (literally ‘‘little younger sister’’). Another informant gave this term as nama.ini. Reciprocals: pavatcini (great- grandson, literally ‘‘little older brother’’), patcitcini (great-granddaugh- ter, literally ‘‘little older sister’’). pavatcini. Great-grandson (literally ‘‘little older brother’’). Reciprocals: nama.itcini (great-grandmother, ‘‘little younger sister’’), saka-itcini (great-grandfather, literally ‘‘little younger brother’’). patcitcini. Great-granddaughter (literally ‘‘little older sister’’). Reciprocals: nama.itcini (great-grandmother, literally ‘‘little younger sister’’), saka.itcini (great-grandfather, literally ‘‘little younger brother’’). kupmani. Husband. Reciprocal: piwhani (wife). piwhani. Wife. Reciprocal: kupmani (husband). wohoni. Co-wife, co-husband. Reciprocal: woéhoni. yeheni. Spouse’s parent, spouse’s parent’s brother or sister. Reciprocals: hutcibiani (son’s wife, sister’s son’s wife, brother’s son’s wife), m6énoni (daughter’s husband, sister’s daughter’s husband, brother’s daughter’s husband). Yehesepuni. Spouse’s parent (following death of speaker’s spouse). hutcibiani. Son’s wife, sister’s son’s wife, brother’s son’s wife. Reciprocal: yeheni (spouse’s parent, spouse’s parent’s brother or sister). Hutcibire- puni. Daughter-in-law (following death of speaker’s son). mononi. Daughter’s husband, sister’s daughter’s husband, brother’s daughter’s husband. Reciprocal: yeheni (spouse’s parent, spouse’s parent’s brother or sister). Ménowaipuni. Son-in-law (following death of speaker’s daughter). It is said to be used also in case of separation of speaker’s daughter from her husband. atamwoni. Wife’s brother, sister’s husband (m. s.). Reciprocal: atamwoni. Atomworepuni. Wife’s brother (following death of speaker’s wife); sister’s husband (following death of speaker’s sister, m. s.). nebiwhoni. Wife’s sister, brother’s wife (m. s.). Reciprocal: nekomwhoni (sister’s husband, w. s.; husband’s brother). Nebiwhorepuni. Wife’s sister (following death of speaker’s wife), brother’s wife (following death of speaker’s brother, m. s.). ''232 Uniwersity of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 nekomwhoni. Sister’s husband (w. s.), husband’s brother. Reciprocal: nebi- whoni (wife’s sister; brother’s wife, m. s.). Nekumrepuni. Sister’s husband (following death of speaker’s sister, w. s.), husband’s brother (following death of speaker’s husband). wisimbiani. Husband’s sister, brother’s wife (w. s.). Reciprocal: wiisimbiani. Wiisibirepuni. Husband’s sister (following death of speaker’s husband), brother’s wife (following death of speaker’s brother, w. s.). teeni. Child’s spouse’s parent. Reciprocal: teeni. Teerepuni. Child’s spouse’s parent (following death of speaker’s child or speaker’s child’s spouse). An analysis of the Kawaiisu terms is presented in the opposite table (p. 233). As in the case of the analysis of Tiibatulabal terms on page 225, it is based on the eight categories set forth by Dr. A. L. Kroeber.'* It is to be noted that the category ‘‘Generation’’ is ex- pressed in all of the terms, a feature which is in sharp contrast with the subordination of ‘‘Generation’’ in the Miwok kinship system, in which it is expressed in only slightly more than one-third of the terms.** The cross used in the opposite table indicates the expression of a category by a term. COMPARISON TUBATULABAL AND KAWAIISU Forty terms of relationship were obtained among the Tiibatulabal as against forty-three among the Kawaiisu. The following table ex- hibits numerically the application of the terms in the two languages: Number of Terms Relationship Tibatulabal Kawatisu Parent 4 4 Child aes 1 2 Stepchild 2 2 roger sister first Cousin = 2228 4 4 Auten cle 6 hae Ber 6% Gs Niece, nephew aT 8t Grandparent, grandchild 9 8 Great-grandparent, great-grandchild .... 2 4 Relation bys mariagel|: 4 12 11 * Two of the terms for aunt and uncle are also the terms for mother and father following the death of one or more of their children. y+ One of the terms (tumu) for niece or nephew is also applied to one’s own child. + Two of the terms for niece and nephew are also applied to son and daughter. || This does not include aunts, uncles, grandparents, or grandchildren by marriage, nor does it include any of the step-relations. 13 Classificatory Systems of Relationship, Journ. Roy. Anthr. Inst., xxxrx, 78, 1909. 14K. W. Gifford, Miwok Moieties, Univ. Calif. Publ. Am. Arch. Ethn., xu, 171, 1916. ''1917] Gifford: Tiibatulabal and Kawaiisu Kinship Terms 233 CATEGORICAL ANALYSIS OF KAwatsu KINSHIP TERMS Condition Blood Sex of Age in of con- Gener- or Lineal or Sex of connecting Sex of gener- necting Term ation marriage collateral relative relative speaker ation relative x ee x x x oe x x x x nee LB eee Xx coe x x fe ees atamwoni eintni eintteini heeni heetcini hutcibiani huteini huteiteini kaguni kagutcini kuguni kunoni kunoteini kupmani kuuteini mawiitini mawilitcini mononi KEK x I OG GO ‘ x : x rs x} muwuni nama.ini nama.itcini nebiwhoni nekomwhoni nupbieni nupbietc¢ini pahani pahatcini pavatecini pavini pateini pateitcini pediini piwhani piyuni saka.ini saka.itcini teeni togoni togotcini tuwuni wohoni wiisimbiani yeheni Terms* x pees x ease x aus x eaee EG OK I GG x tee x x x He x 23 12 30 16 16 8 12 nN CS Re SR OG KR OR OR es Oe A x * Number of terms in which each category is expressed. ''234 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 The Tiibatulabal and Kawalisu classifications of parents are iden- tical. In both languages there is a special term for father and a special term for mother. These terms are used for no other relation- ships. Their use, however, for the parents is subject to a restriction, for they are used only as long as all of their children are alive. Upon the death of a child, the surviving children henceforth call the parent by a different term. The new term in the case of the father is that applied to the father’s older brother. The new term in the ease of the mother is that applied to the mother’s older sister. In both lan- guages four terms are used for the parent relationship (see the pre- ceding table). The terms are: Relationship Tibatulabal Kawaiisu Father before death of child ana muwuni Father after death of child kumu kuguni Mother before death of child abu piyuni Mother after death of child umii mawiitini For son and daughter the Ttibatulabal have but one term, there being no distinction made as to sex of children. The Kawaiisu, on the other hand, distinguish between male and female offspring. Relationship Tiibatulabal Kawatisu Son tumu tuwtni Daughter tumu pediini Only Tiibatulabal data are at hand in the matter of stepchildren. It appears that the Tiibatulabal are far more exact in designating stepchildren than own children. There are separate terms for stepson and stepdaughter, whereas son and daughter are united in one term, there being no distinction as to sex. Aiyawutawa is the designation for stepson, anociwan for stepdaughter. The reciprocals of these terms are not father (ana) and mother (abu), but are instead the terms for father’s older brother (kumu) and mother’s younger sister (yugu). This identification of the stepparents with the older paternal unele and the younger maternal aunt is one-sided, for the terms alyawutawa and anociwan are not the terms of the reecrprocal nepotic relationship. The nepotic relationship is designated by the term tumu (offspring). On the one hand, the classing of the stepparents with the older paternal uncle and the younger maternal aunt and the unit- ing of own children with the brother’s children (m. s.) and with the sister’s children (w. s.) suggests the levirate. On the other hand, the ''1917] Gifford: Tiibatulabal and Kawaiisu Kinship Terms 235 lack of identification of the stepchildren with the brother’s children (m. s.) and with the sister’s children (w. s.) would indicate absence of the levirate. In other words, from this point of view, the Tiibatulabal evidence is equivocal. As shown in the table on page 232, the Tiibatulabal and Kawaiisu both use six terms for uncles and aunts, as follows: Tubatulabal Kawaiisu Father’s older brother kumu kuguni Father’s younger brother tohan heeni Father’s sister pauwan pahani Mother’s brother kali eintini Mother’s older sister imi mawitini Mother’s younger sister yugu nupbieni It is to be noted that the specialization as to age is on the side of the ‘‘parallel’’ aunts and uncles, that is, those related to ego through a parent of the same sex. There is an absence of age specialization in the nomenclature of the ‘‘cross’’ aunts and uncles, that is, those related to ego through a parent of the opposite sex. Both the Tiiba- tulabal and Kawalisu nomenclatures are identical in their treatment of aunts and uncles by consanguinity. Next we must consider the aunts and uncles by affinity, in other words, the spouses of those listed just above: Tiibatulabal Kawanusu Father’s older brother’s wife mawiiini Father’s brother’s wife older than mother umii Father’s younger brother’s wife nupbieni Father’s brother’s wife younger than mother yugu el Father’s sister’s husband kali kuguni Mother’s brother’s wife pauwan pahani Mother’s older sister’s husband kuguni Mother’s sister’s husband older than father kumu Mother’s younger sister’s husband heeni Mother’s sister’s husband younger than father tohan Here we find some decided differences between the two systems. The Tiibatulabal use six terms, the Kawaiisu only five. The former classify the spouses of ‘‘parallel’’ uncles and aunts according to the age of a spouse in relation to the mother or the father of the speaker. The Kawaiisu classify the spouses of ‘‘parallel’’? uncles and aunts according to the relative ages of the uncles and aunts, and not accord- ing to the age of the spouse. The Tiibatulabal scheme suggests double marriage, that is, the marriage of two brothers to two sisters. Noth- ''236 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [ Vol. 12 ing, however, is known of the marriage customs of either people, so that it is idle to dwell too much upon the possible forms of marriage suggested by the terminology. A curious feature of the Kawaiisu nomenclature is the identification of father’s sister’s husband with the father’s older brother, the term kuguni being used where one would expect to find cintni. To an ardent supporter of the theory of the reflection of forms of marriage in kinship nomenclature this would prove brother-sister marriage, which is of course an absurdity.- The identification of father’s sister’s husband with mother’s brother in Tiibatulabal is not so unusual. It might result from the marriage of two pairs consisting each of a brother and a sister. A common ex- ample of this type of marriage is found in the custom of cross-cousin marriage. Here again genealogies and the statements of informants as to such a form of marriage among either people are lacking. The reciprocals for aunts and uncles by affinity are the same as for aunts and uncles by consanguinity. All of the terms of consan- guinity (except Kawalisu cintini, mother’s brother) are also terms of affinity ; hence one list answers for both. Tiibatulabal Kawaiisu Yerm Reciprocal Term Reciprocal kumu tumu kuguni kuuteini tuwuni pediini tohan tumu heeni heetcini tuwtni pediini pauwan amust pahani pahateini kali kalibin einuni einuteini umu tumu mawilni mawiilitecini tuwtni peduni yugu tumu nupbieni nupbieteini tuwutni pediini ‘ The preceding list shows that (brother’s children, m. s., and sister’s children, w. s.) are classed solely as offspring by the Tiibatulabal, a condition favoring the existence of the levirate. Among the Kawaiisu the classification is paradoxical, ‘parallel’’ nieces and nephews for ‘‘parallel’’ nieces and nephews are not only classified as offspring (son and daughter), but also by a strictly nepotic term which is an identical-reciprocal of the term for aunt or uncle. The classification as offspring seems to be secondary, and taken alone suggests the levi- ''1917] Gifford: Tiibatulabal and Kawaiisu Kinship Terms 237 rate. The use of the identical-reciprocal for the nepotic relationship, however, is rather against the presence of that institution. It is pos- sible that the classification of nieces and nephews as offspring is due to Tiibatulabal influence. The Tiibatulabal resemble their Shoshonean neighbors on the north in their classification of ‘‘parallel’’ nephews and nieces; at least this is true if we may judge from a relationship system collected at North Fork, Madera County. The following table presents the grouping of brothers, sisters, and first cousins: Tiibatulabal Kawavisu Older brother, older male cousin patci pavini Younger brother, younger male cousin nalawi saka.ini Older sister, older female cousin kutei pateini Younger sister, younger female cousin nalawi nama.ini Brother (w. s.), male cousin (w. s.) impaiyis Sister (m. s.), female cousin (m. s.) impaiyis eae The feature common to both Tiibatulabal and Kawaiisu, as exhib- ited in the above table, is that cousins are classified as sisters and brothers, a feature found also among the Shoshonean Mono of North Fork. The points of difference between Tiibatulabal and Kawaiisu are very clear. The former unite younger brother and younger sister in one term. This is analogous to another usage of the Tiibatulabal, who unite son and daughter in one term. The Kawaiisu, however, have distinct terms for younger brother and younger sister. The Tiibatulabal grouping of brothers, sisters, and cousins exhibits another feature, which is not found among the Kawaiisu but which is present among the North Fork Mono; namely, a single term for brother or male cousin (w. s.) and for sister or female cousin (m. s.). Grandparents and grandchildren are grouped in the same manner in both Tiibatulabal and Kawaiisu. These terms are discussed a few pages below in connection with identical-reciprocals and diminutives. The Tiibatulabal possess nine terms for the grandparent-grandchild relation ; the Kawaiisu possess eight. The ninth term in Tiibatulabal is hoki, which is used by either grandparent or grandchild following the death of the connecting relative. The Tiibatulabal have but one term for great-grandparent and but one for great-grandchild, again paralleling the single term for off- spring. The Kawaiisu have two for each of these relationships, as they distinguish sex. ''238 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 A comparison of the terms for brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law in the two languages would be futile, owing to the uncertainty with regard to some of the Tiibatulabal terms. A radical difference in the classification of the grandchild’s spouse and the spouse’s grandparent is to be noticed. The Tiibatulabal classify these relatives as brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law (see No. 26 on p. 228). The Kawaiisu classify the grandchild’s spouse and spouse’s grandparent as grandchild and grandparent, respectively. The Tiibatulabal classification is similar to the Miwok.* As stated earlier, diminutive suffixes are used by both the Tiiba- tulabal and the Kawaiisu. At least among the latter people the dimin- utive suffix is also an endearment, as in piwhatcini (piwha/tei]ni), dear wife. It is also used in connection with the term for child’s spouse’s parent, teetcini (tee[tci]ni). Informants stated that the use in this case was for the sake of politeness. In the same way a person uses this endearment for the mother-in-law or father-in-law, yehetecini (yehe[tei]ni). Information obtained from the Tiibatulabal as to the use of the diminutive suffix -bin or -vin as a term of endearment requires sub- stantiation. Otherwise the use of the diminutive among the Tiiba- tulabal corresponded to its use among the Kawaiisu, except that it was employed less extensively. The following list exhibits clearly the agreements and disagreements in the use of the diminutives in the two languages. Every term is followed by its reciprocal. Relationship Kawaiisu Tiibatulabal Mother’s brother eintni kali Sister’s child (m. s.) cintteini kalibin Father’s younger brother heeni tohan Older brother’s child (m. s.) heetcini tumu Father’s mother huteini apa Son’s child (w. s.) hutciteini apavin Mother’s mother kaguni utsu Daughter’s child (w. s.) kagutcini utsubin Father’s older brother kuguni kumu Younger brother’s child (m.s.) kuuteini tumu Father’s father kunoni aka Son’s child (m. s.) kunoteini akabin Mother’s older sister mawiilini timii Younger sister’s child (w.s.) mawiiiitcini tumu 15 KH. W. Gifford, Miwok Moieties, Univ. Calif. Publ. Am. Arch. Ethn., xu, 172-174, 1916. See apasti, kawu, kolina, olo, wokli. ''1917] Gifford: Tiibatulabal and Kawaiisu Kinship Terms 239 Relationship Kawaiisu Tiubatulabal Great-grandmother nama.itcini saka . Great-grandson pavateini sakabin Great-granddaughter pateiteini sakabin Mother’s younger sister nupbieni yugu Older sister’s child (w. s.) nupbietcini tumu Father’s sister pahani pauwan Brother’s child (w. s.) pahatcini amust Great-grandfather saka.itcini saka Great-grandson pavatcini sakabin Great-granddaughter pateitcini sakabin Mother’s father togoni agist Daughter’s child (m. s.) togotcini agistbin A glance at the preceding table betrays the fact that the Tuba- tulabal use the diminutive form for the grandchildren and great- grandchildren and for the sister’s child (m. s.). These terms are identical-reciprocals of the terms for grandparents, great-grandpar- ent, and mother’s brother, plus the diminutive endings. This condi- tion is matched exactly in the case of Kawalisu terms, except in the matter of the great-grandparents and great-grandchildren; there, to be sure, the diminutive suffix is used, but a single stem is not used for the two terms of the reciprocal relation, as in Tiibatulabal. In Kawalisu there are six terms for aunts and uncles with reciprocals which are identical except for the addition of the diminutive suffix. With the exception of the case of mother’s brother and reciprocal mentioned just above, these are all lacking in Tiibatulabal. The difference is perhaps not so great as it appears, however, for in Kawalisu, as already mentioned, the reciprocals of heeni, kuguni, mawutini, and nupbieni (which are the terms for ‘‘parallel’’ aunts and uncles) may be also the terms for son and daughter (see pp. 229- 230) as well as the terms listed above. In Tiibatulabal the term used for son or daughter is also used as the reciprocal of the terms for “*parallel’’ aunts and uncles (iimii, yugu, kumu, tohan). This reduces the constant differences between the two systems, in regard to the use of diminutives, to two. The Tiibatulabal use pauwan for father’s sister and amust for brother’s child, w. s.; in other words, two terms with different stems and without the diminutive suffix. The Kawaiisu ~ use pahani and pahatcini for the same relationships; in other words, two terms with the same stem and with the diminutive suffix. The Tibatulabal use of sakan and sakabin for the great-grandparent and reciprocal is analogous to the Kawaiisu use of pahani and pahatcini. ce ''240 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 The Kawaiisu use of nama.itcini and saka.itcini for the great-grand- parents and pavatcini and patcitcini for the great-grandchildren is different still, for the diminutive suffix is used with both of a pair of reciprocal terms having different stems. The use of identical-reciprocal terms, plus a diminutive for the younger generation of the pair, seems to be more developed among the Kawaiisu than among the Tiibatulabal. The former consistently apply them to the six groups of aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews, and to the four groups of grandparents and grandchildren. The latter consistently apply them to the four groups of grandparents and grand- children and to the single group great-grandparent and great-grand- child. In the classification of aunts and uncles they are inconsistent, identical-reciprocals being used in only one out of the six groups. Informants among the Tiibatulabal said that frequently the terms for grandchildren, which are here listed with diminutive suffixes, were used without them. Among the Mono,’ the northern neighbors of the Tiibatulabal, terms for grandchildren and grandparents are also iden- tical, but no diminutive suffix is employed. Viewed from the stand- point of number of uses of identical-reciprocals and diminutives, the Tubatulabal are intermediate between their northern and southern neighbors. The Tiibatulabal terms héki (grandparent or grandchild following the death of the connecting relative), impaiyis (brother or male cousin, w. 8.; Sister or female cousin, m. s.), nawasu (child’s spouse’s parent), and wo.ict (co-wife, co-husband) have identical-reciprocals, but never employ the diminutive suffix. Analogous terms among the Kawaiisu are atamwoni (wife’s brother; sister’s husband, m. s.), teeni (child’s spouse’s parent), wohoni (co-wife, co-husband), and wiisimbiani (hus- band’s sister; brother’s wife, w. s.).. The explanation of the non-use of the suffix is to be found in the fact that the terms, with the exception of hoki, apply to individuals of only one generation. Identical-reciprocal terms are of two types, distinguishable by their meanings. One type, exemplified by Tiibatulabal nawasu and wo.ict and by Kawaiisu teeni and wohoni, has identical meanings; for ex- ample, the meaning of nawasu and teeni is child’s spouse’s parent; the reciprocal of each of these terms is also child’s spouse’s parent. The meanings of identical-reciprocal terms of the second type are distinctly unlike; in fact, the two meanings are the antitheses, one of 16 Only the Mono of North Fork, Madera County, California, have been visited by the writer. ''1917] Gifford: Tiibatulabal and Kawaitisu Kinship Terms 241 the other; for example, the Tiibatulabal term aka means father’s father; the reciprocal aka or aka[bin] means son’s child (m.s.). A Kawaiisu example is the term atamwoni, meaning wife’s brother and sister’s husband, m. s. Certain lexical similarities between Tiibatulabal and Kawaiisu terms are obvious. The most striking resemblances are best shown by a table. In the case of the Tiibatulabal term saka, together with its Kawaiisu kupmani (husband) Tiibatulabal kufian (husband) patei (older brother) pauwan (father’s sister) saka (great-grandparent) patcini (older sister) pahani (father’s sister) saka.ini (younger brother) saka.itcini (great-grandfather ) reciprocal sakabin (great-grandchild), we seem to have an example of out-and-out borrowing, the Tiibatulabal using the Kawaiisu term for great-grandfather, which is merely the Kawaiisu term for younger brother plus the diminutive suffix. The reverse hypothesis 1s possibly the correct one, namely, that the Kawaiisu borrowed the Tiibatulabal term for great-grandparent and appled it to the younger brother and then to the great-grandfather. This hypothesis, however, seems an unlikely one. The following table summarizes the categorical analyses of the Tiibatulabal and Kawalisu terms presented in detail on pages 225 and 233. The columns headed ‘‘Number’’ give the number of terms in which each category is expressed. The columns headed ‘‘ Percentage’’ express the number of occurrences of a category in percentages of the total number of terms. Tiibatulabal Kawaiisu Number Percentage Number Percentage Terms 40 a 43 a Generation ees are 36 90 43 100 ‘Blood orswmarnage = 2s 31 78 23 53 imeal or collateral: ee oe 10 2 12 28 Sex ofrelative 2 ee 25 63 30 70 Sex of connecting relative ................ li 43 16 Be Sex Of speaker es ial 28 16 37 ACen SeneTavion 23 a 7 18 8 19 Condition of connecting relative .......... 11 28 12 28 The category ‘‘Generation’’ is expressed in all of the Kawaiisu terms as presented in this paper. Inquiry on a genealogical basis ''242 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 might break down this complete expression of the category. In Tiiba- tulabal four out of forty terms fail to express this category; one of these four is the term h6ki, which is applied to either grandparent or grandchild following the death of the connecting relative. The re- maining three are the terms for brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law, which are appled also to spouse’s grandparent and grandchild’s spouse, a very different classification from the Kawaiisu which has already been discussed. The difference in the expression of the category ‘‘Blood or mar- riage’’ in the two languages is largely due to the difference, just men- tioned, in the classification of spouse’s grandparent and grandchild’s spouse, which among the Kawaiisu are classed as grandparent and grandchild. This difference alone takes eight Kawaiisu terms out of this category. The corresponding Tiibatulabal terms for grandparent and grandchild naturally fall under this category, as they all definitely express consanguinity without expressing affinity also. The other categories are expressed quite similarly by the relation- ship systems of the two languages, with the exception of the categories ‘‘Sex of relative’’ and ‘‘Sex of speaker.’’ The difference in the first instance is the result of the Tiibatulabal uniting of great-grandson and great-granddaughter on the one hand and great-grandfather and great- grandmother on the other hand, while the Kawaiisu distinguish two great-grandchildren and two great-grandparents. In the second in- stance, ‘‘Sex of speaker,’’ the difference is due to the use of identical- reciprocals for nepotic relatives by the Kawaiisu and to their non-use, except in one case (Kali-kalibin), by the Tiibatulabal. Like the last table, the following table presents a categorical com- parison, also in percentages of the number of terms, of the Tiibatulabal and Kawaiisu kinship systems and those presented. by Dr. A. L. Kroeber in his paper on the ‘‘Classificatory Systems of Relation- ship.’’’* For Dr. Kroeber’s Miwok figures those of the writer'® have been substituted. It is clear that in at least one category, ‘‘Lineal or collateral,’’ the Tiibatulabal and Kawaiisu hold a unique position and have no near approach in any of the other systems here presented, except the Miwok.*® 17 Journ. Roy. Anthr. Inst., xxx1x, 79, 1909. 18 Miwok Moieties, Univ. Calif. Publ. Am. Arch. Ethn., xu, 171, 1916. 19 The comparisons in the three succeeding tables must be used with reser- vation, as a factor of uncertainty has been introduced by differences in the collecting of the data. For Miwok the material is far more detailed than for the other groups. ''1917] Gifford: Tiibatulabal and Kawatisu Kinship Terms 243 3 OL ae = 2 iS 3 Pe ee See Se Number of terms) 5.2 shee O47 27 2884284 40 43) 6 84 85 Generation @ 2 eee LOOr 278" (96 8738) 7798. 290) 7 1002 S88 ie Blood: or mariage =o eee 100) 100) 100) 76) M008 78 537 04 807 ineal ox collateral’ 2 100. 78) 100) 8) 93, | 25, 238 007 80) Sex of nelative() oes aos 6 18) il 8b Ol 63. 02 203 63 Sex of connecting relative .......... 54 48. 50) 445 50 43 3, oo 60 Sex of speaker <2. 23.3 os 13 dal 86) 26) 43) 28) 3 econ 40) AGG In Feneravion: = 2a 1315 14 i a IS OR so 23 wo Condition of connecting relative.. 0 0 0 0 M28 280 * This category is expressed in terms denoting relatives by marriage, but the number of such terms is not given. See A. L. Kroeber, Classificatory Systems of Relationship, Journ. Roy. Anthr. Inst., XxxIx, 79, footnote, 1909. The purpose of the two following tables is to indicate by figures the actual differences between the Tiibatulabal and Kawaiisu systems and each of the other systems presented in the foregoing table. The figures in these tables are the differences between the percentages in the Tiibatulabal and Kawaiisu columns of the preceding table and the percentages in each of the other columns of the preceding table. The total at the foot of each column in the succeeding tables is the sum of the percentage differences, that is, the differences in percentages for each category as expressed in Tiibatulabal and Kawaiisu and each of the other languages. These totals are the basis of comparison of the systems as wholes. The first table is for the Tiibatulabal system, the second for the Kawaiisu. It is to be seen at a glance that the Tiiba- tulabal and Kawaiisu systems resemble each other far more closely than any of the other Californian systems resemble either of these. In fact, the gap between the Tiibatulabal and Kawaiisu systems on the one hand and the remaining Californian systems on the other hand may be said to be very conspicuous. Tiibatulabal and Kawaiisu differ from each other by a total of sixty-one percentage differences, while the nearest approach to this is found between Tiibatulabal and Miwok, the total of percentage differences being one hundred and seventeen, nearly twice as great as the difference between Tiibatulabal and Kawaiisu. It will be noted that the Tiibatulabal system is not so far removed from the other Californian systems as is the Kawaiisu. The greatest difference between the Tiibatulabal and any of the other Californian systems is one hundred and seventy percentage differences, occurring between Tiibatulabal and Yuki. The greatest -difference ''244 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 between Kawaiisu and any other system is two hundred and thirteen percentage differences, occurring between Kawaiisu and Luisefo, both Shoshonean groups. The least difference is between Kawaiisu and Miwok, amounting to one hundred and fifty percentage differences. This least difference, however, is nearly two and one-half times as great as the difference between Tiibatulabal and Kawaiisu. TUBATULABAL 5 se Ss S S ae ous 5 S98 Ss oy. S ee a yg S See SS Generation: as 10 12 6 52 allt 10 2 16 BlOOd (On mMarhiage: 22 22. 22 2 22 25 1Ge 2 9 inimeal or collateral 22) se (O03. TO fs} oF OOO Sexe Olemelapivier sor os exec es Bee 15) 8 22 2 i Alo 0 Sex of connecting relative el 5 7 1 7 Goals 2 Oe Nex Ol Speaker se 15s Ui 8 2g lo) id ee le INCOM OeMera OMe sec eee 5 3 4 3 4 ele 5 Condition of connecting relative ........ Cee OSR 286 28 aoe 0 28 25 PRO tell eee eee WO top, as lly oy Gl 62 149 KAWAISU = = = S x eooce = $ a 8 Ss & Soe See Se aS GiemienatiOM, ee ee 8 a ee On 22 AS 262 21 LO ne. 26 Blood, orimanniace: 2. 2 AV AT Al 238 Ay 25 4 44 inimieal: or collateral) = 3 Se Cee 50 2s 0 365 Sela spe Nex Oteorelativie: soo ee a 3 8 1 5 9 le ie Nex On connecnime relative sos. Ne le. 13 oS) 6. 19" 23 OxnOt SVCAKCD eee ee Fee 24 826 de al 6 9 8 3 PRTC, CCNerAglON: Ste te 6 4 5 + 5 de. 16 4 Condition of connecting relative -....... 28 285. 28, 28>. 328%. 20) 28 2 25 MO Gatetee ses t ee LO MOG ie N50) 194" Gl 213: 184 * “Terms denoting relatives by marriage undergo a vocalic change to indicate the death of the connecting relative.’ See A. L. Kroeber, Classificatory Systems of Relationship, Journ. Roy. Anthr. Inst., xxx1x, 79, footnote, 1909. Dr. Kroeber does not indicate the number of terms so altered, hence the figures in the Yokuts column of the table for the category ‘‘Condition of connecting relative’ are too large. Likewise the totals of percentage differences between Tiibatulabal and Yokuts and between Kawaiisu and Yokuts are too large. Kawatsu, Karas Parutse, AND UintaH UTE A comparison of the Kawaiisu terms with those of the Uintah Ute of northern Utah and Kaibab Paiute of southwestern Utah and north- ''1917] Gifford: Tiibatulabal and Kawaiisu Kinship Terms 245 western Arizona obtained by Dr. Edward Sapir?® shows a very close similarity in sound and spelling, even to the matter of the diminutive suffix. Similarity of the three groups might be expected because of the community of language, for all speak Ute-Chemehuevi dialects. The Tiibatulabal, however, do not speak Ute-Chemehuevi, and, further- more, belong to another of the four primary divisions of the Shosho- nean stock ;24 hence their terms of relationship could not be expected to exhibit as strong a degree of resemblance to the Kawaiisu terms as Uintah Ute and Kaibab Paiute terms exhibit. The thirty-two Kaibab Paiute terms secured by Dr. Sapir are listed below. Twelve of these, although very similar in sound and spelling to certain of the Kawaiisu terms, are applied in a quite different manner. (Consult in the following list numbers 4, 10-17, 22-25.) Kaibab Paiute Kawaiisu 1. moan‘! (father) muwuni (father) 2. piyan*! (mother) piytni (mother) 3. tuwatsin‘! (son) tuwtni (son) 4. patcin'! (daughter) pediini (daughter) 5. pavi(tsi)n*! (older brother) pavini (older brother) pavateini (great-grandson) 6. te***qa.itcin*! (younger brother) saka.ini (younger brother) saka.itcini (great-grandfather) 7. patsitsin‘’! (older sister) patcini (older sister) patecitcini (great-granddaughter ) 8. yip‘iant! (younger sister) nama.ini (younger sister) 9. namintsin‘! (younger sister) nama.itcini (great-grandmother) 10. toxon'! (grandfather) tdgoni (mother’s father) 11. toxotsint! (grandchild, m. s.) togotcini (daughter’s child, m. s.) 12. qaxun‘' (grandmother) kaguni (mother’s mother) 13. qaxutsin'! (grandchild, w. s.) kagutcini (daughter’s child, w. s.) 14. qununt! (great-grandfather, great- kunoni (father’s father) grandfather’s brother) 15. qunutsint! (great-grandchild, m.s.; kunotcini (son’s child, m. s.) brother’s great-grandchild, m. s.) 16. *¥ittsin*! (great-grandmother, hutcini (father’s mother) great-grandfather’s sister) 17. ‘*!*tsitsint! (great-grandchild, w.s.; hutcitcini (son’s child, w. s.) brother’s great-grandchild, w .s.) 18. aint! (father’s brother) heeni (father’s younger brother) 19. aitsin‘! (brother’s child, m. s.) heetcini (older brother’s child, m. s.) 20. paant! (father’s sister, probably pahani (father’s sister) also mother’s sister) 21. paatsin'! (brother’s child, w. s.; probably also sister’s child, w. s.) pahatcini (brother’s child, w. s.) 20 A Note on Reciprocal Terms of Relationship in America, Am. Anthr., n. 5., xv, 132-138, 1913; also Dr. Sapir’s unpublished data, which are presented in the succeeding lists of terms. 21A. L. Kroeber, Shoshonean Dialects of California, Univ. Calif. Publ. Am. Arch. Ethn., Iv, 97, 98, 100, 1907. ''246 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 Kaibab Paiute Kawaiisu 22. cinan‘! (male cousin older than cintni (mother’s brother) 23. 25. 26. 27. 28. Zo: 30. 31. 32. speaker; mother’s brother) cinatsin‘*! (male cousin younger . than speaker; nephew, probably sister’s child, m. s.) . manutin‘! 22 (female cousin older than speaker; niece) mafiwv'itsin'! 22 (female cousin younger than speaker) pifwant! (wife) qom’An‘! (husband) monatsin'! (daughter’s husband) tantaiwa*vin'! (sister’s husband, m. Ss.) tsitentamowan'! (wife’s brother) naimpifiwan'! 23 (wife’s sister; brother’s wife, m. s.) naifiquman*! 24 (husband’s brother; sister’s husband, w. s.) cinttcini (sister’s child, m. s.) mawuttni (mother’s older sister) mawiiiitcini (younger sister’s child, w. s.) piwhani (wife) kupmani (husband) mononi (daughter’s husband) atamwoni (sister’s husband, m. s.) atamwoni (wife’s brother) nebiwhoni (wife’s sister; brother’s wife, mS:) nekomwhoni (husband’s brother; sister’s husband, w. s.) The ensuing list gives the thirty-three Uintah Ute terms obtained by Dr. Sapir together with the corresponding Kawaiisu terms: Uintah Ute Kawaiisu 1. méan‘*! (father) muwuni (father) 2. pien*! (mother) piytni (mother) 3. towan‘! (son) tuwuni (son) towatecin'! (more affectionate form) 4. patcin'! (daughter) pediini (daughter) patcitcin’! (more affectionate form) 5. pavin'! (older brother) pavini (older brother) pavitcin*! pavatcini (great-grandson) 6. te’ **qaitin’! (younger brother) saka.ini (younger brother) te’ *qai‘ teins 4 saka.itcini (great-grandfather) 7. paitein®! (older sister) patcini (older sister) patcitcini (great-granddaughter) 8. namitcint! (younger sister)?5 nama.ini (younger sister) nama.iteini (great-grandmother) 9. qun’*™! (father’s older brother) kuguni (father’s older brother) 10. qiin’tcin‘! (father’s older brother’s kuutecini (younger brother’s child, m. s.) child) 26 22 ‘These terms were tested only for father’s brother’s children.’’—Sapir. Number 24 was also recorded as mafiwu’an‘'!, and number 23 as cinantsin‘’. 23 ‘Of. pifiwan*!; seems to point to levirate marriage.’’—Sapir. term probably means something like ‘my co-wife’ and An analogous relation exists between the Kawaiisu terms piwhani and nebiwhoni. 24 ¢Cf, qom‘’ant!; term probably means something like co-husband and seems to point to levirate marriage.’’—Sapir. An analogous relation exists between the Kawaiisu terms kupmani and nekomwhoni. 25 ‘¢Children of two brothers, of two sisters, and of brother and sister call each other ‘older and younger brother’ and ‘older and younger sister’ (see nos. 5, 6, 7, 8), ‘older’ and ‘younger’ referring to actual ages of parties involved, not to those of their parents.’’—Sapir. This statement is true of the Kawaiisu terminology also (see p. 230 for the full meanings of the terms pavini, saka.ini, pateini, and nama.ini). 26 ‘Very likely misunderstood for ‘my younger brother’s child,’ male speak- ing.’’—Sapir, ''1917] Gifford: Tiibatulabal and Kawatisu Kinship Terms 247 Uintah Ute Kawaiisu 11. aitcin‘! (father’s younger brother; heeni (father’s younger brother) older brother’s child, m. s.) heetcini (older brother’s child, m. s.‘ 12. ***quin'! (mother’s older brother) 13. ***qutcin'! (younger sister’s child, m. 8.) 14. cinantein' (mother’s younger cintni (mother’s brother) brother; older sister’s child, m.s.) cinttcini (sister’s child, m. s.) 15. pan‘! (father’s sister) pahani (father’s sister) 16. patcin'! (brother’s child, w. s.) pahatecini (brother’s child, w. s.) 17. mawun”*™ (mother’s older sister) mawiiiini (mother’s older sister) 18. mawun’tcin'! (younger sister’s mawiititcini (younger sister’s child, w. s.) child, w. s.) 1s), es | (mother’s younger nupbieni (mother’s younger sister) sister 20. nimbiiiatein'! (older sister’s child) nupbietcini (older sister’s child, w. s.) 21. qonun‘! (father’s father) kunoni (father’s father) 22. qonuntcin‘! (son’s child, m. s.) kunotecini (son’s child, m. s.) 23. ©¥'*tein'! (father’s mother) huteini (father’s mother) 24. ©W'*tcitein’! (son’s child, w. s.) huteiteini (son’s child, w. s.) 25. toyun‘t! (mother’s father) tdgoni (mother’s father) 26. toyutcin'! (daughter’s child, m.s.) tégotcini (daughter’s child, m. s.) 27. qayun‘! (mother’s mother) kaguni (mother’s mother) 28. qayutcin'! (daughter’s child, w.s.) kagutcini (daughter’s child, w. s.) 29. ee (spouse’s parent, son’s yeheni (spouse’s parent) wife 30. munatecin*! (daughter’s husband) mononi (daughter’s husband) 31. tantauavin'! (wife’s brother; atamwoni (wife’s brother; sister’s sister’s husband, m. s.) husband, m. s.) 32. nambiwan‘! (brother’s wife; sister’s nebiwhoni (wife’s sister; brother’s wife, husband, w. s.; wife’s sister; hus- mi: 8.) band’s brother; husband’s sister) 33. piwan'! (husband, wife) piwhani (wife) As disclosed by the preceding list, Uintah Ute terms and Kawaiisu terms exhibit, in addition to similarity in sound, a marked similarity in application. The few deviations from this similarity are now to be discussed. Equivalents for numbers 12 and 13, the Ute terms for mother’s older brother and younger sister’s child (m. s.), are lacking in Kawaiisu. The Kawaiisu do not distinguish between mother’s older and mother’s younger brothers. Both are included in the one term cintini, the Ute equivalent of which refers only to mother’s younger brother. Three Ute terms of affinity, numbers 29, 32, and 33, are much more embracing in meaning than the corresponding Kawaiisu terms. Number 29 unites son’s wife with spouse’s parent, a procedure quite foreign to Kawaiisu. Equally unique is number 33, which unites husband and wife in one term, the equivalent of English spouse. The Ute term thus used is employed in Kawaiisu and Kaibab Paiute for wife only. In number 382 are combined relationships which in Ka- walisu require three terms for their expression, viz.: ''248 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 1. nebiwhoni (brother’s wife, m. s.; wife’s sister) 2. nekomwhoni (sister’s husband, w. s.; husband’s brother) 3. wiisimbiani (brother’s wife, w. s.; husband’s sister) The uniting in Ute of the relationships expressed in 1 and 2 is in line with and a natural consequence of the combining of husband and wife in one term (number 33). By way of summary, we find that the Uintah Ute nomenclature exhibits six peculiarities of application which are lacking in Kawaiisu ; the Kaibab Paiute nomenclature exhibits twelve; and the Tiiba- tulabal list (although the speech is quite distinct from the preceding three groups), exhibits only ten peculiarities. It seems as though con- tiguity of territory is responsible for the small number of discrepancies between the Tiibatulabal and the Kawaiisu nomenclatures, just as it doubtless accounts for the features they have in common, such as the terms and suffixes denoting the condition of the connecting relative. On the other hand, community of language doubtless accounts for the similar phenomena among the Uintah Ute and the Kawaiisu. Cer- tainly contiguity of territory does not account for them, for the two groups, at least at the present time, are far removed from each other. But if community of language explains the Uintah Ute nomenclature, what can be said of the Kaibab Paiute nomenclature, which is in a dialect very similar to both Uintah Ute and Kawaiisu? Kaibab Paiute shows more peculiarities when compared to its congener Kawalisu than does even the extraneous Tiibatulabal. Clearly the position of Kaibab Paiute is anomalous. Although linguistically close to both Kawaiisu and Uintah Ute, and geographically intermediate, it displays more than twice as many peculiarities when compared with Kawaiisu as does Uintah Ute. Dr. Sapir remarks with regard to Uintah Ute and Kaibab Paiute terms of relationship: ‘‘Here, as so often, a cultural dividing line runs clear across a homogeneous linguistic group.’’?7 The writer would go a step farther and remark that, if our evidence is correct, the northeastern extremity (Uintah Ute) of the group is in closer agreement with the southwestern extremity (Kawalisu) than either one is with the middle (Kaibab Paiute). Hence the homogeneous linguistic group may be spoken of as trisected rather than bisected. 27 A Note on Reciprocal Terms of Relationship in Ameriea, Am. Anthr., n. s., XV, 137, 1913. ''UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PUBLICATIONS IN AMERICAN ARCHAEOLOGY AND ETHNOLOGY Vol. 12, No. 7, pp. 249-282 February 10, 1917 BANDELIER’S CONTRIBUTION TO THE STUDY OF ANCIENT MEXICAN SOCIAL ORGANIZATION BY T. T. WATERMAN CONTENTS PAGE WG TOGMGHVOMe 2c Soest tee ee 249 Clanvoreamization im ancient Mexico 33:20. ee 252 Govenmaental-tunctions: ofthe: clan) 202 ee ee 256 fonionammyvacc ers see ae ier ee ee 256 Mie GlamacoOumenl cst. Ses ae S| CE GE Ge Oe Pee ne ee 257 Barocutiye omicers Ol the clan . 2) ee he warcleader,. or achcacauntin 0) 2 ee HMro@ei yl Oni CHal ates ee ee 260 hese. and. tribal oOvermment! - os 6 eo ee 261 Theptribe ands the phratry 28. LO Ute nS 261 The tribal council .. = 3 EO BE eee OO Mhet dead wancchiety 25 eo. a ee 264 Duality: Ole The Olle. et nee ee ee ee ee ee 267 MPN 5 Sry Ale NRO MIM EAT e228 s Eee eee 267 ihe “hour @uarters: 2) or phratrics (22.20 269 the,“ Capvaims-eneral.27 on phratrycaptaims =. 7 270 Otheranstitutions. im: the phratry 3. i ee 271 Points; ote daittreutliiyce ee ee ee 272 Comelusioms ss toi) ai ee ee 273 Alphabetical list of sources: cited by Bandelier =) 3) 276 INTRODUCTION There are two widely different schools of doctrine concerning the political and social institutions which the Spaniards encountered among the highly civilized natives of the Mexican plateau. One school consists of two investigators, Lewis H. Morgan’ and A. F. Bandelier.? 1 Ancient Society, New York, 1877; League of the Iroquois, New York, 1904; “‘Montezuma’s Dinner,’’ in North American Review, April, 1876. 2‘¢On the Art of War and Mode of Warfare of the Ancient Mexicans,’’ Reports of the Peabody Museum. Harvard University, 11, 95-161; ‘‘On the Dis- ''250 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [ Vol. 12 ‘ ? These two writers consider that the famous Aztec ‘‘empire’’ was not an empire at all, but a loose confederacy of democratic Indian tribes. They have been supported in more recent literature by John Fiske, in his Discovery of America,? and by the sentiments, if not in the published writings, of most American ethnologists. The opposing school consists, broadly speaking, of the other scholars who have written on the subject.*? In most of the literature which concerns the Aztecs the assumption is made throughout that they had monarchical institutions. The ‘‘supreme rulers’’ of the Aztec ‘‘empire’’ are rep- resented in some very recent works as independent monarchs, keeping the state and pomp of moguls. Bandelier’s papers mentioned above are by far the most serious contributions to the subject. He makes an effort to reconstruct a picture of the entire Aztec social order. It is the purpose of the present paper to review and criticize his results. It seems simplest to consider his findings with reference to one tribe, namely, the Mexicans, or inhabitants of Tenochtitlan. His own ref- erences to the original sources are given in the following pages in the form of footnotes. No new material is involved. A word might be said in the beginning about Bandelier’s method of composing his papers. We conclude, from remarks in his ‘‘Sources for the Aboriginal History of Spanish America,’”* that it was his habit first to write a paper out of his fund of general information on a subject, citing authorities only on special points, and when the idea suddenly occurred to him. Then he went through the paper again and worked up a most formidable set of footnotes, in which he often embodied the results of further research. In the case of the contri- butions at present referred to, he wrote three papers on practically the same subject, each paper more elaborate than the one before. The result of all three is a sort of complex, full of statements anticipatory of other statements, and statements presupposing a knowledge which the reader lacks, a complex in which the first portion is unintelligible without the last, while the last presupposes a knowledge of the first. Worse than all, in connection with some essential points, the author allows himself to become involved in contradictions. Moreover, he nowhere gives a list of sources. He permits himself to employ such tribution and Tenure of Land and Customs with Respect to Inheritance of the Ancient Mexicans,’’ ibid., pp. 385-448; ‘‘On the Social Organization and Mode of Government of the Ancient Mexicans,’’ ibid., pp. 557-669. These papers are cited as Art of War, Tenure of Land, and Mode of Government, repectively. 3 Cambridge, Mass., 1892. sa An honorable exception is Beuchat, Manuel d’archeologie américaine, Paris, 1912. + Proceedings of the American Association for the Advancement of Science, XXvil, 1878. ''bo Or He 1917 ] Waterman: Mexican Social Organization TABLE SHOWING BANDELIER’S SOURCES The dates indicate in each case the period when composition was begun. While the dates are in many cases conjectural, the general order is approximately correct. The sources which seem most important from the standpoint of ethnography are in- dicated by bold-face type. Date Author Title 1505 Martyr, Peter (Pietro Martire d’Anghiera) De novo orbe 1519 Cortés, Hernando Cartas 1521 Zuazo, Alonzo de Carta 1524 Alvarado, Pedro de Relacién a Hernan Cortés 1525 Oviedo y Valdez, Gonzalo Fernandez de Historia general y natural, etc. Anonymous Conqueror, The Relaci6n de algunas cosas, etc. 1527 Las Casas, Bartolemé de Historia de las Indias 1530 Merced a Hernan Cortés de tierras _inmediatas de México, ete. Cuarta relacién anénima de la jornada . . . a Nueva Galicia, etc. 1531 ~+Lettre des auditeurs Salmeron, Maldonado, Ceynos et Queroga Salmeron (given names not ascertained) Lettre . . . au conseil des Indes 1534 Bologna, Francisco de lettre, ete. 1540 Concilios provinciales . . . de México Tapia, Andrés de Relaci6on, etc. 1541 Acazitli, Francisco de Sandoval Relacién de jornada, etc. Motolinia (Toribio de Benevente) Historia de los Indios 1546 Sahagtn, Bernardino de Historia general 1550 Codex Mendoza Codex Ramirez Codex Telleriano-Remensis Des cérémonies observés .. . lorsqu-ils faisaient un tecle De 1l’ordre de succession observé par les Indiens Molina, Alonzo de Vocabulario Mendoza, Antonio de Avis de Vice-Roi, ete. Gomara, Francisco Lépez de Historia general 1551 ~—Relacién de las ceremonias y ritos, ete. 1552 ~=Diaz del Castillo, Bernal Historia verdadera 1554 Anunciaciédn, Domingo de la Lettre, ete. Lettre des chapelains Frére Toribio et Frére Diego d’Olarte Montufar, Alonzo de : Supplique & Charles V 1560 Zurita, Alonzo de Breve ... relacién (Rapport) 1569 Chavez, Gabriel de Rapport sur... Meztitlan 1573 Mendieta, Gerdnimo de Historia ecclesiastica 1576 Camargo, Domingo Muiioz Historia ». . de Naxcallan Palacio, Diego Garcia San Salvador und Honduras, ete. 1579 Duran, Diego Historia de las Indias 1582 Pomar, Juan Bautista * Relacién de Texcoco 1588 Acosta, José de Salaman Historia natural y moral 1589 Torquemada, Juan de . . . monarchia indiana 1596 Herrera, Antonio de Historia . . . de los hechos, ete. 1598 Tezozomoc, Fernando de Alvarado Cronica mexicana Garcia, Gregorio Origen de los Indios 1608 =Ixtlilxochitl, Fernando de Alva Historia Chichimeca 1609 Solérzano y Pereyra, Juan ... de Indiarum jure 1610 Eslava, Fernan Gonzélez de Coloquios espirituales 1613 Remesal, Antonio de Historia ... de Chyapa 1617 Real ejecutoria de S. M. sobre tierras de Axapusco 1635 Nieremberg, Joan Eusebius Historia naturae 1697 Vetancurt, Augustin Teatro mexicano 1742 + Padilla, Matias de la Mota Historia de Nueva-Galicia 1765 Clavigero, Francisco Severio Storia antica del Messico ''252 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 baffling expressions as ‘‘the learned friar,’’ or ‘‘the celebrated Francis- ean,’” in reference to a literature where the majority of the important writers are both friars and Franciscans. Still another feature of his work is this, that when he is in search of corroboration he appeals impartially to authors of the sixteenth, and of all subsequent centuries up to the end of the nineteenth, without outward preference or dis- tinction. In any attempt to examine his findings at all closely, it is therefore necessary to have at hand a list of his authorities.° These authorities appear in chronological order in the appended tabulation. For fuller information the reader is referred to the alphabetical list at the end of the present paper, and to the usual works of reference.” CLAN. ORGANIZATION IN ANCIENT MExIco In attempting to review the results of Bandelier’s investigations of Mexican social organization, it seems best to begin with that element of society which the Indians would have considered the fundamental one. Mexico City was more than a city in our sense of the word. It was rather on the order of a city-state. The Mexicans are continually We may regard it as absolutely certain that this tribe, numbering a great many thousands of individuals, was »? spoken of as a ‘‘tribe. really a conglomerate of smaller units. In fact, continual reference is made in the sources to smaller social groups which seem, in many ways, to be of really fundamental importance. Nearly all authors, for example,® represent the Aztec tribe at the beginning of its legend- ary history as starting off on its migration organized in kinship groups. These kins are worthy of careful attention. 5 Mode of Government, p. 687, note 276, for example. 6 He has two papers which in part supply this need, but only in part. One is the paper on ‘‘Sources for the Aboriginal History of Spanish America,’’ mentioned above in note 4. The other is ‘‘ Notes on the Bibliography of Yucatan and Central America,’’ Proceedings of the American Antiquarian Society, n. s., 1, 82-118. 7 For example: Sabin, Dictionary of Works Relating to America from the Discovery to the Present Time, New York, 1868-1891. Winsor, Narrative and Critical History of America, especially the first two volumes, Boston, 8 volumes, no date. Ticknor, History of Spanish Literature, Boston, 3 volumes, 1854, especially the fourth edition, Boston, 3 volumes, no date. Bancroft, Works, 39 volumes, San Francisco, 1883-1890. Lehmann, Progress in Mexican Research, Archiv fiir Anthropologie, v1, 1907; reprinted by the Duc de Loubat, Paris, 1909. Icazbalceta, Bibliografia Mexicana del Siglo XVI, Mexico, 1866. Weber, Beitrage zur Charakteristik der flteren Geschichtsschreiber iiber Spanish-Amerika, in Beitrige zur Kulturgeschichte, edited by Lamprecht, xiv, Leipzig, 1911. 8 Acosta, Clavigero, Durdn, Garcia, Herrera, Ixtlilxochitl, Mendieta, Sahagtn, Torquemada, Vetancurt. ''1917] Waterman: Mexican Social Organization 253 There is considerable variation in the terms employed by the Span- iards to describe these units. The commonest is the word barrio, which seems to mean in the Spanish of the period a city ward or precinct. These barrios are in some passages called parishes, quar- ters, or parcialidades. The native equivalent is given by Zurita’ as calpulli. The question is, just exactly what is meant, in modern term- inology, by calpulli, and what was its function? Zurita helps us out by telling us that ‘‘a calpulli is what the Jews called a tribe.’’° Ref- erence to the early books of the Bible will indicate that the Jewish tribe was believed to be a group descended from one ancestor. Tor- quemada also describes what are apparently these same groups, and says that they are based on the central idea of descent.’ First of all, then, the calpulli was an organization of kin, probably what modern ethnographers would speak of as a‘‘clan.’’ Zdrita in another place adds: ‘‘The word calpulli . . . signifies a barrio inhabited by a family, known as of very ancient origin, which for a long time owns a territory of well-defined boundaries, and all the members of which are of the same lineage.’’1? Here, then, is an additional trait of the calpulli—it is a land-holding organization. ‘‘The lands do not belong to each inhabitant of the village,’’ says Zurita, ‘‘but to the calpull, which possesses them in common.’’'? ‘‘ Very few people,’’ according to Fuenleal, ‘‘have lands of their own. The lands are held in common.’’'* This fact is rendered certain enough to be accepted as probably charac- teristic of Mexican society, by corroboration by a number of authors.” Gomara especially says that ‘‘many married people often live in one house, and brothers and sisters do not divide their lands.’’ Peter Martyr also mentions the existence of communal houses.’® Each group of kin develops garden plots,’ which are called collectively ‘‘soil of the calpulli.’"* Such lands could in no manner be sold, according to 9 Zurita, p. 50. For exact reference see the list of sources at the end of the present paper. 10 Zurita, p. 53. 11 Torquemada, p. 545. 12 Zurita, p. 50. 13 Zurita, p. 51. 14 Fuenleal, p. 253. 15 Clavigero, Book 7, ch. 14; Duran, ch. 5; Gémara, p. 443; Herrera, pp. 135, 190; Martyr, p. 228; Oviedo, Book 32, ch. 51, pp. 536, 537; Torquemada, p. 545, Book 2, ch. 11, Book 3, chs. 13, 22. 16 Peter Martyr, decade 5, ch. 10. 17 Acosta, Book 7, ch. 9, p. 473; Clavigero, Book 2, ch. 17; Tezozomoe, ch. 3, p. 8; Torquemada, Book 3, ch. 33, p. 291, Book 2, ch. 15, p. 101. 18 Txtlilxochitl, ch. 35, p. 242; Zurita, p. 51. ''254 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. — [ Vol. 12 the passage in Clavigero,’® to which reference was made above (note 15). This statement on the part of Clavigero is corroborated by other authors.?° No one but a member of a calpulli had the right to settle on any of its lands.** These passages bring out rather clearly, with regard to the calpulls, that there was involved, in addition to the idea of common descent, a second idea that we often find associated with the clan-organization of other and ruder tribes, namely, common own- ership of land. The calpulli appears in this connection quite clearly as analogous to the clan, as found, for example, among the Iroquois. The fact that the calpullis were really fundamental is brought out by statements such as this: ‘‘Hach calpulli was sovereign within its 22 ** Hach quarter had its own soil without any connection with the other.’’ This means that Mexican society was really founded on the calpulli, and that the tribe was an organization made up of a number of these fundamental units. Some discrepancies exist in the references to ownership of lands. References are made in certain places to ‘‘public’’ or communal lands, and elsewhere to private holdings. The facts probably are that each calpulli, as a group, controlled certain lands, but these lands were assigned or allotted to small families for cultivation.2* These lands could not be sold by the individual, or alienated in any way. This custom has an analogy in the agricultural institutions of the Iroquois, as described by Morgan.** The evidence for this arrangement among the Mexicans is found in Zurita, and confirmed by other authors.?° The soil was certainly occupied by individual families,”* their lots or holdings being known as tlalmilli.2". The right of oeeupaney was con- nected with inheritance.** We have it on the authority of one author’? that if a man neglected for two years to cultivate his patch it was own limits. 19 Clavigero, Book 7, ch. 14. 20 Herrera, decade 3, Book 4, ch. 15, p. 135; Torquemada, Book 14, ch. 7, p. 545; Zurita, p. 52. 21 Zurita, p. 53. 22 Clavigero, Book 7, ch. 14; Zurita, pp. 51, 65. 23 Zurita, pp. 52, 56, 57, 60; De l’ordre de succession, pp. 223, 224. 24“ Wouses and House-Life of the American Aborigines,’’ U. S. Department of the Interior, Contributions to North American Ethnology, 1v, 79; for North American tribes in general see Ancient Society by the same author, pp. 154-174. 25 Zurita, p. 55; Clavigero, Book 7, ch. 14; Herrera, p. 135; Torquemada, p. 545. 26 Zurita, pp. 52, 56, 57, 60; De l’ordre de succession, pp. 223, 224. 27 Molina. 28 Clavigero, Book 7, ch. 14; De l’ordre de succession, p. 224; Fuenleal, p. 253; Herrera, p. 138; Torquemada, p. 545. 29 Zurita, p. 56. ''1917] Waterman: Mexican Social Organization 255 assigned or allotted to someone else. When a family disappeared, the land reverted to the group.*® It seems most reasonable to suppose, then, that the calpullis, as groups, held tenure of the land, as did the Iroquois clans; and the individuals merely occupied portions of the soil without having proprietary rights. There were certain plots, the produce of which went with certain offices, but the evidence concerning these ‘‘official’’ lands is very uncertain, and they may probably be passed over for the present without materially affecting the picture of Mexican land tenure. The calpulli, whatever it may have been, certainly exhibits in this respect a very fundamental resemblance to what are known as clans in the ethnographical literature of today. The calpulli was involved in other activities than the ownership of land. Mexican ‘‘armies’’ are represented as consisting of bands of from two hundred to four hundred men. It is plausible to suppose that each band represented the fighting force of one calpulli. Each group, according to Duran, carried the emblem of their barrio. Here we see another likeness to the clan—the fact that the group made common cause in warfare. There are two additional features of the calpulli which make the resemblance to the typical clan more striking still. Each one had its own god, or calpulteotzin,*' and its own central place of worship.** I think therefore that we are on firm ground in assuming with Ban- delier that Mexican society, at the time of the Conquest, was still organized on a primitive clan basis. We come now to the question of the number of these calpullis. Twenty ‘‘chiefs’’ of the Mexicans are mentioned in some of the sources.** This would suggest the existence of twenty separate units in the tribe. Herrera, speaking of the ‘‘parishes’’ (calpullis), says that there were ‘‘many.’’** Torquemada*’ says that there were four general divisions, each with three or four calpullis, which would make a total of perhaps sixteen. Bernal Diaz again says that the central governing body was a “‘senate’’ of twenty.*° On a priori grounds it seems likely that each clan would have a representative in such a senate. That would indicate that the precise number was probably "20 Zérita, p. 52. 31 Duran, p. 42. 32 Herrera, p. 188. 33 Duran, pp. 97, 98, 99. Tezozomoc also might be cited. 34 Herrera, p. 188. 35 Torquemada, p. 545. 36 Diaz, p. 95. ''256 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 twenty. The number is given as twenty by Vetancurt.*’ If the fore- going passages really describe the facts, the fundamental point of Mexican organization is that the nation or tribe consisted of an ag- glomerate of twenty independent clans. However elaborate their government may have been, it was based directly on a clan organi- zation. Evidence for this idea, as may be seen by consulting the table of authors, is found in sources of the best character. In connection with certain governmental and deliberative functions, each of the calpullis or clans just described had a council house, or tecpan. Sometimes these were themselves called merely calpulli.. They contained halls and a tower.*® Governmental Functions of the Clan It remains now to discuss the officials, through whom the govern- ment was administered. It seems best, first of all, to clear the ground as far as we can of certain difficulties. One of the most troublesome of these is the occurrence of contradictory allusions to individuals, usually referred to as ‘‘chiefs,’’ in Aztee tecuhtl. Honorary Chiefs Consult: Art of War, pp. 117-120; Mode of Government, pp. 641-644. The orthography of this word tecuhtl shows considerable variety. The proper form seems to be the one given. The word tecle, used by Mendieta,*® is apparently a variant of the same. It also occurs as tec, tecutzin, and teutley.*° The stem means in Aztee simply ‘‘grand- father.’’ The various senses in which this term is used by the Spanish chroniclers leave us in some uncertainty as to the functions of the tecuhtl. According to Bandelier, it seems simplest to suppose that the tecuhth was, after all, not a governmental official. He insists (though his own allusions to the dignity in question are inconsistent) that the tecuhtlis were members, we might say, of an order of merit, which was awarded especially for valor. It did not necessarily en- title the holder to office, or to authority of any sort. We must note, however, that the chamber where the principal governing body met was called the ‘‘place of tecuhtlis,’’ according to Bandelier’s etymol- ogy.‘ While the situation with regard to the tecuhtli is by no means 37 Cited in vague terms by Bandelier, Mode of Government, p, 592. 38 Duran, p. 215; Herrera, p. 190; Tezozomoc, p. 58; Zurita, p. 62. 39 Mendieta, Book 2, chs. 38, 39. 40 Zurita, p. 47. 41 Mode of Government, p. 406, note 46. ''1917] Waterman: Mexican Social Organization 257 clear, a dozen passages may be cited which give Bandelier’s conclusion some authority.*2 Offices were filled mostly by these ‘‘chiefs,’’ or tecuhtli,** perhaps as offices in this country after the Civil War were filled largely by veterans. In Indian society especially successful warriors would of course be the most likely aspirants for official posi- tions. The position or dignity was held for life, but it was not hered- itary.‘ It involved, among other things, great outlay for feasts on the part of the candidate.** This certainly fits in with what we know of primitive society elsewhere in America—for example, on the North- west coast, where rank and influence are connected with outlay for entertainment.*® It seems probable, on the whole, that in discussing the governmental offices of the Aztecs, these ‘‘civil chiefs,’’ or tecuhth, are to be ruled out. A man with the title of tecuhtli might fill almost any office; and consequently the accounts of the privileges and duties which various members of this order had, involve us in all sorts of difficulties. It seems quite likely that the rank of tecuhtli was an honor, not an office. In my opinion, Bandelier does not establish this fact clearly, but at least it is a plausible theory. The Clan Council Consult: Tenure of Land, p. 425 and notes; Mode of Government, p. 633, espe- cially, note 152, which occupies two pages. Bandelier states that the government of the clan, or calpulli, was in the hands of a clan council. This council, he says, was composed of important men who got their office by election. For none of these statements has he any proof. There is one passage in Sahagtin*’ which would seem perhaps to imply the existence of something like a clan council. A council of the kin met to decide quarrels over land,** but it had no final authority. Altogether, evidence for the existence of a clan council, as a definite governing institution, is of a most vague and unsatisfactory sort. The best indication that something of the sort existed is a statement by Zurita*® that the ‘‘chief,’’ whoever such 42 Clavigero, pp. 471, 472; Gomara, p. 436; Herrera, p. 135; Mendieta, pp. 156, 161; Torquemada, pp. 361, 366; Zurita, pp. 47, 48. 43 Gdmara, Mendieta, Torquemada, as cited above; also Camargo, p. 176. 44 Zurita, p. 49. ; 45 Des cérémonies observées, p. 233; Gémara, p. 4836; Mendieta, p. 156; Zurita, p. 28. 46 See, for example, Boas in Report of U. 8S. National Museum for 1895, ‘‘The Social Organization and Secret Societies of the Kwakiutl Indians.’’ 47 Sahagtn, p. 185. 48 Zurita, pp. 56, 62. 49 Zurita, pp. 55, 56, 60, 61, 62. ''258 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [ Vol. 12 an officer may have been, did nothing without consulting the other old men of the calpulli. The council seems to have been a general assem- bly, for we are told that on occasions of importance the clan met as a whole.°® In other words, what we have in Mexico is approximately what we find in the history of our own ancient ancestors, namely, that all matters, executive or judicial, pertaining to the group were settled in an undifferentiated folk-moot. If a more definitely organized gov- erning body existed, there seems to be very little evidence of it in the sources. Executive Officers of the Clan Consult: Art of War, pp. 101, 119 and following; Tenure of Land, p. 425 and following; Mode of Government, pp. 591, 636 and following, 647 and fol- lowing. The most satisfying statement made by Morgan concerning Iro- quois government is one to the effect that there was a primary specialization of offices into civil offices on the one hand and military offices on the other. This statement gives promise of reducing the whole governmental establishment to a definite system. Moreover, the specialization into leaders for war and leaders for peace seems to be logically a very early step in the evolution of government. In spite of this, Bandelier, in speaking of Mexican government, closes by as- signing the civil and military leadership in the clan to one person.** I am inclined to think that a case might be made out for a division of the clan offices into military and civil categories. Fuenleal, for ex- ample, says that there are two officers, ‘‘called principales or chiefs,’’ He is borne 7252 in ‘‘each of the quarters which we today call parishes. out in this statement by Torquemada and Ztrita,** the former saying that each barrio or parcialidad (meaning almost certainly the clan, or calpulli) has two officers, a gatherer of stores and ‘‘a regidor, or tecuhtl.’’ The Simaneas manuscript also speaks of alcaldes and regidors of the villages,’* saying that an Aztec official called achca- caulitis was the alcalde, or judge, while the Aztee achcacauhtin was the alguazil, or sheriff. It is important, it seems to me, to recognize this differentiation in the offices of the clan. 50 Zurita, p. 62; Fuenleal, p. 249. 51 Tenure of Land, p. 425. 52 Fuenleal, p. 249. 53 Torquemada, p. 544; Zurita, p. 225. 54 De l’ordre de succession, p. 225. ''1OL7] Waterman: Mexican Social Organization 259 The War-Leader, or Achcacauhtin One at least of the clan officers we can identify quite readily. His existence is very frequently mentioned. He enjoys, however, a wide variety of titles in the Spanish works. Some of the most important are shown in the following list. All of these titles seem to apply to one official. TrrLES APPLIED TO THE ‘‘CLAN WAR-LEADER’’ BY DIFFERENT AUTHORS Title applied Author Pariente mayor55 Zurita Chief abbot Mendieta Alguacil mayorsé Torquemada Leader in the fight Tezozomoe Captain of the people Molina Priest Mendieta Principal and master-at-arms Tezozomoe Chief of the quarter Tezozomoe Master of the youth Tezozomoe Teacher Captain of the guard Torquemada Prince Clavigero Old man Fuenleal Valiant man Sahagtin Officer to whom the youths were entrusted Clavigero Captain Tezozomoce Regidor Torquemada It is obvious at once that to get any clear idea of the function of an. officer who is called at once a captain of the guard and an abbot, involves some difficulty. The dignitary in question was evidently an official who had no counterpart in societies with which the Spaniards were familiar. His native title was achcacauhtin,** which means simply ‘‘elder brother.’’ One of his duties was to lead the clan in battle®’ and to instruct the young men of the clan in warlike exercises.”® These achcacauhtins got their office by election,®°° though the details of this election are quite uncertain.“ Perhaps this rather uncertain 55 Zurita says he was like the ‘‘pariente mayor’’ in the mountains of Biscay. I would not attempt to say what the term means. 56 The exact implication of this word also is somewhat uncertain. 57 De l’ordre de succession, ete., p. 225; Molina, p. 113; Sahagtn, p. 305; Torquemada, p. 355; Tezozomoc, pp. 24, 25; Zurita, p. 60. 58 Authority almost entirely wanting. See Art of War, p. 119 and following. 59 Tezozomoe, chs. 17, 38, 57. 60 Molina, p. 113. 61J¢ is referred to in general terms in De l’ordre de succession, p. 225; Herrera, p. 125; Zurita, p. 69. ''260 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 evidence will at least enable us to conclude that there was a clan official called the ‘‘elder brother,’’ who had duties in a general way of military sort, which he may have combined with ceremonial functions. The Cwil Officials Consult: Tenure of Land, p. 425 and following; Mode of Government, pp. 637, 639 and following. Mention is made in the sources of three different functions besides the one just mentioned: that of calpullec, or head of the clan; that of tlatoani, or ‘‘speaker,’’ a sort of delegate who represented the interests of the clan in the larger assemblies; and that of ‘‘steward,’’ or super- visor of stores. Bandelier insists that the calpullec and the ‘‘speaker’’ were different officers.°? Fuenleal, however, lumps them simply as ‘‘other officers called viejos.’’®* Ziarita, moreover, says that the calpullec spoke for members of the calpulls ‘‘before the governors.’’** This particular passage would seem to suggest that the calpullec and the speaker were the same individual. While it is perhaps impossible to get a clear impression from the sources, it would certainly make the whole scheme of government appear more symmetrical to suppose that there was one clan official who looked out for all clan business that was not specifically military. Whether the Aztecs cared for symmetry in their government is, naturally, another question. Ban- delier thinks that at least the calpullec and the ‘‘steward’’ may have been the same official. With the word calpullec is associated the supervision and distri- bution of lands.*° In this connection the calpullec kept records in the ancient picture-writing.*“© He seems to have supervised the stores of grain belonging to the kin or clan, for he is spoken of as ‘*providing’’ food for the religious festivals.°* One man could hardly have done so out of his private stores, so the statement probably implies that he had charge of public supplies. It is very likely that these supplies were in part in the nature of tribute from conquered groups. The office, whatever it implied, was held for hfe or good behavior,** and 62 Mode of Government, p. 639.- 63 P, 249. 64 Pp. 60, 61, 62. 65 Zurita, pp. 61, 62. Cao Book 7, ch. 14; Mendieta, p. 135; Sahagun, p. 304; Torquemada, 67 Herrera, p. 134; Zurita, pp. 51-66. 68 Herrera, p. 125; Zurita, pp. 60, 61. ''1917 | Waterman: Mexican Social Organization 261 was vested in a man by election. According to Zurita,°? when a calpullec died they elected the most respected old man, who was often a son or other near relative of the former functionary. There was undoubtedly an office known as that of tlatoani, or ‘‘speaker.’’ Each of these ‘‘speakers’’ was elected by his own calpulli,”? and while the tenure ordinarily was permanent, he could be removed, according to Ztrita,”’ by the proper measures. The ex- istence of ‘‘speakers’’ is referred to by several other authors.’” and, he thinks, by the population of each of the ‘‘four quarters.’’ Each one had a special title or official name. In other words, as in the case of the Iroquois, a certain name went with the occupancy of the office. These four names, given differently by different authors, help to iden- 120 Clavigero, p. 494; Tezozomoc, p. 161; Torquemada, loc. cit.; also see below, under ‘‘ Captain-General.’’ 121 Duran, p. 42. 122 For example, Tezozomoc, p. 184. 123 Duran, p. 42; Tezozomoc, p. 98; Vetancurt, p. 42. 124 Acosta, p. 441; Clavigero, Book 7, ch. 21; Codex Ramirez, pp. 57, 58; Duran, pp. 102, 103; Herrera, p. 75; Sahagin, pp. 318, 319; Tezozomoc, pp. 24, 161. 125 Acosta, Codex Ramirez, Duran, Herrera, Sahagtin, as cited just above, note 124. ''1917] Waterman: Mexican Social Organization 271 tify the officials, when mentioned in different places in our sources. They are, as given by Bandelier, Tlacateccatl, or ‘‘cutter of men”’ ; Tlacochcacatl, or ‘‘man of the storehouse of weapons’’; Ezhuahuacatl, or ‘‘he who sheds blood’’; and perhaps Quauhnochtli, or ‘‘eagle and cactus chief.’’ Three passages prove to Bandelier’s satisfaction that the four were immediate assistants to the head war-chief.12° If this is true, their main function was undoubtedly warlike. A variety of titles are applied to them, however. Among other things, they are referred to as ‘‘judges.’’!°7. ‘‘ Alealde’’ is another Spanish term which to many Spanish authors seemed applicable to the official in question.*”* Taking everything into consideration, we are evidently dealing with a somewhat undifferentiated office, in which military leadership was the most important factor. As regards their dress, these four men were allowed to tie the hair with red leather, a thing which was otherwise permitted only to the head war-chief and the snake-woman. Another point of extreme importanee is this, that (according to fairly good authority) the head war-chief was invariably elected from among these four.1*?? We have already considered the idea that the chief of men had to be elected from one lineage. If this second principle was also in operation, the four phratry-captains must obviously have belonged, in each case, to the same lineage. Otherwise they would not have been eligible for election to the office. Of the authors just mentioned (note 139), Duran is very explicit. Mention ought to be made of the fact that some of the sources speak not of four officers, whom we may assume to be captains-general, but of two.*8° It seems plausible, however, that four was the actual number, corresponding to the four quarters. Other Institutions in the Phratry The tribe seems to have had a public house, where the head war- chief and other important men lived, and where a great deal of official business went forward. This was called the tribal tecpan (consult Mode of Government, pp. 648, 655). Bandelier makes much of the point that the so-called ‘‘palace’’ of Montezuma was merely the official 126 Codex Ramirez, pp. 57, 58; Duran, p. 103; Sahagin, p. 318. 127 Clavigero, p. 481; Torquemada, p. 352; Vetancurt, p. 370. 128 Codex Mendoza, pl. 59. 129 Acosta, pp. 431, 441; Codex Mendoza, pl. 11; Codex Ramirez, p. 58; Duran, p- 103; Tezozomoe, ch. 15 (confirms vaguely) ; Torquemada, pp. 172, 186. 130 Gémara, p. 442; Sahagin, p. 311; Zurita, p. 95. ''272 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [ Vol. 12 tribal administration building. Similar buildings may have existed in each major quarter. Two other institutions connected with the quarter might hold our attention for a moment. One was a place called by Bandelier the ‘“schoolhouse,’’ where youths were trained, ‘‘under the supervision of the clan leaders,’’ for war. The other was an armory, a ‘‘house of darts,’’ which seems to have been immediately under the supervision of the phratry-captain. Statements concerning the ‘‘schoolhouses’’ may be found in various authors.’*' It is noteworthy that the clan official did the teaching, but the schoolhouse was an establishment belonging to the ‘‘major quarter,’’ or phratry. The existence of four houses of darts, one for each major quarter, or phratry, is mentioned by one author.t*? Others are not so explicit.1** They seem to have existed, however, and to have been found in the neighborhood of the temples,'** probably because the temples and other public buildings were grouped together. The ‘‘darts’’ spoken of were undoubtedly the javelins hurled by means of the characteristic Mexican weapon, the atlatl, or spear-thrower.** Torquemada speaks of a special house, at the Main Temple, reserved for javelins, and nothing else.'*° Alto- gether it can be seen that phratries had a rather definite and active function in the Mexican social order. Points oF DIFFICULTY A great many points are brought up by Bandelier concerning which we have no satisfactory information. We know, for example, that Mexico and two allied pueblos, Tezeoco and Tlacopan, exacted a relatively heavy tribute from many surrounding places. The collec- tion and forwarding of this tribute imply the existence of an ex- tensive business organization. There are many references to the calpixca, or ‘‘stewards,’’ who were engaged in this work, but there is very little to show us the precise nature of their appointment and 181 G6mara, p. 438; Mendieta, p. 124; Sahagtn, p. 268; Tezozomoe, pp. 121, 134; Torquemada, p. 185. 132 Tezozomoe, p. 184. 133 Bernal Diaz, vol. 2, p. 87, says ‘‘two’’; Gémara, p. 345, and Herrera, p. 197, say ‘‘several’’; Motolinia, p. 188, says ‘‘many.’’ 134 Acosta, Book 6, ch. 28; Anonymous Conqueror, p. 394; Gémara, vol. 2, p. 849; Tezozomoe, p. 121; Torquemada, p. 146. 135 Mrs. Zelia Nuttall, in Peabody Museum (Harvard University), Anthropo- logical Papers, vol. 1. 136 Torquemada, p. 146. ''1917] Waterman: Mexican Social Organization 273 procedure. Bandelier devotes considerable space to these calpixca, but after all achieves nothing very definite. (See Mode of Government, especially pp. 638, 697.) We know that the tribute was collected, that it was forwarded to the confederate towns, and that it was divided up among the allies, Mexico and Tezecoco taking each two-fifths, and Tlacopan receiving one-fifth. We have a suspicion that this tribute was finally parcelled out to the clans and not to individuals. The exact facts in connection with the gathering of tribute are a most promising field for investigation. Another extremely interesting ques- tion, which is closely allied to the one just mentioned, is the question of trade routes and avenues of commerce. There is reason to believe that there was a lively commerce in highly specialized products be- tween various localities on the Plateau. The actual tracing of the important trails and other arteries of commerce ought to be practi- cable, and it is certainly most necessary. We ought to have a list of the names applied to the clans, or calpullis. The whole matter of totemism ought also to be thoroughly explored. Analogy with the Iroquois, together with the attire worn by Mexican warriors, would suggest that these clans might quite pos- sibly have exhibited certain totemistic phenomena. Nothing has ever been done with the question whether or not the Mexican clans were exogamous. All these points could probably be worked out on the basis of the source material. A totally different point which ought to be investigated is the question of the nature and workings of the Confederacy, to the exist- ence of which allusion has just been made. Mexico seems to have enjoyed the right of furnishing a leader for each confederate enter- prise, this leader being normally her own head war-chief. This fact tends to make an additional distinction between this official of the Mexicans and the ordinary war-chief of ordinary Indian tribes. The Confederacy was really superimposed on the already existing local organization of each tribe, and its workings ought to prove most interesting. CONCLUSION The following tabulation indicates the composition of Mexican society as viewed by Bandelier. Under the headings are listed the institutions and functions characterizing (in his opinion) each division of the social order. ''274 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Kthn. [Vol. 12 Olan Phratry Tribe War-party War-party War-party War-leader (Elder Brother) War-leader (Phratry captain) War-leader (‘‘ King’’) Religous observances Religious observances Religious observances Official buildings Official buildings Official buildings Comme a Council MGIC Rene ee eee Calpullct i ee ee ee OCR Cr i ee NITES re 8 ee In summing up Bandelier’s findings, several points are to be borne in mind. It is perfectly obvious, in the first place, that arguments cannot be based on the descriptive terminology used by the Spanish authors of the sixteenth century, not even when these authors were eye-witnesses of what they describe. When Spanish authors define the same Indian official as being at once a bailiff and a general, or a captain of the guard and an abbot, we are obviously helpless to make up our minds what the official really was. There are several possible explanations for the uncertainties in the Spanish accounts, all of which probably apply in some measure. The offices the Spaniards were describing were not exactly analogous to anything in the Old World. Probably, also, these Indian offices were somewhat undifferentiated. An ‘“‘official’’? who is mentioned as holding office was probably in the main merely an important man. One day he might be leading a party to war, and the next day taking an important réle in a religious cere- mony, or exerting influence in a way which made him look to the Spaniards like a judge. Of the various reasons for confusion and uncertainty, this lack of specialization in functions seems to be prob- ably the most important. What applies to the less important officials, applies with greater force to the most important dignitary of ali, the head war-chief. Whether he is to be called a king or not depends on the meaning which this term carries. The office was, however, elective, and for that and other reasons, ‘‘king’’ is probably not the term to use. The conelusion to which the evidence obviously points is that the Aztec war-chief was probably well started on the road to becoming a king, but had not yet arrived. A most significant point is that the leadership was shared. This is true also of the government of tribes in the United States, where there was often a board of four or more ‘‘chiefs’’ who directed affairs. It would be possible fully to understand the government of ''1917] Waterman: Mexican Social Organization 275 ancient Mexico only by making a comparative study of government among tribes in the eastern United States (especially the Iroquois), on the Plains and, above all, among the Pueblos of the Southwest, where we are almost certain to find conditions that may be compared with those in Tenochtitlan. In a more general way still, there were fundamental differences between Indian and Spanish society which the Spaniards never seem to have understood. The ownership of land, to mention the most im- portant kind of property, was vested not in individuals but in the clan. This fact the Spaniards were slow to grasp. The Spaniards also viewed the whole of Mexican tribal society as a unit subdivided into four quarters, and each quarter further subdivided, for adminis- trative purposes, into clans, or calpullis. The facts probably are that the Indians regarded the clans as the essential thing, while the four quarters, or phratries, and in still larger measure the tribe, were merely loose aggregates of clans held together primarily for the pur- poses of war, and, after that, of ritual. The fundamental point which Bandelier makes, that Spanish society was essentially feudal, while Indian society was essentially democratic, is, it seems to me, a good one. The question, therefore, whether Mexican society was monarchical or democratic seems to me to be largely an artificial one. Mexico, for example, is regularly described in works concerning the Aztees as a monarchy; Tlascala as a republic. Republe (res publica) is a word which could not, as used by the early writers, have had its modern sense ; moreover, it was actually apphed to both cities alike.** There is not the slightest critical reason for drawing any distinction between the mode of government of the two. The distinction is an accidental one. Mexico was certainly as much of a republic as Tlascala was. A great deal of the talk about Mexico being a monarchy, especially the highly colored talk, could probably be traced back to Ixtlilxochitl. He seems to have been moved by a desire to glorify his maternal an- cestors, who were war-chiefs of Tezcoco, and to establish royal rank for the family. He uses a feudal terminology, even in speaking of the most ancient periods, when the peoples he describes were, according to his own words, naked hunters.1*® Many problems are suggested by Bandelier for which the necessary data are so far lacking. The actual details of Mexican organization 137 Torquemada, p. 361. 138 Txtlilxochitl (a), pp. 30, 66. ''276 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [ Vol. 12 might still be recovered, in large measure, through a study of the manuscript material, more and more of which is becoming available. This involves, however, an exhaustive knowledge of its contents. Bandelier’s work, it seems to me, is a good beginning, and offers the proper foundation for a final study of Mexican society. Bandelier’s positive contributions to the subject may be summed ~This-involves, however, an exhaustive knowledgeof-their—contents- up as follows. He cites evidence which proves conclusively that the social organization of Tenochtitlan was based on clans, that these clans were grouped in four phratries, and that the actions of the tribe as a whole were governed primarily by a council. The ‘‘kings’’ he shows clearly to be the executive agents, in a very real sense, of this council, and responsible through them to the people. He brings forward a good deal of evidence in support of his dictum that Mexican society was fundamentally democratic. The remainder of the points made in his paper are unsatisfactory in the present state of the evidence. The question of the importance of ‘‘honorary chiefs’’ and the question of the existence of separate clan councils as governmental institutions are still entirely open. The function of the ‘‘elder brother,’’ or war leader in the clan, and his relation to other clan officials, must remain quite problematical. Ban- delier cannot be said to have achieved anything conclusive in regard to the whole matter of clan officials. The relation of Bandelier’s work to Morgan’s is very close. Morgan arrived at certain conclusions, without having a very wide knowledge of the evidence in the sources. He quotes only nine sixteenth-century authors. Bandelier backs up Morgan’s conclusions by a rather wide study of the sources, as the following bibliography will show. He may be regarded as finally confirming the most important of Morgan’s conclusions. ALPHABETICAL LIST OF THE SouRCES CrTep BY BANDELIER Showing the dates of composition It is difficult to say definitely when each of these works was com- posed. The dates which are given in the appended list often indicate merely the approximate period. It must be remembered that this list includes only the original works cited by Bandelier, and not the modern works to which he makes reference. It is not in any sense a bibliography of the subject. ''“ 1917] Waterman: Mexican Social Organization 27 ACAZITLI, FRANCISCO DE SANDOVAL Relacién de la jornada ... del pueblo de Tlalmanalco, ete. (Written in 1641.) Mexico (in Icazbaleeta, Coleccién de documentos para la historia de México, 2 vols., 1858-1866, vol. 2), 1866. Acosta, JOSE DE SALAMAN Historia natural y moral de las Indias. (Composed about 1588.) Seville, 1608. ALVARADO, PEDRO DE Relacién a Hernando Cortés. (Written in 1524.) Madrid, edited by Vedia (in Historiadores primitivos de Indias, 2 vols., included as vols. 22 and 26 of the Biblioteca de autores Espa- fioles, 71 vols., various editors, 1849-1880, vol. 22), 1868. ANONYMOUS CONQUEROR Relacién de algunas cosas de Nueva Espafia y de la Gran Ciudad de Temestitan de México. (Composed ‘‘soon after the Conquest.’’) Mexico (in Icazbalceta, Coleccién de Documentos para la Historia de México, 2 vols.), 1858-1860. ANUNCIACION, DOMINGO DE LA Lettre. (Written in Chaleo, September 20, 1554.) Paris (in Ternaux-Compans, Voyages, 20 vols., 1837-1841, vol. 16 [i.e., Series 2, vol. 6]), 1840. BIBLIOTECA MEXICANA The work cited by Bandelier under this very misleading title is an edition of the Cronica Mexicana of Fernando de Alvarado Tezozomoc. This edition was annotated by Orozco y Berra and contains also the Codex Ramirez and two ‘‘fragmentos,’’ very frequently referred to by our author. The volume, including the Crénica Mexicana and its companion pieces, seems to constitute number 69 in a series the general title of which is as given, Biblioteca Mexicana. This title does not, however, appear in the usual works of reference. BoLoGNa, FRANCISCO DE Lettre au Reverend Padre Clement de Monelia. (Written before 1534.) Paris (in Ternaux-Compans, Voyages, 20 vols., 1837-1841, vol. 10), 1840. CAMARGO, DoMINGO MuNOZ Histoire de la republique de Taxcallan. (Written 1576-1585.) Paris, edited by Ternaux-Compans (in Nouvelles Annales des Voy- ages, 160 vols., various editors, 1819, vols. 95 and 99), 1843. CHAVEZ, GABRIEL DE Rapport sur la Province de Meztitlan. (Written October 1, 1569.) Paris (in Ternaux-Compans, Voyages, 20 vols., 1837-1841, vol. 16 [i.e., Series 2, vol. 6]), 1840. CLAVIGERO, FRANCISCO SEVERIO Storia antica de Messico. (Composed about 1765.) Cesena, 1780. Codex Mendoza. London (in Kingsborough, Mexican Antiquities, 9 vols.), 1831. (Note.—The original painting is in vol. 1, pp. 1-73, the original Spanish commentary in vol. 5, pp. 39-113, and an English translation of the Spanish commentary in vol. 6, pp. 3-87.) ''» 278 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 Codex Ramirez (so-called). In Tezozomoc, Cronica Mexicana .. . anotada por ... M. Orozeo y Berra, y precidida del Cédice Ramirez, manuscrito in- titulado: Relacién del origen de los Indios que habitan esta Nueva Espafia segiin sus historias, y de un examen de ambas obras, al cual va anexo un estudio de cronologia Mexicana por el mismo . . . Orozco y Berra. Mexico (in Biblioteca Mexicana. Coleccién de obras y documentos relativos a la historia . . . de México, No. 69), 1878. Codex Telleriano-Remensis. London (in Kingsborough, Mexican Antiquities, 9 vols.), 1831. (Note.—The original picture-writing is reproduced in vol. 1, pp. 73- 166, the Spanish commentary in vol. 5, pp. 129-158, and an English translation of the Spanish commentary in vol. 6, pp. 95-153.) Concilios Provinciales, Primero y Segundo, celebrados por la muy noble y muy leal ciudad de México, etc., ete. Mexico, 1769.. Conquista de Méjico. See Gomara. Cortés, HERNANDO Cartas. (Written at different times from 1519 to 1526.) Madrid, edited by Vedia (in Historiadores primitivos de Indias, 2 vols., issued as vols. 32 and 26 of the Biblioteca de autores Espa- fioles, 71 vols., 1849-1880), 1877. Cuarta relacién anénima de la jornada que hizo Nuio de Guzman a la Nueva Galicia. (Written about 1530.) Mexico (in Icazbalceta, Coleccién de documentos para la historia de México, 2 vols., 1858-1866, vol. 2, pp. 260-485), 1866. Des cérémonies observés autrefois par les Indiens lorsqui-ils faissaient un tecle (anonymous). Paris (in Ternaux-Compans, Voyages, 20 vols., 1837-1841, vol. 10, pp. 233-241), 1840. De l’ordre de succession observé par les Indiens relativement a lewrs terres et de leurs territoires communaux (anonymous). Paris (in Ternaux-Compans, Voyages, 20 vols., 1837-1841, vol. 10), 1840. DIAZ DEL CASTILLO, BERNAL Verdadera historia de los sucesos de la conquista de la Nueva Espafia. (Com- posed in 1552, some authorities say 1568.) Madrid, edited by Vedia (in Historiadores primitivos de Indias, 2 vols., issued as vols. 21 and 26 of the Biblioteca de autores Espa- fioles, 71 vols., various editors, 1849-1880, vol. 26), 1862. London, edited by Maudslay (in Works issued by the Hakluyt Society, Series 2, vols. 23, 24, 25), 1908. DurAN, DIEGO Historia de las Indias de Nueva Espana. (Composed in 1579-1581.) Mexico (edited by Ramirez), 1867. (First volume only. The re- mainder was confiscated by the newly installed Republican govern- ment on the fall of Maximilian. The text of this edition is said to have been tampered with.) ESLAVA, FERNAN GONZALES DE E Coloquios espirituales y sacramentales, y poesias sagradas. (Written before 1610.) Mexico (edited by Icazbalceta), 1877. (Only 200 copies printed.) Fragmento 1. See Noticias relativas al reinado de Motecuzuma Ilhuicamina. ''1917] Waterman: Mexican Social Organization 279 Fragmento 2. See Noticias relativas a la conquista desde la llegada de Cortés a Tetzcuca, etc. FUENLEAL, SEBASTIAN RAM{REZ DE Carta (addressed November 3, 1552, to the Emperor Charles V). Paris (in Ternaux-Compans, Voyages, 20 vols., 1837-1841, vol. 10), 1840. GARC{A, GREGORIO Origen de los Indios del Nuevo Mundo y Indias Occidentales. (Date of composition not ascertained. ) Madrid, edited by Barcia (in Historiadores primitivos de las Indias occidentales, 3 vols., 1727-1740), 1729. GOMARA, FRANCISCO LOPEZ DE Historia general de las Indias. (Note.—The second part of this work goes under the title ‘‘Conquista de Méjico,’’ and is so cited by Bandelier.) (Composed about 1550.) Madrid, edited by Vedia (in Historiadores primitivos de Indias, 2 vols., issued as vols. 22 and 26 of the Biblioteca de autores Espanoles, 71 vols., various editors, 1849-1880), 1877. HERRERA, ANTONIO DE Historia general de los hechos de los Castellanos en las islas y tierra firme del mar oceano. (Composed between 1596 and 1600.) Madrid, edited by Barcia (in Historiadores primitivos de las Indias occidentales, 3 vols., 1727-1740), 1749. IXTLILXOCHITL, HERNANDO DE ALVA (a) Historia Chichimeca. (Composed 1608-1616.) Paris (in Ternaux-Compans, Voyages, 20 vols., 1837-1841, vols. 12 and 13 [i.e., Series 2, vols. 2 and 3]), 1840. (b) Relaciones histéricas. (Composed 1608-1616.) Paris (in Ternaux-Compans, Voyages, 20 vols., 1837-1841, vol. 8), 1838. (Note.—Only the thirteenth Relacién is printed here, under the name Cruautés horribles des conquérants de Mexico. This curious name was invented by Bustamente, in his edition of Sahagtn [ Mexico, 1829]. The Ternaux-Compans reprint is the one cited by Bandelier.) yy , LAS CASAS, BARTOLOME DE (a) Brevissima relacién de la destruycién de las Indias. (Composed 1541- 1542.) Venetia, 1643. (b) Historia de las Indias. (Composed 1527-1562.) Madrid (in Coleccién de documentos inéditos para la historia de EKspafia, 112 vols., various editors, published by the Royal Academy of History, 1842-1895, vols. 62-66), 1875-1876. (Note.—The so-called Historia Apologética of Las Casas is printed in vol. 66, beginning with p. 237 of this set. Chapter 211 of the Historia is also printed in full in vol. 8 of Kingsborough’s Mexican Antiquities [9 vols., London, 1831, vol. 8 (first part), pp. 248-254]. This latter excerpt is referred to by Bandelier.) Lettre des auditeurs Salmeron, Maldonado, Ceynos et Queroga a l’Impératrice de Mexico. (Written in Mexico, March 30, 1531.) Paris (in Ternaux-Compans, Voyages, 20 vols., 1837-1841, vol. 16 [i.e., Series 2, vol. 6]), 1840. ''280 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 Lettre des chapelains Frére Toribio et Frére Diego d’Olarte a Don Luis de Velasco. (Written August 27, 1554.) Paris (in Ternaux-Compans, Voyages, vol. 10), 1840. Martyr, PETER (PIETRO MARTIRE D’ANGHIERA ) De novo orbe. (Written 1505-1530.) London (translated by Eden and Lok), 1612. MENDIETA, GERONIMO DE Historia ecclesidstica Indiana. (Composed 1573-1596.) Mexico (in Icazbalceta, Coleccién de documentos para la historia de México, 2 vols.), 1858-1860. MeEnpozA, ANTONIO DE Avis du Vice-Roi . . . sur les prestations personelles et les tamemes. (Written in 1550.) Paris (in Ternaux-Compans, Voyages, 20 vols., 1837-1841, vol. 10), 1838. Merced.a Herndn Cortés de tierras inmediatas a México, y solares en la ciudad. (Written July 23, 1529.) Mexico (in Icazbalceta, Coleccién de documentos para la historia de México, 2 vols.), 1858-1860. Monina, ALONZO DE Vocabulario en lengua Mexicana y Castellana. (Composed about 1550.) Mexico, 1571. - MONTUFAR, ALONZO DE Supplique & Charles V en faveur des Maceuales. (Written in Mexico, November 30, 1554.) Paris (Appendix to the ‘‘Cruautés Horribles’’ of Ixtlilxochitl, in Ternaux-Compans, Voyages, 20 vols., 1837-1841, vol. 8), 1838. MOoToLINIA (TORIBIO DE BENEVENTE) Historia de los Indios de Nueva Espafia. (Composed in 1541.) Mexico (in Icazbalceta, Coleccién de documentos para la historia de México, 2 vols.), 1858-1860. NIEREMBERG, JOAN (sic) EUSEBIUS Historia naturae, maxime peregrinae, libri XVI distincta. (Probably written shortly before 1635.) Antverpiae, 1635. Noticias relativas a la conquista desde la llegada de Cortés a Tetzcuco hasta la toma del templo mayor de México (‘‘Fragmento 2’’). Mexico (in Fernando de Alvarado Tezozomoc, Crénica Mexicana, annotated by Manuel Orozco y Berra, edited by José M. Vigil, pp. 134, -135), 1878. Noticias relativas al reinado de Motecuzuma Ilhuicamina (‘‘Fragmento 1’’). Mexico (in Fernando de Alvarado Tezozomoc, Crénica Mexicana, annotated by Manuel Orozco y Berra, edited by José M. Vigil, pp. 124-134), 1878. OLARTE, DIEGO D’. See under Lettre des Chapelains Frére Toribio et Frére Diego d’Olarte. OrtTEGA, F. The work cited by Bandelier is an appendix to a three-volume edition of Echeverria y Veytia, Historia antigua de Méjico, of which Ortega was the editor. It was published in Mexico in 1836. ''\ 1917 | Waterman: Mexican Social Organization 281 OvIEDO Y VALDES, GONZALO FERNANDEZ DE Historia general y natural de las Indias. (Composed 1525-1550.) Madrid, Real Academia de Historia (four folio volumes), 1851. PaDILLA, AGUSTIN DAVILA Historia de la fundacion y discurso de la provincia de Santiago de México (date of composition not ascertained). Bruselas, 1625. PaDILLA, MAT{AS DE LA Mora Historia de la conquista de la provincia de la Nueva-Galicia. (Written in 1742.) Mexico (published by the Geographical and Statistical Society), 1870. Pawacio, DIEGO Garcia DE San Salvador und Honduras im Jahre 1576. (Written about 1576.) Berlin (translated by Frantzius), 1873. PIMENTEL NEZAHUACOYOTL, HERNANDO : Memoria dirigido al rey, etc. (Date uncertain. This is an unpublished manuscript, quoted by Orozco y Berra on p. 243. of his Geografia de las lenguas. ) Pomar, JUAN BAUTISTA Relacién de Texcoco. (Written in 1582.) Mexico (in Icazbalceta, Nueva coleccién de documentos para la historia de México, 5 vols., 1886-1892), 1891. Subsequent to Bandelier. Real ejecutoria de 8. M. sobre tierras y reservas de Pechos y Paga perteneciente a los caciques de Axapusco de la jurisdiccién de Otumba. (Issued in 1617.) Mexico (in Icazbalceta, Coleccién de documentos para la historia de México, 2 vols., 1858-1866, vol. 2), 1866. Relacion de jornada que hizo Don Fernando de Sandoval Acazitli, ete. (See Acazitli.) Relacion de las ceremonias y ritos, poblacién y gobierno de los Indios de la provincia de Mechuacan hecha al Ill’mo Dr. D. Antonio de Mendoza, Virey y Gober- nador de Nueva Espana. (Written between 1534 and 1551.) Madrid (in Coleccién de documentos inéditos para la historia de Espafia, 112 vols., edited by Navarrete and others, 1842-1895, vol. 53), 1842. REMESAL, ANTONIO DE Historia de la provincia de San Vicente de Chyapa y Guatemala del orden de Santo Domingo. (Written 1613-1619.) Madrid, 1619. SAHAGUN, BERNARDINO DE Historia general de las cosas de Nueva Espaiia. (Composed 1546-1569.) London (in Kingsborough, Mexican Antiquities, 9 vols.), 1831. Salmeron. (See also under Lettre des auditeurs Salmeron, Maldonado, ete.) SALMERON (given names not known). ... lettre . . . au conseil des Indes. (Written in Mexico City, August 13, 1531.) Paris (in Ternaux-Compans, Voyages, 20 vols., 1837-1841, vol. 16 [i.e., Series 2, vol. 6]), 1840. ''282 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. — [Vol. 12 SoLORZANO Y PEREYRA, JUAN Disputatio de Indiarum jure sive de juxta Indiarum occidentalium inquisitione, acquisitione ac retentione. (Written 1609-1629.) Madrid, 1629. Tapia, ANDRES DE Relacién hecha por el Sefior Andrés de Tapia sobre la conquista de México. (Date of composition not ascertained.) Mexico (in Icazbaleeta, Coleccién de documentos para la historia de México, 2 vols., 1858-1866, vol. 2), 1866. TEZOZOMOC, FERNANDO DE ALVARADO Cronica Mexicana. (Composed in 1598.) London (in Kingsborough, Mexican Antiquities, 9 vols., vol. 9), 1831. Toribio de Benevente. See Motolinia. Toribio et Diego d’Olarte. See Lettre des Toribio, ete. TORQUEMADA, JUAN DE Ta (-I1Ia) parte de los veinte y un libros rituales y monarchia Indiana con el origen y guerra de los Indios occidentales, de sus poblagones, descubri- miento, conquista, conversién y otras cosas maravillosas de la misma tierra. (Composed 1589-1609.) Madrid, 1723. VETANCURT, AUGUSTIN DE Teatro Mexicano, descripcién breve de los sucesos exemplares, histdéricos, politicos . . . del nuevo mundo occidental de las Indias. (Note.—The Crénica de la Provincia del Santa Evangelico de México, mentioned by Bandelier, is the Fourth Part of this ‘‘Teatro.’’) (Composition com- pleted in 1697.) Mexico, 1870. ZUAZO, ALONZO DE Carta al Padre Fray Luis de Figueroa. (Dated Santiago de Cuba, November 14, 1521.) Mexico (in Icazbalceta, Coleccién de documentos para la historia de México, 2 vols., 1858-1866, vol. 1), 1858. ZURITA, ALONZO DE Breve y sumaria relacién de los sefiores y maneras y diferencias que habla de ellas en la Nueva Espafia y en otras provincias sus comarcanas, ete. (Composed about 1560.) Paris (in Ternaux-Compans, Voyages, 20 vols., 1837-1841, vol. 10), 1840. (Note.—The relation appears under the title ‘‘ Rapport sur les différentes classes de chefs de Nouvelle-Espagne’’) '' ''UNIV. CALIF. PUBL. AM. ARCH. & ETHN. [GIFFORD] PLATE 6 THOMAS WILLIAMS, OF JAMESTOWN CENTRAL SIERRA MIWOK Narrator of Stories nos. 1-11 ''UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PUBLICATIONS IN AMERICAN ARCHAEOLOGY AND ETHNOLOGY Vol. 12, No. 8, pp. 283-338, plate 6 May 11, 1917 MIWOK MYTHS BY EDWARD WINSLOW GIFFORD CONTENTS PAGE Introduction 283 Stories by Thomas Williams 284 1. The: Theft of Fire .. 284 2. Bear and the Fawns 286 3. Yayali, the Giant 292 4h uh ey Miciicamaios: Oita Arter ONS 3s 28 oot iS 0 ee ee ee eee ee 302 Dy kame iitleon sy Marra ce: 02 cc. i nS Cece NS Sn eee ee 306 6. The Flood 310 7. The Repeopling of the World ..... 312 8. The Search for the Deer 314 9. Salamander and Chipmunk 318 10. Lizard and Fox 825 11. Valley Quail’s Adventures 329 Stories by William Fuller 332 12. The Theft of Fire 332 to. Dear and tier ii aayMe sis eon SS ee ee eee eae 333 14. Yayali, the Giant 334 DDS Gra C tS ies oe ee aie ee see a ee 335 INTRODUCTION The fourteen stories presented in this collection were secured during 1913 and 1914 among the Central Sierra Miwok of Tuolumne County, California. Three, which are exceedingly brief, were told by William Fuller of Soulsbyville. The remaining eleven were obtained from Thomas Williams of Jamestown, whose picture appears in plate 6. All are sentence-by-sentence translations into English of myths which were recorded in Miwok on the phonograph. These stories were formerly related at night in the circular assembly houses of the Miwok. Certain men versed in the myths often ''284 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 travelled from village to village telling the tales in the assembly house of each village. Such a raconteur was known as an utentbe, a name derived from utne, a myth. Each utentbe was paid for his services, his audience presenting him with baskets, beads, furs, and food. Thomas Williams, who was formerly an utentbe, said that the telling of a myth often took all night. Not infrequently the myth was chanted. Each myth, whether chanted or told in ordinary prose, was accompanied by the songs of the various characters. For example, with the story of Prairie Falecon’s Marriage belong three songs, one sung by Prairie Falcon, one by his wife, and one by his father. A comprehensive collection of Miwok myths, including a number from the Central Sierra Miwok, has been published by Dr. C. Hart Merriam. Stephen Powers includes three Miwok myths in _ his ‘““Tribes of California.’’? Dr. A. L. Kroeber has printed a number of Southern Sierra Miwok myths.? STORIES BY THOMAS WILLIAMS 1 EEE) EGE (©) WERE The Black Geese asked the White Geese to help them. They gathered in the assembly house. Lizard lay on top of the rock and looked into the valley. It was then that he found the fire. He saw the flames issuing from the smoke hole in the top of a large assembly house. Then Lizard told Coyote that he saw the fire below. Coyote doubted him. Lizard said, ‘“Come up here on top of the rock, look below, and you will see sparks coming from the assembly house.’’ Coyote asked, ‘‘Where do you see the fire? I see no fire in that direction.’’ Then Lizard said, ‘“Watch. There goes another spark.’’ Coyote said to the Geese, “Tt is strange that we cannot see it. He saw it again.’’ The Geese did not believe him. They said that he was deceiving them. After sundown Coyote saw the fire, entered the assembly house, and told everyone about it. Flute-player (Mouse) said nothing. The people told Flute-player to go out and look at the fire. Flute-player merely said, ‘‘Yes.’’ He took with him four flutes, but told no one 1 The Dawn of the World: Myths and Weird Tales told by the Mewan Indians of California, A. H. Clark Co., 1910, Cleveland, O. 2 Contrib. N. Am. Ethn., m1, 358, 366, 367, 1877. 3 Indian Myths of South Central California, Univ. Calif. Publ. Am. Arch, Ethn., tv, 202, 1907. ''1917] Gifford: Miwok Myths 285 when he left. He played two flutes while he journeyed into the valley. When he arrived at the assembly house in the valley, he did not know how to enter. Bear, Rattlesnake, and Mountain Lion guarded the door, so that none might enter. Flute-player climbed on top of the assembly house. There he found Eagle with his wing over the smoke hole, so that none might enter. Eagle, however, slept. Flute-player was puzzled, for he did not know how to enter the house undetected. Finally, he cut two feathers from Eagle’s wing and thereby entered. When he descended into the assembly house, he found the people asleep. He went to the fire and filled two of his flutes with coals. Again he visited the fire, filling two more. He filled four flutes with the fire. Then he started for home. All of the people awoke and looked for him. They ran all over the hills, but did not find him. Eagle sent in pursuit Wind, then Rain, then Hail. Hail caught flute-player. Flute-player, however, placed his flutes in the water before Hail caught him. He told Hail that he had nothing. He said that he would take no one’s fire. Hail believed him and departed. Flute-player then recovered his flutes and played upon them after Hail departed. He still had his fire. He said to himself, ‘‘I have my fire,”’ Finally, he arrived at home, arrived with his fire in the four flutes. Coyote came down the mountains to search for him, for he feared that someone had killed Flute-player. Flute-player sent Coyote back ahead of him to tell the people that he was returning with the fire. Coyote ran back and told the people to gather wood, told them that Flute-player was bringing the fire. Flute-player proceeded slowly, so that Coyote, becoming impatient, went to meet him again. He met him when he was nearly home. Upon his arrival, Flute-player climbed on top of the assembly house. Then he played his flute. Everyone inside was cold. When Flute- player finished playing one flute he dropped coals through the smoke hole into the assembly house. Then he started to play a second flute. Before he finished playing the second one, Coyote interrupted him by shouting. Coyote told Flute-player to continue playing. The people in the middle received the fire; the others received but little fire—the north people, the south people, the east people, and the west people. The west people did not talk very distinctly, because they received so little fire; the east people the same; the north people the same; the south people the same. Those who were close to the ''286 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol.12 fire talked distinctly. Coyote, who stayed at the door, received but little fire. He tried to talk, but shouted instead. The people in the middle cooked their food. The others ate theirs raw. They talked different languages from the people in the middle. The west people talked differently ; the south people talked differently ; the north people talked differently ; the east people talked differently. The middle people talked correctly, for they were around the fire. The people who were around the fire cooked their food. The people in the middle obtained the acorns and the manzanita. The others had nothing to eat. That which they ate was always raw. It was Coyote’s fault, that the others talked incorrectly. If Coyote had said nothing, all would have received fire. He spoiled the scheme, when he shouted at Flute-player, for Flute-player stopped. He stopped before he had played the fourth flute and before he had distributed all of the fire. All of those who received the fire talked the same language. All of those who were close to the fire had the same language. Some received the fire. Some did not receive it. That is why they did not speak the same language. If Lizard had not found the fire, all would have died. He found the fire and saved the people. Lizard found the fire below. Flute- player went below to steal the fire to save the people from death. Coyote shouted to Flute-player to drop one coal in front of him. Then he dropped the coal and one went without fire. All of the middle people understand each other. The others do not hear one another very plainly. They would all have talked correctly, if they had all received fire. The people fought each other, because they did not understand each other’s speech. [The assembly house of the valley people was upon the west side of the San Joaquin River. The assembly house of the Geese was at Goodwin’s Ranch, near Montezuma, Tuolumne County.] 2, BEAR AND THE FAWNS ‘‘Sister-in-law, let us get clover. I like clover,’’ Bear said to Deer. Then Deer replied, ‘‘ Yes, we will eat clover.’’ Bear said, ‘‘We will leave these girls (Fawns) at home. They always follow you.’’ She told the Fawns, ‘‘We go to eat clover. Clover is high enough to eat now, I think. You girls stay at home until we return.’’ Bear said to her sister-in-law, ‘‘Let’s go. We will be back to- night.’’ Then they went below to eat clover. ''1917} Gifford: Miwok Myths 287 After they had gone below, Bear said, ‘‘Let’s sit down and rest.’’ Then she continued, ‘‘Examine my head, examine my head. I must have lice on my head.’’ Deer replied, ‘‘ Yes, yes, come here and I will look for lice.’’ Then she found lice on Bear’s head. She found large frogs on Bear’s head. When she found the frogs, she picked them off and threw them away. Bear asked her, ‘‘ What is.it that you throw away? Are you throwing away my lice?’’ Deer replied, ‘‘No, you hear the leaves dropping.’’ Bear said, ‘‘Take them all out. I have many lice.’’ Then Deer removed them all. Bear asked, ‘‘What are you throw- ing away?’’ Deer replied, ‘‘I throw away nothing. You hear pine cones dropping from the tree.’’ Bear said, ‘‘I think that you throw Deer retorted, ‘‘No, those are pine cones dropping 29 away my lice. from the trees.’’ ‘‘Remove them all, then,’’ said Bear; ‘‘remove them all. My head feels light, since you have finished picking the lice from it.’’ Deer threw away the frogs, threw away large frogs. Bear said to Deer, ‘‘ Let me examine your head.’’ Deer said, ‘‘ All right.’’ Bear examined Deer’s head and said, ‘‘There are many.’’ Deer’s lice were wood-ticks and Bear proceeded to take them from Deer’s head. Then Bear said, ‘‘There are many. I do not think I can get them all by picking. You have many. Let me chew these lice and your hair with them. That is the only way I can remove them. You have many lice. I do not think that I have removed them all. There are many. Stoop and I will chew your hair. Do not be afraid. Stoop and let me try.’’ Then Deer stooped. She thought Bear’s intentions were good. Bear examined her hair for a while, and then chewed. Instead of chewing Deer’s hair, Bear bit her neck, killing her. Bear ate all of Deer, except the liver, which she took home. She placed the liver in a basket and put clover on top of it. Then she went home. She proceeded homeward after sundown, carrying the clover in the basket with the liver in the bottom of the basket. Arriving at home, she told the Fawns to eat the clover. She said to them, ‘‘Your mother has not come yet; you know she is always slow. She always takes her time in coming home.’’ to the Fawns, when she arrived at home. The Fawns ate the clover. After they had eaten it, they saw the liver in the bottom of the basket. The younger one found it. She Thus spoke Bear ''288 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 told the older one, ‘‘Our aunt killed our mother. That is her liver.’’ The older Fawn said to her younger sister, ‘‘Our aunt took her down there and killed her. We had better watch, or she will kill us, too.’’ They continued to eat the clover after finding the liver. Then the younger one said, ‘‘What shall we do? I fear she will kill us, if we stay here. We had better go to our grandfather. Get ready all of our mother’s awls. Get all of the baskets. Get ready and then we will go. We will go before our aunt kills us. She killed our mother. I think it is best for us to go.” ‘*Do not forget to take the awls,’’ said the older Fawn, for she was afraid of being overtaken by Bear. The Fawns started with the baskets and awls, leaving one basket behind. Their aunt, Bear, was not at home when they left. When she returned, she looked about, but saw no Fawns. Then Bear discovered their tracks and set out to follow them. After she had tracked them a short distance, the basket, left at home, whistled. Bear ran back to see if the Fawns had returned. In the meantime the Fawns proceeded on their journey, throwing awls and baskets in different directions. Again, Bear started from the house. As she proceeded the awls whistled. Bear, thinking that the Fawns were whistling, left the trail in search of them. The Fawns said, ‘‘ We go to our grandfather.’’ As Bear followed them along the trail, the baskets and awls whistled and delayed her. Whenever Bear heard the whistles, she became angry and ran in the direction from which the sound pro- ceeded. She of course saw nothing and returned to the trail. She heard a whistle in the direction of the stream. She ran toward it, but when she arrived there, saw nothing. When she did not find the girls she became angry. She said, ‘‘Those girls are making fun of me.’’ Then she shouted, ‘‘ Where are you, girls? Why don’t you meet me?’’ The awls only whistled in response and Bear ran toward the sound. Then she became still angrier and said to herself, ‘‘If I capture you girls, I will eat you. If I find you girls, I will eat you.’’ Bear continued to track the Fawns. She found the trail easily and saw their tracks upon it. She said, ‘‘I have found the marks that will lead me to them.’’ She followed the marks upon the trail. ‘‘If I catch them, I shall eat them.’’ She heard more whistling and that enraged her. Then she jumped on to a tree and bit a limb in two. It made her furious to hear the whistling. She said to herself, ‘‘If I ever catch those girls, I shall eat them.’’ The baskets continued to ''1917] Gifford: Miwok Myths 289 whistle on both sides of the trail, making her very angry, and retard- ing her progress. The Fawns had many baskets. They followed the long trail until they arrived at a river. Bear was far behind. On the opposite side of the river they saw their grandfather, Daddy Longlegs. They told him that Bear had eaten their mother and that they wanted to cross the river in order to escape from her. Their grandfather extended his leg across the river so that they might walk across on it. Then they crossed on their grand- father’s leg. In the meantime Bear continued to track them. She still followed false leads because of the whistling of the baskets and awls. The following of false leads delayed her. The Fawns said to their grandfather, Daddy Longlegs, ‘‘Let her cross the river. She follows us.’’ Bear was still coming along the trail. The baskets, the soap-root brushes, and the awls continued to whistle, causing her delay. The Fawns had many baskets, soap-root brushes, and awls. After the Fawns had crossed the river, Bear arrived at the bank. She asked Daddy Longlegs, ‘‘Did the girls come by this place?’’ He replied, ‘‘Yes.’’ Then Bear told Daddy Longlegs, ‘‘The girls ran ’ Daddy Longlegs asked, ‘‘ Where is their mother ?’’ Bear replied, ‘‘Their mother is sick. That is why she did not come, and that is why I seek the girls. She told me to bring them back.’’ Bear then asked Daddy Longlegs to put his leg across the river, so that she might cross. He said, ‘‘ All right,’’ and stretched his leg across the river. Then Bear walked on Daddy Longlegs’ leg. When she reached the middle, Daddy Longlegs gave a sudden spring and threw her into the air. She fell into the river, and had to swim to the opposite shore. She found again the track of the Fawns. Wherever the track was plain she ran rapidly to make up for the time lost. The numerous awls, which the Fawns had thrown to each side of the trail, whistled as before. away from me.’ ‘‘Hurry, sister, we near our grandfather’s (Lizard’s) house,’’ said the older Fawn to the younger. Bear became exceedingly angry and shouted in her rage. ‘‘Hurry, she comes; hurry, sister, she comes. We would not like to have her catch us before we reached our grandfather’s,’’ said the older Fawn. Then the Fawns threw awls and baskets to each side of the trail anew. As they approached their grandfather’s house, Bear gained upon them. As Bear saw them nearing their grand- father’s she shouted again in her anger. ''290 Unwersity of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 The Fawns at last arrived at their grandfather’s assembly house and asked him to open the door. The grandfather told the Fawns, ‘“My door is on the north side of the house.’’ The Fawns ran to the north side, but found no door. Then they called again, ‘‘Hurry, grandfather, open the door.’’ He said, ‘‘My door is on the east side of the house.’’ Then they ran to the east side, but found no door. Then they ran around the house. They found no door. They called again to their grandfather. He said, ‘‘My door is at the top of the house. Come in through the top.’’ The Fawns climbed to the top of the house and entered through the smoke hole. Their grandfather asked why they had come to see him. ‘The Fawns told him, ‘‘Bear killed our mother.’’ The grand- father asked, ‘‘ Where is Bear?’’ The Fawns said, ‘‘ Bear took our mother down to the clover. She ate mother there. Then she returned to the house and told us to eat the clover which she brought. While we were eating the clover from the basket, we found the liver of our mother in the bottom under the clover, found our mother’s liver at the bottom of the basket. The clover was on top of it.’’ Thus spoke the Fawns to their grand- father. He asked them again, ‘‘ Where is Bear?”’ The Fawns replied, ‘‘She follows us. She comes. Yes, she comes.’’ Then Lizard, their grandfather, threw two large white stones into the fire. The Fawns sat by and watched him while he heated the two white stones. While he heated the stones, Bear came. She had followed the tracks of the Fawns to their grandfather’s assembly house. Bear said to herself, ‘‘I think they went to their grand- father’s.’’ Meanwhile Lizard heated the white stones. After looking around the assembly house, Bear called to Lizard, ‘‘Did the Fawns come here?’’ Lizard said, ‘‘Yes. Why?’’ ‘‘ Well, I wish to take them home,’’ said Bear. Lizard asked. ‘‘Why do you wish to take them home?’’ Then Bear replied, ‘‘I wish to take them home to their mother. Where is your door?’’ Lizard told her that the door was on the north side of the eeu house. She ran to the north side, but found no door. She ealled again, ‘‘Where is the door?’’ ‘‘It is on the west side of my assembly ’’ said Lizard. Bear was very angry, but she ran to the west house, side of the house. She found no door there, so she asked again. Lizard said, ‘‘It is on the east side of my assembly house.’’ Again she found no door, and she became exceedingly angry and asked him erossly, ‘‘Where is the door?’’ Lizard replied, ‘‘Run around the ''1917] Gifford: Miwok Myths 291 assembly house and you will find it.’’ She ran around the house four times, but to no avail. In more of a rage than ever, she asked Lizard, ‘‘Where is your door?’’ Then Lizard told her that it was at the top of the assembly house. Bear climbed to the top and found the opening. Upon finding the opening, she shouted and said, ‘‘I shall eat those girls.’’ Lizard only laughed. Bear asked how she should enter. Lizard said, ‘‘Shut your eyes tight and open your mouth wide, then you enter the quicker.”’ Bear shut her eyes tight and shoved her head through the smoke hole with her mouth wide open. Lizard called to her, ‘‘ Wider.’’ Then Lizard threw those two white stones, which he had heated, and threw one of them into her mouth. It rolled into her stomach. He threw the second one. It remained in her mouth. Bear rolled from the top of the assembly house dead. Lizard told his granddaughters, ‘‘She is dead.’’ Then Lizard went outside and skinned Bear. After skinning her, he dressed the hide well. He cut it into two pieces, making one small piece and one large piece. He gave the large hide to the older Fawn and the small hide to the younger. He said to them, ‘‘Take care of those hides.’’ Then he told the older Fawn to run and discover what sort of a sound the hide made when she ran. The older Fawn ran and the sound was very loud. Then Lizard told the younger Fawn to run. Her hide made a fairly loud sound, but not so loud as that of the older Fawn. Old Lizard laughed, saying, ‘‘The younger one is stronger than the older.’’ Then he told them to run together. He pointed to a large tree and told them to try their strength against the tree. The older one tried first. She ran against it, splintering it a little. Then the younger girl ran against the tree at its thickest part. She smashed it to pieces. Lizard laughed again and said, ‘‘You are stronger than your sister.’’ Then he told both to run together. They ran about and kicked the tree all day long. Lizard returned home and, upon arriv- ing there, said, ‘‘The girls are all right. I think I had better send them above.”’ The Fawns said to Lizard, ‘‘We are going home.’’ Lizard asked them not to go. He said, ‘‘I shall get you both a good place. I am going to send you girls above.’’ Then the girls went up. They ran around above and Lizard heard them running. He called them ''292 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 Thunders. He said, ‘‘I think it is better for them to stay there. They will be better off there.’’ Lizard closed the door of his assembly house. Rain began to fall. The girls ran around on the top, and rain and hail fell. oo YOASYeAC I. MINER) (Ga AGNeE The Giant walked from below. He shouted as he journeyed up the mountain, shouted all of the way. He shouted to the people as he searched for them, shouted all around the hills. Chipmunk answered him. Chipmunk told the people that some- one was coming up the mountain shouting. ‘‘Perhaps he comes to tell us something,’’ said Chipmunk. ‘‘I shall meet him.’’ Chipmunk said to his wife, ‘‘I think your brother comes. I shall meet him, for I think he comes.’’ It was raining heavily when Chipmunk went to meet the new- comer. Chipmunk called to him, ‘‘Come, tell us who you are.’’ The Giant answered Chipmunk by saying, ‘‘There is my meat.’’ Chip- munk again answered the Giant’s call, for he thought that his brother- in-law was coming. Chipmunk at last realized that the newcomer was not his brother- in-law, and he said to himself, ‘‘I have found someone. I have met someone. He is not my brother-in-law.’’ When Chipmunk saw the burden basket on the back of the Giant, he knew that he was not his brother-in-law. Chipmunk said to himself, ‘‘I do not think I will go anywhere now. I do not think I will be able to reach home.’’ Just then the Giant approached him and asked him where he was going. Chipmunk replied, ‘‘My assembly house is over there.’’ The Giant said, ‘‘Go ahead and I will go with you.’’ Upon arriving at the house, Chipmunk told the Giant to enter ahead of him, while he obtained wood and built a fire. The Giant insisted, however, that Chipmunk take the lead, saying that he was not a member of the family. ‘‘ You are the owner of the house,’’ said the Giant. ‘‘You lead into your own house. I am not the owner of it.’ Chipmunk demurred and asked the Giant to go ahead. ‘‘Take the lead, or you will freeze,’’ he said to the Giant. ‘‘You have been in the rain and have become wet. I will build a fire for you.”’ Chipmunk’s insistence was of no avail. Again the Giant said, ‘‘You take the lead. You are the owner of the house.’? Then Chip- munk, to save further argument, led the way into the house. The ''LOA | Gifford: Miwok Myths 293 Giant followed him. As they approached the door, the Giant reached into his basket, securing a stone. He threw the stone at Chipmunk, striking him on the back and killing him. After he had killed Chipmunk, the Giant told Chipmunk’s wife to help him bring in the meat. He then made himself at home and married Chipmunk’s widow. He cooked Chipmunk, the owner of the house, whom he had killed. He told his new wife to eat of Chip- munk’s flesh after he had cooked it. She said, ‘‘You eat it.’’ The Giant insisted, ‘‘You eat it, you eat it.’’ After the Giant left the house, his wife (Chipmunk’s widow) dug a hole in the ground. She placed in the hole her daughter by Chip- munk. She fed the little girl with deer meat. The Giant returned at sundown. He had in his basket many people, whom he had killed. When he entered the house, he said to his wife, ‘‘We will not starve. We have plenty of meat.’’ The woman told the Giant to eat the human flesh himself. She cooked deer meat for herself. She ate the deer meat. The Giant ate the people whom he had killed. The Giant’s wife cooked deer meat, with which she fed her daughter, whom she had hidden in the pit. She did not wish the Giant to see her daughter, for fear that he might eat her. As the Giant departed the next morning, he said to his wife, “‘ You have a better husband than you had before. He obtains more meat than your former husband, Chipmunk. I go now to get you more meat.’’ He proceeded into the hills in search of more people. He told his wife before he left, that he would be back at sundown. As he departed he rolled a big boulder against the door, so that his wife might not escape. He rolled large boulders against both ends of the assembly house, and also one over the smoke hole at the top of the assembly house, where the smoke emerges. He closed the doors tightly with large boulders. After he had closed the doors, he went into the hills to capture more victims. He returned with a load of people in his basket. He had captured many large, fat people for his wife. He rolled the boulders aside and entered the house. While he was away, his wife had cooked deer meat. The Giant wished to feed his wife upon fat people. He told her to eat the flesh of fat people. She said, ‘‘Yes,’’ but instead she ate deer meat. The Giant thought that she ate the fat people, but instead she ate deer meat. He threw away some of the human flesh, because he could not eat it all. Again he obtained more fat people and cooked them. He ''294 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 told his wife to eat the flesh of the fat people. He said, ‘‘If you do not eat them, I will kill you.’’ He said, ‘‘I think you have a very good husband. He always obtains plenty of meat, when he hunts. He never misses a person with his stone.’’ Again he returned with a large load of victims, whom he cooked for his wife. He cooked, and he cooked, and he cooked. When it became dark he danced. He was so tall that his head projected through the smoke hole of the assembly house. The Giant’s wife gave birth to two boy babies. Both of them were little giants. She wished to kill them, but she feared that the Giant would avenge their deaths. She fed them and they grew. All the while she kept Chipmunk’s daughter in the pit. She fed her con- tinually with deer meat. By the Giant, she bore two little giants. When the Giant departed for the day, she took her daughter from the pit, and held her in her lap, while the two little giants slept. She eried all day, when the Giant was away. She mourned for poor Chipmunk. She feared the Giant, but she could not escape, because the boulders, which the Giant put against the doors, were too heavy for her to push away. So each day she sat in the house and cried. ‘“You eat them. This is the meat which I cooked for you. You eat them. This is the best one. I selected it for you.’’ The woman replied, ‘‘Yes.’’ Then the Giant danced. He danced. He danced. His head went through the smoke hole, when he danced. When he felt happy he daneed, his head going through the smoke hole. He told his wife, ‘‘Care for my sons. Don’t lose them. Care for my sons. Do not fear hunger, for I will always bring you plenty of meat. I am always sure to obtain meat when I hunt.’’ He went into the hills again in the morning to capture more women and boys and men. He killed everybody, old people, young people, girls, and men. He killed so many that he filled his basket in a very short time. His wife, however, had plenty of deer meat which Chipmunk had obtained for her. Every night, when the Giant came home, he danced. After he had danced, he cooked the meat for his wife, giving her old men and old women. He took for himself the young people. When he came home, he brought pine nuts with his victims. The old white-shelled pine nuts, that were worthless, he cracked and gave to his wife, ‘‘ Eat these pine nuts. Here are plenty of pine nuts. You will not become hungry, if you stay with me. Thus he spoke to his wife, when he came home each night. He said to her, ‘‘Eat these pine nuts, for I ''1917 | Gifford: Miwok Myths to So Ou perceive that you are hungry.’’ His wife said, ‘‘Yes.’’ However, she deceived him, for she did not eat the pine nuts. When he was not looking, she threw them away. She threw them away, when he was not looking. At the same time, she made believe that she ate the pine nuts. She ate only pine nuts which Chipmunk had obtained for her. She did not eat those which the Giant brought to her. Each time that the Giant went away, she ate from her own stock of pine nuts, which Chipmunk had collected for her. The old women and the fat women that the Giant obtained, he brought to his wife; also those women who were pregnant. He said to his wife, ‘‘Eat. Eat well.’’ His wife replied, ‘‘Yes, I am eating them.’’ Yet all the time she deceived him. Again he went into the hills to hunt people. He travelled all over the country in his search. When he returned, he brought a large load of people. Upon his arrival, he cooked the old women for his wife. Then he danced outside of the assembly house. Afterwards he danced inside. His wife did not eat the old women whom he cooked for her. She said, ‘‘Yes, I am eating,’’ but she always deceived him. She worried every day, for fear that the Giant would kill her. That which he cooked for her she put into a hole, making believe, however, that she ate it. Instead, she ate deer meat. The Giant thought that she ate the persons whom he cooked for her. The deer meat, which she cooked each day while the Giant was absent, she fed to her daughter in the pit. Hach day, when she took her daughter from the pit, she cried. She felt sorry for the girl, because her father had been cooked in the fire. The thought of Chip- munk’s sad end depressed her and made her ery all day, while the Giant was away. When the Giant returned in the evening, she hid her daughter in the pit. She herself lay over the pit, so that the Giant would not find her daughter. She sat over the pit, so that the Giant would not take the girl. The two sons of the Giant lay in the corners of the house. The Giant changed them from corner to corner, when he came home. The boys never cried. They laughed all the time. That is all that they did. Chipmunk’s brothers below dreamed about him. One of them said, ‘‘I think I will visit him. I will see how he fares. I dreamed that he was sick.’’ So spoke one of Chipmunk’s brothers after he dreamed about him. He told no one that he was leaving, but pro- ceeded secretly into the mountains. He did not follow the regular trail, but went through the brush, passing through the high moun- ''296 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 tains. He spoke to no one of his proposed visit. He did not hasten, but travelled slowly toward his brother’s home. At last he arrived at Chipmunk’s assembly-house. He said to his sister-in-law, ‘‘I am coming. Why are these large boulders against the door?’’ Then his sister-in-law answered him from within, saying, ‘“‘Come in. The Giant killed your brother. He closes the door with those large boulders each time he goes out.’’ Thus did his sister-in- law answer him, when he arrived at her house. Then he rolled aside the boulders at each end of the house. His sister-in-law said to him after he entered, ‘‘The Giant killed your brother. Just see us. There are the Giant’s two sons.’’ Her brother- in-law then inquired about her daughter. ‘‘Where is my brother’s girl?’’ he said. The woman replied, ‘‘She is in this hole. I did not 2. want the Giant to see her.’’ Thus spoke his sister-in-law, when she answered him. Chipmunk’s brother asked his sister-in-law when the Giant would return. She said, ‘‘Sometimes he returns after sundown, sometimes before sundown. Today he went far and will not return until to- morrow morning.” Then her brother-in-law told her to crush some obsidian. He said, ‘You can go home. The Giant has many brothers. If they overtake you, and try to catch you, while you are on your way home, throw the crushed obsidian in their faces. I shall not go. I shall remain here.’’ She crushed obsidian and placed it on a deer hide. After she erushed it, her brother-in-law told her to start for home. He warned her especially not to lose the obsidian. ‘‘If they catch you,’’ he said, ‘you can use it. Throw it in their eyes.’’ He then proceeded to dig holes in different directions. f Following his advice she started. Meanwhile he dug holes, one toward the south, one toward the east, one toward the north, and one toward the west. He dug them so that he might conceal himself and dodge from one to the other in case he were pursued. He made holes all around the assembly house, both inside and outside. After he had finished digging the holes, he did nothing. He rested and walked about outside of the assembly house. He thought about the Giant and wondered when he would return. He went into the hills and cut a manzanita stick, sharpening one edge of it. He worked upon it all day, making it sharp. His sister-in-law ''1917] Gifford: Miwok Myths 297 told him to be careful with it. He asked her what the Giant did when he came home. She told him that the Giant always danced, and that every time he danced, his head projected through the smoke hole, his head projected through the smoke hole at the top of the house. Chipmunk’s brother said, ‘‘All right.’’ He finally finished sharpen- ing the manzanita stick, making it very sharp. Then he walked around, he walked around. While he watched the - Giant came over the hill. He said to himself, ‘‘I think that is he coming now.’’ He stood outside and watched the Giant. As the Giant approached the house, Chipmunk’s brother stepped inside. The Giant saw him and said, ‘‘There is another victim. There is another victim.’’ The Giant was glad that he had another person to kill. The Giant followed close behind him into the house. Chipmunk’s brother had killed the two young giants. He gouged out their eyes after he killed them and threw their eyes into the fire, putting one in each corner. Before his sister-in-law had left, he had asked her where the young giants kept their hearts. She had told him, ‘‘In the ankle,’’ and that is where he hit them with the stick, when he killed them. After he had thrown their eyes into the fire, he went outside. The young giants were in each corner beside the fire. The two young giants were dead. Chipmunk’s brother now talked to the Giant. He asked him, ‘‘“What do you do first, when you come home?’’ The Giant replied, “‘T dance. Just watch me dance.’’ Then Chipmunk’s brother went into his holes and came forth in different places. The Giant tried to catch him and followed him about, but Chipmunk’s brother was too quick for him and dodged into the holes. The Giant chased him around the assembly house. Every time that the Giant neared him, he jumped into a hole, appearing again in another part of the house. He told the Giant, ‘‘ You cannot catch me unless you dance. After you dance, I will let you catch me. I want to see you dance first.’’ Chipmunk’s brother stayed outside, while the Giant danced. He shouted at the Giant and said, ‘‘Danece more. Jump higher through that smoke hole. I like to see you danee.’’ The Giant did as Chipmunk’s brother told him. While he danced, Chipmunk’s brother with his manzanita stick climbed on top of the assembly house. Suddenly he struck the Giant across the neck, decapi- tating him. The head rolled down close to the spring near the house ''298 Umversity of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 and the body of the Giant collapsed inside of the house. Chipmunk’s brother then cut the Giant to pieces and scattered the flesh over the trees, on top of the rocks, and inside of the assembly house. One of the Giant’s brothers dreamed. He dreamed that his brother was obtaining plenty of meat. He said to the other brothers of the Giant, ‘‘Let us visit our brother. He is married now and obtains plenty of meat every day.’’ Then a large number of the Giant’s brothers preagedeal to the Giant’s assembly house. When they arrived at the house, they saw the meat hanging on the trees. ‘‘Plenty of meat, plenty of meat, plenty of meat. Our brother is quite expert with his stone,’’ they said. Then they cooked the meat which they found on the trees, not knowing it was their brother’s flesh. They thought that it was the flesh of various people whom he had killed. Each of them ate a piece. They had all that they wished. The youngest brother desired a drink, so they searched for the spring, which they found. Just as the youngest one was about to drink, he noticed the head lying beside the spring. ‘‘We ate our brother,’ he said to his older brothers. Then they all returned to the house. The youngest one said, ‘‘Someone killed our brother.’’ ‘“What shall we cry?’’ the youngest one said. One of the others answered, ‘‘ Well, we will ery ‘oak.’ I do not know who killed our brother. We do not know whence the murderer came. Let us sleep and dream about it.’’ After sleeping, they arose. The one who had proposed that they sleep pointed to the south. The others did not believe that the slayer of their brother came from that direction. Each of the others said, ‘‘T have not dreamed about him yet. Let us sleep again.’’ Again they awoke and the one who had dreamed said, ‘‘A man from the north killed our brother.’’ Again they slept, for they did not believe each other. One of them awoke and awakened the rest. ‘‘A man from the east killed our brother,’’ he said. But they did not believe him. The youngest brother, who found the head near the spring, started to ery. The others tried to stop him. He went again to the spring and thrust his head into the water. When he returned to his brothers, he pretended that he had cried more than they. They thought that the water on him was tears. They said, ‘‘He is the only one who really mourns for his murdered brother.’’ Then they said, ‘‘Let’s sleep again.’’ ''1917] Gifford: Miwok Myths 299 The youngest brother dreamed and awakened the others. He told them that he dreamed that a man from the west had killed their brother. He said, too, ‘‘Our sister-in-law is on the way to her father’s house. I surely dreamed it.’’ They all said, ‘‘Let’s ery.’’ The youngest one objected, saying, ‘‘Let’s sleep before we ery.’’? Then he dreamed again. He dreamed that his sister-in-law was on the way to her father’s house. ‘‘Well, let’s arise,’’ said the youngest brother. ‘“‘Let’s try to catch our sister-in-law before she reaches her father’s home.’’ Thus spoke the youngest brother. ‘‘We must hurry,’’ he said. ‘‘After we have made a good start, we can slacken our pace.’’ They all proceeded on their way shouting. Chipmunk’s brother laughed after he killed the Giant. The Giant’s brothers all ran and Chipmunk’s brother laughed. Before their sister-in-law reached her father’s house, the Giants overtook her. One of them said, ‘‘Here is our sister-in-law. You catch her,’’ he said to one of his brothers. As one of them seized her, she threw a handful of crushed obsidian into their faces. They shouted, for she had thrown it into their eyes. Each one said, ‘‘Something is in my eyes. Hurry, remove it. Hurry, remove it. Hurry, remove it. Hurry, remove it.’’ They examined each other’s eyes for the obsidian. They looked and looked and looked. While they were examining each other’s eyes, their sister-in-law left them. Again they pursued her and overtook her before she reached her father’s house. They said to each other, ‘‘Catch her, catch her, catch her.’’ One of them caught her. Again she threw the crushed obsidian. She threw it into his face before he caught her. ‘‘I have something in my eye,’’ he said. ‘‘I have something in my eye. I have some- thing in my eye. I have something in my eye.’’ Again they exam- ined each other’s eyes to remove the crushed obsidian. They looked and looked and looked. Again they followed her. They said, ‘‘Let’s hurry. Let’s catch her before she reaches home. Hurry. She has her daughter on her back.’’ Then they ran. They ran to catch her. Just as they were about to seize her, she threw the crushed obsidian in their faces again. Each of them said, ‘‘She has thrown something into my eyes.’’ Then while they examined each other’s eyes, she escaped. After they had removed the obsidian from their eyes, they said, “Hurry. Let’s catch her.’’ Then they ran. ‘‘Catch our sister-in- law. Hurry,’’ they said. When they attempted to capture her again, ''300 Unwersity of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 she threw the obsidian in their eyes. ‘‘Something has come into my eyes. Something has come into my eyes. Something has come into my eyes. Hurry, remove it,’’ each one said. ‘‘Hurry, so that we may catch her.’’ They ran after her again. Every time they ran they shouted. Once more she threw the obsidian in their faces and one of them got it in his eyes. Again she ran and they pursued her. They said, ‘‘ We will catch her and hold her this time. She will soon exhaust her obsidian.’’ Again she threw the obsidian in their faces, when they tried to lay hands on her. She threw it into their eyes. Then they looked into each other’s eyes and removed the pieces. ‘‘Hurry,’’ they said, ‘‘so that we may catch our sister-in-law.”’ Then they ran. Once more she threw obsidian in their eyes, when they were about to seize her. Again she ran and this time they were close behind her. They shouted continually, while they ran. When they attempted to seize her again, she threw the crushed obsidian in their eyes. They looked in each other’s eyes and removed the obsidian. This delayed them and prevented them from capturing her. Again > Once they said, ‘‘Hurry, so that we may catch our sister-in-law.’ more they caught her and she threw the obsidian in their eyes. ‘‘She approaches her father’s home. Hurry, that we may catch our sister-in-law,’’ they said. They ran. The woman had not lost her daughter, while she was running. When the giants overtook her again, she once more threw obsidian in their eyes. The woman said to her daughter, ‘‘We will reach home safely. We will reach your grandfather’s. Hurry and do not become tired. ”? Jn the meantime the Giant’s brothers Hurry, or they will catch us. were drawing closer to her. When they went to catch her, she again threw the obsidian into their eyes. They examined each other’s eyes and removed the crushed obsidian. She escaped from them again, while they were removing it. She had very little obsidian left, but she was nearing her father’s house. She was approaching it, while the Giants picked the obsidian from each other’s eyes. ‘‘ We are near- ing home,’’ she told her daughter, ‘‘so do not be frightened. Your grandfather (Lizard) will save us when we arrive there.’’ The giants ran close behind her, shouting as they ran. They stopped frequently to dance and to sing. Then they would run after her to catch her. When they were about to catch her, she threw the crushed obsidian at them. She drew near her father’s house. The Giants ran after her, say- ing to each other, ‘‘We must catch her before she reaches home.’’ ''1917} Gifford: Miwok Myths 301 When they had nearly captured her, she threw the crushed obsidian in their eyes. That was the only way she could escape from them. At last she reached the house. She called to her father to open the door. She said, ‘‘A Giant killed your son-in-law. Hurry, open the door. The Giant ate your son-in-law.’’ Thus she called to her father. Then he opened the door, which was a large rock. After his daughter had stepped inside, he spat on the door so that the Giant’s brothers could not open it. The assembly house turned into rock, when he spat upon the door, turned into rock all around. The Giants encircled the house several times inquiring for the door. Lizard did not answer them. They finally became tired and sat down. Then they began to sing and dance. The old man asked his daughter, ‘‘Who are they? Who are they?”’ She replied, ‘‘They are the Giant’s brothers.’’ The old man, her father, said, ‘‘Let the wind blow them away. Let the wind blow them away. Throw them away. I do not want them here.’’ Then a great wind came, but the Giant’s brothers turned and blew the great wind back. Then the old man in the assembly house called a great snow. The great snow came and covered everything. ‘‘Come and cover everything,’’ said the old man, when he called the snow. After the snow had covered the Giants, they shouted and it melted. They shouted and the snow melted. After the snow melted, the old man said, ‘‘It is strange that they do not mind me. What is the matter with them? It is strange that they do not mind.’’ Then he called the hail. He called the hail to try and force them to go away. He ‘hoped that the hail would chase them away. Thus spoke Lizard, when he called the hail. When the hail started, the Giant’s brothers shouted. The hail ceased immediately. Then Lizard, the woman’s father, called for a flood. He wished the water to wash away the Giant’s brothers. Thus spoke Lizard, when he called for the flood to help him. The flood came suddenly and washed away the Giant’s brothers, before they had an opportunity to shout. They did not return, for they were drowned by the water. Then the woman told Lizard, her father, ‘‘The Giant killed my daughter’s father. He killed him. The Giant killed him. He ate him after he killed him. When the Giant came, we thought that it was Chipmunk’s brother coming to tell us something. I told Chip- munk to go and meet him, when he shouted. I did not know that it was a Giant coming. Then Chipmunk went to meet the Giant. When ''802 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 Chipmunk approached the Giant, he shouted to him and asked who he was. The Giant replied, ‘Come here. I am here.’ Thus spoke the Giant, when Chipmunk met him. Then the Giant said, ‘That is my meat over there. I caught him, caught him, meat.’ Thus spoke the Giant. We knew nothing about the Giant, but thought that he was Chipmunk’s brother coming for a visit. Then Chipmunk brought the Giant home, brought the Giant home. He feared the Giant and tried to leave him in the bills, but the Giant followed him. Chip- munk’s brother is there now. He has taken his dead brother’s place. I do not know how he fares. He said to me, ‘You go to your father. I will stay here. I will stay here and take my brother’s place. I am ready for another Giant.’ ”’ [The Giant made his home on Table Mountain, near Jamestown, Tuolumne County. | 4, THE MAKING OF ARROWS ‘“What shall we do, brother? What shall we do? I would like to hunt. I do not know how we are to hunt. I do not know how we are to hunt. I do not know how we shall be able to hunt. I should like very much to hunt. I do not know how we can make arrows. We have nothing with which to cut. We know of nothing with which to eut. I do not know how we can hunt. We have nothing with which to cut. We do not know how to cut. I would like very much to hunt, brother. I do not know how we are to arrange it, but we will try. We have nothing with which to cut. I should like you and me to hunt together, brother. We have nothing with which to hunt.’’ ‘“‘Let us throw our grandmother into the water. If she does not want to go, we will pull her in. We will throw the old woman, our erandmother, into the water. After you have thrown her into the water, pull her out quickly. Pull her out quickly. Do not keep her in the water long. Do not keep her in the water long.’’ Then Dove went. Dove went. He threw his grandmother into the water, threw her into the water. After he had thrown her into the water, he pulled her out quickly. He pulled her out quickly. Then Dove went to his brother and said: ‘‘I threw her into the water. I have already thrown her into the water. Come, I have her.’’ His brother said to him, ‘‘Pull one of her teeth. We will make a knife of it.’’ Then he pulled one of her teeth, pulled one of her teeth. After they obtained the tooth, they commenced to cut, com- menced to cut. ''1917] Gifford: Miwok Myths 303 Then Prairie Falcon said, ‘‘Pull sinew from her arm. Pull sinew from her leg. We shall then have the cord for the bow.’’ Thus spoke Prairie Falcon to his brother. Dove obtained the sinew, as he was bid. Then they started to work on the arrows. They did not know how to begin. They made the arrows just by thinking. They made the bow. One of them told the other, ‘‘We will try.’’ They made a good bow. They made a good bow. Nobody knew what the bow was. No one had ever seen a bow. After they completed it, they looked at it. Prairie Falcon said to his brother, ‘‘I guess this will be satisfactory to hunt with.’’ He told his brother to cut a piece of yellow pine. Thus spoke Prairie Faleon to his brother, after they had killed their grandmother. Then they cut the yellow pine with a knife made from their grandmother’s tooth. . Their grandmother went into the water and cried and worried about herself. She said, ‘‘I did not think my boys would treat me this way.’’ The two brothers finished making their arrows and bows. They completed them. Prairie Falcon said, ‘‘These arrows are satisfactory. Let us try them.’’ Thus spoke Prairie Falcon to Dove. ‘“We will see who can shoot the farthest.’’ They shot toward the east end of the world. The arrows struck in the same place. The arrows struck in the same place. They did not strike in different places. They hit in the same place. After they had shot their arrows, Prairie Falcon said, ‘‘Let us race. Let us race. We will run to the place where the arrows struck. We will see who shot the farthest. We will see who shot the farthest.’’ Then they ran. Both started at the same time. Both started to- gether. They both ran at the same speed. They ran together. One of them did not gain on the other. At last they reached the arrows. They arrived at the place where the arrows struck. Prairie Falcon said to Dove, ‘‘You are a pretty good runner. We both run about the same. Let us shoot again. Let us shoot again.’’ Then they shot toward the west end of the world. Again they ran to the place where the arrows struck. Neither won the race, for they both ran together. Prairie Falcon said to Dove, ‘‘We run the same. We run the same. I did not think that you could run so fast. ”’ They shot their arrows again toward the east. The arrows struck ''304 Umversity of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 in one place. Then they ran. When they arrived at the arrows, both stopped at the same instant. They both stopped at the same time. They shot again to the west end of the world. They shot toward the west. Then they ran to the place where the arrows struck. The arrows struck in a bush. When the brothers arrived, they saw the bush. One brother said to the other, ‘‘Let us dig this bush. It is good to eat. Let us dig it.’’ They dug the bush from the lower side. Then they dug, dug, dug. They were nearing the end of the bush, nearing the end. They ate the bush as they dug. They ate while they ‘dug. The root became thicker while they dug. They continued to dig, continued to dig. The younger brother said to the other, ‘‘ Keep on digging. You will find the end pretty soon. Keep on digging.’’ The older brother asked, ‘‘Do you see the end yet?’’ The younger one replied, ‘‘I am getting close to the end.’’ He continued to dig. He continued to dig. Then the grandmother, who had turned into Beaver, said, ‘‘I will have revenge upon those boys.’’ She told the water to drown Prairie Faleon. The water came, while Prairie Falcon was digging, and drowned him. Dove escaped. He cried for his brother. He rolled and rolled over the hills. He cried for his dead brother. He rolled and rolled around the great mountains. He was scratched and bruised by the rocks and the brush. He bled all over. He mourned for his brother and cried for him. He said to himself, ‘‘I do not know what killed my brother.’’ Thus he spoke to himself. He travelled all over the world crying, travelled to the places which he and his brother had visited together. Dove met Spark. Spark asked him, ‘‘What are you doing? What are you crying about? Dove replied, ‘‘Something killed my brother. I do not know what it was.’’ Then Dove sent Spark to investigate. Spark alighted close to the old woman. The old woman was still crushing bones. She was still crushing bones. A small bone flew out of the mortar. Spark seized it and put it on an arrow. Then he shot the arrow with the bone point toward Dove. The arrow struck in front of Dove, while he was crying. Dove picked up the arrow and looked at the point. As he was about to remove the bone point, it spoke to him. The point turned into Prairie Falcon. After the bone arrow-point transformed itself into Prairie Falcon, Prairie Fal- eon cried for his brother Dove, because the latter had so many wounds and bruises. Prairie Faleon cried and cried over his brother Dove, because ''1917] Gifford: Miwok Myths 305 the latter had bruised and hurt himself so. Brother Dove was bleed- ing. He had no hair. Then Prairie Falcon called the various kinds of birds together. He asked each to give him one feather. He said, ‘‘My brother has no feathers on him. Do me this favor. Give me one feather apiece.’’ They each gave him one feather. Then he rehabilitated his brother Dove. He still cried for his brother Dove, for he felt sorry to think that Dove had eut and bruised himself so for him. Then they went all over the world, searching for Dove’s blood on the rocks, where he had struck. Every time that Praire Falcon saw a rock with his brother’s blood upon it he cried, for he knew that it was his brother’s blood and that those were the rocks which had cut his brother. Dove recovered from his bruises and cuts and was soon well again. Dove said to his brother, ‘‘I am well now. Worry about me no more. Worry about me no more. Do not trouble about me. I do not want to lose you. See how poor you look now.’’ Thus spoke Dove to his brother, while he was crying. This made Prairie Falcon ery the 27) more. Dove continued. ‘‘I thought you told me the truth, when you said that that bush was good to eat. If I had known that you were to be taken away from me so suddenly, I should not have let you dig that bush. That is why I do not want you to bother with anything after this. Our grandmother turned into a Beaver just as you fell, brother. If we had not attacked our grandmother, we should have had a grand- mother still.’’ Thus spoke Dove to his brother, Prairie Falcon. Now they had no grandmother. Prairie Falcon cried because his grandmother had turned into Beaver. They both eried and cried for their grandmother. They did not know how to get back their grandmother. They went along the river. They saw Beaver in the riffle. They said, ‘‘There is Beaver.’’ Beaver was their grandmother. They used to take their grandmother everywhere they went, but they lost their grandmother because of the arrows. At last they aban- doned the search for her and went home. Their grandmother had turned into Beaver. Everybody made arrows thereafter. Dove cried for his grand- mother. Prairie Falcon cried, but they made arrows. They lost their grandmother because of the arrows. ''306 Uniwersity of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 5. PRAIRIE FALCON’S MARRIAGE ‘‘Going, going to marry Prairie Falecon,’’ Green Heron said. ‘“Give me a large basket. Give me a basket, so that I may give it to Meadowlark.’’ The two left that night after they had married the chief. ‘‘Where is my daughter going?’’ said Green Heron. When they returned, Coyote followed them. Coyote said, ‘‘You, Green Heron, what will you do when the chief becomes hungry?’’ Thus spoke Coyote, when he told them to prepare food for the chief. Eagle told California Jay to obtain food. Then Coyote said to Eagle, ‘‘We go now to hunt rabbits.’’ Coyote continued to Califor- nia Jay, ‘‘ Yes, that is all right. Let’s go.’’ ‘‘Whatever you people say is good,’’ said Eagle to Jay. Then they departed. Jay and Coyote went hunting. Coyote ran away and hid behind a rock. Green Heron told his daughters to pound acorns. They said, ‘*Yes.’’ They went over to the mortar, where they pounded acorns. The chief arose from his bed to marry one of the girls. He had never known any girl intimately. Then he went to the assembly house and told his wife to pound acorns on the following day. Prairie Falcon told his sister to take the acorns to the girls. One of the girls, Meadow- lark, gave birth to a boy baby. After she had given birth to the child, she pounded acorns. The Eagle visited her while she pounded acorns. He took her, Prairie Faleon’s wife. ‘‘Why is that chief deceiving me by taking my wife away from me?’’ said Prairie Falcon, and he became very angry. Prairie Faleon decided to go away. He said to his sister, ‘‘Give me a bow and arrow. I am going into the world.’’ He killed one quail with an arrow. He took the quail with him. He said, ‘‘I do not think my sister eats anything.’’ Then he travelled over the ~ world, along the water towards the north. After that he returned home. He told his sister to tell no one where he had been. ‘ said Worm. ‘‘You do not smell good,’’ Lizard said, when he saw Worm. ‘‘Keep away from me. Keep away from me. Do not come near me. Keep away from me. Keep away from me. I do not want that grass after it is cooked. It does not smell good.’ Worm was on the fire. ‘‘I did not like him after I me. Do not come near me, ''324 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 had a good look at him,’’ said Lizard. He said that from the top of a big log. He did not like to drink water. He did not want to drink water. Water did not smell good. ‘‘Keep away. Keep away, Tarantula. That grass smells bloody,’’ Lizard said. He spoke thus, because he did not like grass. Thus spoke Lizard when he sang about his food below. ‘‘I am going below,’’ said Lizard, ‘‘I go there to eat worms. Then I will return and see where Fox is going to hunt.’ Thus sang Lizard from the top of the log. Lizard did not like seed. He did not hke grass. Thus he sang from the top of the log. When Tarantula brought him food, he said, ‘‘Keep away from me. Keep away from me. I do not like grass. I would rather eat worms below.’’ Thus sang Lizard about his food below. Tarantula asked Lizard, ‘‘Why don’t you like the food that I eat?’’ lizard replied, ‘‘It does not smell good to me. I am going. Iam going. The ground is damp below.’’ ‘“Be sure to return,’’ said Tarantula, ‘‘for Fox is going to hunt.’’ “1 go below to eat worms,’ said Lizard, ‘‘I shall return.’’ Thus spoke Lizard when he was starving. ‘‘I am going below, then I will return. There is no food for me here.’’ Tarantula said, ‘‘ You must surely return, because Fox is preparing to hunt in the hills.’’ Fox was preparing to hunt. He said, ‘‘I wonder if Mountain Lion is ready? Are all of you hunters ready? Mountain Quail may go with us. Skunk may go with us. Coyote may go with us. Wolf may go with us. We are going to hunt deer. Put Skunk on the lower side of the hill. Dove may go with us. Hummingbird may go with us. They may all run on the hill. Crow may go with us.’’ ‘‘T ghall kill a large deer,’’ said Mountain Lion, when Fox told him that he might hunt. Mountain Lion continued, ‘“Confine Night Hawk, for he is likely to steal from us, if we leave the camp. I am going ahead. I know where the big deer stay. Do not take Night Hawk with you, because he might take a whole deer in his mouth. I shall kill a large deer for us. I shall kill no small deer,’’ boasted Mountain Lion. So spoke Mountain Lion, when he prepared to hunt for the large deer. He said, ‘‘I am going into the hills ahead of the rest, to get a large deer for us.”’ Mountain Quail said, ‘‘I will break the neck of the large deer. I will break the neck. I will break it, I will break it.’’ Thus spoke Mountain Quail before he started. He continued, ‘‘You people can- ''1917} Gifford: Miwok Myths 3295 not enter the brush. I will enter the brush. I fear nothing. I do not think that you people are brave enough to enter the brush. I shall enter the brush between those large mountains. I shall break his neck. I shall break his neck, when I meet him in the brush, when I meet the large deer in the brush. I think that the rest of you are not brave enough to enter the brush between those great mountains. I am the one who always enters the brush.’’ So spoke Mountain Quail, while he travelled toward the brush between those great moun- tains. ‘‘I am going into that brush. I think you people are afraid to enter that brush, for fear that you might meet a bear.’’ So spoke Mountain Quail. Bald Eagle said, ‘‘I am going too. I shall kill a large deer also. I do not think you people can find a large deer. I do not think you ean fan the large deer. J do not think you can fan the large deer. When I fan him, I shall put him to sleep. Then I shall kill him. You tried to get ahead of me by leaving me behind. You must think that I am too old. I shall fan the big deer with my two wings, from both sides of the hill. From both sides I will fan him with my two wings. Iam going. I am going to help you find the deer. I know where the deer stay. I will find them before you do. I shall fan the large deer with my two wings. When I see one I shall put him to sleep. I shall fan him. I shall fan him.’’ Thus spoke Bald Eagle, when he prepared to hunt, when he told the Mountain Lion to prepare. Thus he spoke. Thus he spoke. ‘‘I am going. You people stay on each side of the creek and I will fan him with both wings from the middle.’’ Wolf said, ‘‘I shall chase him until I run him down. I shall chase the fawns, which sneak away from the big ones. If they escape from ’? So spoke Wolf, as he prepared to hunt with Mountain Lion. ‘‘I will run them over the hills. Just watch me. I will collect the deer in one place. I will run from sun- you hunters, I will chase them. down until sunrise, so that you hunters can kill them while I sleep. I will gather them in the night. Then when you start, send Skunk to me. If they escape from you, awaken me and I will pursue them until I capture them,’’ said Wolf. Coyote said, ‘‘I shall be there when the deer run. I shall eat them, while they run. There is no use of you hunters running, while I am there. You know that I am a good runner. If the deer get away from you, I shall chase them. I shall chase them. I shall chase them. I shall chase them. I shall chase them whether the ground is rough or smooth. I shall capture them just the same.’’ So spoke Coyote ''326 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 before the party set out. ‘‘I will bite the leg of the deer while he runs. The deer will have no chance to escape,’’ said Coyote. ‘*T shall go with you, for I can find the deer in any place. I can find them anywhere. I know how to find them. I shall look down from the hills just before sunrise. I can find more deer than all of you. I will eat nothing but deers’ eyes,’’ said Crow, for he was very fond of them. ‘‘When we hunt, I shall find the deer for you. I know how to find them. When we return, all that you need give me are the deers’ eyes. Perhaps you do not believe that I can find deer. I can find the deer before sunrise or after sundown. Eagle thinks that he is the only one who can find deer. I shall go with you. I shall find those deer for you. I excel Eagle in finding deer.’’ Fox prepared the men to hunt. He said, ‘‘We are going. Get ready. Get ready. Get ready, Mountain Quail. Get ready, Eagle. Get ready, Coyote. Get ready, Wolf. Awaken Skunk, prepare him, for he must walk on the side of the hill. Keep track of Night Hawk. Keep him hidden, for he is likely to swallow a whole deer.’’ So spoke Fox, when he became the head chief and when he prepared his people for the hunt. ‘‘Gather Mountain Lion, Coyote, and Wolf on one side of the hill in an open place. They are good hunters.’’ Black Fox said, ‘‘I always go into the difficult places. I am going, too. I am going into the middle of the brush, when we hunt. I shall scent the deer from there. I shall enter the deep canyons and look for their tracks.’’ So spoke Black Fox. Mountain Lion warned him, ‘‘ You must be careful, when you enter the hills.’’ ‘‘I fear noth- ing,’’ Black Fox retorted. ‘‘I will enter the thickest brush. I will enter the brush and drive out the deer.’’ So spoke Black Fox to Fox. Fox said that he was ready to start whenever his men were. ‘You must keep the big deer separate,’’ he said to Black Fox. Black Fox said, ‘‘I shall start ahead and enter’ the hills. When you are ready, send Mountain Quail to awaken me.’’ Skunk said, ‘‘Just watch me hunt. I am going out to kill deer. I get them from both sides. After you have separated the large deer, tell me where they are and I will eject my fluid upon them. I will kill them all. I will make the fluid, which I eject upon them, very strong. But I want someone to carry me, because I cannot walk fast. I will have a load on me, anyway. I want to be sure to get a number of deer with my fluid. From the north side, I will eject my fluid. From the west side, I will eject. From the east side, I will eject. From the south side, I will eject. After you have gathered the deer, 9? ''1917] Gifford: Miwok Myths 327 carry me to the place where they are. I will take my son-in-law with me. I will dance on the top of a small rock, singing my song.’”’ Dove said, ‘‘I shall eat seed before I go. I shall eat seed before I go. I shall run. I shall run after I eat the seed. You people cannot run. You stay in the brush.’’ Thus spoke Dove to Chief Fox. ‘‘If a deer escapes from you, I shall capture him,’’ continued Dove. ‘‘If you people eat the deer, I shall eat the seed. I shall help you to obtain the deer.’’ When Dove was ready, he said, ‘‘Let us go. Let Hummingbird come with me.’’ Dove took Hummingbird with him, when he went ahead of the rest of the part. He said to Humming- bird, ‘‘Let us race. We will see who kills a deer first. Let us race. Let us race.’’ Hummingbird accepted the challenge. - Hummingbird said, ‘‘When I ran a race with Dove, I travelled quite fast. We were just about even at the end. I will try to eat the seeds that Dove eats. I will also eat flowers. I shall run another race with him. I shall run a race with him to the end of the world. I shall not go only to the middle of the world in my race with Dove. I shall race him to the end of the world. When he and I race, it is a tie. I shall run a race to the end of the world. If he ties me again, then he and I will travel together for all time. If he ties me, he and I will return and help Fox to kill the deer. He and I eat the seeds and flowers. Let him try the flowers and I will try the seeds.’’ Fox said, ‘‘Tell Hummingbird not to get in the middle. Tell him not to get in the middle. The men had better not travel too fast at first, for they will have plenty of running after we enter the hills.”’ So spoke Chief Fox, when he prepared his hunters. He said to Moun- tain Lion and to Eagle, ‘‘Get ready. Take up certain stations, where the deer come out.’’ He told Wolf to take his station near a place where the deer always come out. ‘‘Dove and Hummingbird are to run first,’? he told Chief Mountain Lion. Chief Fox told his men to get ready, when he prepared to hunt deer. ‘‘I see that all of you ae are willing to hunt,’’ he said. Brown Wren said, ‘‘Coyote and I shall race. I do not think that Coyote can beat me running. When I come home, I will race with California Jay. I will see how fast Jay can run. Jay and I will try each other in a shooting contest, to see who is the better. Jay and I will shoot at each other with arrows to see who can jump about the quicker. If he excels me at jumping, then perhaps he can hit me. I shall shoot four arrows and he will shoot four. I shall give him the first shot. Then I will shoot at him. I do not know who will be next ''328 Unwersity of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 in the running of races. I fear that Jay will not get out of the way in time, when I use my arrow.’’ California Jay said, ‘‘I do not think that you can hit me. You ean try and try. Thus I will sing, when I dodge your arrows. Thus I will do, when I tire you. I do not believe that you can hit me. I eat nothing but acorns. That is what makes me so lively. If I am seated, when the deer come out of the brush, I am not going to arise. I will kill the deer without arising. Thus I will handle the deer, when they come out of the brush. Are you a good dodger? Are you a good dodger? You are going to fight me with the arrow,’’ he said to Brown Wren. ‘‘I shall dodge you while I am seated. I shall dodge you while I am seated. I do not think that you can hit me after I have arranged my hair. You can try. You ean try, but you will find that I am a good dodger.”’ Turkey Vulture said, ‘‘That is the way I shall do, when I put the deer to sleep. Thus shall I do. Thus shall I do. I shall look for the deer in the hills. Thus shall I do, when I hunt them in the brush. You will find them, when the blood turns into a rainbow. Then you will find them. I shall do my best. I shall do my best to be the first to obtain a deer. If I find dead deer after you return home, I shall eat them.’’ Thus spoke Turkey Vulture. Thus he spoke, as they journeyed into the hills and as he looked for dead animals in the hills. He continued, ‘‘I find the dead animals from the high moun- tains. When I see the blood, I shall come and tell you. When I look for deer, I wheel in one place. When the sun rises, you will see the blood turn into a rainbow.’’ So spoke Turkey Vulture to Fox. Turtle said, ‘‘I will obtain water for the men when they are in the hills. I will obtain water for them, when they hunt. I will obtain water to wash the intestines. I will carry water for the hunters. I always carry water. I do not have to hunt with the men.’’ Thus spoke Turtle, as he returned to the water. ‘‘I shall get no deer. I shall get no deer,’ he said. Turtle always carried water for the hunters. He always carried water. He knows how to carry water. He sings all the while, that he carries water. All that he does is to sing beside the water. He sings that he is to carry water. Fox told his hunters to go and they all departed. All of the deer passed by Fox. All of the deer passed by Fox. He paid no atten- tion to them, but just watched them. The deer scattered. Each of the other hunters obtained one. Most of the deer passed by Fox. He just watched them until the last came. As the last one approached, ''1917] Gifford: Miwok Myths 329 he put his arrow in the bow and shot it. The arrow passed through the deer and penetrated all of the deer that were in line. In four gulches were four different deer that Fox killed. That many deer he obtained with one arrow. The feat showed that Fox was a better hunter than the others. Then Skunk visited his son-in-law (Fox), while they skinned the deer. He said to his son-in-law, ‘‘May I ride on top of the pack, when you carry it?’’ Thus spoke Skunk to his son-in-law. His son-in-law replied, ‘‘You will be too heavy on top of the deer. I have all that I can carry without you.’’ So said Fox to Skunk. Skunk became angry. He said to his son-in-law, ‘‘Don’t say that to me. If you don’t carry me, I will eject my fluid upon you.’’ Fox retorted, ‘‘Don’t say that to me. I will kill you. Don’t eject your fluid upon me. If you do, I will kill you. I will kill you with an arrow. ‘‘Don’t say that,’ said Skunk “de nor wen to dic There is no one here to help me, if you shoot me with an arrow.’’ Fox said to Skunk, ‘‘ Night Hawk has the largest deer in his mouth. Hurry, help me skin this deer, or Night Hawk will get them all. Be- fore we started I told you to leave Night Hawk home.’’ Fox went to prevent Night Hawk from eating the largest deer. Night Hawk told Fox that he had nothing in his mouth. ‘‘The only thing I have in my mouth is something which belongs to my uncle. I have nothing of yours in my mouth.’’ So said Night Hawk, when Fox threatened to kill him. Fox threatened to kill him, if he did not return the deer. While Fox was talking to Night Hawk, Skunk skinned the deer. 11. VALLEY QUAIL’S ADVENTURES 9? ‘‘T am going to visit my father,’’ said young Valley Quail, ‘‘I am going up the mountain to visit my father. Give me my father’s ‘poison. His father’s ‘‘poison’’ consisted of yellowjackets and other stinging insects, which he kept in a bag. ‘‘I am going up the mountain,’’ said young Quail. He tried his father’s poison. He said to himself, ‘‘I will try it and discover how my father uses it.’’ That is what young Quail said when he saw the deer. He saw a large band of deer. ‘Then he opened his bag of yellowjackets. When he opened it, they flew to the deer and killed them. He killed all of the deer in trying his father’s poison. ‘“No one will bother me,’’ said young Quail. Then he went up the mountains through the deep canyons and forests. Dee. ) ''330 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 He found Coyote. Coyote saw him and asked him what he carried in the bag. He told Coyote that he carried his father’s poison. Coy- ote did not believe him and told young Quail that he was too small to carry poison. ‘‘I think you have something good to eat in that bag,’’ said Coyote. Young Quail retorted, ‘‘No, I have nothing good to eat. If I open this bag, you will die. I am taking this poison to my father.’’ Coyote was not satisfied, but begged young Quail to open the bag. Quail became angry and gave Coyote the bag, telling him to open it and eat what he found within. When Coyote opened it, the yellow- jackets flew out and stung him to death. Then young Quail called his poison back into the bag. All of the yellowjackets entered the bag at his request. He proceeded upon his way. Next he met a bear. He said to himself, ‘‘I do not know what I am going to do with that bear. I do not think my poison will kill him. I will try it, anyhow.’’ So saying, he opened the bag. The yellow- jackets flew to the bear, to a number of bears under the trees. The yellowjackets killed all of the bears. Then young Quail recalled them. He did not know which way to go after the yellowjackets had returned to the bag. He was very tired, but he said, ‘‘I will continue on my way.’ Proceeding farther, he found a mountain lion in a large tree. He did not know what to do when he saw the mountain lion. He said, ‘‘Mountain lion will eat me, I fear.’’ Then he sat on a rock. He feared to pass the tree in which the mountain lon sat. He said to himself, ‘‘I think I shall not reach my father’s place. I fear this mountain lion will kill me. I do not know what to do. I think that this animal in the tree is the one my father has always warned me about. I think this is a mountain lion, the kind that slaps people. I fear that I cannot. kill him, but I will try.’’ He turned loose his yellowjackets. They killed the mountain lion. After he had killed the mountain lion, he recalled his yellowjackets. ‘‘That is the way I will do to anything that attempts to hurt me.’’ Then he proceeded upon his way. He found a spring between two large rocks. Just as he stooped to drink he saw a mountain sheep. He said to himself, ‘‘Mountain sheep is all that my father eats. I think that I will try to kill this one.’? Then he opened his bag. The yellowjackets flew to the mountain sheep and stung him to death. He went over to look at the mountain sheep after he had killed him. The mountain sheep, being dead, was unable to attack him. Young Quail called his yellowjackets into the bag and went on his way. ''1917] Gifford: Miwok Myths 331 After he had gone a distance, he found a rattlesnake. ‘‘I do not know what I shall do with him,’’ said young Quail. ‘‘I think this is rattlesnake, of which my father has told me. At any rate, I will try to kill him.’’ So saying he opened the bag and sent the yellow- jackets to the rattlesnake. After they had killed the rattlesnake, he called them back, called them back. After his yellowjackets had re-entered the bag, he journeyed until he came to the immense rattlesnake Hamaua. ‘‘I do not know what I shall do now. Hamaua reaches almost a quarter of the distance to my father’s place. I fear he will kill me here. I do not know what to do. I do not know what I shall do. I will try to kill him with my father’s poison. Then he released the yellowjackets. They killed Hamaua. After he killed Hamaua, he said, ‘‘My father always takes the skin of Hamaua. I think I will take it too.’’ He skinned Hamaua. After he had taken the skin, he called the yellowjackets back. Then he continued up the mountain. He saw another mountain sheep much larger than the one which he had already killed. ‘‘I think I will kill that one. I think I will try to kill him. That is a mountain sheep, for which my father always searches. ’’ He next met a band of black bears. He became so frightened that he climbed a tree. ‘‘I will try to kill them,’’ he said, ‘‘but I fear that I cannot.’’ Then he opened his bag and released his yellowjackets. They pursued the bears and made them run. Then they killed all of the bears. After they had killed the bears, he called them back into the bag and then continued up the mountain. At last he arrived at his father’s house. His father asked, ‘‘ Who brought you?’’ Young Quail replied, ‘‘I came alone. I felt lonely below. I worried every day about you.’’ His father asked him if he had not seen something coming up the road. Young Quail replied, ‘‘I killed many things.’’ His father asked him if he had seen Hamaua. Then his father asked him if he had skinned Hamaua. He told his father that he had. Young Quail said, ‘‘You always told me to test those yellowjackets, when I came to see you. I tried them and killed everything that I saw. I brought this poison to you.’’ His father asked him what he proposed to do with the yellow- jackets, asked him if he wanted them for himself. ‘‘If you want to try my poison, you may do so,’’ his father said. Young Quail then proceeded up the mountain beyond his father’s home. He found a bear and killed it in the usual way. His father watched him. At first his father said, ‘‘I do not know how he will do it.’’ Then young Quail ''332 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [ Vol. 12 turned loose his yellowjackets. His father laughed and asked him if that was what he did as he came up the road. ‘‘Who taught you?’’ asked his father. ‘‘How do you recall the yellowjackets?’’ Young Quail replied, ‘‘I recall them. Nobody taught me. I learned by my- self. You did not teach me.’’ Then his father stopped questioning him and told him that he might do whatever he pleased. Young Quail replied, ‘‘I will return tomorrow the same way that I came. I just came up to see how you were faring, so that I might stop worrying about you.’’ His father said, ‘‘All right, you may return, but I would rather keep you here with me. However, I suppose you like it better below. All right, you may go tomorrow.’’ Young Quail said, ‘‘But I will return to see you. I will go back the same way. I shall arrive home sometime if nothing happens to me on the way.’’ [|The story-teller said that young Quail started from his camp on the west side of the San Joaquin River and visited his father, who lived high in the Sierra Nevada. | STORIES BY WILLIAM FULLER 2) RE), TAHT. OR HERE Lizard saw the smoke. He said: ‘‘Smoking below, smoking below, smoking below, smoking below. My grandmother starts a fire to cook acorns. It is very lonely.’’ Flute-player (Mouse) was sent down the mountains into the valley to secure the fire. Flute-player departed, taking with him two flutes. He finally arrived at the assembly house from which the smoke was issuing. He found it crowded, but he was welcomed and the people persuaded him to play. He played and he played. Then they put a feather mat over the smoke hole at the top of the house and shut the feathers in the door. They closed the door with the feather dress. They told the doorkeeper to close the door tight. Flute-man played continuously. The people fell asleep and snored. Flute-player remained awake and played. Finally, he concluded that all were fast asleep. He arose and took two coals from the fire, plac- ing them in his flute. Then he put two coals in the second flute. He proceeded to the door, cut loose the feathers, passed out, and started homeward. ''1917] Gifford: Miwok Myths 333 The people awoke to find him gone and with him the fire. Hail and Rain were sent in pursuit, for they were the two swiftest travellers among the valley people. Hail went, but Flute-man heard Hail and Rain coming, so he threw one of his flutes under a buckeye tree. Rain asked him what he had done with the fire. ‘‘You stole our fire,’’ Rain said. Flute-player denied it. Then Rain returned home. The placing of the flute, with the coals in it, under the buckeye tree resulted in the fire always being in the buckeye. When Rain started back, Flute-man took his fire from under the buckeye and again proceeded homeward. He arrived at home safely and brought the fire into the assembly house. He told the people that Rain had taken one flute with coals in it. He said, ‘‘Rain took one flute from me. I have only one left.’’ The chief told Flute-player to build a fire, and the latter pro- duced the coals from his remaining flute. A large fire was made. It was then that people lost their language. Those close to the fire talked correctly. The people at the north side of the assembly house talked brokenly. Those at the south side talked altogether different ; so did those at the west side and at the east side. This was because of the cold. Coyote brought entrails and threw them on the fire, extinguishing it. The people became angry and expelled Coyote, telling him to re- main outside and to eat his food raw. That is why Coyote always eats his meat uncooked. 13. BEAR AND THE FAWNS ? ? ‘«Sister-in-law, let us hunt grass,’’ said Bear. ‘‘Let us go,’’ said Deer. After they had gone a distance, Bear said, ‘‘ Let me louse your head. Let me bite the lice.’? Bear bit Deer so that she died. Deer had told her Fawns before she left that a bag hung in the house. She told the Fawns: ‘‘If your aunt, Bear, harms me, bites me, that bag will fall from where it hangs.’’ The bag fell. Then the Fawns saw their aunt returning. After she entered the house, they started to search her basket. She said to them crossly, ‘‘ You are always looking for something to eat. You are always hungry. Keep away from that basket.’’ They kept searching, however, and found their mother’s liver. They eried, ‘‘ Liver, liver.’’ Later the Fawns and the Bear Cubs played in a hole [sweat house?], fanning smoke into each other’s faces. First the Cubs fanned the Fawns. ‘‘When we call, you must stop fanning,’’ said ''334 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 the Fawns. After the Fawns had been smoked, they told the Cubs to enter. The Fawns then fanned the Cubs in the hole. The smoke became too dense and the Cubs called to the Fawns to cease. They only fanned the harder until the Cubs were suffocated. ‘‘Mother, mother, liver; mother, mother, liver; mother, mother, liver,’’ cried the Fawns. Their aunt, Bear, said, ‘‘ What is the use of talking about your mother. She is camping for the men.’’ The Fawns only cried the more, ‘‘Mother, mother, liver.’’ ‘‘Stop saying that, or I shall bite you,’’ said Bear. ‘‘ Your mother is still camping.’’ ‘‘Grandchildren, for whom are you searching?’’ said the Lizard. The Fawns replied, ‘‘Grandfather, we are hunting for our mother. Grandfather, will you show us the door of your house? Our aunt wants to kill us. Mother, mother, mother, mother. Grandfather, let us in on the east side of your house, on the south side.’’ Their grand- father finally let them in. Bear arrived at Lizard’s house after the latter had taken in the Fawns. She called, ‘‘Nieces, where are you? I am looking for you. Please let me in quickly.’’ She tried to enter, asking repeatedly where the door was located. They told her to go to the top of the house. ‘“The door is right on top of the house,’’ they said. Meanwhile they heated a stone in the fire. They said to Bear: ‘Open your mouth wide and come down through the smoke hole.’’ As Bear entered with her mouth open, they shoved the red-hot stone down her throat. She died in agony, being burned to death from within. 14, YAYALE, DHW GEANT ‘‘Where are you, grandchild? Where are you, grandchild? Where are you? Where are you? Yes. Yes. I am lost. Where are you? This way. Where are you, grandchild? Someone comes. Look out. Get ready. Prepare yourself, for Yayali comes.’’ The people broke cones from the tops of the pine trees and bundled these together. As Yayali started to climb the declivity where the people had taken refuge, they set fire to the bundles of pine cones and threw them into Yayali’s burden basket. They threw the burn- ing cones into the basket. Yayali became so hot that he tumbled. ‘Which way shall I fall?’’ he asked. They told him to fall to the north. [The Giant met his death near Columbia, Tuolumne County. The informant has seen white rocks near Columbia, reputed to be the bleached bones of the Giant. ] ''1917] Gifford: Miwok Myths 335 ABSTRACTS 1. The Theft of Fire. Geese and others gather in an assembly house in the hills. They lack fire. Lizard discovers fire emerging from an assembly house in the valley. Flute-player (Mouse) goes to steal fire. He finds the entrances of the assembly house guarded by Bear, Rattlesnake, Mountain Lion, and Eagle. He enters through the smoke hole by cutting the feathers of Eagle’s wing. He fills with fire four flutes with which he escapes. On the homeward journey he is pursued by Rain and Hail. Hail catches him, but Flute-player has concealed his flutes in the water and denies having the fire. He is met by Coyote, who has become impatient. After his arrival, Flute-player plays his flutes on top of the assembly house, dropping coals through the smoke hole. Coyote interrupts him before he finishes. Because of the interruption, some people receive no fire. Those in the middle of the assembly house receive fire, cook their food, and talk correctly.. Those on the sides (distant tribes) receive none, eat raw food, and talk differently. 2. Bear and the Fawns. Bear invites her sister-in-law, Deer, to gather clover. They louse each other. Bear kills Deer by biting her neck, eats her, and takes home the liver in a basket of clover, which she gives to Deer’s two daughters. The Fawns recognize the liver and decide to escape. They take with them their mother’s baskets, awls, and brushes, which they throw off the trail as they flee. As Bear pursues, these objects whistle and decoy her from the trail. The Fawns cross a river on the stretched leg of their grandfather, Daddy Longlegs. When Bear crosses, he withdraws his leg and she falls in the river. The Fawns reach the assembly house of Lizard, another grandfather, who shelters them and heats two white stones. On Bear’s arrival she is told to enter through the smoke hole with her mouth open and eyes closed. Lizard then throws the hot stones down her throat. After her death, he dresses her hide and cuts it. The larger piece he gives to the older Fawn, the smaller piece to the younger. He tells them to run and discover the sound they make. The smaller hide makes the louder noise. When they run against a tree, the younger Fawn shatters it more completely. Lizard send the Fawns above and they become Thunders. 3. Yayali, the Giant. The Giant enters the hills in search of human victims. Chipmunk, imagining that his wife’s brother approaches, answers the Giant’s calls. As he brings the Giant to his assembly house the latter kills him with a stone from his burden basket. Chipmunk is eaten by the Giant, who marries his widow. She hides Chipmunk’s daughter in a pit, feeding her venison. The woman pretends to eat the human flesh and pine nuts obtained by the Giant, but in reality eats only venison and pine nuts obtained by Chipmunk. She gives birth to two giants. Chipmunk’s brother dreams of him and visits him. He finds the doors of Chipmunk’s house blocked with boulders to prevent the escape of Chipmunk’s widow. Chipmunk’s brother prepares to kill the Giant. He digs holes and sharpens a manzanita stick. He sends his sister-in-law to her father. She takes her daughter and a deer skin of crushed obsidian. The Giant returns and tries to capture Chipmunk’s brother, who escapes by jumping into his holes. He tells the Giant that he will allow himself to be captured after the Giant dances. From the roof he decapitates the Giant, whose head projects through the smoke hole when he dances. ''336 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 The Giant’s brothers, following a dream, visit their brother’s house and unknowingly eat his flesh which Chipmunk’s brother has scattered about on trees and rocks. The youngest Giant discovers his brother’s head. Following dreams, the Giants pursue Chipmunk’s widow, who escapes repeatedly by throwing crushed obsidian in their eyes. She reaches the house of Lizard, her father, who spits on the house and turns it to stone. He calls upon the wind, the snow, the hail, and the flood to destroy the Giant’s brothers. They blow back the wind, melt the snow by shouting, and stop the hail by shouting. The flood drowns them. 4. The Making of Arrows. Two brothers, Prairie Falcon and Dove, decide to hunt, but lack weapons. They throw their grandmother into the water, taking her tooth for a knife and pulling sinew from her limbs. They make a bow and arrows. Their grandmother enters the water and becomes Beaver. The two brothers have a contest, shooting twice to the east end of the world, and twice to the west end. The arrows strike together. The brothers race to them, both running at the same speed. The second time that they shoot west the arrows strike in a bush, the root of which they eat while digging. Their grandmother causes the water to drown Prairie Falcon. Dove rolls about the country crying for his dead brother and bruising and cutting himself. He meets Spark, whom he sends to visit the old woman, who is crushing bones. A small bone flies forth which Spark seizes and places on an arrow. He shoots it to Dove, who picks it up. The point transforms itself into Prairie Falcon, who cries over his brother Dove’s injuries. The various birds contribute one feather apiece with which Dove is rehabilitated. The brothers travel about the world visiting the rocks which bruised Dove. They fail to secure the return of their grandmother, who remains in the river as Beaver. Thenceforth all people make arrows. 5. Prairie Falcon’s Marriage. Chief Prairie Falcon marries Green Heron’s daughter, also Meadowlark. Chief Eagle takes Meadowlark. Prairie Falcon in anger travels about the world. He threatens to kill his unfaithful wife if she follows him, but changes his mind when his sister says that his wife will save his life. Returning, he visits his sister, who tells her husband, Lizard, to restrain his dogs, which are rattlesnakes and bears. Prairie Falcon starts for the place where his father died. He wife follows. He goes south. Upon his return he finds that his wife has followed him, so he sets out to overtake her. Together they visit his father, Owl. Lizard throws fire, causing a conflagration. Prairie Falcon escapes by flight. His wife escapes by pulling two hairs, which become a lake, in which she submerges her- self. Aided by the winds, Prairie Falcon and wife pass through a hole which closes and opens. At his father’s ‘village, he finds that Chief Mountain Sheep’s people wish to play games with him, the loser to forfeit his life. Chief Moun- tain Sheep demands the loan of Prairie Falcon’s wife and sends in exchange another woman with whom Prairie Falcon declines to sleep. Prairie Falcon objects to sending his wife to Mountain Sheep’s house, and in vain offers a string of beads in lieu of her. Gopher aids Prairie Falcon by digging tunnels on Mountain Sheep’s side of the field. Following football games which Prairie Falcon wins, he shoots Moun- tain Sheep. He tells his sister that he killed the people at the other village. She tells him not to speak thus in the presence of Lizard. Prairie Falcon is offended and leaves home, going to his father-in-law, Green Heron, and remaining two days. His father, Dove, and Coyote urge him to marry a girl with whom he has been going. ''1917] Gifford: Miwok Myths ~ 337 6. The Flood. Chiefs Prairie Falcon and Eagle and their people take refuge upon a high mountain to escape a flood. Coyote is unable to go because he has lost a leg. He escapes by clinging to a log. On the mountain dwells Rattlesnake. The waters rise higher, necessitating a second flight. Flicker carries Rattlesnake, who bites him. Rattlesnake is dropped and drowns. The refugees find a piece of dry land. The entire world is flooded. Prairie Falcon sends forth Dove to discover if human beings survive. Later Prairie Falcon sends forth Dove and Hummingbird to bring mud. He tells them not to eat seeds or suck flowers. 7. The Repeopling of the World. Following the flood there are no human beings. All have drowned. Chief Eagle asks Coyote to resurrect mankind. Coyote does so by singing many days, following the advice of a skeleton which appears in a dream. 8. The Search for the Deer. The deer hide themselves in various caves Um Use the mountains. The people starve. The hunters, Mountain Lion, Fox, Wild Cat, Black Fox, and Crow, search in vain for deer. Crow does not return. Others search for him. A second Crow, brother of Crow who fails to return, searches for him and for the deer. From a mountain top he discovers the deer in a cave. The people surround the cave and young Mountain Lion enters to start the slaughter. He faints from the heat and his father, Chief Mountain Lion, rescues him. All deer escape. Some people die of starvation. None return home be- cause weak with hunger. Chief Mountain Lion proceeds homeward alone. He meets Skunk, who demands a ride on his back, agreeing to save the lives of some of the people. The Chief gives him a ride. Skunk tells the Chief that he does not care if all of the people die, so long as he rides across the river. The chief pretends to stumble. Skunk falls into the river and drowns. Across the river : the chief meets the first Crow descending a hill with deer. The remaining ~ : people are saved. © 9. Salamander and Chipmunk. Salamander tells Chipmunk that he failed to obtain a big deer. Chipmunk sets out in search of his father. He meets two Deer women, who capture him and take him to the sky. Their father throws ropes to them with which to lash Chipmunk. Chipmunk refuses to eat seed. He kills their father after fattening him by singing. Two of Chipmunk’s brothers, Brown Bird and Tuyipitina, search for him in vain. His older brother climbs to the sky and rescues him. The two brothers escape by clinging to arrows which strike at their home. At home Chipmunk builds a fire into which he throws Salamander, whom he blames for his troubles. 10. Lizard and Fox. Lizard goes below to eat worms. Tarantula tells him to be sure to return, as Fox is to hunt. Fox assembles the hunters. Each boasts of his prowess and of what he intends to do in the deer hunt. Mountain Lion, Mountain Quail, Bald Eagle, Wolf, Coyote, Crow, Skunk, Dove, Hummingbird, Brown Wren, California Jay, and Turkey Vulture participate in the hunt. Turtle promises to carry water for the hunters. Fox orders that Night Hawk be left home, for fear that he might swallow the largest deer whole. Races between Dove and Hummingbird and an arrow-dodging contest between Brown Wren and Jay are discussed. Each hunter obtains one deer. Fox waits until the last deer are passing. With one arrow he kills four deer in four canyons. While they skin the deer, Skunk visits his son-in-law, Fox, and asks that he be allowed to ride on top of the pile which Fox is to carry. While Skunk and Fox threaten to shoot each other with their fluid and arrows respectively, Night Hawk takes the largest deer in his mouth. When accused of theft by Fox, Night Hawk denies it. ''338 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 11. Valley Quail’s Adventures. Young Valley Quail visits his father in the mountains. He carries in a bag his father’s ‘‘poison,’’ which consists of yellow- jackets and other stinging insects. At his bidding the insects kill various animals. Coyote insists that he has food in his bag. Quail allows Coyote to open it and the insects sting him to death. Other creatures killed are deer, bears, mountain lions, mountain sheep, rattlesnakes, an immense fabulous rattlesnake named Hamaua, and black bears. Valley Quail’s father is surprised that his son arrives safely. His son demonstrates his use of the poison. He plans to return on the following day. 12. The Theft of Fire. A brief version of 1, also accounting for buckeye fire drill. 13. Bear and the Fawns. A brief version of 2, plus suffocation of Bear Cubs. 14. Yayali, the Giant. A very brief version of 8, in which Giant is burned to death. '' '' BRE ETHNIC GROUPS (Referred to in the text) . Mohave. . Luisefio. Southern Yokuts, Yauelmani. Southern Yokuts, Yaudanchi. Kawaiisu. . Tiibatulabal. . Central Miwok. . Northern Paiute. . Washo. . Southeastern Wintun. . Eastern Pomo. Nout: 13. Yurok. . Karok. . Hupa. . Wiyot. . Chimariko. . Costanoan. . Salinan. . Chumash. ''UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PUBLICATIONS IN AMERICAN ARCHAEOLOGY AND ETHNOLOGY Vol. 12, No. 9, pp. 339-396 May 28, 1917 CALIFORNIA KINSHIP SYSTEMS Bs A. L. KROEBER CONTENTS PAGE MryG OCU GO Tay ee ee 340 Mohave 340 General Features 347 ERUIS@N Os oe ie Oe a eee 348 General Features 351 Yokuts 352 Relations of Miwok and Yokuts 356 Northern Paiute Le i 358 Marriage 361 Washo 362 Relations to Northern Paiute 363 Relations to Other Systems 364 Tiibatulabal and Kawaiisu ....... 366 Shoshonean: Gy stewie sets tars oe eee ee 366 Wintun 368 General Features 369 Pomo 370 General Features and Relations f Bae Yuki : 372 General Features and Relations ane Yurok 374 General Features ff Sle Three-Step Relationship 376 Classification of the California Systems 378 Kinship and Type of Culture 380 Kinship and Social Institutions 382 Summary 385 Theoretical Considerations 385 ''340 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. {[Vol. 12 INTRODUCTORY The following systems of relationship designation were collected at intervals during the last fifteen years, but mostly before 1908, in the course of various field studies of the California Indians. They are In most cases unsupported by genealogies or conerete records; probably the majority of the lists are not wholly exhaustive; and in a few instances the data may not be entirely correct. I have long hesitated to publish this material. But it happens to represent all ethnic provinces and parts of the state, except the northeastern corner, and therefore permits of distributional inferences; and it furnishes a basis for the consideration of certain theoretical problems; in addition to which, information on kinship in California has become a need in wider comparative studies. I therefore present the data, trusting that they will be of service in spite of their imperfections. MOHAVE The Mohave system is an elaborate one. It contains a considerable number of terms; and the principles according to which these are apphed are sometimes complex. N- or ny- denotes ‘‘my.’’ o, l>y : inchien-k 5 > 6, 6>4 : inchien-k 4>3,5>4 : navi-k 6>5,5>8 : tsu-tch-k i 8, Oe ( = Welk and, it may be suspected, 2s> 3: Wel-k asa > 4 D> 8 + naviek as 8 > 7 Reciprocity Reciprocity is very strongly developed in the Mohave system. It is manifest in practically every class of terms. Self-reciprocal, that is, reciprocal both conceptually and verbally, are tki-ch-k, with a wide variety of meanings, but all falling into pairs that are exactly complementary; wnyi-k, of which exactly the same can be said; the three other terms for connections by marriage: nya-halye’au-k, amily-k, and inya-huvi-k; the three specific cousin terms; and a’ava-k and ahko’o-k as used between cousins. Conceptual reciprocity without verbal identity occurs in the terms used between parents and children; between grandparents and grand- children; between all uncles or aunts and their nephews and nieces, and between brother and sister terms as used by cross-cousins. The only irregularity is that, in the grandparent class, a’ava-k, son’s child, is reciprocal to both n-apau-k and n-amau-k; and similarly in the uncle class, ivet-k to n-avi-k and n-athi-k. The only terms that are not reciprocal are the three for brothers and sisters, when used in that fundamental and unextended sense; and possibly those for half brothers and sisters. A similar degree of reciprocal expression seems to pervade the kinship system of the Papago of southern Arizona. Except for Yurok and Wintun, all known systems in California are more or less recip- rocal; but none are so extreme in this respect as Mohave. Relation to Clan System The Mohave possess a clan system similar to that of several other Yuman tribes. It is patrilinear, exogamic, and totemic, though its totemism is veiled: the clans themselves have no names, but all the women of one clan bear the same name, which carries a totemic implication or connotation. ''346 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol.12 I am unable to discern in the kinship terminology any definite reflection of the division into exogamic units. The cousin nomen- clature is an example. With unilateral descent, if the children of brothers are of the same clan, the children of sisters must normally be of different clans; yet the actual terminology is exactly parallel. The children of brother and Sister, again, must necessarily belong to different clans ; yet it 1s Ce hee that) ‘cousingybrother-sister names are applied. The frequeney with which the sex of an intermediate relative is denoted by Mohave terms may seem an indication of the unilateral reckoning of descent in the clan system. But this is offset by the instances in which collateral kindred are not merged in lineal, as is often supposed to be the normal practice where exogamic groups prevail. The partrilinear reckoning of the Mohave, on the other hand, may have led to their making certain distinctions among males that are not made for females. Thus there are two words for father, only one for mother; a man uses different words to denote his son and his daughter, a woman only one. The primary meaning of the generic term tki-ch-k seems to be stepfather, whereas the only word for step- mother is wnyt-k, whose fundamental denotation is a female affinity or the affinity of a woman. The terms of the parent-in-law and brother-in-law classes reveal a marked asymmetry in favor of males. There are two words denoting the male affinities of males, and only two to express the three times as numerous female affinities of females and those between males and females. The terms which my informant, who, although a man, was assisted by several women, failed to mention are in every case those used by women or appled to them: stepdaughter; woman’s step-parent; woman’s half-brother or sister; woman’s female cross-cousin; second or remoter cousin, either female or descended wholly or partly from females. Since all the parallel terms for males were usually volun- teered, it appears that the Mohave think and express themselves first in terms of male lineage. There are only two eases of the finer distinction being drawn on the female side. The daughter’s son and her daughter are distin- guished, the son’s children classed together. There is a term for mother’s younger as well as mother’s older sister, but the father’s younger brother is merged in one’s own older brother, and the same for the reciprocals. ''1917] Kroeber: California Kinship Systems 347 GENERAL FEATURES Apart from the overwhelming inclination toward reciprocity, the distinetive features of the Mohave kinship system are the following: Relatives of the most diverse generations are denoted by the same terms. This is not on the plan of many American systems that if I call a relative, such as an uncle, by a certain name, I apply the same name to his son, grandson, and so on ad infinitum, that is, to my cousin, cousin once removed, and the latter’s descendants; or that the word for grandfather is simply made to include the great-grand- father. The principle or principles followed in Mohave remain rather obscure; but the one point emerges with certainty, that the Mohave are normally at pains to use terms of the most clearly discrete signifi- cance as to generation, for their kin of adjacent generations. Thus first cousins are called grandchildren, not uncles; the great-grand- father is denominated younger brother; and so forth. It would seem that, the wider the leap, the more satisfactory the terminology ; pos- sibly because an element of confusion is thereby minimized. In fact, it might almost be said that it is only in a technical and narrow sense of the word that there is ignoring of generations. As regards the distinction of collateral from lineal relatives, the Mohave are unusually precise at several points. Parallel uncles and aunts are not merged with the father and mother, nor nephews and nieces with children. Three-fourths of all cousins are designated by terms other than brother and sister. Sex of the intermediate relative is specified in practically all words into which this factor can enter: grandparents and grandchildren; terms of the uncle and aunt class; cousins; and half brothers and sisters. Some may see in this prevalence an influence of the clan system. To me it seems rather associated with the tendency toward reciprocity. Expression of both the sex of the speaker and the sex of the relative denoted tends to lead to a great multiplicity of terms if consistently carried out in a reciprocating system, especially in the grandparent and uncle terms. The Mohave solve the problem in the usual way: they express one category in the terms applied to the younger rela- tives, the other category in those for the older relatives. Both factors are specified in the self-reciprocal terms of the stepfather, cousin, parent-in-law, and brother-in-law classes, and in those used between a father and his children; whereas the term for older brother-sister, ''348 Unwersity of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 the word unyt-k, and a few of the nephew-niece and grandchild desig- nations—especially if their extended meanings be included—are wholly indeterminate as to sex. The distinction of absolute age within one and the same generation follows an irregular course. It occurs between brothers and sisters; is lacking for half brothers and sisters when these are specified as such ; is made for parallel uncles and aunts and disregarded for cross ones, and the same for their reciprocals; is wholly wanting among first cousins; but always, though indirectly indicated, so far as the evidence goes, for remoter cousins. Affinities by marriage are never merged with blood kin. Iki-ch-k would be an exception if the stepfather relationship were counted as belonging to the former group. From the point of view of development of terminology for the several natural groups of kindred, salient features cf the Mohave system are the consolidation of designations for marriage connections into a very few words, and the development of an elaborate nomen- elature for cousins, including at least three specific terms in a total of seven or eight employed for first cousins. LUISENO The Luisefo are of Shoshonean stock, but live in an entirely different social environment in their southern California home from the distantly allied Tiibatulabal and Kawaiisu of the Sierra Nevada, whose kinship systems have been described by Mr. E. W. Gifford,? and from the still more remote Northern Paiute treated of in the present paper. The Luiseno terms are not used in their absolute forms as here given. In actual speech they occur only with possessive prefixes, such 2? as no-, ‘‘my The ending -maz is a diminutive. The system has been recorded independently and without dis- crepancies of moment by the late P. S. Sparkman and myself. The former’s list of remote and extended applications of terms is some- what fuller. Parent Class Na’, father. Yo, mother. Ka-mai, son. Shwa-mai, daughter. 2 Present series, XII, 219-248, 1917. ''1917] Kroeber: California Kinship Systems 349 Brother Class Pash, older brother. Kes, older sister. Pet, younger brother. Pit, younger sister. Grandparent Class Ka’, father’s parent; also, brother of the father’s father and sister of the father’s mother; also, woman’s father-in-law, and, reciprocally, man’s daughter- in-law; also, woman’s daughter-in-law; also, man’s brother’s son’s wife and woman’s sister’s son’s wife, that is, parallel nephew’s wife.’ Ka’-mai, reciprocal to ka’ so far as this denotes persons of the grandparent generation; that is, son’s child, man’s brother’s son’s child, woman’s sister’s | son’s child. Kwa, mother’s father; mother’s father’s brother. Kwa-mai, reciprocal to kwa; that is, man’s daughter’s child, man’s brother’s daughter’s child. Tu’, mother’s mother; mother’s mother’s sister. Tu’-mai, reciprocal to tu’; that is, woman’s daughter’s child, woman’s sister’s daughter’s child. Piwi or piwai, great-grandfather or great-grandmother, apparently in any lineage. Piwi-mai, reciprocally, any great-grandchild. Sosa, great-great-grandparent or great-great-grandchild. Yuto, a person removed one generation farther than the sosa. Taula, one generation more distant than yuto, that is, great-great-great-great- grandparent or child. The terms for ancestors or descendants from three to six generations removed are evidently convenient devices for expressing the lapse of generations, and little else. They completely ignore the factor of lineage which is denoted in the grandparent terms; are sexless; and, it may be surmised, are applied indis- criminately to lineal and collateral kindred. It would be interesting to know their etymologies. Kek, grandmother’s brother; grandfather’s sister; reciprocally, man’s sister’s grandchild, woman’s brother’s grandchild; also, man’s brother’s or woman’s sister’s child’s spouse. Specific terms for kindred removed by three steps of relationship—other than of the speaker’s own generation or three generations lineally removed from him—are rare the world over. This particular term is so far unparalleled in California. Uncle Class Kmu, kamu (nu-kmu, cham-kamu), father’s older brother. Kmu-mai, kamu-mai, reciprocal, man’s younger brother’s child. Mash, father’s younger brother; also, stepfather. Mai-mai, or me, reciprocal, man’s older brother’s child; also, man’s stepchild. Nosh, mother’s older sister. Nosh-mai or nos-mai, reciprocal, woman’s younger sister’s child. Yos-mai (evidently from yo, mother), mother’s younger sister; stepmother. Kuli-mai, reciprocal, woman’s older sister’s child; woman’s stepchild. Tash, mother’s brother. 3 Sic, in the data available, although this signification overlaps one of those given for kek below, namely, parallel nephew-niece’s spouse. ''350 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 Mela (compare mai-mai, me), reciprocal, man’s sister’s child. Pa-mai, father’s sister. Ali-mai or ala-mai, reciprocal, woman’s brother’s child. Parent-in-Law Class Kwa pa-na, man’s father-in-law; man’s son-in-law. Self-reciprocal. The literal meaning is ‘‘my daughter’s child its father.’’ The term therefore really denotes the son-in-law, and its apparently absurd application to the father-in- law must be due to a conventional extension under the influence of the tendency toward reciprocity. Tu’ pa-na, man’s mother-in-law; woman’s son-in-law. Self-reciprocal. Liter- ally, daughter’s child’s father. The secondary application is again to the older person. An extended meaning is woman’s sister’s son-in-law. A woman calls her father-in-law ka’, paternal grandparent. Possibly this stands for ‘‘my child’s father’s parent.’’ The father-in-law in turn, and the mother-in-law also, apply the same term ka’ to their daughter-in-law. A woman calls her mother-in-law ka’ shungal, ‘‘father’s parent woman,’’ or, ‘‘father-in-law woman.’’ It is not certain that the qualifying shungal is always added. Na-hwa, parent of child-in-law (like Yokuts makshi, Miwok maksi). The term is also said to be applied to children-in-law; and to ‘‘the nephew’s’’ parent-in- law. The latter meaning seems inconsistent with the prevailing Luisefio principles of designating kindred. Brother-in-Law Class Tolma, woman’s brother’s wife or husband’s sister; that is, a self-reciprocal term between sisters-in-law. Exactly equivalent to Mohave inya-huvi-k. The etymology may possibly be from to’ma, wife. Mes pa-na, all other brother-in-law and sister-in-law relationships; that is, woman’s brother-in-law and any immediate affinity of a man in his own generation. There is no independent word mes in modern Luisefio. Me or mai-mai, reciprocal to mash, denoting a man’s older brother’s child, cannot be considered the source, for me pana, ‘‘my older brother’s child’s father,’’ would only be a meaninglessly roundabout way of saying ‘‘older brother.’’ The derivation must therefore be from mela, man’s sister’s child. Mela pana, man’s sister’s child’s father, would therefore denote a man’s sister’s husband. Evidently the phrase was then used reciprocally for wife’s brother; and finally extended to include the other relationships which it denotes. Husband and Wife Kung, husband. Pewo, husband, literally, ‘‘partner’’ or ‘‘mate.’’ Shnga-ki, wife, from shunga-l, woman. To’ma, wife. Aki, co-wife. At least in address, however, ‘‘older sister’’ or ‘‘ younger sister’’ is usually substituted when the personal relation is amicable. Cousins Parallel cousins are brothers and sisters. Whether they are older or younger depends upon the respective ages of their parents, not of themselves. Ukshum or yuksum, any cross-cousin. 4Perhaps the same stem me plus noun ending -la, -1; and mes for mesh in composition (compare nosh and nos-mai), mesh being me plus another frequent noun-ending -sh or -cha. ''1917] Kroeber: California Kinship Systems 351 GENERAL FEATURES The Luisefio system closely parallels that of the Mohave. There is the same dominant inclination toward exact reciprocity, made even more striking by a greater prevalence of verbally reciprocal terms. The tendeney affects practically all the terms of the grandparent, unele, parent-in-law, and brother-in-law classes in both languages; Mohave adds parents, and Luisefio cousins. Another fundamental common feature is the limitation of terms to designate connections by marriage. The Mohave plan is the use of a very few self-reciprocal words of narrow range plus one term that covers all other affinities. The Luiseho appear to employ no radical words at all for affinities (the special term for woman’s sister-in-law is very likely a derivation wife’’), except the somewhat generic nahwa, but help them- selves out with cireumlocutory phrases which are as purely descriptive as the corresponding English ones; or by boldly extending the meaning of terms for blood kindred. The degree to which the various factors entering into kinship are given expression by the two tribes is also very nearly the same. And, finally, there are special resemblances, as In the separation of parallel uncles and aunts into those older and younger than the parent, whereas cross-uncles and aunts are not so distinguished. The one important divergence is in the terminology for cousins, in which the two systems follow radically different methods. Among special peculiarities of Luisefio is the employment of literally self-contradictory phrases of transparent meaning for many connections by marriage, as the obvious result of the reciprocal in- fluence. This trait has some analogues in Northern Paiute, though there it takes the form of a wrong implication of sex and the cause appears to be mere simplifying assimilation. In both instances, how- ever, it is purely descriptive terms that are logically misused. This point is of considerable theoretical interest. If affinity terms which on their face denote one thing, and that alone, are used in other senses from merely psychological causes, such as tendencies toward reciprocal or simplified expression, the presumption is that terms for blood kindred are also sometimes radically altered from their original meaning under the stimulus of similar causes without any accom- panying change in form of marriage, kind of descent, or social insti- tutions. The only difference is that transparent descriptive terms allow us to prove without doubt that the extension or alteration of ce from ''352 Unwersity of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 meaning has taken place in a particular case, whereas when we are confronted with unanalyzable stem-words the same sort of evidence ean rarely be brought. But a very high probability must remain that a certain proportion of even the most elementary and important terms of relationship the world over have derived their present significance from causes not connected with form of marriage or descent. Other unusual traits of the Luisefio system are the occurrence of terms for lineal relatives three to six generations distant ; for the whole class of cross-cousins as a unit; for a child-in-law’s parent; and for collateral cross-relatives of the grandparent generation. All of these evince a distinct feeling for specific relationships removed by three steps of kinship, whereas most other Indians cover such remote re- lationships by applications of terms for nearer kindred. Again we face a feature of kinship designation that is the reflection of an abstract idea. In making the seniority of brother-sister cousins depend on the parents’ ages the Luiseno follow a practice that is adhered to by a number of American tribes but which in the present state of knowledge is unique in California. YOKUTS The following system is that of the Yaudanchi tribe, belonging to the Tule-Kaweah group of the Foothill division of the Yokuts.’ Terms in parentheses are from the Yauelmani, who, though fairly near neighbors of the Yaudanchi and in frequent association with them, speak a dialect of the Valley division. Both tribes are from the southern range of Yokuts territory and in contact with Shoshonean tribes, such as the Tiibatulabal and Kawaiisu. Yokuts systems have been collected by Mr. Gifford from the Tachi, at about the center of the area of the stock, and the Gashowu and Chukchansi in the north ; but these are as yet unpublished. Parent Class Natet, father; vocative: opoyo. (Yauelmani, in reference, nopop.) Nazhozh, mother; vocative: ishaya. (Yauelmani, in reference, no’om.) The initial syllable in n- in these words appears to be a prefix, originally meaning ‘‘my,’’ which has become crystallized; while the stem of natet, nopop, and nazhozh seems to have been reduplicated and then reduced. Buchong, son; man’s brother’s son. (Butson.) 5 Present series, 11, 240, 1907. ''1917 | Kroeber: California Kinship Systems 308 Ahid, daughter; but also child. A man’s brother’s daughter, and a woman’s sister’s child of either sex, are called ahi, which is of course from the same stem. That there is no confusion in my notes appears from the objective cases of the two words: ahda and ahia. Brother Class Nibech, older brother. (Nibech.) Ne’esh, younger brother. Na’at, older sister. (Na’at.) No’ot, younger sister. (No’ot.) An old possessive prefix appears to have become incorporated in these words also. Hukozh, brother or sister of opposite sex from speaker, irrespective of age. Self-reciprocal. Grandfather Class Enash, any grandfather; any grandchild of aman. (Hnes.) T’uta, mother’s mother; woman’s daughter’s child. (Aamits, mother’s mother; ts’utsa, woman’s daughter’s child.) Bap’, possibly pap, father’s mother; woman’s son’s child. (Bapa.) Hitwaiu (t palatal), great-grandfather; man’s great grandchild. This word also means ‘‘ghost’’; but the reciprocal usage indicates that, whatever its original meaning, it is also employed as a definite term of relationship. Mokoiot, great-grandmother; woman’s great-grandchild. This term must be derived from mokoi, whose present meaning is mother’s sister. Uncle Class Komoyish, father’s brother. (Komoyis.) Mokoi, mother’s sister. (Mokoi.) Agash or akash, mother’s brother. (Akash.) Guiha, father’s sister. (Nusus.) Chayah, man’s sister’s child: reciprocal of agash. (Tsayah.) Napash, woman’s brother’s child; reciprocal of guiha. (Napas.) Ali, woman’s sister’s child: reciprocal of mokoi; also, a man’s brother’s daughter. Except that a man calls his brother’s son buchong, that is, son, al therefore denotes all parallel nephews and nieces, and is reciprocal in meaning to komoyish and mokoi together. Its connection with alid, daughter, has already been mentioned. (The Yauelmani equivalent is not entirely clear. It may be butson, son or child in general.) Father-in-Law Class Nahamish, father-in-law. (Nahamis.) Ontip, mother-in-law. (Ontip.) Napatum, son-in-law; also, sister’s husband. (Napatim.) Onmid, daughter-in-law. (Onmil.) Makshi, parent of child-in-law. Self-reciprocal. Brother-in-Law Class Nip’ei, wife’s brother. (Nipi.) Onpoi, husband’s brother, wife’s sister. (Onpoi.) ''354 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 Itwap; brother’s wife; also, husband’s sister. (Yauelmani, itwap, with the same meaning, except that a woman calls her brother’s wife kitwinits.) For sister’s husband, see napatum, above. Informants mentioned that one married an onpoi on the death of one’s spouse. The two meanings of the term are not reciprocal, however. Itwap and napatum are both reciprocal to onpoi, and both denote other relationships as well. Husband and Wife Yiwin, wife, and ywwenich, husband, are both from the stem yiw, appearing with the formative suffix -in as the verb ‘‘to marry’’; as, yewin-ji, ‘‘he married.’’ Yuwenich means ‘‘the marrier.’’ Neither term seems to be used in address. The Yauelmani are said to refer to the wife as moki: compare Yaudanchi mokoi, mother’s sister. Death of Connecting Relative The following terms for affinities by marriage are altered upon the death of the connecting relative: ontip becomes unitipi ; napatum becomes napitimi ; onmid becomes onimidi ; onpot becomes unipiyi. The alteration is by a process that has several analogues in Yokuts grammar. A suffix -i is added which shifts the accent a syllable farther from the head of the word and changes the vowels of all but the initial syllable. The idea of severance of relationship is expressed in several neighboring Shoshonean lan- guages; but the means here described is peculiar to the genius of Yokuts.7 Reciprocity All five terms of the grandfather class are exactly self-reciprocal. In the uncle class there is no trace of verbal reciprocity. The cross uncle and aunt terms, however, each have a conceptual reciprocal. The reciprocals for parallel uncle and aunt are the words for children, or terms derived from them. In the parent-in-law and brother-in-law classes there are no reciprocals, except for maksht, parent of a child- in-law. A woman calls her husband’s sister itwap and is so called by her ; but the word is also used by a man for his brother’s wife. More- over, in Yauelmani, husband’s sister remains itwap, but the reciprocal is kitwinits, if the recorded data are not confused. It is therefore necessary to conclude that the Yokuts entertain little more feeling than we for reciprocity in the ae class which is so favorable for the expression of this idea. That the word for great- ae ine. means ‘‘ghost,’’ that is, ‘dead person,’’ ensures that it was first applied to the aged relative 6 Present series, x1, 241, 1917. 7 Present series, 1, 178, 201, 1907. ''1917] Kroeber: California Kinship Systems 355 and that its reciprocal meaning of great-grandchild is secondary. This example renders it probable that the other reciprocal terms in this class are also children’s terms which their grandparents re- bestowed on the little ones. The generic southern Yokuts term for mother’s mother and a woman’s daughter’s child is t’uta.* In Yauel- mani, however, the mother’s mother is called kamits. But as the presumably secondary reciprocal remains ts’utsa, it must be concluded that the Yauelmani once used this term also with the meaning of mother’s mother which it possesses among the other Yckuts, and that kamits was subsequently introduced. A change of social institutions cannot be invoked as explanation, because no custom of marriage, descent, or kin function can possibly be involved. Any condition of Yokuts society that permitted the Yaudanchi ¢’uta-t’uta terminology would be equally well served by the Yauelmani kamits-ts’utsa termin- ology. The situation is simply that one tribe adheres to its original usage of a single self-reciprocal word, while the other has come to employ two terms that are exactly complementary. There is nothing to prevent this process of enlargement of the series of terms, or the contrary one of reduction, from having gone on indefinitely while the accompanying society remained identical. It is entirely conceivable, for instance, that the Yauelmani might in time have come to use not only six but ten words in the grandparent class in place of the original five; or that, on the other hand, they might have added verbal to conceptual reciprocity in the words of the uncle group, and thereby diminished their number from seven to four. The final outcome of such a process would be a Yauelmani system of nomenclature thor- oughly different at many points from its original form and from that of allied peoples, without any change of social system and merely through a change of psychological attitude as expressed in speech. Much the same can be inferred from ahid and ahi, two terms scarcely differentiated in sound and the first of wavering, the second of asymmetric and therefore probably also fluctuating meaning. Hither the Yaudanchi once called their parallel nieces ‘‘daughters’’ outright, and later began to differentiate between these two kinds of relatives by altering the term when applied to one of the two; or they once possessed a special term for parallel niece (or for a woman’s parallel nephew-niece) and later replaced this by the word for daughter (or child), the old sense of distinctness of the niece from the daughter however remaining sufficiently strong to prevent a 8 Compare Paleuyami djudja, present series, 1, 267, 268, 1907. ''356 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 wholly unmodified employment of the word ‘‘daughter’’ for the relationship of niece. In the one event we are confronted by an incipient dissimilation, in the other by an incomplete assimilation of terms. If now we assume that the cause of this change was an alteration in the social organization of the Yaudanchi, such as a drift to or from the levirate, for instance, it follows either that this social alteration was also halting and incomplete, which is lkely to be difficult to corroborate by independent evidence in the case of a prim- itive tribe, and therefore to remain a purely speculative opinion; or, if the change in social conditions was fulfilled, the change in nomen- elature lagged behind and now reflects the social evolution only brokenly. RELATIONS OF MIWOK AND YOKUTS The Central Miwok system has been presented and analyzed in full by Mr. E. W. Gifford.® Its special peculiarities appear to be three. First, there are five terms for three-step affinities by marriage— pinuksa, kumatsa, moe, haiyeme, maksi—which denote such persons as the wife’s mother’s brother, a woman’s sister’s son’s wife, and the husband’s brother’s wife. The word maksi has the same significance as Yokuts makshi, and is interesting as a case of outright transfer of a kinship term from one language to another. As it is one of a class in Miwok, but so far as known stands alone in Yokuts, the latter people are likely to have been the borrowers. It is, however, necessary to bear in consideration that in as much as I did not ordinarily attempt to secure terms of this type of rather remote and indirect relationship, there is a possibility that they may actually occur in several of the systems here presented from which they now appear to be lacking. Second, the grandparent class is much reduced in Miwok. There are only the three terms: grandfather, grandmother, grandchild. The erandmother’s brother is a erandfather, and so on. Third, the system is rather asymmetrical. The father’s brother is a father, but there are two terms for the mother’s sisters. There is one reciprocal to father’s sister, two to mother’s brother. There is one word denoting parents-in-law, two for children-in-law. Olo is the brother’s wife, irrespective of sex, but there are two reciprocals for husband’s brother and husband’s sister. 9‘*Miwok Moieties,’’ present series, XII, 139-194, 1916. ''1917] Kroeber: California Kinship Systems 357 The differences from Yokuts are not serious. The Yokuts self- reeiprocal word for brother-sister of opposite sex is lacking. The terms of the grandparent cl« : differ in not being reciprocal at all in Miwok, whereas in Yokuts th: are self-reciprocal. The Yokuts great- vrandparent terms are not © presented. Yokuts generally has con- ceptually reciprocal terms fe. parallel as well ‘as for cross relatives of the uncle class; Miwok me: ges these parallel relatives in the parent class, except for the mother’s sisters. Yokuts distinguishes and Miwok combines the father-in-law and mother-in-law. Yokuts possesses four terms and Miwok five in the brother-in-law class, and the allotment to these of the eight logically possible relationships is mostly different, Miwok proceeding on the principle that such terms are conceptually reciprocal without being self-reciprocal, and that the sex of the spouse is always denoted while that of the brother-sister is left indeterminate, whereas the Yokuts classification is more random. The cousin termin- ology, on which Mr. Gifford has full and interesting data, can unfor- tunately not be compared on account of lack of Yokuts data. Reciprocity is nearly equally developed in the two systems, the Yokuts, however, favoring it rather for blood kin and the Miwok for the less numerously recognized connections by marriage. Both systems evince much less reciprocity than either Luisefo or Mchave. The Miwok men marry their mother’s brother’s daughters, but | Mr. Gifford concludes very convincingly that the original form of marriage is that of a man to his wife’s brother’s daughter, because ‘. twelve Miwok kinship terms are in accord with this type of marriage and none with cross-cousin marriage. Unfortunately it is not known whether the southern Yokuts marry either of these relatives; nor can anything be predicted in the matter because the full significations for most of the Yokuts terms corresponding to the twelve in question have not been obtained. Another matter that is of logical bearing on the Miwok and Yokuts systems is an exogamic, patrilinear moiety organization. The northern / and central Yokuts possess this organization in a form much like that of the Central Miwok. For the southern Yokuts, from whom the kinship terms here presented were collected, its existence seems im- probable. It ‘is very doubtful, however, whether this organization has seriously influenced kinship terminology. Of twenty-nine Miwok terms used by a man, twelve refer to his own moiety, nine to the opposite, and eight do not indicate moiety; for a woman, the corre- sponding figures are fourteen, seven, and nine. ''358 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 For the sake of comparison, I abstract from Mr. Gifford’s paper the full set of designations for first cousins, arranged in the same order as in my list for the Mohave, who are the only tribe here dealt with for whom the corresponding data are available.’° It will be seen that the two classifications are as unlike as they well could be, and are clearly determined by very different principles. Children of Brothers male, tachi, chale, older and younger brother; female, tete, Kole, older and younger sister. male, tachi, chale ; female, tete, kole. Male ealls Female calls Children of Sisters male, tachi, chale ; female, tete, kole. {male, tachi, chale ; (female, tete, kole. Male ealls Female calls Children of Brother Call Children of Sister male, tipsa, man’s sister’s son; female, lupuba, man’s sister’s daughter. male, angsi, son; Femal Nl : : ; oe a + ema, tune, daughter. Male ealls Children of Sister Call Children of Brother {male, kaka, mother’s brother; female, anisii, mother’s younger sister, stepmother. Female calls ine vane e female, anisi Male calls NORTHERN PAIUTE This system was secured from Gilbert Natches, a Northern Paiute, or, by Shoshone designation, Paviotso, of Pyramid Lake Reservation, Nevada. The terms are presented in their stem forms, although they are rarely if ever used without a possessive prefix or in composition. After certain of these elements, such as i-, ‘‘my,’’ initial k, t, p, change to almost fricative g, d, b. The accent is invariably on the second syllable; except in hai’i, where it is borne by the diphthong, and in dtsi. The vowels of syllables following the accent are unvoiced or whispered. The character e does not carry the usual value of this 10 Except the Luisefio, whose terminology is according to a thoroughly dis- similar but very simple principle, and the Northern Paiute, who use only brother- sister terms. ''1917] Kroeber: California Kinship Systems 359 letter, but represents a mixed vowel occurring in all Shoshonean languages and often written i. Parent Class Na, father. Pia, mother. Tua, son. Pade, daughter. Brother Class Pabi’i, older brother. Wanga’a, younger brother. Hama’a, older sister. Peni’i, younger sister. All first cousins are called brothers and sisters, whether cross or parallel. Whether they are called older or younger depends on their actual age, not on the ages of the respective parents. Grandparent Class Kenu’u, father’s father; and, reciprocally, a man’s son’s child. Togo’o, mother’s father; and, reciprocally, a man’s daughter’s child. Mu’a, mother’s mother; and, reciprocally, a woman’s daughter’s child. Hutsi’i, father’s mother; and, reciprocally, a woman’s son’s ehild. Hebi’i was given as father’s father’s mother, and reciprocally as a woman’s son’s son’s child. It probably has a wider meaning. It enters into composition with other terms to denote certain connections by marriage. In these com- pounds it appears to designate relationship less than three generations remote. Uncle Class Hai’i, father’s brother. Pidu’u, mother’s sister; also mother’s co-wife, even if not related in blood. Atsi, mother’s brother. : Pahwa, father’s sister. All these are used alike for the older and the younger brother or sister of the parent. Each has an exact reciprocal, which is, however, entirely different in sound. Huza, man’s brother’s child, reciprocal of hai’i. Mido’o, woman’s sister’s child, reciprocal of pidu’u; also, child of a co-wife, even if unrelated in blood. Nanakwe, man’s sister’s child, reciprocal of Gtsi. Mido’o, woman’s brother’s child, reciprocal of pahwa. I suspect that mido’o, woman’s sister’s child, and mido’o, woman’s brother’s child, are the same, especially since I recorded both as accented on the second syllable, which is according to rule if the first vowel is short, whereas a long initial syllable carries the accent. It is not unlikely that mido’o has been extended from woman’s sister’s child to denote also her brother’s child, re- placing a former adatsi, which survives in composition in the name which a woman applies to her brother’s wife. ''360 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 Parent-in-Law Class Yahi, father-in-law; mother-in-law. Togo-nna, son-in-law. This word means literally ‘‘father of the child of the daughter of a man,’’ and logically is therefore usable only by males; but it is employed by women also, who have no other designation for a son-in-law. Kenu-pia, daughter-in-law. Again a man’s term used by women also: ‘‘ mother of the child of the son of a man.’’ The word is a true compound, kenu’-pia, not kenw’’u pia’. Hebi-yani, literally ‘‘woman’s son’s son’s child’s father-in-law,’’ or ‘‘ father’s father’s mother’s father-in-law,’’ was recorded with the meanings of father- in-law’s father, father-in-law’s mother, and father-in-law’s paternal grand- mother. In the last instance the compound denotes one’s wife’s great-grand- mother, whereas hebi itself denotes one’s own great-grandmother. I infer that hebi-yahi is applicable to a considerable range of affinities by marriage, its first element denoting that the person denoted is two or three generations older, and the second element having about the force of our ‘‘in-law’’; much as we might describe an old lady as our ‘‘ great-grandmother-in-law.’’ Hebi’i togo-nna—an epithet of two words, not a compound—was given as the reciprocal of hebi-yahi, specifically used by a woman for her son’s son’s son-in-law—her great-grandson-in-law. Brother-in-Law Class Adatoi, wife’s brother; man’s sister’s husband. Self-reciproéal. Also used between men as a friendly term of address when no relationship exists. Adatsi-pia, husband’s sister; woman’s brother’s wife. Self-reciprocal. The word means ‘‘mother of the adatsi.’’ If the term was first used for the brother’s wife, adatsi must be an old name for a woman’s brother’s child. This inter- pretation is supported by the fact that the actually employed designation for a woman’s brother’s child is probably the same, and certainly nearly the same, as for a woman’s sister’s child—a uniting of relationships not in accord with the plan of the remainder of the Northern Paiute system. If, however, adatsi-pia was first used for the husband’s sister, then adatsi must have meant husband’s sister’s child. In support of this interpretation is the similarity of adatsi— probably composed of a stem ada and the diminutive suffix -tsi—to adatoi. This word adatoi denotes a man’s brother-in-law; but its former meaning may have been wider; since my informant stated that sisters-in-law sometimes called each other adatoi, jokingly he thought. If adatoi ever meant brother-in-law or sister- in-law in general, its connection with adatsi could hardly be doubted: adatoi being the brother-in-law, adatsi would be the ‘‘little brother-in-law,’’ that is, the brother-in-law’s son, or a junior relative of the husband, such as his sister’s son; and the adatsi-pia, his mother, would in the latter case be the husband’s sister. : It is difficult to decide between these two explanations. Yet, whichever is right, or if it be a third, the term adatsi-pia is descriptive and could originally not have applied to both the persons to whom it is now applied; for there is no group of relatives to whom two sisters-in-law can both be mothers. The term therefore once belonged to one of these relationships and has been extended to include the other, as it is now self-reciprocal, presumably through the operation of the inclination toward reciprocity. If this tendency is strong enough to cause a change of meaning of exactly descriptive terms until they become self- contradictory, its potential influence must be great, and should suffice to bring about even more considerable alterations of ordinary non-descriptive terms, ''1917] Kroeber: California Kinship Systems 361 whose scope is readily extensible by ere or metaphor without the production of a transparent logical clash. Nenai’i, husband’s brother; woman’s sister’s husband. Huza-na-pia, wife’s sister; man’s brother’s wife. The latter must be the original meaning, the former its extension—again etymologically inexact, unless jouble marriage of brother and sister to sister and brother had been the rule. Huza denoting a man’s brother’s child, the huza-na-pia is of course his brother’s wife. Nenai’i and huza-na-pia are mutually reciprocal, while the two other terms of this class, adatoi and adatsi-pia, are each self-reciprocal. A different grouping of the four meanings expressed by nenai’i and huza-na-pia would have made these also self-reciprocal. As it is undeniable that extensions or alterations of meaning have taken place in this class of terms, it is reasonable to consider why these changes did not operate in the direction of consistency, that aS, Of uniform self-reciprocity. The reason seems to be that in such case nenai’i and huza-na-pia would each have denoted both males and females. Under the existing system of Northern Paiute, however, each of its four terms of this class refers only to men or only to women, to wit; man’s brother-in-law, woman’s sister-in-law, woman’s brother-in-law, man’s sister-in-law. Reciprocity must from its very nature interfere with the consistency with which certain conceptual factors entering into relationship (such as generation, sex of the speaker, and sex of the relative) are expressed;—and the reverse is equally true. In the unele and grandparent classes of Northern Paiute terms, where the reciprocity is complete—although only logical in one case and verbal as well in the other— the consistency of employment of the three conceptual factors or categories is thoroughly violated. In the brother-in-law class, on the other hand, complete uniformity of reciprocal expression is not attained, but every term is exact in its denotation of sex of the person referred to as well as the sex of the speaker. Husband and Wife Kuma, husband. Nodekwa, wife. The terms of address were not recorded. Woho, co-wife. A woman says i-woho’, ‘‘my co-wife,’’ in reference, but addresses her as 7-bea’a, ‘‘my friend,’’ if they are not sisters. As an address, 7-woho is an insult. Na-wo’ho is used when a man’s two wives are meant: 1a is a reciprocal prefix. MARRIAGE The Northern Paiute deny cross-cousin marriage, though my informant attributed it to the Shoshone on their east, who, he said, will marry their pahwa’s daughter. This may, however, be only the expression of an opinion of the loose morality of the latter pepole, since Gilbert also mentioned that the Shoshone married their parallel , cousins, which is scarcely possible. The brother-sister terminology for cross-cousins among the Paiute confirms their denial of the practice by themselves. Even first cousins once removed and second cousins cannot marry among Gilbert’s people. This is certain for parallel cousins; but ''362 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol, 12 unfortunately my records do not allow me to assert the same rule positively for second cross-cousins, although I believe it applies. First half cousins, on the other hand, can and do marry. I secured an instance of the children of two half brothers marrying. Such half cousins were common among the Northern Paiute as the result of polygamous marriages by men. There seems to have been even some encouragement of half cousin marriage, as favoring a peaceable and permanent union; although if, as often happened, the half brothers lived in remote localities, a marriage of their children was likely to be terminated by the return of one of them to the old home when ties of blood and association called. Geography was otherwise a factor of importance in these matters, on account of the varying degree of acquaintance which it imposed. My informant’s father and the latter’s half brother, who lived apart, arranged a marriage between a son of the former and the daughter of the latter. The girl was willing, but the young man, having pre- viously visited at her home, had got to calling her ‘‘sister,’’ and refused to marry her on that ground. He had known her too long, he said. | A man might marry a woman and her daughter—his stepdaughter, of course. This is a common practice of most of the California Indians. WASHO" The stems of the Washo terms of relationship are used with pos- sessive prefixes, such as di-, my, wm-, your, da-, his. A few words replace di- by di-m-, la-, or l-, wm- by mi-m- or m-. — Parent Class Koi, father. La, mother. Malolo, parents. Ngam, son. Ngamu, daughter. Ngaming, child. Brother Class At’u, older brother. Isa, older sister. Beyu, younger brother. Wits’uk, younger sister. Cousins are older or younger brothers and sisters according to their own ages. not those of their parents. as 11 Present series, Iv, 309, 1907. ''Kroeber: California Kinship Systems 363 Grandparent Class Baba, father’s father, man’s son’s child. Flel, mother’s father. Fleli, man’s daughter’s child. ima, father’s mother, woman’s son’s child. Gu, mother’s mother. Guyi, woman’s daughter’s child. Uncle Class Eushi, father’s brother; reciprocal, masha. Da, mother’s brother; reciprocal, magu. Ya, father’s sister; reciprocal, shemuk. Sha’sha, mother’s sister. Masha, man’s brother’s child; reciprocal, eushi. Magu, man’s sister’s child; reciprocal, da. Shemuk, woman’s brother’s child; reciprocal, ya. The term for woman’s sister’s child was not obtained with certainty. It may be shemuk. See below. Parent-in-Law Class Ayuk, parent-in-law. Bu-angali (‘‘lives with’’), son-in-law. Eyesh, daughter-in-law. Brother-in-Law Class Uladut, man’s sister’s husband, wife’s brother. Self-reciprocal. Di-ngaming de’-eushi (‘‘my child’s father’s brother’’), husband’s brother. Di-magu da-koi (‘‘my sister’s child’s father’’), woman’s sister’s husband. This phrase does not necessarily prove that magu is the term which a woman applies to her sister’s child: in Northern Paiute there are analogous cases of a woman using a man’s term in descriptive phrases of this type. Di-mash da-la (‘‘my brother’s child’s mother’’), man’s brother’s wife. This phrase was also obtained for wife’s sister, but the latter meaning is in need of corroboration. Yangil, woman’s brother’s wife, husband’s sister. Self-reciprocal. Husband and Wife Bu-meli, husband (meli, ‘‘to make a fire’’). (M)laya, wife. The vocative terms are not known. Reciprocity Reciprocity is consistently verbal and conceptual in the grandfather class, and conceptual only in the uncle class; it is not expressed in terms for relatives by marriage except in one brother-in-law and one sister-in-law term. RELATIONS TO NORTHERN PAIUTE The Washo and the Northern Paiute are the only tribes of those here considered who live east of the Sierra Nevada. Both extend ''364 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Etln. [Vol. 12 from Nevada into eastern California. Their customs are little known, but appear to be similar, though the languages are utterly distinct. Their kinship systems are practically identical. Parent class: father, mother, son, daughter. Washo adds a derivative for child and a term for parents. : Brother class: older and younger brother and sister. Grandparent class: paternal and maternal grandfather and grandmother, each used reciprocally in the same form, except that two Washo grandchild terms add a suffix. Paiute has also a term for great-grandmother. Uncle class: four terms for parallel and cross uncle and aunt, and four exact conceptual reciprocals, which, however, bear no likeness in sound. In both languages there is some doubt whether there is a distinct term for woman’s sister’s child. Cousins: all are denominated brothers or sisters, seniority depending on their actual age. Parent-in-law class: parent-in-law, son-in-law (a descriptive term), daughter- in-law (descriptive in Paiute only). Brother-in-law class: man’s brother-in-law, self-reciprocal; woman’s sister- in-law, self-reciprocal (descriptive in Paiute only); man’s brother’s wife or wife’s sister (descriptive); husband’s brother or woman’s sister’s husband, denoted by a single non-descriptive word in Paiute and by two separate de- scriptive terms in Washo. The two systems could not well be more similar. Two alternative interpretations are open. Either we must assume that Washo and Northern Paiute institutions are identical and that institutions are perfectly reflected in kinship terminology; or we must admit that these two systems have attained their practical identity under the partial or dominating influence of similar ways of thinking, that is, that mental or linguistic causes have been operative. RELATIONS TO OTHER SYSTEMS The Washo are in contact with the Miwok; and the Washo-Paiute system is not very different from the Miwok-Yokuts one—certainly much more similar to it than to either the Wintun or the Mohave- Luisefio type of terminology. The greatest difference is in the cousin nomenclature, which could not well be more diverse. The Miwok terms of the grandparent class are also dissimilar: non-reciprocal grandfather, grandmother, and grandchild versus a scheme of four self-reciprocal terms each expressing the sex of the intermediate rela- tive.2 Miwok, however, seems exceptional in this point. The southern "39 T¢ is a striking circumstance that the Miwok disregard this consideration, although its observance would bring their nomenclature into closer consonance with their social scheme of descent, whereas the Washo and Northern Paiute, who are not known to possess moieties, discriminate according to the factor. If terminology mirrors sociology, the Miwok should distinguish paternal grand- parent and maternal grandparent instead of grandfather and grandmother. ''1917] Kroeber: California Kinship Systems 365 yokuts, although geographically more distant than the Miwok, use terms of the exact Washo-Paiute type.** The Miwok must therefore pe regarded as occupying a distinctly anomalous position in their | grandparent-grandchild terminology. This is borne out by the fact that the Wintun, Pomo, and Yuki, who tend to merge grandchildren in children or nephew-nieces, and therefore, like the Miwok, express - no reciprocity in this class, nevertheless generally distinguish paternal from maternal grandparents. To the south, the Mohave and Luisefio express both lineage and at least conceptual reciprocity ; and the same seems to have been the practice of the Salinans and Chumash, so far as the fragmentary evidence allows judgment. The divergence of - the Miwok system from that of the Washo and Northern Paiute at ' this point is therefore not characteristic of type, but due to a Miwok _ peculiarity. At most other points Washo and Miwok correspond fairly, or about as well as Miwok and southern Yokuts. The parent and brother — elasses are substantially identical. The uncle class differs in that the - Miwok merge parallel relatives in parents, except for the mother’s sisters, among whom they distinguish seniority. This seems another Miwok specialization, since Yokuts is more similar to Washo. The | parent-in-law class is similar in that the father-in-law and mother-in- law class are merged and that there is no reciprocity. The brother- in-law relatives are differently classified; but the force of this diverg- ence is weakened by the marked difference of Yokuts from both. The | Miwok terms for three-step connections by marriage, finally, are unrep- resented in both Washo and Northern Paiute; but this class seems again to present a Miwok individuality, being lacking, or practically _ so, in all other Californian systems, as far as we know. Just so, the _ descriptive terms of Washo and Northern Paiute are an evident peculiarity, since they are found only among the Luisenho and not among any nearer tribes in California. On the whole, therefore, while Washo and Northern Paiute form an exceedingly intimate group, they also have tolerable affiliations to south central California. They are certainly at least as near and _ probably nearer to Miwok-Yokuts than these are to Luisefio-Mohave. On the other hand, Miwok evinces a number of specializations from which southern Yokuts is free; the latter on the whole is therefore more similar than Miwok to the Nevadan systems. 13 Except that there is only term for grandfather, though this remains self- _ reciprocal. ''366 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [ Vol. 12 TUBATULABAL AND KAWAIISU Mr. Gifford has described’* the systems of these two Shoshonean tribes of the southern Sierra Nevada, neighbors of the southern Yokuts, They are similar to each other and in general type very close to Northern Paiute. The chief differences from the latter are the following : Kawaiisu has terms for great-grandfather, son, mother, and daughter— diminutives from the stems for older and younger brother and sister. Tiiba- tulabal has a word for great-grandparent apparently borrowed from the Kawaiisu one for great-grandfather, and employs a diminutive thereof as a reciprocal. Kawaiisu applies its terms for cross uncle and aunt only to the younger brother or sister of the parent. The father’s older brother is classed with the father, the mother’s older sister with the mother. The Tibatulabal scheme is like the Northern Paiute one. Both languages, like adjacent Yokuts, alter the terms for connections by marriage after the death of the intermediate relative. The means employed are suffixes. In addition, Tibatulabal possesses a special term hoki, used be- tween grandparents and grandchildren after the death of the father or mother. Both languages possess special terms applied only to the blood father and the blood mother before the loss of any child. Tiibatulabal expresses ‘‘son’’ and ‘‘daughter’’ by a single word and ‘‘ younger brother’’ and ‘‘younger sister’’ by one. The Kawaiisu terms of the brother-in-law class tally exactly with those of Northern Paiute. The Tiibatulabal ones are doubtful. No one of Mr. Gifford’s half dozen informants yielded them alike. Not one of the lists reduces to the Kawaiisu scheme even when the number of terms is reduced from five to four by counting two as a single one. Mr. Gifford suggests Yokuts influence on the Tiibatulabal system on this point, and I have no doubt he is right. But I have been equally unable to make the arrangement of any of his informants fit the Yaudanchi or Yauelmani plan. There are only two conclusions that suggest themselves. Either the Tiibatulabal system has broken down at this point in the last sixty years under American and Mexican contact, or original Shoshonean and subsequent Yokuts influences have mingled and reduced the Tiibatulabal scheme to a transitional and inconsistent stage. Possibly the latter condition existed first and caused an unusual lack of resistance under the effect of our civilization. SHOSHONEAN SYSTEMS These systems collected by Mr. Gifford, with two others recorded by Dr. Sapir and included in full in the same study, and Luisefo and Northern Paiute, make six that are available from the Shoshonean family and allow a broader comparison than has been possible here- 4 Present series, XII, 219-248, 1917. ''é 1917] Kroeber: California Kinship Systems 367 a tofore. I give first the words used to express several of the more elementary relationships. SHOSHONEAN STEMS OF SIMILAR MEANING Northern Uintah Kaibab Paiute Kawaiisu Ute Paiute Tibatulabal Luiseno Father na kugu, muwu’ moa moa kumu,ana* na’ Mother pia mawii, piyu’ pie piya umii,abu* yo Older sister hama’a pachi paichi patsi- | kuchi kes Father’s father kenu’u kuno konu aka ka” Mother’s mother mu’a kagu kagu kahu utsu tu’ Mother’s father togo’o togo togu toho* agi-st kwa Mother’s brother a-tsi shinu shina-nchi? kali tash Father’s sister pahwa paha pa paa pauwa pa-mai — Parent-in-law yahi yehe yai-chi 3 wasu-mbis (descriptive)® Son-in-law (deserip- mono muna-chi mona-tsi wiini (deseriptive) tive) 1 Blood parent before loss of any child. 2 Younger brother of the mother. 3 Any grandfather. * Fathers’ parent. 5 A woman says ka’, father’s parent. It is clear that the stems that are used to denote the same relation- ship are very variable. The Kawaiisu, Uintah Ute, and Kaibab Paiute idioms are all of the Ute-Chemehuevi division and very close to one another. They may be said to differ only dialecticaily. Northern Paiute belongs to the same Plateau branch of the family, but deserves to be reckoned as a distinct language. Nearly half of its stems for kindred are different. Tiibatulabal and Luisefio are linguistically somewhat remote from the others, but certainly no more than Greek is from Latin or German from Slavic; yet the majority of their stems are new. ; Analogous results appear when the procedure is reversed and the meanings of identical stems are compared. Fua, tuwu, towa, tuwa means son in all four of the Plateau dialects; twmu is son or daughter in Tibatulabal. Nama’i, nami is younger sister in Kawaiisu, Ute, and Kaibab Paiute; nalawi is younger brother or sister in Tiibatulabal. Shinu is mother’s brother in Kawaiisu, shina-nchi mother’s younger brother in Ute, shina- male cousin in Kaibab. Mawu is mother’s older sister in Ute, mawii mother’s older sister or mother who has not lost a child in Kawaiisu, mangwu’i- female cousin in Kaibab. Piyu in Kawaiisu denotes only the mother who has not lost a child; in the other three Plateau dialects the term pia, pie, piya- means mother, without being so limited. Luisefio tw’, mother’s mother, appears to correspond to Plateau togo’o, togo, togu, toho, which always denotes the mother’s father. ''368 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol.12 Luisefio ka’, father’s father or father’s mother, seems to be from the stem of Kawaiisu kagu, Ute kagu, Kaibab kahu, all of which denote the mother’s mother; while Luisefio kwa, mother’s father, perhaps is the etymological equiv- alent of Plateau kenw’u, kuno, konu, father’s father. These correspondences are not certain, and perhaps they should be interchanged; but if they hold either way, there has been a specific alteration of meaning. These two comparisons in conjunction make it clear that terms of relationship have a history quite like that of all other words. They alter in meaning, become obsolete, drop out of usage altogether, and new stems, which originally had another significance, come to take their places. If kinship terms are more conservative than most other parts of a language’s vocabulary, the difference is merely one of degree. Whether they are more conservative is a subject neither for reasoning nor for assumption, but a problem of fact to be established by purely philological comparison. In short, kinship terms are an integral part of the tongues in which they occur and are therefore subject to linguistic influences like all other words. This being so, they cannot be a perfect nor even a reliable mirror of institutions. WINTUN I secured an outline of the Southeastern Wintun system as used in the vicinity of Colusa. It is so extraordinary that I include it for comparative purposes, although Mr. Gifford subsequently obtained fuller and better verified lists from several parts of the Southeastern and Southwestern Wintun territory. It appears that I have missed one or two terms; but the skeleton of the system as here presented is substantially correct. Wintun terms are used with possessive affixes, but differ so much for the first and second persons that it is desirable to give both forms. In general, ‘‘my’’ is -chu, and ‘‘your’’ is mat-. . Parent Class tan-chu, ma-tan, father, father’s brother. : na-ku, ma-nin, mother, mother’s sister. te-chu, mat-mutle, son, daughter, man’s brother’s child, woman’s sister’s child. Brother Class laba-chu, mat-laben, older brother. otun-chu, mat-usun, older sister. tlan-chu, ma-tlan, younger brother or sister. The method of application of brother-sister terms to cousins was not learned. ''1917] Kroeber: California Kinship Systems 369 Grandparent and Uncle Class apa-chu, mat-apan, mother’s brother, mother’s father, father’s father, great- grandfather. ama-ku, mat-aman, father’s sister,15 mother’s mother; presumably also great- grandmother. sakan-chu, mat-sakan, father’s mother.16 tai-chu, ma-tai, woman’s brother’s child15 or man’s sister’s child, that is, any cross nephew or niece; also, any grandchild; presumably also any great- grandchild. Father-in-Law Class tes-ba or tes-win, ma-tes, parent-in-law or child-in-law. T'es-win, which seems to contain the stem for ‘‘person’’ (ef. Wintun, Patwin), is used only for the son-in-law; tes-ba denotes the daughter-in-law and either parent-in-law. In the ~ second person the suffixes disappear and the terms are identical. Brother-in-Law Class tiran-chu, ma-tiran, sister’s husband. boksen-chu, mat-boksen, brother’s wife. nai-tlen, ma-tlen, spouse’s brother or sister. GENERAL FEATURES The extreme condensation of this remarkable system would tend to prevent any considerable reciprocity. In fact, there is none dis- cernible, unless the two forms from the stem tes be looked upon as a single self-reciprocating term. The uncle class has been totally merged in the parent and grand- parent classes. This may be a carrying further of the Miwok principle by which the parallel uncle is called father. However, Miwok does ‘not merge cross-uncles with grandparents, nor cross-nephews with erandchildren, whereas there is some inclination toward the classing together of nephews and grandchildren among the Pomo and Yuki who are near neighbors of the Wintun. The latter people seem there- fore to have used the simplifying tactics peculiar to the systems on both sides of themselves. The Wintun also agree with the Miwok in naming only one grand- father, but with the Pomo and Yuki in distinguishing the paternal from the maternal grandmother, if there is no error about sakan-chu. The Wintun brother-in-law terms correspond with the Miwok ones, except that there is only a single equivalent to three of the latter: 15 Mr. Gifford’s informants gave the term for older sister as denoting the father’s sister, and for younger sister as denoting a woman’s brother’s child. 16 This term was not obtained by Mr. Gifford, whose informants included the father’s with the mother’s mother under ama-ku. Sakan-chw must therefore be considered doubtful. ''370 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 wokli, kolina, and apastt. Pomo, however, is still more similar to Miwok, the terms having the same signification throughout except that there is a single term instead of kolina and apastv. It therefore seems that there are certain tendencies of terminolog- ical classification more or less common to the Miwok, Wintun, and Pomo, and several in which they differ; and that Wintun utilizes any of these methods that aid reduction of nomenclature. The result is a system even more compact that the English one, and as free from reciprocity, but constructed on utterly different principles. POMO™ Parent Class E, father; harik, my father; address: harika. Te, mother; nik, my mother; address: nika. Ghawe-l-ip, son; any grandson; anl nephew except a man’s sister’s son. This term seems connected with hawi, boy, and mi-p, he. Address: harika, as for father. Ghawe-l-et, daughter; any granddaughter; any niece except a man’s sister’s daughter. Evidently connected with hawi, boy, and mi-t, she. Address: nika, as for mother. Esh, son or daughter, presumably also grandchild, nephew, or niece. A term of endearment or ceremonial usage. In address: esha. Brother Class Meh, older brother; address: meha. Deh, older sister; address: deha. Duhats, younger brother or sister; address: duhatsa. Grandfather Class Madili, father’s father; address, the same. This word denotes also the father’s father’s father. Among the Eastern Pomo south of Clear Lake, it includes the father’s older brother; but this is not so among the people on the north side of the lake. ; Mats, father’s mother; address: matsa. Gach, mother’s father; also his brother and his father. This inclusion of the great-uncle (or aunt) and great-grandparent seems to apply to all Pomo grandparent terms. In address, gacha. Ghats, mother’s mother; address: ghatsa. There are no terms for grandchildren. The words chiefly employed are the ‘‘boy’? or ‘‘child’’ derivatives used for son and daughter, it is said; but a reciprocation by the grandparents to the grandchildren is not unknown. In this case the reciprocity seems to be exact, ie., madili denotes a man’s son’s son or daughter, and so on. 17 Eastern dialect, of Clear Lake. See present series, xt, 320-346, 1911. ''1917 | Kroeber: California Kinship Systems 371 Uncle Class Keh, father’s brother, also stepfather; in address, keha. On the death of a married man his brother generally married the widow. His step-children, however, continued to call him keh, not harik, father. See madili, above. Weh, father’s sister; address: weha. ‘ Tsets, mother’s brother; address: tsetsa. The reciprocal is dah. Tuts, mother’s older sister; address: tutsa. Sheh, mother’s younger sister, stepmother; address: sheha. Dah, man’s sister’s child, boy or girl; in address, daha. This is the reciprocal of tsets. It is said to be the only term of nephew-niece type in Pomo, son or daughter being used in all other cases. Father-in-Law Class Sha, father-in-law,, mother-in-law. Dimot, son-in-law. This word is said to denote one who supplies or gives in return for favors, and can be used of a woman who visits her lover more or less regularly. Shomits, daughter-in-law. On account of a species of the parent-in-law taboo, these three terms are not used in address, but the plural demonstrative pronoun, hibek, ‘‘those’’ or ““they,’? is substituted. Or, at greater length, a father-in-law may be addressed as butsigi hibek, ‘‘old man those’’; a mother-in-law as daghara hibek, ‘‘old woman those’’: a child-in-law as esh-bek, ‘‘child those.’’ Even in reference to the relatives in question the plural hibek can be added. The brothers, fathers, uncles, ete., of the parents-in-law are also addressed in this polite way; and presumably the old people apply the form of deference to their children-in-law’s brothers and sisters. If the spouse dies, the former parents and children-in-law continue to address one another as if he or she were still living. If the marriage is broken off, they revert to normal singular forms. Brother-in-Law Class God, sister’s husband; also his brother, and, it seems, his sister. In address, goda. Mi, brother’s wife; also her sister, and, it seems, her brother. Ha, wife’s brother or sister. Reciprocal to god. Ghar, husband’s brother or sister. Reciprocal to mi. Brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law are addressed directly, without pluralizing circumlocution. Husband and Wife Baili, husband; also kak, ‘‘man’’; in address, butsigi, ‘‘old man.’’ Dat, wife; also da, ‘‘woman’’; in address, daghara, ‘‘old woman.’’ Giashi is a vocative term of endearment used reciprocally by husband and wife. GENERAL FEATURES AND RELATIONS With the Pomo we encounter a reversion from the extreme re- duction of the Wintun system. There is a marked tendency to class juniors under as few designations as possible; and this suffices to prevent any great development of reciprocity. Four terms, however, ''372 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 reappear for grandparents, and there are specific uncle-aunt desig- nations; so that in this point we are back at the general Californian practice common to Washo, Northern Paiute, Yokuts, and Tiibatu- labal. The distinction of the mother’s sisters according to age is too widespread in the region to be regardable as a specific Miwok re- semblance. The brother-in-law terms equal the Miwok ones, at least in involved plan, and express conceptual reciprocity. The special three-step terms of the Miwok are unrepresented, terms of two-step relationship being extended to cover them, as apparently by most the tribes of California. Conceptual reciprocity is found in the one word of the nephew class; and there is an incipient or obsolescent tendency toward self-reciprocity in the grandparent group. In short, the Pomo system shares some of the individualized traits of the Wintun and Miwok plans, but in other respects is on a generic Californian basis. YUKI I failed to secure either a complete or a wholly consistent Yuki system. Dr. 8S. A. Barrett, while on a visit to Round Valley Reser- vation, undertook to supply the deficiencies; but his material proved insufficient for entire clearness, and showed apparent contradictions in the terms for the same classes of kindred in which I had encoun- tered difficulties, namely, uncles, aunts, nephews, nieces, and grand- children. I suspect a factor of classification to be involved here which both our inquiries failed to reach. The data on these groups of relatives must therefore be used with reserve. Parent Class K’un, father. K’an, mother. Kil-(i), son, daughter. Brother Class K ich, older brother, older sister. La’n, younger brother. Mu’n, younger sister. Uncle Class Kaint, father’s brother, stepfather. Kikan, mother’s older brother. Aint, mother’s younger brother. . Panchet and p’oyam were both obtained for father’s sister Naint, mother’s sister, probably older. ''1917] Kroeber: California Kinship Systems 373 Ka"sh, mother’s sister, probably younger; stepmother. Difficulty and confusion were experienced in securing these terms from informants. The possibility must be reckoned with that some of the terms differ radically as they are used in reference or address; or that other factors are involved. Chart-ka”, man’s brother’s child, woman’s sister’s child, that is, parallel nephew or niece; or, as it might be defined, potential stepchild. Ipima or ipimich-ka”, man’s sister’s child. Kup was obtained with the same meaning; it may be a term of address only. Omsa-ka", woman’s brother’s child. Some informants add woman’s sister’s child, and man’s sister’s daughter, but this seems unlikely. Grandparent Class Osh, father’s father. Pit, mother’s father. Pop, father’s mother. Tit, mother’s mother. Asam-ap-ka", son’s child. Asam-chant-ka", am-cha"t-ka", daughter’s child. Evidently from cha”t-kan, parallel nephew-niece. Informants were not wholly consistent as to the meaning of the two grand- child terms. Parent-in-Law Class O’l-am, parent-in-law. Wit(-i), son-in-law. Kim(-a), daughter-in-law. Sut-am was obtained with the same meaning. Brother-in-Law Class Lanya, wife’s brother. Chat, wife’s sister, brother’s wife. Tashit, husband’s sister, husband’s brother, sister’s husband. Chat and ta”shit are reciprocal; that is, any woman called chat says ta"shit to the man or woman so addressing her. The reciprocal of la”ya", however, is also ta’shit. These terms were obtained identically by Dr. Barrett and myself, and may therefore be relied upon. GENERAL FEATURES AND RELATIONS In spite of the imperfection of the record, it can probably he inferred that the Yuki system is once more of the generic Central Californian type. The resemblance of grandchild and nephew terms indeed is evidence of some influence of the inclinations that have shaped the Wintun system and in part that of the Pomo. But the terminology for uncles and aunts, that for grandparents, and an apparently moderate degree of conceptually reciprocal expression— self-reciprocal terms have not been found—indicate that the Yuki system is sprung from the same basis as that which has originated the systems of the Washo, Northern Paiute, and Yokuts. ''374 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 YUROK All terms were obtained with one of the suffixes ne- or n-, my, ke- or k-, your, and we- or u-, his, her. There are also suffixes, especially -osh, which are not part of the stem. Most of the terms are verified by information independently obtained by Dr. T. T. Waterman. Father Class Ne-pshets, u-pshits, father. The term of address is tot, but we-tot-osh, his father, was also obtained. The difference between the two stems is not clear. It is not one of sex of the speaker. We-ts-eko or u-kok-osh, mother. In address: kok. There are no words meaning son or daughter. N-oukshu is ‘‘my child,’’ ne-megwahshe ‘‘my boy’’ or ‘‘son,’’ ne-weryernerksh ‘‘my girl’’ or ‘‘daughter.’’ Brother Class Ne-mits-osh or ne-mit-osh, older brother. Ne-pin-osh, older sister. Kits-pe’l, older brother or sister. Probably from pe’lin, large. Tseihkeni, ne-eihk-eu, younger brother or sister. Tseihkeni means ‘‘small.’’ Tsits or chich, vocative, and ne-choch-osh, first person, were obtained by Dr. Waterman as meaning younger brother or sister. Ne-pa’, brother, male cousin, or more distant male relative of a man. Ne-weyits, sister, female cousin, or more distant female relative of a man. Ne- ig’, brother, malg cousin, or more distant female relative of a woman. Dr. Waterman ives a “apparent contraction: let. The first five of these terms, which refer to age, and the last four, which express sex, overlap. The former have more or less exact equivalents in all the Californian languages. The latter are of a much rarer type, but similar terms recur among the neighboring Karok, so that a secondary development local to northwestern California may be involved. Grandparent Class Ne-pits-osh, grandfather, as in English, that is, both the father’s father and the mother’s father. Ne-kuts-osh, grandmother. Ne-k’ep-eu, grandchild. Also used for nephew and niece, in addition to the terms specifically denoting these relationships. Uncle Class Ne-ts-im-osh, father’s brother; mother’s brother; that is, ‘‘uncle’’ as in English. Ne-tul-osh, mother’s sister; father’s sister; that is, ‘‘aunt’’ as in English. Ne-k-tsum, brother’s or sister’s son, that is, ‘‘nephew’’ as in English. Ner-ramets, brother’s or sister’s daughter, that is, ‘‘niece’’ as in English. All four of these terms are also used for relatives of the cousin class, which see. Ne-k’ep-eu, grandchild, is sometimes also employed for nephews and nieces. I base this statement on concrete cases within my experience. Conversely, I have had ne-pits-osh, grandfather, translated as mother’s brother, and ne-tul-osh, ''1917] Kroeber: California Kinship Systems 875 aunt, as father’s mother; but I have no cases to support these definitions and they may be errors. Cousins First cousins can apparently be designated by the four generic brother-sister terms that lack age reference. My examples, however, yield the terms for nephew, niece, and uncle, to which, presumably, the one for aunt must be added. The principle determining which of two cousins is the ‘‘uncle’’ or ‘‘aunt’’ and which the ‘‘nephew’’ or ‘‘niece’’ is not altogether certain, but appears to be absolute age. The selection of terms is not dependent on cross or parallel cousin- ship. Parent-in-Law Class Ne-par-eu, father-in-law. Ne-ts-iwin, mother-in-law. Ne-ts-ne’uk-osh, son-in-law. Ne-keptsum, daughter-in-law. Ne-kwa, father-in-law or mother-in-law of one’s son or daughter. Self- reciprocal. Dr. Waterman’s informant makes this term include all connections by marriage more remote than parents, children, brothers, and sisters-in-law. Ne-ts-ker, any relative by marriage after death of the connecting member. Brother-in-law Class Ne-tei, wife’s brother; man’s sister’s husband. Self-reciprocal: man’s brother- in-law. Ni-ts-nin, husband’s sister; woman’s brother’s wife; man’s brother’s wife; wife’s sister; in short, any sister-in-law. Ni-ts-no’o, husband’s brother; woman’s sister’s husband; that is, woman’s brother-in-law. Changes for Death Dr. Waterman reports the following terms for deceased relatives: Ne-me-ni’iyun, ‘‘my dead grew-up-together,’’ deceased brother or sister. Ne-me-tsameyotl, dead uncle. Ne-me-k-tsum, or kotl n-oukshu, ‘‘dead my-child,’’ deceased nephew. Ne-me-pets-eu, dead grandfather. Ne-me-ke-kts-eu, dead grandmother. GENERAL FEATURES The Yurok system stands quite apart from any other yet recorded in California. The failure to distinguish between grandparents, grandchildren, uncles, aunts, nephews, and nieces according to their male or female lineage seems extraordinary after acquaintance with the kinship reckonings of the other Californians. Civilized influences can not be thought of in this connection, for if there is any tribe in the state that preserved the substance of its old life intact until recently it is the remote Yurok. ''376 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 Separation of relatives in the male and female line is so frequently accompanied by a development of true reciprocal expression in Cali- fornia, in the Great Basin region, and in the Southwest that the two phenomena must be taken in connection. As might be anticipated, the Yurok evinee little feeling for reciprocity, not only in the kinship classes just mentioned but in the other group which lends itself readily to reciprocal formulation, the relatives by marriage. This is the more remarkable because in the Oregon region, as instanced by the Takelma and the Chinook, systems of California-Plateau-Southwestern type seem again to prevail. It is necessary to look as far as the Coast Salish, or the tribes of the eastern United States, before terminologies of the general plan of the Yurok one are again encountered. As the Yurok are Algonkin, the interesting problem is raised whether it is possible that they have brought the outlines of an ancient system with them from their presumable eastern source of origin, and suc- ceeded in maintaining the same for an undoubtedly long period in an entirely different cultural setting. This query can be answered only after we know the kinship systems of the tribes immediately adjacent to the Yurok: the fellow Algonkin Wiyot; the Athabascan Hupa, Tolowa, and Chilula; and the Hokan Karok. It may prove that we have to deal with a surviving and re- invigorated importation; or, on the other hand, with a new local development due to obscurer causes. The two or perhaps three classes of brother-sister designations in Yurok are very interesting, but more must be known concerning the distribution of the phenomenon, as well as of the etymology of the words in question, before a satisfactory interpretation is possible. THREE-STEP RELATIONSHIP Kindred removed by three steps of relationship, such as the great- grandfather or brother-in-law’s parent,'* can of course be designated in all languages, either by compounds, by more or less descriptive additions, or by mere extension ‘of meaning of the terms denoting nearer kin. Some systems, however, contain specific designations for certain three-step relations—like English ‘‘cousin.’’ Such terms average two or three in number in the Californian systems, but their frequency as well as their meanings vary greatly according to language. 18 T count the brother, sister, and wife as one step removed. vicki i Nanaia ''1917] Kroeber: California Kinship Systems 377 The commonest three-step term is the self-reciprocal one denoting the parent of a child-in-law. This forms part of the Luiseno, Kawaiisu, Tiibatulabal, Yokuts, Miwok, and Northern Paiute systems. These are all found in southern and central California or Nevada. If the gaps in our knowledge were filled, the distribution of terms with this meaning would probably be found to be continuous. On the other hand, there is an area in north central California in which specific terms for the child-in-law’s parent have not been found. In this area are the Wintun, Pomo, Yuki, and perhaps Washo. For some of these information may be imperfect; but, on the other hand, the area may extend much farther northward. Mohave is also not known to possess a term of this significance. This may be due to mere over- sight in recording, or to proximity of the Mohave to the Pueblo Indians, who do without. In the northwest, however, the relationship is expressed in Yurok, though possibly the primary meaning of the term is more general. Great-grandparents and great-grandchildren are next most fre- quently denoted. Again Mohave stands out from a central and southern group, which consists of Luiseno, Kawaiisu, Tiibatulabal, Yokuts, and Northern Paiute. The terminology in most of these is obviously secondary : derivatives from words meaning brother or sister, mother’s sister, and ghost occur. Sex is sometimes denoted and some- times not; the number of terms varies from one to four. In Luisefio there are terms for ancestors as far removed as the sixth generation. Miwok, the three north central systems, and Yurok lack words of this class, ancestors or descendants of the third generation being merged in those of the second. Mohave uses outright brother terms. Specific cousin terms are restricted to the extreme south. Luisefio possesses one for cross-cousins, Mohave three or four narrowly limited words for particular kinds of parallel and cross-cousins. Luiseno is the only language known to have a term for grand- mother’s brother or grandfather’s sister. Several other relationships are included, but they are all three step. Miwok, finally, has specialized in developing four terms to denote kindred of relatives-in-law: havyeme, kumatsa, moe, pinuksa. The peculiar Miwok terms may possibly be connected with a type of kin marriage that is best known among this group; though the correlation remains to be established. The cousin, great-grandparent, and child-in-law’s parent terms, on the other hand, fail quite clearly to correlate in their distribution with any social practices. The last ''378 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 might be thought to be associated with parent-in-law taboo; but, while still imperfectly known, the spread of this custom seems to run with- out relevance to that of the term. It is therefore difficult to avoid the conclusion that the occurrence of all these classes of terms is due to a merely conceptual attitude—a habit of mind or manner of thought which, originating among one people, was often gradually imitated by others. CLASSIFICATION OF THE CALIFORNIAN SYSTEMS The twelve systems that have been analyzed fall spontaneously into three classes. The first comprises the Mohave and Luisefio, both in southern California. The second consists, in the present state of knowledge, of Yurok alone. The third includes all the remainder, from the Yuki in the west and north to the Northern Paiute in the east and the Yokuts and Kawaiisu in the south. The geographical. distribution of these three types, which have been established solely on the basis of what seems to be their inherent nature, coincides with the distribution of types of native civilization generally accepted for California; in other words, the three primary culture areas—the Southern, the Northwestern, and the Central. Within the central group of kinship systems a generic and a specialized subtype are distinguishable. The former is represented by Yokuts; by Northern Paiute and Washo, which must be treated as a unit; by Tiibatulabal and Kawaiisu; and probably by Yuki. No two of these systems are alike, but their differences are particularities of comparatively little moment as against their similar features. All of them are peripheral in the territory in which they occur. As the center of this tract is approached marked divergences begin to appear on the one side among the Pomo and on the other with the Miwok, until, in the’ heart of the area, among the southern Wintun, the specializing tendencies reach their height. The characteristics of the southern Californian type of kinship are an enormous development of reciprocal expression, and a striking reduction of the terms denoting connections by marriage. Perhaps equally important intrinsically is the consistent recognition of the factor of lineage, as expressed terminologically in the distinction of cross and parallel relatives; but this is not an exclusive southern peculiarity. All of these traits seem typical also of the systems of the ''1917] Kroeber: California Kinship Systems 379 Southwest, with which region southern California has many cultural correspondences. The central Californian type, in its generic and presumably original form, is marked by consistent reciprocity within the grand- parent and uncle classes of terms, but little at other points; by the distinction of cross and parallel relatives throughout; and by a fairly elaborate development of nomenclature for connections by marriage, parents-in-law, however, being denoted by a single term. This type of system seems to extend with but little variation across the Great Basin, whose Shoshonean inhabitants, it may be added, are culturally somewhat affiliated with the central Californians. The specialized southern Wintun subtype is characterized by an extreme merging of relationships into one another, and a consequently small number of terms. This tendency has completely wiped out two of the three traits typical of the generic central form of system: the reciprocity and the abundance of affinity designations. The third feature, the consciousness of kind of lineage as expressed in difference of terms for parallel and cross kindred, remains in vigor only in the uncle class. Perhaps the salient trait of the system is the merging of near lineal with near collateral relatives as a consequence of the general reduction in terminology. The Miwok and Pomo follow the Wintun scheme less radically, and add certain characteristics of their own which must be looked upon as local individualizations. The northwest Californian type, finally, if Yurok may be regarded as indicative of such a one and is not merely representative of its own particularity, disregards the distinction of cross and parallel relatives and reveals virtually no impulse toward reciprocal expression. The Yurok, to put it differently, come much nearer ourselves and the majority of Plains Indians than do any central or south California people in thinking in nearly every instance of the sex of the denoted relative’? and only rarely of the sex of the intermediate one.?° There are some scattering data on several tribes not formally treated here. In general, these indicate systems of the type prevailing in the region of each tribe. The available Costanoan data”! are in contradictory shape, but it 19 English, in 95 per cent of cases; Arapaho, Dakota, Pawnee, 90; Yurok, 85; other Californians, 60 to 80. 20 English, 0 per cent; the three Plains tribes, 10 to 30; Yurok, 20 (wholly among connections by marriage); Wintun, about the same; other Californians, 40 to 60. 21 Present series, x1, 437, 471, 1916. ''380 Uniwersity of Califorma Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 is clear that there was some merging of nephews and grandsons and probably of uncles and grandparents; in other words, a definite affiliation with the Wintun subtype. Salinan, from whose two dialects thirty-four terms of relationship have been preserved,” though very variously rendered, does not show this trait. On the other hand, there is conceptual without verbal reciprocity in the grandparent and uncle classes. Indications there- fore point to Salinan belonging to the generic central type. Chumash?? is also central in character, with some leanings toward the southern type, as manifested, for instance, in distinct words used for ‘‘son’’ by father and mother. The primary distinction among grandparents appears to be on the basis of lineage, and among brothers and sisters on the ground of seniority, the denotation of sex being wanting or incidental. In the uncle class there are indications of four terms for seniors and four for juniors, exactly reciprocal but verbally distinct. The father-in-law and mother-in-law are denoted by one word. For the Northwest, there are scraps from three languages. Wiyot, if the translations of its half dozen known terms may be trusted,?* is of Yurok type. Hupa?> may have grandfather and grandmother terms of English and Yurok type, but the uncle-aunt nomenclature is likely to be generic Californian. Chimariko,”® finally, gives no evidence of leaning to Yurok methods. Uncertain as these meager data are, they hint that Yurok is representative of a specific California- Algonkin rather than a Northwestern Californian type. UNSER AND TYPH OF CULTURE A theoretical inference emerges from the distributional coincei- dence of types of kinship systems and types of culture in California. The correspondence can scarcely be accidental and meaningless. The type of culture must therefore be regarded as having helped to shape the kinship system. Now, the three Californian cultures differ but little in specific content. Nearly all the arts and ideas of one tribe recur among all the others. An inspection of a balanced museum collection from the various groups in the state invariably yields the impression of great uniformity, except as to finer detail; and reviews 22 Same, x, 169-172, 1912. 23 Same, U, 42, 1904, and a few unpublished notes from Santa Barbara. 24 Same, 1x, 407, 1911. 25 Same, 1, 15, 1905. 26 Same, v, 352, 363-370, 1910. ''1917] Kroeber: California Kinship Systems 381 of the immaterial elements of civilization have always led to the same conclusion. There are distinctive customs and practices: slavery and plank houses in the northwest, masks and moieties in the central region, sand paintings and emergence myths in the south; but relative to the totality of cultural facts such peculiarities are few. What, then, constitutes the reality and the essence of the cultural types prevailing in the three regions? Obviously, if it is not the’ substance of culture, it is its form; if not the discrete elements in any important degree, then their organization. An art or a custom may be practiced both in the south and in the northwest, but its emphasis or weighting be quite diverse, its associations and therefore its sig- nificance be thoroughly distinct. In short, the values of closely similar material are notably different. This is true of course of all cultural types as determined by history and ethnology and framed in culture areas or cultural periods. But in a compact and restricted territory such as California constitutes, the similarity of the civil- izational material has an opportunity to be so high as to reach sub- stantial identity; and its formal and associational individualizations become proportionally evident. These organizations or values of cultural content are in their nature general and relative as compared with the more discrete and directly given cultural material. They are also more definitely ‘‘mental,’’ more ‘‘psychic.’’? When therefore we find cultures as wholes underlying kinship systems we must conclude that the latter have each been considerably influenced by the associational complex that we may denominate the ‘‘psyche’’ of its culture, that is, the ways of thinking and feeling characteristic of the culture. In this sense, then, we must recognize the influence, upon systems of kinship designation, of factors that, for want of another term, may be called psychological. Exactly the same conclusions are reached from an examination of the subtypes within the central Californian culture. The recog- nition within this culture area of a generalized fringe, a more definitely organized core, and a highly specialized nucleus in the region of the southern Wintun, can be established for the ceremonial aspects of religion, for instance, exactly as for kinship systems. The remoter and mountain tribes are addicted only to uncorrelated and unspecial- ized practices, which nevertheless must be accepted as representing the basis of the religion of the entire area. Inside, within the great valley, a definite ceremonial organization prevails; and this in turn appears ''382 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 to reach its greatest development, and to have received most of its formative impulses, from the peoples near the center of this valley, notably the southern Wintun. In the matter of religion, the dis- tinctive achievement of the Wintun took the outward form of an elaboration; as regards kinship system, of a simplification. But in both the ritualistic elaboration and the terminological simplification there is involved a stronger adherence to an ideal scheme, more con- sequential carrying out of a consistent set of concepts, more order and organization, in short, a more developed revelation of ‘‘mental’’ or rather cultural activity. It would be absurd to posit the Wintun esoteric religious society and its impersonations of gods as the deter- mining cause of the abnormal Wintun system of kinship nomen- elature. But it is undeniable that they are parallel manifestations of the same manner or degree of ‘‘psychic’’ or civilizational operation in culture. KINSHIP AND SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS On the other hand, there are but few clear indications of an association, regional or otherwise, between types of kinship systems and types of social institutions pure and simple, that is, practices connected with marriage, descent, personal relations, and the like; and equally few instances of particular traits of kinship nomenclature according with specific institutions. Unfortunately, society is as yet perhaps the least understood aspect of the native culture of California. But we know something; and practically all the available information points in the direction of the conclusion just stated. The Mohave and Luisemo systems have been seen to be similar. Yet the Mohave are organized into clans, whereas among the Luiseno there are only halting and somewhat doubtful approaches to clans, according to the most recent information secured by Mr. E. W. Gifford. In central California a system of hereditary moieties is found among the interior Miwok, all the more northerly Yokuts, the western Mono, and probably the Salinans; and again in parts of southern California.2* It may have prevailed among a few other tribes, but its further extension can not have been very great. It is not known to have existed among the Wintun, Pomo, Yuki, Washo, Northern Paiute, or southerly Yokuts. The distribution both of types of kinship systems and of special traits of kinship designation fails to agree with 27 According to information secured by Mr. EH. W. Gifford and embodied in a paper soon to appear from his pen in the present series of publications. ''1917] Kroeber: California Kinship Systems 383 the distribution of these moieties. If there were any considerable causal correlation, the Miwok should form a unit as against the Wintun, the Pomo, the Washo, the southern Yokuts, and the other tribes of central California; whereas it appears from the previous discussion that the relations of these systems are quite otherwise. In the northwest, it is difficult to recognize any specific social factors that might be correlated with the peculiar system of this region, or at least of the Yurok. There is extant for this area Dr. Goddard’s excellent monograph on the Hupa, and I have undergone repeated association with the Yurok themselves, with the opportunity of seeing much of their intimate life; yet I cannot name a single strictly ‘‘social’’ aspect of their culture which is not closely similar to the corresponding institutions of all the other Indians of the state, with the lone exception of the fact that northwestern marriage is a definite purchase and the wife true property. With the best endeavor I cannot, however, devise a satisfying connection between this phe- nomenon and the peculiarities of Yurok terminology for relatives. It might be said that the purchase obliterates the personality of the wife and merges her in the husband, so that the distinction of paternal and maternal relatives follows as a consequenge. But I cannot wholly persuade myself that the Yurok mind works along this channel, even in its deepest unconsciousness; and there is the contrary argument that if the wife is a chattel and only the husband a person, the dis- tinction between the mother and the father, and their respective’ relatives, might be conceived of as being emphasized. The parent-in-law taboo is in force over considerable parts of central California: among the Yokuts, Miwok, Pomo, and presumably Southern Wintun, of the groups here treated. It is not practiced by the Yurok, Yuki, Tiibatulabal, Kawaiisu, Luisenfo, or Mohave, and probably not by the Paiute and Washo. The custom might be cor- related with the Wintun subtype of kinship system; but the corre- spondence does not seem very exact. The taboo of the name of the dead, and of any allusion to them, is universal in California, and the various tribes adhere to the ob- servance with much the same scrupulousness and emotional intensity ; yet devices for avoiding or altering the designations of affinities by marriage after the decease of the person connecting them seem to vary considerably. Of course such devices ensure only a formal compliance with the taboo precept; in substance they can be regarded as just as potential for emphasizing the remembrance of the death. In fact, ''384 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 we cannot be sure that such is not their true subconscious function. It would seem therefore that such terminological devices may prove to be the product of several interacting and perhaps conflicting cul- tural attitudes. Where customary marriage of relatives prevails, it would seem likely to have some influence on kinship systems. This seems to be the chief reason for the undoubted correspondences of terminology and social practice in certain parts of Australia and Oceania; exogamy, descent, and marriage classes appearing to be involved, whereas a theoretically or actually prescribed marriage to certain kindred is the true shaping factor. With such marriage, definite and prescribed personal or functional relations between non-marrying relatives may be associated as a concurrent influence. In California, however, we hear very little of specifically determined relations between kindred ; and other than the universal levirate, and its reverse, marriage with the wife’s sister, the only form of marriage of kindred recorded is the cross-cousin wedlock of the Miwok and some neighboring groups. Mr. Gifford has shown very convincingly by analysis of circumstantial evidence that Miwok cross-cousin marriage, which does not accord with the Miwok designations of kindred, is a secondary result of the marriage of a man to his wife’s brother’s daughter. This form of marriage, and the marriage of the brother’s widow or the wife’s sister, are reflected in Miwok nomenclature to the extent that a dozen kinship terms are in thorough accord, in their full range of meanings, with each of the practices. It is thus clear that certain forms of what might be described as statutory marriage have helped to shape and color kinship terms among the Miwok; and the same condition may be expected to prevail among other tribes. The marriage to the wife’s brother’s daughter I am disposed to regard as a local modification, under the influence of the moiety system, of the widespread Californian custom of marrying the wife’s daughter. Where there are moieties, the wife’s daughter must be of the same exogamous division as her stepfather and therefore in- eligible to him; the wife’s cross-niece, that is, her brother’s daughter, is the nearest relative available to take her place. Over most of California, accordingly, it is marriage to the wife’s daughter, the wife’s sister, and the brother’s widow that would have to be examined as potential influences upon the kinship system. There are a number of indications that this influence has been realized. Such, for instance, is the designation of the mother’s younger sister and the stepmother ''1917 | Kroeber: California Kinship Systems 385 by a single word. On the whole, however, my material is so much less complete than Mr. Gifford’s Miwok data, especially in lacking most of the remoter meanings of the recorded terms, that any intensive examination of the degree of correlation on these points would be prematurely unsatisfactory. To return once more to general social structure, it is highly prob- able that all differences in the formal organization of society are superficial in California. Most tribes lack any such formal scheme; and where it exists, as among the Miwok and the Mohave, it rests lightly upon the whole cultural fabric. Its points of contact with the civilizational complex are few, its impressions of the lightest. This is shown by the fact that organizations like that of the Miwok remained undiscovered for many years. On a reasonably wide view, accordingly, society appears to be substantially the same in type in all parts of California; in contrast with which condition, kinship systems display a rather profound diversity. SUMMARY In fine, types of kinship classification exhibit so close a distri- butional correlation with types of culture as complex wholes, that it must be concluded that these cultural wholes have been influential in determining the fundamentals of kinship systems. The characteristics of such culture wholes consist in associations or relations rather than ‘ in content; and it is the formalizing or ‘‘psychic’’ impulses implied in these associations or relations that accordingly have largely shaped kinship terminology. On the other hand, specific social structure on the whole shows very little correlation with kinship classification in California. At one or two points a specific element of culture content, especially prescribed marriage between relatives, has unquestionably affected kinship terminology at specific points, without, however, ap- pearing to affect its fundamental plan consequentially. THEORETICAL CONSIDERATIONS Some years ago I tried to substantiate a conviction that the custo- classificatory’’ and ‘‘descriptive’’ kin- ship systems was erroneous and misleading; that a truer and more a4 mary discrimination between useful distinction between these two kinds of consanguineal termin- ology could be found through a consideration of the differences of method employed by various nations in handling certain groups of ''386 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 concepts, in short, through an analysis of psychological factors; and that in general such psychological factors were chiefly determinative of kinship designations.?* This position has been reviewed and combatted by Dr. W. H. R. Rivers in his admirable little book, Kinship and Social Organization,”® devoted to the thesis that kinship nomenclature is shaped chiefly by social institutions. Nearly every one who has subsequently discussed the matter in print has wholly or largely endorsed the view of Dr. Rivers. I must admit that my essay is characterized by some over-state- ments. I do not wish and have never wished to maintain so sweeping and unqualified a proposition as that terms of relationship reflect psychology wholly and sociology not at all. When it is the custom among a people for a man to marry his mother’s brother’s daughter, and also the custom for him to eall his father-in-law his mother’s brother, it would be dogmatic and a waste of time to argue against the very high probability of the two practices being connected. In regard to what may be construed as a retraction, I will only urge that the view which I was criticizing, and which Dr. Rivers has come to rescue, had been practically unquestioned for nearly forty years, and had attained considerable vogue even outside of specific ethnological circles. It had also been held without any real exami- nation of the validity of its involved assumptions. That in venturing into opposition I was led—in one or two of several recapitulations of my position—into an unnecessary curtness of expression, was there- fore perhaps natural. What is more to the point, I believe it to be a matter of little moment to the real issue. The underlying aspects of this issue are touched upon in the last paragraph of both Dr. Rivers’ essay and mine. In this conclusion I deplored the inclination of modern anthropology to ‘‘ causes for specific events,’’ and maintained that ‘‘causal explanations seek specific of detached anthropological phenomena can be but rarely found in other detached phenomena.’’ Dr. Rivers, on the contrary, affirms that kinship nomenclature presents a case ‘‘in which the principle of determinism applies with a rigor and definiteness equal to that of any 2? of the exact seiences.’’ He avows as his chief object the demonstration that the forms of kinship designation have been determined by social conditions ; and coneludes that ‘‘only by attention to this aim [deter- 28 Journ. Roy. Anthr. Inst., xxx1x, 77-84, 1909. 29 London, Constable & Co., 1914. ''1917] Kroeber: California Kinship Systems 387 ministic proofs] throughout the whole field of social phenomena can we hope to rid sociology of the reproach, so often heard, that it is not a science ; only thus can we refute those who go still further and claim that it can never be a science.’’ Dr. Rivers thus maintains and I deny that social science is a true science. If I understand him correctly, he is interested in why things are, I primarily in how they are. His steadfast motive is to explain social phenomena, whereas I deliberately limit my purpose to char- acterizing them. Without a recognition of this diversity of conception of the aim, and therefore the method of ethnology, the essential re- lation between the views held by Dr. Rivers and myself in regard to the comparatively small question of kinship designations can not be thoroughly and significantly apprehended. From the one point of view, an intrinsic interest inheres in any group of social phenomena as such. If they are analyzed, it is chiefly that they may be more fully apperceived ; if they are synthesized with others, it is because the phenomena themselves become more truly known in proportion as their relations to the whole of civilization are visible and realized. To the other attitude of investigation, phenomena are only a starting point. This method seeks abstractions; it deter- mines causes and effects. However frequently it returns to actual phenomena, it perpetually uses these only as a ladder by which to mount to higher and wider generalizations. Dr. Rivers maintains that a non-deterministic ethnology is not science. I do not consider an ethnology which professes ability to explain much of culture to be ethnology. ‘ On this general distinction of purpose hinge the differences of opinion as to kinship terms. From Lewis H. Morgan to Dr. Rivers, ‘generic stages of social development or broad principles have been sought; and kinship systems as a rule have been only pegs on which to hang theories concerning such stages. Whatever value my paper may or may not have had, it did not share this aim, and represents a genuine attempt to understand kinship systems as kinship systems. The concepts or categories with which the essay operates are not new. All of them may be found distinguished, for instance, in the work of Dr. Boas. But a systematic and comparative application of them led to the recognition that the current divisions of systems into ‘‘classi- ficatory’’ and ‘‘deseriptive’’ was misleading in that it did not refer to the most essential features of our systems as contrasted with those of so-called savages. I then attempted to show that a deeper classi- 9? ''388 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 \ fication, and therefore interpretation, could be based on an analysis of the use to which the categories are put by various nations. Right or wrong, serviceable or not, this was at least an effort at construction, and therefore the essential part of the essay, as appears from the fact that three of the four propositions in the summary are devoted to this interpretation. It is exceedingly significant that these proposi- tions have been entirely ignored by Dr. Rivers, and by nearly every one else who has been concerned with the subject ; whereas my fourth proposition, which was essentially negative in that the primacy which it awarded to psychological over social determinants assailed the cur- rent method of utilizing kinship designations for social reconstructions —this negative proposition aroused sufficient interest to cause Dr. Rivers to devote considerable part of a book to it. I am confident that if the main argument of my essay had been the unfolding of a theory—a causal hypothesis—instead of an endeavor merely to realize phenomena better and facilitate their being understood still more truly in the future, it would not have been passed over in silence. The particular form which ethnological theorizing has most fre- quently taken has been the formulation of schemes of development of institutions, with a special predilection for schemes of development of those institutions that are concerned with marriage and descent. For the elaboration of such schemes, kinship terminologies are plaus- ibly promising. And, on the other hand, if kinship terminology does not consistently mirror the organization of society, an important buttress for such theoretical reconstructions falls. It was logically necessary for Dr. Rivers to write Kinship and Social Organization before writing the History of Melanesian Society. If the contention that kinship systems are determined by psychological factors is only partly correct, one of the most serviceable methods of reconstructing former stages of society is eliminated. I can and do without prejudice avow sociological determinants beside ‘‘ psychological’’®° ones—for that 30T regret the term ‘‘psychological,’’ and should use another were it not that its avoidance now might seem an evasion of the issue raised by me seven years ago, and by some would certainly be construed as an admission that I had shifted the basis of my contention. I do not mean, and have never meant, that terms of relationship can be explained directly from the constitution of the human mind. They are social or cultural phenomena as thoroughly and com- pletely as institutions, beliefs, or industries are social phenomena, and I am in absolute accord with Dr. Rivers’ conviction that social phenomena can be understood only through other social phenomena. In common with most anthro- pologists, I hold any attempt to derive cultural facts directly from the nature of human mentality to be illusory. Culture and all its parts are a content. They are framed and limited indeed by mentality. But the endeavor to express the nature of the content through the nature of the mechanism of mentality is as vain as it would be to explain the quality of a substance in terms of its form, ''1917] Kroeber: California Kinship Systems 389 matter, economic and religious ones also. Dr. Rivers cannot concede ‘‘nsychological’’ influences beside his sociological ones, because there- with his supposed recording instrument or index becomes inaccurate. He is establishing positive determinations of causality, or at least of sequence, and cannot admit variable and undeterminable factors into his calculations. The real question regarding kinship designations therefore is not the literal one of whether the terminology is wholly of psychological or of institutional origin. Nor does it very seriously concern the relative strength of each of these influences as a general proposition. It would be as silly to quarrel about that as to argue whether there are more flat or more round objects in the world. In such matters each case must be considered separately and no principle is involved. The true immediate issue is whether kinship terminologies are deter- mined so thoroughly by institutions that they can be reliably used to construct hypothetical schemes as to institutions, or whether their determinants are so frequently non-institutional that they cannot be or to approach an understanding of the sense of written words through a study of the pen. When, therefore, I spoke and now speak of terms of relationship as conditioned by ‘‘psychological’’ factors, I have in mind the sort of factors to which a philologist might properly ascribe the presence of a grammatical dual in a language. These factors would obviously be comparatively vague and abstractable. In a sense they would be characterizable, like everything in speech, as directly expressive of a manner of thought—not of course a spon- taneous outgrowth of the pure human mind uninscribed by culture, but rather, as it were, a more general and conditioning aspect of cultural content. Dr. Rivers’ views, on the other hand, I should compare—if I may without prejudice use an unflatteringly crude comparison which nevertheless I believe to be true in spirit—to the explanation of the grammatical dual in speech as due to the prevalence of dualistic philesophy, or the institution of non-pluralistic marriage, that is, monogamy. When I state that the use of identical terms for such relatives as the father-in-law and grandfather, or the brother-in-law and brother in some languages, is to be understood as ‘‘due to’’ the fact that these relation- ships possess several categories of kinship in common, this abstract similarity is obviously not the ultimate or whole cause, since this interpretation leaves unexplained the fact that in most languages these relationships are denoted by distinct terms. That one language employs certain categories of kinship classi- fication and slights others, and another language employs and slights different ones, is itself obviously a cultural or social phenomenon; but it is precisely these varying tendencies of languages and nations toward the use of the cate- gories that I denominate ‘‘psychological’’ factors. Perhaps ‘‘sociological’’ would have been a better word, though probably liable to misinterpretation in other ways. If Dr. Rivers or any one else can replace my ‘‘psychological’’ with a less elusive term, I shall be sincerely grateful to him. Meanwhile I can only continue to use the word, and trust that what is here said in regard to its significance will be sufficient to prevent confusion, and to relieve me of the suspicion of wishing to revert to the methods of mid-Victorian ethnologists.— The words ‘‘social’’ and ‘‘sociological’’ are also capable of two constructions. In the wider sense, of course, they are equivalent to ‘‘cultural’’ or ‘‘civil- izational.’’? In the sense in which Dr. Rivers uses them, or I employ them in discussing his views, their significance is much narrower, and they are sub- stantially equivalent to ‘‘institutional,’’ with prime reference to marriage, laws of descent, and personal functions. e ''390 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 utilized in such endeavors. And behind this lies the larger ultimate question whether specific social phenomena of any kind can be assigned as the sole specific causes or ‘‘determining’’ causes of other social phenomena ; or whether the nearest possible approach to ‘‘explaining”’ phenomena such as kinship systems lies in tracing the features of the involved ‘‘psychic’’ or cultural activities common to them and other phenomena. On the immediate problem, indications that influences other than social institutions enter into kinship nomenclature have already been presented in various parts of the descriptions and analyses of specific California systems that constitute the first and larger portion of the present paper. In the section devoted to a classification of these systems, further instances of the frequent dominance of ‘‘psycholog- ical’’ over narrowly social determinants have been adduced, as well as some evidence that the shaping influences are generic impulses rather than specific phenomena, so that the ultimate question may also be considered as answered. The case seems therefore established on the basis of concrete data which need not be recited; but it may be worth while to add some broader considerations. 1. In the first place, the obvious fact that we approach kinship systems through the terminologies in which they are expressed con- stitutes them a part of speech, and it is therefore impossible to under- stand how the serious claim can be advanced that they should be withdrawn entirely from subjection to those psychological and lin- guistic influences which shape all language. All words necessarily classify according to certain principles which usually are not more than half conscious. There is no conceivable reason why terms of relationship should be an exception, and no evidence that they are. When we find that one nation frequently introduces the idea of the sex of the speaker into its kinship terminology and another nation fails entirely to do so, it is obvious that their classifications have been made according to a different conceptual principle; or, to put it other- wise, that the involved psychology*! is different. Now it is of course possible to meet this situation with the explanation that the psychology itself indeed differs, but that it diverges exclusively under the influence of social institutions. This attitude is certainly logically possible, but I think it will be generally granted that it is such an extreme attitude 31 The word ‘‘psychology’’ is to be understood in the sense discussed in note 30. ''1917] Kroeber: California Kinship Systems 391 that the probability of its universal or even general truth is sight, and that the burden of proof is clearly upon those who hold this view. We have in English the curious habit of designating an oyster or a lobster as a ‘‘shell fish.’’ The word ‘‘fish’’ unquestionably calls up a coneept of a smooth, elongated, free-swimming water animal with fins. The only conceivable reason why a flat and sessile mollusk with- out any of the appendages of a fish, or a legged and crawling animal of utterly different appearance, should be brought in terminology into the class of fishes is the fact that they both live in the water and are edible. Now these two qualities are only a small part of those which attach to the generic concept that the word ‘‘fish’’ carries in English ; and yet the wide discrepancy has not prevented the inclusion of the two other animals under the term. All speech is full of just such examples, and no one dreams of explaining the multitudinous phe- nomena of this kind by reference to social institutions, former phil- osophies, or other formulated manifestations of non-linguistic life, or of reconstructing the whole of a society from a vocabulary. Such endeavors in ‘‘linguistic palaeontology’’ have indeed been made; but the general consensus is that while they undoubtedly contain some truth, they are on the whole of little value because the interaction of social and linguistic influences is too indeterminate, and each of these sets of influences too variable, to allow of any positive conclusions being attained except possibly now and then on special points. If, for instance, it were argued that English classes the oyster and lobster with fish, and that other languages, perhaps German and Chinese, class them with turtles, because the English are an insular nation that subsists on an abundance of sea food, whereas the Germans and Chinese are essentially inland peoples, the explanation would strike nearly every one as extremely far-fetched. In addition, the conflicting contention could be set up that a maritime and fish-eating people could be expected to be far more discriminating in their desig- nation of sea animals than an interior people. It seems to me that some of the explanations of kinship systems on the basis of social custom are substantially of a type with this example. 2. It is extremely important to guard against subjective selection of interpretation in a field of such delicate refinement as kinship nomenclature. When among ourselves a minister of religion or a socialist orator addresses his audience as ‘‘brothers’’ we say that the speakers are indulging in metaphor. When we refer to our brother-in- law as ‘‘brother’’ we are merely slovenly familiar or intimately in- =<. ''392 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol.12 . correct. On the other hand, when a so-called savage names his father’s brother ‘‘father,’’ we immediately tend to have recourse to the levirate as explanation ; when he designates his cousin as ‘‘brother,’’ we think of this as a survival of group marriage; and when he calls the members of his clan ‘‘brothers,’’ we are inclined to assert that in his nation the family of blood kindred is entirely merged in clan organization. We forget too often that uncivilized people are as likely as we to indulge in figures of speech and in short-cuts of expression. They would be very inhuman if they did not. But, of course, the more we can reduce them to the level of machines, automatically operating according to a few simple principles, the more convenient do they become as an instrument with which to unravel theoretical speculations. 3. An influence that is wholly terminological, and therefore at once ‘‘psychological’’ and linguistic, is the impulse toward reciprocal de- notation or form of kinship terms. It is evident on wholly abstract grounds that this must materially affect the systems into which it enters. The moment a term implies sex and has an exact reciprocal, it is clear that the reciprocal must express the sex of the speaker, and not that of the relative, so that a variant principle is introduced; or else both terms must denote both categories, which means that the number of distinct terms is duplicated or quadruplhecated. The latter is a result that most languages evidently shrink from, and the former course is usually followed. In either case, however, there is a distinct shaping of the system as a result of the reciprocating tendency. When a Papago, whose system is thoroughly pervaded by reci- procities, has words meaning ‘‘older brother or sister’’ and ‘‘ younger brother or sister,’’ which are reciprocal, instead of our non-reciprocal **brother’’ and ‘‘sister,’’ elature reflects the ‘‘psychological’’ tendency toward reciprocity, as that terming the father-in-law ‘‘mother’s brother’’ reflects a social institution when it is customary to marry a cross-cousin. it is as clear that this part of his nomen- “e The use of descriptive phrases instead of radical words to denote connections by marriage is again a “‘psychological’’ trait. In French, the son-in-law and daughter-in-law are denoted by distinctive stems, the parents-in-law by cireumlocutory ones analogous to those of Eng- lish. German follows the English plan, except for retaining some obsolescent radicals. The same tendency has become operative in all three languages, but with varying degrees of completeness. This is simply a philological phenomenon entirely parallel to the fact that the plural of ‘‘ox’’ has remained ‘‘oxen’”’ instead of becoming ‘‘oxes.’’ ''1917] Kroeber: California Kinship Systems 393 No one would dream of arguing that French, English, or German marital customs must be different because the kinship terms in question are formed on a different plan. And so when Luisefio and Northern Paiute and Papago use circumlocutory expressions for many connec- tions by marriage, and Mohave and Yokuts and Tiibatulabal and Miwok do not, there is also a distinctive difference of system without any reason for an assumption of a corresponding difference in social organization. This influence of reciprocity is particularly clear when circumlo- cutions and reciprocal expression are combined. A Papago woman calls her son-in-law moth-ok, that is, ok or father of her mos, a woman’s daughter’s child. The son-in-law calls her the same. There is no form of marriage or social institution that will explain why an old woman should be ealled the father of anybody’s granddaughter, why the man referring to her should speak of himself as a female, and why . he should designate her the parent of his daughter’s child when it is her daughter that has the child and he himself is without grand- children. It is clear that there is nothing at the bottom of this usage but a strong tendency to call a connection what the connection calls oneself, operating upon a stock of descriptive terms. There is no inconvenience or confusion in speaking of one’s mother-in-law as some- body’s father; for in doing so a man uses a woman’s term; which combination, by exclusion, exactly specifies the lady referred to. From our literal point of view, the Papago is absurdly illogical in this matter. But he is practical, since his procedure not only isolates the person in question as thoroughly as ours but allows him to employ the reci- procity to which he is accustomed and which satisfies a habitual psychic need. 4. In most discussions of kinship systems the innermost kernel is hardly touched upon. Relatives only one step removed are neglected for those two and three steps distant. We hear much of the fact that cousins are called brothers, but little of the entirely different methods of distinguishing brothers. A great deal is made of the circumstance that the father’s brother is often merged in the father, terminologi- cally, but very little attention is paid to whether parents are desig- nated by four terms or by two or by one. The mother’s brother’s daughter is far more important in most kinship discussions than the sister. In short, the most fundamental and primary relationships are disregarded because the remote ones lend themselves to readier cor- relation with social institutions. Some nations have one word for ''394 Unwersity of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 older brother-sister and one for younger brother-sister; others one word for brother-sister of the same sex as the speaker and one for brother-sister of different sex; and still others one word for male and one for female brother-sister; in short, various peoples express re- spectively only age, relative sex, and absolute sex in this class of kin- ship; while still others express them in different degrees and combi- nations. Surely if there is anything of consequence in kinship it is these nearest of relationships, and diversity of terminological classi- fication is as extreme for them as for any other group of kindred. Yet because they do not lend themselves to theoretical reconstructions of marriage systems, they have been passed over in almost complete silence. Dr. Rivers is therefore more sanguine than accurate when he states in the conclusion of his book that not only the general char- acter but every detail of systems of relationship has been demon- strated as determined by social conditions. The parts of systems that correlate with social conditions have indeed been correlated by him; but those parts that do not correlate have for the most part not even been considered. 5. Finally, it is not only theoretically conceivable but an actual fact that terminology has at times influenced marriage institutions. This is as it should be, for in the wider sense of the word terminology is as much a social phenomenon as marriage, and an a priori denial that any class of social phenomena is capable of affecting any other class is certainly unjustifiable. In Roman Catholic nations, as Andrew Lang has pointed out, the god-father does not marry the god-daughter. Here there is no kinship at all; but the mere name has resulted in a taboo of wedlock. If civilized European people can take their meta- phors so seriously as this, it is likely that rude heathens represented as living in a world of symbolism have sometimes done so. It may be suspected, for instance, that the Chinese prohibition of marriage between persons of the same family name is due to a similar secondary scrupulousness, instead of being a survival of an ancient clan system, as it is customary, to state. Of course what is wanted — in a situation like this one is not a conviction that this or that inter- pretation is true, but a substantiated case made out by a sinologue who commands knowledge of his subject as well as critical faculty. Yet the instance is not without suggestiveness as it stands. It is perfectly true that every one should expect customs to shape names more frequently than names shape customs. Those who are ready to recognize a variety of factors as entering into terminology ''1917] Kroeber: California Kinship Systems 395 can admit this disproportion cheerfully. But those who are bound to schemes of rigorous and exclusive explanation through social insti- tutions can not permit the introduction of even the rarer instances of priority of terminology without fatally dulling the edge of their working tool. If the issue were primarily the narrower one of the preeminence of so-called psychological and so-called social influences on kinship systems, I should still lay more stress on the former influence, because, after all, kinship systems are terminologies, terminologies are classi- fications, and classifications are reflections of ‘‘psychological’’ pro- cesses—just as I should expect religious phenomena to be influenced chiefly by other religious phenomena and only in a lesser degree by social, economic, or technical factors. I also construe the evidence as actually bearing out this interpretation. Yet I am ready to concede freely that ‘‘social’’ influences—and religious and economic ones— have entered in some measure into kinship systems, at times to a considerable degree even. But back of this aspect of the problem lies the basic issue: whether kinship terminology is determined rigidly by specific social phenomena of only one kind, and can therefore be | utilized for constructive causal explanations of societies; or whether all classes of social phenomena can and do interact on such termin-. ology, and the infinitely variable play of the variable factors forbids any true determinations of causality of a sweeping character. Two irreconcilable methods of prosecuting ethnology and history here con- front each other. It is the magnitude of this conflict of ideals that gives some dignity and perhaps consequence to the question of kinship terminology, which otherwise would be but a technical if not a trivial problem. I am aware that the causal and deterministic method has in its favor the appearance of far greater productivity, and that it often tempts with immediate profit. It can give the public the hard and fast formulations and the definitely final reasons for which the public hungers. It is also assured of a warmer recognition from scientists— natural scientists—who, unable to follow each historical situation in detail, tend nevertheless to see in this method a welcome extension of their tried methods to new fields. But I am convineed as I am of few things that this method as it has been and is practiced in ethnology is vain; that its results are illusory in proportion as they are plausible; and if ever cultural phenomena are subject to causal and deterministic analysis, it will ''396 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 be in ways and with results utterly different from the methods and conclusions in vogue today. It is from this conception that I have approached the problem; and ungratefully negative as the conclusions may seem, I believe that the evidence bears them out. Dr. Rivers has rendered service to ethnology paralleled by few men. He has made valuable contributions to the critical methods of recording material. He has amassed noteworthy data, and has boldly and imaginatively attacked them without recourse to interpretation by physical and organic factors, and steeled himself no less against the more insidious temptation to explain culture in immediate terms of spontaneous psychology. There are those who wish that he might return to the path so brilliantly blazoned in the earlier Todas rather than continue in that pursued in the History of Melanesian Society. But all students of ethnology, those who differ as well as they who agree with his arguments, must be grateful to him for the consistency of his presentation, his courage, the directness with which he has met problems, and the precision with which he has defined them. In the present question the ultimate verdict must be left to others: I shall be satisfied if I have helped to clear the issue to the same degree on one side as Dr. Rivers has cleared it on the other. Transmitted October 11, 1916. ''UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PUBLICATIONS IN AMERICAN ARCHAEOLOGY AND ETHNOLOGY Vol. 12, No. 10, pp. 397-441, 8 text-figures July 6, 1917 CEREMONIES OF THE POMO INDIANS BY: 8. A. BARRETT CONTENTS PAGE Introduction 397 Ceremonial organization 398 Officials 399 General Features of the Pomo Ceremonies 2 401 Invitations to Ceremonies 402 The Ghost or Devil Ceremony 403 Stephen Powers on the Ghost Dance 404 The Ghost Ceremony Proper i 406 Fire Eating 418 The Purification Rite 421 Summary of the Principal Features of the Ghost Ceremony .................-...--- 422 The Guksu Ceremony 423 The Scarifying Ceremony 425 Stephen Powers on the Guksu Ceremony 427 Completion of the Guksu Ceremony 429 Treatment of Disease 430 Dances a 431 Dancessan- hich: Men and Women Participated. 2-0 ss io 433 Dances in which only Men performed 438 Dances in which only Women performed 439 Additional Dances 440 The Messiah Cult : 440 Conclusion 441 INTRODUCTION It has been at least twenty years since the last of the Pomo cere- monies was held in a truly aboriginal fashion. Elaborate ceremonies of a more recently introduced ‘‘Messiah’’ cult were held as late as perhaps fifteen years ago, but these ‘‘Messiah’’ ceremonies contain only a few features common to the indigenous tribal observances. ''398 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 Dances are even yet to be seen in connection with some celebrations, principally on the Fourth of July, but there now remains so little that is really primitive about these that they are virtually worthless to the student. Information obtained through’ direct observation is at present, therefore, impossible, and we must depend for our knowledge of Pomo ceremonies and ceremonial organization upon the statements of the older men, and particularly those concerned with such matters in former days. From such sources rather full information con- cerning some of the ceremonies and dances is obtainable, but, under the circumstances, it is impossible to secure exhaustive data concerning all of them. In many instances informants recall only a few of the details of a given ceremony or dance. Sometimes only its name is remembered. Doubtless even the recollection of some ceremonies and dances has been lost. During a residence in the Pomo region from 1892 to 1904 the existing vestiges of some of these Pomo ceremonies were observed whenever possible, but no attempt at a systematic collection of data on the subject was made until 1903 and 1904, when this work was undertaken in conjunction with the collection of Pomo myths, as part of the investigations of the Ethnological and Archaeological Survey of California, maintained by the Department of Anthropology of the University of California through the generosity of Mrs. Phoebe A. Hearst. This information was obtained from informants of three Pomo dialects—Northern, Central, and Eastern. Where a native term is used in the following pages, therefore, the dialect is indicated by N, C, or E, in parentheses directly after it. The phonetic system employed is fully explained in ‘‘The Ethno-Geography of the Pomo Indians.’”? CEREMONIAL ORGANIZATION The ceremonial organization of the Pomo was very loose. There was no secret society of importance, as there was among the Maidu and presumably among the neighboring Wintun, and no organized priesthood vested with control over ceremonies. The ordinary chiefs, however (or ‘‘captains,’’ as they are more often called), were promi- nently concerned with all ceremonies, and there were other officials in charge of particular rites. We may begin therefore by mentioning the various officials in the order of their importance. 1 Present series, VI, pp. 51-54. ''net eerste 1917] Barrett: Ceremonies of the Pomo Indians 399 OFFICIALS As has been elsewhere pointed out,” the social organization of the Pomo is based primarily upon blood relationship, the blood relatives who resided in a definite village grouping themselves into a political unit under the leadership of an hereditary ‘‘captain.’’ Usually several of these consanguineal units comprise a village, and their captains form its governing body. From among these the people elect a head captain. Not even the head captain has absolute authority, nor has any captain important judicial power, or power to inflict punishment. In short, the function of the captain is primarily that of adviser to the group. The special duties of the head captain in olden times were to welcome and entertain visitors from other villages, and to meet in council with the other captains concerning matters of general public welfare, and to arrange for and preside over ceremonies. What may be termed an honorary captainship was accorded any man who, through his wealth or his prowess as a hunter, made him- self very popular by providing large quantities of food and numerous feasts for the people. A similar honorary office, that of female captain, da’ xalik (E), was based upon a woman’s popularity, which depended in turn on her good-heartedness and her fame as a cook. Neither of these honorary offices, however, was hereditary. In spite of the am- biguous nature of the office, incumbents were accorded great respect at ceremonies and other public functions. The other officials had duties almost, if not quite, exclusively con- nected with ceremonies and had nothing directly to do with govern- mental affairs. We may recognize the fire-tenders, the head singers, the chorus singers, the drummers, and the masters of ceremonies. Such offices were considered very honorable and were, as a rule, hereditary. This was particularly true of the offices of fire-tender, head singer, and drummer, in which the succession followed precisely the same rules as did the chieftainship. The fire-tenders, called me’dze (N) and la’‘imoe (E), were officials of very great importance. Connected with each of the large, semi- subterranean ‘‘dance-houses’’? there were two fire-tenders, who saw to all matters concerning the fire and the preparation of the dance-house except actually procuring the firewood. All the men 2‘«The Ethno-Geography of the Pomo and Neighboring Indians,’’ present series, VI, pp. 15-17 3 An article by the present writer called ‘‘Pomo Buildings,’’ in the Holmes Memorial Volume, fully deseribes these structures, which were erected especially for ceremonial purposes and which formed the religious centers of Pomo villages. ''400 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 participating in the ceremony were supposed to bring wood, which they placed just outside the dance-house. One of the fire-tenders then carried it up and dropped it through the smoke-hole, while the other stacked it in ricks in the proper places within the house. As remuneration for their labor, they received the beads which were thrown at the dancers* by the people during the ceremony and which were swept up when the dance-house was cleaned. The head singer, called ke’ kaitea (C) and ke’tiya (E), was a man of great importance in ceremonies, though he was very inconspicuous. It was his duty to plan previously the proper sequence of the dances and songs, and it was also his duty to start all songs and to carry the air. The head singer had to possess a very good voice, and had to make it his business to know the songs for the various ceremonies. Now and then he was at a loss for the proper song for a particular occasion. He was allowed to consult some other singer, or, upon occasion, he might ask for suggestions from the audience. Any one who knew a song which fitted the occasion might come to the head singer and sing it for him in an undertone, until he caught it and was ready to lead in the singing. Asa rule he kept time with a split- stick rattle, or a rattle made of cocoons. The chorus or burden-singers, called skam (E), gave volume to the music and marked time with their split-stick rattles, hai mitamitaka (N). Their usual burden was ‘‘he, he, he, he, . . .’’ sung in a heavy monotone. ; The drummers, called tsilo’ gaik (E), tsilo’tea (C), and tsilo’ matitsi (E), were always two in number, and as a rule they took turns in playing the large’wooden drum which was set in the ground at the rear of the dance-house, and which was beaten by the stamping of the feet. The office of drummer was considered one of the most important, and second only to that of fire-tender. The master of ceremonies, called xabé’ dima (E), xabé’ gatk (E), and he’lima (C), started and stopped all songs and dances by certain signals. The participants in the dance usually maintained certain positions, b e master of ceremonies ran about from place to place supervising the activities and giving directions as required. His re eaaen for the throwing of the beads is as follows: Pomo custom prescribes a period of mourning lasting one year. If a dancer so far forgets his sorrow as actively to participate in a ceremony of this kind before the expiration of the prescribed mourning period after the death of a friend or relative some atonement is required. It is customary under such circumstances for some one in the audience to throw some loose shell-beads at the dancer, these being evidently intended as an offering to the spirits and having nothing directly to do with the dancer himself. ''1917] Barrett: Ceremonies of the Pomo Indians 401 presence was absolutely necessary at all ceremonies, and without him a dance could not proceed. He acted under the general direction of the head captain, but that official himself never served as master of ceremonies. Very rarely did the same individual serve as master of ceremonies and head singer. While as a rule the drummers and the singers wore no special dress for ceremonial occasions, the masters of ceremonies were almost always painted and dressed according to different requirements for each ceremony (see below). They were usually among the dancers who impersonated supernatural beings. GENERAL FEATURES OF POMO CEREMONIES A ceremony always centered about the dance-house,’ and lasted four nights, or some multiple of four, beginning usually soon after sunset. In the case of the ‘‘ghost ceremony,’’ which began at sunrise, the preceding night was spent in performing other dances. Such ceremonies were made up of a varying number of dances. There was usually no prescribed sequence, but the ceremony took the name of the dance which was its special feature, though this need not necessarily open the ceremony. In a few instances it was recog- nized that certain dances should be performed together. A ceremony consisted of (1) an introductory procedure, accom- panied by more or less ritual, such as the initiation of the children through the gii’ksi ceremony (see below, p. 425); (2) a series of dances; (3) a series of speeches by officials and men of importance concerning the religious life or other matters of public interest; (4) a final purification rite; and (5) various feasts, particularly one held in the morning after the final night of the ceremony. There were certain special ceremonies, such as the gi’ksti cere- mony, in which a definite opening procedure was required, but after this almost any desired dance might be held at any time, day or night, throughout the duration of the ceremonial period. The procedure of the final night of the ceremony was also usually fixed. The principal ceremonies of the Pomo were: The xahliigax xaikilgaiagiba® (the ‘‘ghost’’ or ‘‘devil’’ ceremony). The kalimatoto xaikilgaiagiba (the thunder ceremony). The gi’kst xaikilgaiagiba. The da’ma xaikilgaiagiba. 5 For a description of this large semi-subterranean structure see ‘‘Pomo Buildings,’’ by the present author in the Holmes Anniversary Volume. 6 These words are in the Eastern Pomo dialect. ''402 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 INVITATIONS TO CEREMONIES The captains of the village discussed with other important men the question of holding a ceremony, just as they discussed other matters relating to the general public good. Having agreed upon the date and other details, the head captain usually walked through the village delivering an oration, as was customary upon occasions of importance, in which he announced to the people the decision of their captains. This oration might, however, be delivered as he stood before the door of his own house or before the door of the dance-house. Invitations were then sent to the people of other villages to attend the ceremony. This was done by means of a special invitation string. Wormwood or willow sticks about two inches in length were tied, each separately, into a short string, the number of sticks being equal, according to some informants, to the number of days inter- vening before the ceremony was to begin, usually not fewer than two or more than eight. Other informants stated that this number was equal to these intervening days plus the number of days during which the ceremony was to be held. For instance, if a four-day ceremony was to begin four days hence, these being the usual numbers in both instances, eight sticks were tied into the invitation string. According to another informant, if the number of sticks was from two to five, the guests were invited for the first of two or more ceremonies. If six or more sticks were present, they were to come for a later ceremony. This latter, however, seems to be rather improbable. To one end of the string was tied, as an ornament, a small section of forehead-band made of yellow-hammer feathers. This string might be presented as such, but frequently it was tied to the end of a wand about two feet long. Its general name among the Central Pomo was haidel. Before sending, it was called ha’icbi; after it had been sent out, it was termed ha’‘idakati. A messenger took this string or wand to the captain of the village invited and, if it was necessary for him to make a journey of any considerable length, he broke off a stick for each day of his journey. According to most informants, he simply delivered the string to the head captain of the invited village and immediately returned home with the message of acceptance from that village. According to one informant, however, he remained as the guest of the head captain, and himself broke a stick each day from the invitation string and finally conducted the visitors to the ceremony. As a rule, visitors arrived at least one day before the ceremony ''1917] Barrett: Ceremonies of the Pomo Indians 403 began, but they never entered the village itself until the morning of the first ceremonial day, making camp meanwhile at some convenient spot within a short distance. The visitors collected a present of a considerable number of shell beads, which was carried by their head captain as he led them into the village. Some, at least, of the younger men among the visitors attired themselves in their dance costumes and danced into the village, usually following a little apart from the rest of their people. As soon as the visitors appeared in sight, a watchman, stationed on the roof of the dance-house, gave notice to the head captain, who was inside. He at once came out and, taking a position directly in front of the dance-house, delivered a short oration inviting the visitors to enter and making them welcome. As the visitors entered each group was assigned to its particular position in the dance-house, and all seated themselves with their head captain, captains, fire-tenders, and other officials in front. When the head captain of the host village finally entered the dance-house, which was not until after all the visitors had taken their seats, he was called by the visiting head captain to their position. The visiting head captain then made a short speech of presentation and gave the beads to the host head captain, who made, in return, a second and more lengthy speech of welcome. He then took these beads to his own house, and they were later divided among his people. A present of equal value was returned to the visitors, either immediately or at some time before the close of the ceremony. This formality of welcome over, some dance might be held at once or the guests and hosts might enjoy a general visit. If one of the secret ceremonies was to be held, all the women and children and the uninitiated men retired from the dance-house before it commenced. THE GHOST OR DEVIL CEREMONY This ceremony was perhaps the most important of the four-day ceremonies of the Pomo. It was usually held in the spring and was witnessed only by properly initiated men, never by women or children. The uninitiated men, as well as the women and children, were much afraid of these dancers and kept a very respectful distance when they entered the village. This was due to the belief that to approach closely would produce serious illness. Such esoteric ceremonies are unusual among the Pomo, though ''404 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 they occur among other California tribes. As examples might be mentioned the Hesi ceremony among the Wintun and Maidu, especially among the Maidu, who have a definite secret society. STEPHEN POWERS ON THE GHOST DANCE The ghost dance of the Pomo has been attributed by Powers’ to a secret society. In speaking of the subject of chastity among the Pomo, he describes a ‘‘devil-raising’’ ceremony conducted by what he terms a ‘‘seecret society’? which had several branches in the various Pomo villages. His description of this ceremony is given from infor- mation obtained by him from an old resident closely connected with the Indians of the region in early days, and, while his assumptions and deductions are in many respects incorrect, it is plainly a description of the ghost dance. After speaking of the is to conjure up infernal terrors and render each other assistance in keeping their women in subjection,’’ Powers says:* “*seeret society . . . whose simple purpose Their meetings are held in an assembly-house erected especially for the purpose, constructed of peeled pine-poles. It is painted red, black, and white (wood color) on the inside in spiral stripes reaching from the apex to the ground. Outside it is thatched and covered with earth. When they are assembled in it there is a doorkeeper at the entrance who suffers no one to enter unless he is a regular member, pledged to secrecy. Even Mr. Potter, though a man held in high honor by them, was not allowed to enter, though they offered to initiate him, if he desired. They do not scruple to avow to Americans who are well acquainted with them, and in whose discretion they have confidence, that their object is simply to ‘‘raise the devil,’’ as they express it, with whom they pretend to hold communication; and to carry on other demoniacal doings, accom- panied by frightful whooping and yelling, in order to work on the imaginations of the erring squaws, no whit more guilty than themselves. Once in seven years these secret yoman-tamers hold a grand devil-dance (cha-du-el-keh), which is looked forward to by the women of the tribe with fear and trembling as the scourging visit of the dreadful Yu-ku-ku-la (the devil). As this society has its ramifications among the many Pomo tribes, this great dance is held one septennium in one valley, another in another, and so on through the circuit of the branch societies. Every seven years, therefore, witnesses the construction of an immense assembly-house which is used for this special occasion only. I have seen the ruins of one which was reared in Potter Valley somewhere about the year 1860. The pit, or cellar, which made a part of it was circular, sixty-three feet in diameter and about six feet deep, and all the enormous mass of earth excavated from it was gouged up with small, fire-hardened sticks and carried away in baskets by both men and women, chiefly men. It was about eighteen feet high 7 Contr. N. A. Ethn., 1, 158-160, 1877. 8 Loc. cit. ¢» ''1917] Barrett: Ceremonies of the Pomo Indians 405 in the center, and the roof was supported on five posts, one a center pole and four others standing around it, equidistant from it and the perimeter of the pit. Timbers from six to nine inches in diameter were laid from the edge of the pit to the middle posts, and from these to the center pole. Over these were placed grass and brush, and the whole was heavily covered with earth. Allowing four square feet of space to each person, such a structure would contain upward of seven hundred people. In their palmy days hundreds and even thousands of Indians attended one of these grand dances. When the dance is held, twenty or thirty men array themselves in harlequin rig and barbaric paint and put vessels of pitch on their heads; then they secretly go out into the surrounding mountains. These are to personify the devils. A herald goes up to the top of the assembly-house and makes a speech to the multitude. At a signal agreed upon in the evening the masqueraders come in from the mountains, with the vessels of pitch flaming on their heads, and with all the frightful accessories of noise, motion, and costume which the savage mind can devise in representation of demons. The terrified women and children flee for life, the men huddle them into a circle, and, on the principle of fighting the devil with fire, they swing blazing firebrands in the air, yell, whoop, and make frantic dashes at the marauding and bloodthirsty devils, so creating a terrific spectacle, and striking great fear into the hearts of the assembled hundreds of women, who are screaming and fainting and clinging to their valorous protectors. Finally the devils succeed in getting into the assembly- house, and the bravest of the men enter and hold a parley with them. As a conclusion of the whole farce, the men summon courage, the devils are expelled from the assembly-house, and with a prodigious row and racket of sham fighting are chased away into the mountains. After all these terrible doings have exercised their due effect upon the wanton feminine mind, another stage of the proceedings is entered upon. A rattlesnake was captured some days beforehand, its fangs were plucked out, and it was handled, stroked, fed, and tamed, so that it could be displayed with safety. The venerable, white-haired peace-chief now takes his station before the multitude, within the great assembly-house, with the rattlesnake before him as the visible incarnation of the dreadful Yukukula. Slowly and sonorously he begins, speaking to them of morality and feminine obedience. Then warming with his subject, and brandishing the horrid reptile in his hand full in the faces and over the heads of his shuddering auditors, with solemn and awful voice he warns them to beware, and threatens them with the dire wrath of Yukukula i they do not live lives of chastity, industry, and obedience, until some of in | terrified squaws shriek aloud and fall swooning upon the ground. Cy A ? Referring again to the ‘‘devil dance,’’ as practiced among the Gualala, Powers says :° In the midst of the ordinary dances there comes rushing upon the scene an ugly apparition in the shape of a man, wearing a feather mantle on his back reaching from the armpits down to the mid-thighs, zebra-painted on his breast and legs with black stripes, bearskin shako on his head, and his arms stretched out at full length along a staff passing behind his neck. Accoutered in this harlequin rig, he dashes at the squaws, capering, dancing, whooping; and they and the children flee for life, keeping several hundred yards between him and themselves. If they are so unfortunate as to touch even his stick, all their children will perish out of hand. 9 Op. cit., pp. 193-194. '' e 406 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol.12 THE GHOST CEREMONY PROPER ~~ The dancers were of two classes, the ordinary ghost-dancers, or ‘“devils,’’ called xahluigak (FE), and the ‘‘ash-devils,’’ or fire-eaters, ealled n6 xahliigak (EK). The former danced almost exclusively during the day, and the latter at night, though these regulations were not quite absolute. The ash-devils were always present at the ghost ceremony and during the ghost dance ppoper they served, in a way, as sergeants-at-arms and as clowns. ~ According to some informants, a new dance-house was especially built for each ghost ceremony. Other informants did not particularly mention this fact and it seems probable that in more recent times, after the ceremonial procedure of the Pomo had become somewhat lax, this rule was not observed, and the same dance-house may have been used for more than one ghost ceremony, and for other ceremonies as well. In this ceremony the dancers impersonated the spirits of the dead, as is indicated by the speech of the chief devil-dancer made just before disrobing.*® The dance is said to have had its origin_in mythieal ti when the birds and mammals had human attributes. The Pomo account is as follows: Hawk, the captain of a village, was killed by Vulture. After being absent from the village for some time Hawk suddenly returned, came into the dance- house, and sat down in front of the center pole, at its foot. A ceremony was about to begin, and the people noticed nothing out of the ordinary about Hawk and were perfectly willing to allow him to participate in the dancing. Meadow- lark, however, noticed an odor about Hawk which showed that he had just returned from the realm of the dead. With his characteristic garrulity, he commenced to chatter about the improprieties of mortals dancing with dead people. Hawk was a chief and one of an important family and felt especially offended at these reflections upon him and left at once, never again returning to the village. According to one version of the myth, Meadowlark had, in those days, a long tail like most other birds. His action upon this occasion, however, so enraged the other members of the village that some one struck at him with a fire poker which happened to be near at hand. Meadowlark was able to dodge the blow, but the poker clipped off a large part of his tail. He has, therefore, had only a stub of a tail since that day. The people then fell to discussing what could be done to atone in some way for this insult to Hawk. A number of men immediately went out into the woods and dressed themselves as the devil-dancers now do, returning to the village to personate the spirits of the departed. From this mythical source has descended the present-day ghost or devil ceremony. The ceremony was directly under the supervision of the chief and it was he who safeguarded the ghost-dance ‘‘oti’ksi doctor,”’ 10 See below, p. 414. ''1917 | Barrett: Ceremonies of the Pomo Indians 407 paraphernalia during the long interval between ceremonies. The ghost-dancers and the ash-devils were actually assisted in dressing by the gi’kst doctors. The dress of the ghost-dancer proper was quite elaborate. Hach ghost-dancer repaired to some secluded place in the woods or brush, preferably back in the hills about the village, where he dressed. This going into seclusion to dress is called tsima’ kabek in the Eastern Pomo dialect. He first rubbed his body with chewed angelica root, at the same time making a prayer for long life, good health, and prosperity for himself, his fellow dancers, and the people of the village. He also made a prayer to a certain supernatural being’’ to lend him a striped skin. He next painted his body with white, red, and black paints. A man might paint his body entirely one color. The upper half of the body might be of one color, while the lower half was of another. The same difference in color might obtain between the right and the left sides, and bands and stripes might also be freely used. Before finally finishing the painting of the face and arms, however, the remainder of the attire was put on. This included, for the head, (1) a head-net with which to confine the hair; (2) a down-filled head- net; (3) a feather tuft on top of the head; (4) a yellow-hammer quill forehead-band fastened at the top of the forehead, passing back through the parted feather-tuft and hanging down the back; and (5) a fillet of pepperwood leaves. The remainder of the costume consisted of a short girdle of pepperwood branches worn about the waist and, if desired, a similar adornment about the neck. The ash-devils, or fire-eaters, dressed more simply. According to some informants, they were entirely nude except for a coat of blue paint. According to others, their attire was somewhat more elaborate. The face was painted red, black, or white, two colors never being used together. The legs were painted white, then scratched with the finger- nails so as to remove some of the paint and produce longitudinal stripes. The hair was bound up with the usual head-net into which a single black feather was inserted,” or a feather tuft was attached to it. As a sereen or mask before the face, the dancer also wore a fringe of green twigs further to disguise his identity. Otherwise he was completely naked. 11 The exact identity of this supernatural being could not be determined from informants. 12 According to one informant, two feathers instead of one were worn by these dancers. These were placed so that they projected laterally from the forehead. ''408 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 When everything was in readiness in the village, the head captain sent out a messenger to notify the dancers. When the latter were ready to enter the village, a small fire was built in the hills to give notice of the fact. They made their first entry just about daybreak on the first day. A ecrier, who was always one of the captains or a fire-tender detailed to this duty, took his position on the roof of the dance-house just below the smoke-hole, where he gave the ghost call ‘“‘yé ...’’ four times. At once answering calls were heard from the ghost-dancers in their several locations, for they had scattered to a number of different places, each man by himself, or in groups of not more than two or three individuals. The ghost response was a > repeated four times. If the ghost-dancers were loud ‘‘ wat wa’i,’ sufficiently close together, this was given by their leader only. 'The erier continued his calling until one or more of the dancers appeared on the outskirts of the village. They came running in,’’ each carrying in his hands two bunches of grass or twigs a foot or so in length," behind which he at times pretended to hide. Each suddenly stopped as he came in sight of the dance-house and stood for a moment with outstretched arms. Thereupon the crier shouted, ‘‘6,6,6,6,’’ after which he delivered an invocation to the ghost-dancers, asking them to come running into the village bringing health and happiness to the people. This invocation was as follows: napo’ putsa’l giwa’lé village healthy run to ma’yawala kale pitsa’l giwa’lé girls healthy run to xa’xalik putsa’l giwa’lé chiefs healthy run to da’xalik putsa’] giwa’lé chieftainesses healthy run to kawi’k putsa’l giwa’lé children healthy run to Then, according to one informant, all the people who were assem- bled in the dance-house shouted, while the drummer beat rapidly for a minute or two. The head singers took their cocoon rattles and 13 One informant stated that each dancer was ablaze on his back, head, and arms, and that smoke issued from his mouth. This accords with Power’s state- ments, quoted above. 14 According to one informant, some of these dancers carried stones, long sticks, or even snakes with which to frighten the spectators. Note also Power’s reference to the use of the rattlesnake in the ghost dance, quoted above. ''1917] Barrett: Ceremonies of the Pomo Indians 409 intoned a song as they marched outside to meet the dancers. After singing outside for a short time, they re-entered the dance-house. The dancers then came running in, making a loud noise produced by a voiced expulsion of breath through the relaxed but closed lips, ‘ba...’ and ran to a point about one hundred yards directly in front of the dance-house door (see fig. 1). While the dancers were running into the village, the singers sang the following song: yohiya’, yohiya’, yohiya’, yohiya’, yohiya’, yohiya’, yohikdli kolé, yohikoli kole. (Repeat indefinitely.) x x x x x x N Hig al Fig. 2 Fig. 1—Paths of the ghost-dancers as they enter the village, and their cere- monial course before the dance-house. Fig. 2—Positions taken and course traveled by ghost-dancers in approaching dance-house. ''410 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [ Vol. 12 Meantime the crier and the dancers continued their respective cries. The head ghost-dancer always dressed at a place north (i.e., in the rear) of the dance-house, so that in entering the village he ran past the dance-house to take up his position. Here he bowed very low, and quickly dropped his arms with the bunches of grass above mentioned, at the same time crying ‘‘wée . . He then trotted perhaps twenty feet in one direction, where he repeated this motion and ery, and then to a point an equal distance in the opposite direction from his central 9? . position, repeating the same motion and ery there. This he did four times, finally stopping in the middle of the forty-foot line thus blocked out, and directly in front of the dance-house door. The next dancer to enter the village might come from any direction. He ran toward the head dancer and crossed, if possible, in front of him, though if necessary he passed behind him. In this case the head dancer turned around so as to face the runner. The newcomer began to pass back and forth along the line, making the motions and cries as above described. He then took up his position at one side or the other of the chief dancer. These dancers were at liberty to laugh, talk, and play at will. Frequently they performed various comical antics, such as pretending to be stung by wasps, and doctoring one another. The erier continued his ealls until finally the leader of the dancers walked along a zigzag path to a position about one-quarter of the distance between the line of dancers and the dance-house (see fig. 2). Here he halted and eried ‘‘wui’ .. .”’ after which the crier at the dance-house called all the initiated men of the village to assemble. There was a fixed restriction against the presence of the uninitiated 2) in this assembly. One informant maintained that the ceremony, as held in his locality (the coast of the Central Pomo area), required that four posts be set up, each at a distance of several yards from the danece-house, as is shown in figures 1 and 2, the imaginary lines from post to post forming an inclosure for the dance-house and its imme- diate vicinity, within which none but the initiated dared venture. The singers and others officially concerned with the dance came from within the dance-house and formed two lines, one on each side of the outer door of the tunnel, as indicated by the small crosses in figure 2. As the erier gave his call, the initiates answered with a ery of ‘‘ye . . .’’ after which they formed these two lines between which the ghost-dancers must pass to enter the dance-house. At the outer ends of these lines were two masters of ceremonies who directed the ceremony from this point on to its close. They first ''1917] Barrett: Ceremonies of the Pomo Indians 411 chased each of the dancers'® as he came to enter the house, returning each time to the heads of the two lines, there to await the arrival of the next dancer. These masters of ceremonies were called xahli’igak kaldaiyati (E) or masa’n kaldaiyati (E), and were entirely nude except for a head-net and a feather tuft on their heads. The chief ghost-dancer entered the house backwards and started towards the drum, passing, however, on the west or wrong side of the fire. Before he had gone very far, he stopped and groped around Fig. 3—Course of each ghost-dancer entering dance-house. with one foot, as if to find his way, and finally inquired which way he should go. Ghost-dancers used the same words in speaking that ordi- nary people did, except that they inverted their statements and re- versed the meanings of words. In this case the spectators replied, ‘“You must go on the west side,’’*® meaning, of course, that the dancer was expected actually to go down the east side of the dance-house. He then reversed his direction, as is shown in figure 3, and circled four times about the fire, finally passing to a position in front of the 15 Two or three dancers sometimes came together. 16 Mibax bol malidai (E). . ''412 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 center pole. The spectators meanwhile constantly called out to each dancer to pass down the ‘‘east’’ side of the house. When the dancer entered through the tunnel, the spectators all eried, ‘‘ye’-ye.’’ He at first advanced very slowly backwards until he reached the point at which he inquired his way. As soon as he received this direction he sprang up and ran the prescribed four times around the fire and finally reached the foot of the center pole, making meanwhile the same ‘‘bii . . .”’ noise which he had made upon entering the village. He here awaited the arrival of the other dancers, who went through the same succession of movements. The chief ghost-dancer, upon arriving in front of the center pole, said, ‘‘mamile’’’ (E), to which the spectators replied, ‘‘heh@’ .. .’’ Then he made a short speech in a more or less archaic language. Its purport was: ‘‘I do not come to do any one harm, but rather to take all sickness away and to make everybody strong.”’ habaditkiya gahni kidi’ pitsa/lwal gakba ga/kalik gaba da’kalik good chiefs chieftainesses gaba, ka’lnine gaba békal sima bexba gahni cama _ ihiwala rich people He next marked off, according to one informant, two or three places on the east side of the floor, saying that he and his followers would dance there. This was contrary to the usual procedure in dances, for the regular dancing area in front of the center pole was always used. As a matter of fact, the ghost dance itself was actually per- formed in the usual area also, but this indicating of another area, and this announcement, are only other evidences that the spirits must always do things differently from mortals. In fact, the whole dress and conduct of these dancers, their reversal of terms of direction, their groping their way, ete., typify the conduct of the spirits of the de- parted, who find everyhing strange when they return to the realm of mortals. Throughout the entire ceremony, and especially during the time that the ghost-dancers were entering, the spectators were obliged to use great care not to obstruct their passage in any way, or otherwise to interfere with them, else they were likely to be very roughly handled by the dancers. As the last ghost-dancer entered the tunnel leading into the dance- house, the men in the two lines outside cried ‘‘yihé’’’ four times, after which they entered and took up their positions. ''1917] Barrett: Ceremonies of the Pomo Indians 413 The above described entry of the dancers was according to the regular procedure. However, these dancers, especially the ash-devils, were privileged to perform many comical antics, and it not infre- quently happened that one or more of them would run up on to the roof of the dance-house and dive through the smoke-hole. In fact, this was one of the usual modes of deception practiced in this ceremony. A special net, cko’l tabiai' kile hai (N), was stretched about two feet below the smoke-hole to catch the dancer. A special post was set in the ground beside this net for the dancer to slide down. He would then go through the usual series of movements, running four times around the fire. After this he usually took up a position at one of the posts near the door, there to levy tribute upon the spectators. This tribute might be in the form of firewood, tobacco, or other commodities. The music for this ceremony was provided by a drummer, two chief singers, and a number of burden-singers. The ghost-dancers sometimes sang a kind of burden of their own while dancing. This was simply ‘‘hi, hi, hi, hi,’’ ete., in a very high key. The chief singers were provided with cocoon rattles. These and the drum were the only instruments used. The dancers carried no whistles, although these were ordinarily used by performers in other dances. The burden- singers also used no split-stick rattles, but clapped their hands instead in time to their singing. After the performers had in this way entered the dance-house, the chief ghost-dancer called to the singers to start. The drummer then jumped upon the drum, erying ‘‘hitsaiya’hii’’ (E)..7 With the first ery of the drummer, the chief singers sounded their rattles. After an interval of perhaps a minute, the drummer repeated his jump and call. The song started and the dance began. ‘The song as given by one of the informants is as follows: yohiya’ yohiya’, yohiya’ yohiya’, kuli kule kale . kulikale kulé... _ hitsaiya’ hutsaiya’ nae (Repeat Hiden rely) The two masters of ceremonies took up their respective positions at A and C (fig. 3) and danced back and forth along the lines AB Ee ie expreccion was said by informants to be untranslatable, simply an expression used to start the song. This jumping upon the drum and calling by ~ the drummer were called tehe’sba (E). ''414 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 and CD. In starting the movement, they stood with hands out- stretched and bent their bodies sidewise toward the drum as they shouted ‘‘hitsaiya‘/hii.’’ They then ran rapidly sidewise to the op- posite ends of their respective courses, where they repeated the same bending, this time in the opposite direction. When they had gone back and forth over these courses and had returned to their original positions for the fourth time, they again shouted as at first. This particular set of the dance was repeated four times, thus completing this part. After any such part had ended, it occasionally happened that one dancer would continue his steps just as though the music were in full swing. Ultimately one of his fellow-dancers would strike him lightly to call his attention to the fact that the dance was over, and he also would stop. Four such parts completed the first division of the dance. After this the masters of ceremonies advanced toward the ghost-dancers, motioning them back toward the center pole with the palms of their hands turned outward and held in front of them, while they said ‘‘hahyw’, hahywt’’’ (repeated indefinitely). The singers, masters of ceremonies, and the drummer then seated themselves or stood a short distance away from the drum, and the ghost-dancers proceeded with their ceremonial disrobing. The chief ghost-dancer proceeded from the foot of the center pole by a path, as is indicated in figure 4, leading around the center pole and fire and back to the east side of the drum, which the ghost-dancers term ciina’ bilat (E), literally ‘‘canoe worn out.’’ Upon his arrival at the drum the chief ghost-dancer made a speech in which he said that he and his fellows ‘‘had come from the hollow stems of the grass, crawling like snakes,’’ to visit the people. katsa’ muto’lai waha badit’kiu (E) grass hollow travel like a snake He told them that he had come for their good and with no evil motives, that he had come to bring them good health and happiness, not sickness and misfortune. With a cry of ‘‘mé...’’ he then jumped across the drum to its west side. The spectators cried ‘‘mi’bax bo’wowa’’ (E), literally ‘‘go on your west side,’’ indicating the west side of the drum, according to the ghost-dancers’ inverted method of speech. In compliance with this instruction, the chief ghost-dancer jumped across the drum, after which he sometimes felt around with his foot as if in search of something. Thus he jumped back and g sais icetallall ''1917] Barrett: Ceremonies of the Pomo Indians 415 forth four times across the drum. He had really been in search of the drum all the time and had feigned his inability to find it. He finally, however, jumped upon it and stamped rapidly for a minute or so to indicate his satisfaction. Throughout this whole performance the singers and others near the drum continually cried ‘‘ho... ho ...’’ ete. While standing on the drum, the chief ghost-dancer faced toward the wall, thus bringing his back toward the fire. Fre- quently he made some comic observation to those near by,’* and from time to time turned his head toward the right so as almost to face the fire, the while he made the peculiar noise, ‘‘bi. . .”’ characteristic ue e e Cre 6 enero e AO) Fig. 4—Ghost-dancer’s course in disrobing. of this dance. Meanwhile he turned his head slowly, first to the right and then to the left, until he had done this four times in each direction. He next took the brush or grass, which he had throughout the ceremony been carrying in his hands, first in his left hand and passed it downward over the right side of his body until he had passed it down and up four times. He then took it in his right hand and passed it in the same manner over his left side. He next took part of it again in each hand and passed both hands back and forth side- wise over his legs while standing in a bent posture, until he had done this also four times. The brush or grass was then placed upon the ground. 18 Compare below, p. 419. ''416 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 He next took off the girdle of twigs about his waist and dropped it to the ground, usually without ceremony, though if he chose he might pass this through the same series of motions as the twigs carried in his hand. He next took off his entire head-gear at once. This he held in his left hand and passed from his right shoulder up over his head four times, repeating the same motions with the right hand on the left side. He then placed this with the other paraphernalia on the ground. He next left the drum and went directly back to the foot of the center pole, where he rejoined the rest of the ghost-dancers. The remaining dancers went, one by one, or in small groups, and performed exactly the same ceremony as that just described. When all had disrobed, each took his costume and retired to the woods or brush, redressed himself, endeavoring to change his painting to one as dif- ferent as possible from that which he wore before. Later the same performance was repeated: the calling by the crier, entry of the daneers, series of dances, and ceremonial disrobing. On the first day this entire series of dances was repeated four times in all—at about 5 a.m., 10 a.m., 2 p.m., and 5 p.m., respectively. After the ceremonial disrobing at the end of the fourth series, the ghost-daneers left their suits in the dance-house and repaired to the river or lake to swim, after which they returned to the dance-house. During the other three days of the ceremony they might appear any desired number of times during the day. The dancers were forbidden to eat or drink on any particular day as long as the dance continued, but as soon as they had gone down to swim this restriction was removed. As a rule, fire-eating and fire-handling were only incidental to the ghost dance proper. However, if occasion arose, the ghost-dancers themselves might handle fire, though they could not eat it. This privilege was especially reserved to the ash-devils, nd’ xahliigak (E). In ease something was done to offend the ghost-dancers, such as an inadequate provision of wood or some inattention on the part of the officials, they might attempt to show their displeasure by throwing fire about the dance-house. It then became the duty of the two fire- tenders to hold sticks of wood across the fire.” This operated as a taboo to the ghost-dancers, who were prevented from touching the fire. If there were any of the ash-devils present, even though not regularly participating in this particular ceremony, they at once brought their special bird-shaped staffs, which served as their badges of authority,’® 19 See below, p. 418. ''1917] Barrett: Ceremonies of the Pomo Indians 417 and gave them absolute control over the entire assemblage, including even the head captain. This caused the fire-tenders to remove their restriction, and the ghost-dancers were then privileged to do as they wished as long as they were under the patronage of the ash-devils. While serving, during the regular ghost dance, as messengers, sergeants-at-arms, and collectors of fines, the ash-devils were called katsa’tala (E), and were the special clowns who performed all manner of antics in their endeavors to provoke an outward expression of mirth from some unfortunate spectator. Should he so forget himself as to laugh or even smile at the antics, one of these katsa’tala ran at him with his wand and levied tribute in the form of a payment of beads or some other commodity, or imposed a penalty requiring the offender to bring wood or water for the dancers. Furthermore, if some one of the dancers should see a spectator in possession of something desir- able, he sent one of these katsa’tala with his wand to this spectator to demand the desired article. The spectator must then bring it to the foot of the center pole and deposit it for the dancers. In order to provoke the spectators to mirth, these katsa’tala did many odd things and made themselves as grotesque as possible. For instance, one of them would prop his eyelids open with small wooden pegs (an action called ii batak (E)), or he would hold his mouth open and stretch it out of shape (an action called katsi’da batak (E) ), or he would fill his cheeks very full and puff them out with grass (called kawe'ts kale (E)). _ These ash-devils never actually danced in the ghost dance proper, but accompanied the regular ghost-dancers when they appeared. The . intervals between dances were filled and greatly enlivened by their antics, and it was during these intervals that they made good their name by rolling in the ashes of the fire, and by sometimes throwing live coals about, and ‘‘eating’’ them. Pests.) From time to time during the or ceremonial pauses, one of these katsa’tala would seize a cocoon rattle, run four times about the fire and center pole, and throw the rattle at the chief singer, calling upon him for a song. This must be at once forthcoming, and the ghost dance itself was then resumed. If some one in the audience wished to have the singing and dancing resumed, he threw a cocoon rattle at one of the fire-tenders, who passed it to one of the katsa’tala, who then ran about the fire and presented it to the chief singer as just described. Songs were sometimes sung independently and unaccompanied by ''418 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [ Vol. 12 dancing. This was especially the case in what may be termed singing contests. Upon receiving the rattle, a singer was obliged at once to sing some song. He then passed the rattle to another singer, who did likewise. Thus each of the renowned singers was given an opportunity to prove his merit. Each man’s song was accompanied by a parade of the performers, which carried the party, including the singer, four times around the dancing area. FIRE-EATING Fire-eating was restricted, as above stated, to the ash-devils, and, while sometimes practiced during intermissions in the regular ghost danee, it was usually held as a separate ceremony in the evening and was preceded by a short dance. The dress of the ash-devils consisted of a coat of paint and a very simple headdress.?° In addition, however, they carried special cere- monial staffs called toa bila’t (FE), kasa’isatia (E), and kasa’lsala (E). To one end of this ceremonial staff was fixed the head of a crane. Grass was used to stuff the neck part, bits of abalone (Haliotis) shell made the eyes, and bluejay feathers were made into a topknot. It was permissible to use wands of slightly different forms, but all were crooked in some way, and the crane-headed staff was the recognized variety. When this special ceremony commenced, the ash-devils became supreme and took precedence over everybody. A guard was posted at the foot of the side post to the east of the door, and no one was permitted to leave the dance-house after the ceremony had begun except upon payment of a certain sum of what was termed upon this occasion ‘‘bead money’’ (eata’ne (E)). As a matter of fact, two or three stems of rush, from four to six feet in length, were bound to- gether and were given to the guard as payment. He took this ‘“‘money’’ and hung it on the wall near the drum, after having danced a few quick steps upon the drum with it in his hands. These rushes were legal tender during this ceremony; and if the dancers asked a favor of any one else in the dance-house they paid him for the service in this same legal tender. Their authority was especially shown by their use of the crane-head wands, which no one else was permitted to touch. They could be handled only after a long fast involving complete abstinence from water and from meat or grease in any form. 20 See below, p. 420. ''1917] Barrett: Ceremonies of the Pomo Indians 419 As soon as the ash-devils entered the dance-house absolute silence fell upon all. Except the ash-devils, no one, not excepting the head captain, was permitted to speak during the ceremony. The rule was that the ash-devils themselves must consult one another in low tones. Immediately upon entering the dance-house the main group of ash-devils took up a position at the foot of the center pole and, in case some one of the spectators did not almost immediately start a song for their dance, they might jump into the fire and begin to throw brands and live coals about among the spectators. This drastic action quickly called forth a protest, and some one volunteered to sing. The actual dancing lasted for perhaps half an hour, after which the ash-devils sat down and began to ‘‘eat fire,’’ jump into it, and perform other miraculous feats with it. They, to all appearances, actually picked up live coals, which they called bi (EK), and devoured them, preferring the coals of manzanita wood, as these were the strongest and hottest. This term bi is translated by the Pomo as ‘“notatoes,’? a term applied to the many species of bulbs and corms formerly an important part of their food supply. The word for coals is masi’k (E). During the progress of the dancing a fire-tender had been pre- paring the fire for the special benefit of the ash-devils, and had selected a considerable quantity of live coals, which he had piled at one side of the main fire. Suddenly one of the fire-dancers put his hand into these coals and scattered them out over the dancing floor. Then he pretended to be burned and danced about as if in pain. Finally, however, he struck the center pole with his hand and evinced great satisfaction, for to him the center pole was as cold water. During this fire-eating ceremony many other feats were performed, such as catching with the mouth a live coal which had been thrown into the air, then running back to the drum and dancing upon it. The dancer usually turned toward the audience, opened his mouth, and exhaled his breath in such a way as to cause the coal to glow between his teeth or farther back in his mouth. Such comical antics would in ordinary life provoke an outburst of merriment, but the rules of the ceremony absolutely forbade a sound of any kind, mirthful or otherwise, from the audience, and if the rule were violated a fine was exacted. During this ceremony, and apparently as an initiation of novices, little boys were thrown by the ash-devils back and forth a number of times through the blaze of a large fire. Finally, after about half an hour of this eating and handling of ''420 Unwersity of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 fire, the ash-devils formed at the drum and danced over a course such as that shown in figure 5. This was repeated four times, and as each dancer stepped upon the drum he danced a few short, quick steps, as did the regular drummer in producing music for an ordinary dance. Upon completing this cycle of four, the dancers reversed their direction and traveled over the same course four times. They next passed over the course represented in figure 6, stopping at the four points marked I, where each dancer waved his wand, which he held with both hands, above and in front of his head in such a manner as to describe with it a semicircle, while the spectators cried ‘‘hee’ .. .”’ a >o° PF CHOOESO ee es oie cic Fig. 5 Fig. 6 Fig. 5—Course in first part of final fire dance. Fig. 6—Course in second part of final fire dance. The dancers then returned to the drum, removed their head-dresses and nets, and danced back and forth four times along the line indicated in figure 7. At the end of each journey along this line, the dancers blew their breath forcibly through their lips and waved their hands from their mouths. At the end of this cycle they sat down and became ordinary persons” once more. The spectators were then permitted 21 According to the above information, which was obtained from an Eastern Pomo informant, the fire-dancers evidently did not make an attempt to hide their identity. However, a Central Pomo informant was very specific in his statements that the dancers of his locality were more particular in this respect, ''1917] Barrett: Ceremonies of the Pomo Indians 421 to do as they wished. They could resume their normal ways, including smoking, which had been prohibited because the fire and everything pertaining to it belonged exclusively to the fire-dancers during this ceremony. THE PURIFICATION RITE During the first three days and nights of the ghost ceremony, either the ghost dance itself or some other dance associated with it might be held. On the fourth night it was necessary that the entire night be spent in dancing, and near dawn there occurred a purification rite Fig. 7—Course in third part of final fire dance. accompanied by special songs. Every ceremonial object about the dance-house, whether it had been used during the preceding days or not, had to undergo this purification, and in case the owner of such a ceremonial object was not present, some near relative performed the ceremony with it. Just before sunrise each dancer, holding up his personal ceremonial paraphernalia in his right hand, danced back and forth in time to the songs. He danced four times looking toward each of the six cardinz1 directions in the following order: east, north, west, south, up, down. and instead of remaining in the dance-house after the ceremony they ran out and returned to their respective places of seclusion, there to dress in daily attire and return to the village. ''422 University of Califorma Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 All the ceremonial objects were then hung up in the dance-house and later stored away secretly by the chief Gi’ksi doctor. The ceremony ended during the following forenoon with a grand feast, which differed materially from other feasts held at times during the ceremony, in that each separate class of individuals dined by itself in the order of rank—captains, fire-tenders, singers, drummers, masters of ceremonies, ash-devils, ghost-dancers, and spectators. The food served to each class was, however, of the same kind and quality. Certain restrictions were imposed upon the dancers after the cere- mony was over. The regular ghost-dancers were not allowed to eat meat for eight days. Those who wore the chaplet of twigs upon the head were obliged to abstain from meat for four days. The Gi’ksi doctor who assisted a dancer in dressing might ask him for some article, such as a powerful poison. This had to be given the Gi’ksi and, in that case, the dancer was forced to abstain from meat for eight days. A dancer who wore certain kinds of feather ornaments abstained from meat for a month. The chief Gi’ksi doctor, who knew all about the ghost dance and who was ealled yo’mta bate (E), was compelled to abstain from meat for several months. It was his duty to care for the ceremonial paraphernalia between dances. This had to be eare- fully hidden away in some lonely spot where no one could find it except this chief Gi’ksi doctor and his two or three assistants. Whenever any one of these individuals ate meat or fish for the first time after this period of restriction had expired he was enjoined to say a short prayer over it. SUMMARY OF THE PRINCIPAL FEATURES OF THE GHOST CEREMONY The following are the most characteristic features of the ghost or devil ceremony : 1. The ceremony is supposed to have had its origin in mythical times and to have been instituted as an atonement for an offense against the dead. 2. It lasted four days, ending with an all-night dance, and, on the morning of the fifth day, a purification rite followed by a feast in which each class of individuals dined by itself. 3. The participants were several ghost- or devil-dancers person- ating the spirits of the departed and accompanied frequently, though not always, by one or more ash-devils or ash-ghosts, who filled the double office of clown and sergeant-at-arms, and who usually performed their special fire dance and fire-eating ceremony. ''1917] Barrett: Ceremonies of the Pomo Indians 423 4. The officials particularly concerned with the ceremony were two head singers, an indefinite number of burden-singers, a drummer, two fire-tenders, and two masters of ceremonies. The village captains retained their full authority in this ceremony except when the ash- devils were performing. 5. The audience consisted of initiated men only, and silence was the rule. Any exhibition of mirth was absolutely prohibited under penalty. 6. The attire of the ghost-dancer consisted of several pieces of | headgear, supplemented in some eases by a chaplet of leaves, a girdle, and sometimes a neck-ring of leaves. The body was otherwise nude except for very elaborate painting in black, white, and red. The dancers dressed secretly in the woods and came to the village carrying bunches of grass or twigs in their hands, behind which they at times pretended to hide. 7. The ash-devils wore only a simple head-dress and a coat of paint. 8. The special crane-head shaped wand of the ash-devil gave him absolute authority. 9. The dancers entered the village at the call of a erier stationed on top of the dance-house, performed an elaborate ceremony in front of the dance-house, and finally entered it backwards, groping their way, using an inverted style of speech, and in every other manner showing that the spirits of the departed were unaccustomed to the ways of mortals. 10. The dancing was elaborate and was characterized by the ocecur- rence of movements in cycles of four, followed by an elaborate cere- monial disrobing at the drum, and then by swimming. 11. During the fire dance the ash-devils initiated novices. 12. The dancers were subject to certain restrictions for varying periods of time following the ceremony. THE GUKSU CEREMONY Gi’kst or kt’ksi, as he is called in the different Pomo dialects, was a supernatural being living at the end of the world toward the south, one of six supernatural beings living at the ends of the world in the six cardinal directions. The term is also applied to a large mosquito- like insect, called locally ‘‘gallinipper.’’ ''a ae 424 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 Toward the east lived Ca’Inis, the only one of these deities who was associated especially with Gii’ksii in the ceremonies of the Pomo. Toward the north lived Si’tipadax (whirlwind). Toward the west lived Xa’-matii’tsi (water-occupation). The con- nection is here very readily seen when we know that the territory of the Pomo reached to the Pacifie Ocean, and that this great body of water formed an important element in certain phases of their myth- ology. It was only toward the west that the world was supposed by the Pomo to be bounded by water. Above lived Kali’-matiitsi (sky-occupation). Below lived Ka‘i-matii’tsi (earth-oceupation). Some of these terms really referred to groups of several deities each. The deities of all six quarters were particularly concerned with medicine practices. Healing was, however, especially the province of made their the Gi’ksiis, and the Pomo medicine-men, or ‘doctors, prayers particularly to them, although all the remaining deities of the cardinal points were invoked. 2? Nothing very definite seems to be known concerning the places of abode or manners of living of most of these deities. Each was sup- posed to dwell, at his own ‘‘end of the world,’’ in a sweat-house or dance-house of one kind or another. Each was also supposed to be distinetly malevolent at times and to be a man-killer unless properly placated. Under the proper circumstances they were regarded as benevolent, as was indicated by the prayers of the medicine-men invoking the aid of these dieties in curing the sick. Concerning the personal appearance of Gi’ksi and Ca’lnis, more was known than of the others. Gu’ksti himself was said to be of about normal human size and his most characteristic feature was a very long, large, sharp, red nose. He was usually very good natured. Ca‘Inis, on the other hand, while resembling Gi’ksi in most respects except that of the abnormal nose, was at all times a testy individual, and in the Gi’ksi ceremony his impersonator pursued people and tripped them up. : Gu’ksii was impersonated by a number of dancers, while only a single one represented Ca’Inis. Those personating Gi’kstii were dressed as follows: They painted their entire bodies black, according to some informants; according to others, with horizontal red, white, and black stripes. The feet were painted black and the under side of the chin and the sides of the face were painted white. On their heads they wore either a ‘‘big-head’’ headdress (a very bulky type of feather ''1917] Barrett: Ceremonies of the Pomo Indians 425 bonnet) or a large feather tuft on top of the head, and a yellow-hammer feather forehead-band. The large nose of Gu’ksii was represented by one made of feathers and of such a size as completely to cover the nose and mouth of the dancer. When painted red, this was said to represent very well this characteristic of the deity as he existed in the imagination of the Indians. The connection with the proboscis of the gallinipper is especially apt. Each Gi’ksii-dancer carried a cakd‘ik (E), or staff, about two inches in diameter and from six to eight feet in length, on the top of which was a feather tuft. The Gi’‘ksti-daneer, being supposedly a supernatural being, never spoke. The only sound made by him throughout this ceremony was produced by his whistle. The Ca’lnis-dancer was painted entirely black and carried a black staff very much like that of the Gi’ksi, except that it was somewhat shorter and bore no feathers. On his head he wore an ordinary feather cape so drawn together that it formed an immense feather topknot which normally fell in all directions over his head. This was held in place by means of skewers passing through a headnet. Another point in which these two dancers differed was that while the Gi’ksti-dancer was provided with a double bone whistle the Ca’Inis- dancer had none. The Gt’ksi ceremony itself, called gi’kst xaikilga (EF), gaxa’gaxat xaixilga (E), kakst haitcilai (C), and djaka’djakati (N), lasted for six days, during the first and the last two of which there was cele- brated the special ceremony called gaxa’gaxa (E), in which the children of the village were scarified. THE SCARIFYING CEREMONY Two or three days before the time appointed for the scarifying ceremony the men of the village went into the woods and cut a pole, perhaps from thirty to forty feet in length, which they trimmed and peeled preparatory to its erection. A hole a foot or two deep and large enough to receive the pole was dug directly in front of, and a short distance from, the dance-house. On the morning of the first ceremonial day a considerable number of men went out from the village dressed in a special ceremonial attire. This consisted of a body-painting either of black stripes or spots (no particular number being prescribed), and of a head decoration com- posed of a headnet, a down headnet, two trembler plumes, a yellow- hammer feather forehead-band, and a small feather tuft. ''426 Unwwersity of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol.12 They brought in the pole to the area directly in front of the dance- house, and here the following ceremony was performed: To the upper end of the pole a streamer was attached. The fastest runner among the participants took the end of this streamer, and the other men, arranged usually in the order of their ability as runners, grasped the pole at different points down to its butt. Behind this lne certain women who participated formed a second line. The pole was then carried, at the top speed of the runners, four times around in a contra- clockwise direction, the pivotal point being the hole in which the pole was to rest, and over which its base was held. As they ran the run- ners swayed the pole up and down, and the women threw upon the . men handfuls of a small, parched, black seed called géhe’ (E). Upon the completion of the fourth round some one of the runners shouted loudly “ha... . . .’? and at this signal all lifted the pole vertically into place in the hole. The call was repeated as the pole . was about half way up. When in place, the pole was fixed by tramping earth and stones about it. Within a few minutes after the erection of the pole the Gi’ksii- dancers appeared and stopped about two or three hundred yards away from the dance-house. Some of the men had been attempting to climb the pole, both men and women meanwhile throwing at them balls, gala’l (FE), of uncooked meal made of a certain grass seed. As the Gi’ksi-dancers appeared in the distance the chmbing ceased, and the children who were to be initiated were collected about the base of the pole. Boys who were to be thus initiated were called yo mta (E), while girls were called masa’nta (EK). They ranged in age from perhaps five to ten years. The dancers proceeded to the foot of the pole, took the children in hand, and performed the following ceremony, the object of which was to secure for the children good health and to make them grow rapidly. The children were first made to he down upon the ground and were covered with blankets. Then, under the supervision of the dancers, each child had two cuts made with a broken shell across the small of its back and about an inch apart. The cutting was done by the gaxa’ xale (E), an old man selected for the purpose by the people of the village on account of his long life, good health, and particularly his good heartedness. This 4 was one of the most important phases of the initiation, and upon it depended the effect upon the life of the child. The children were in each case covered completely with the blanket and were not per- mitted, under any consideration, to look up during this part of the ''AOU Barrett: Ceremonies of the Pomo Indians 427 ceremony. They might make any outery they pleased, but if they attempted to look up from the ground they were threatened and even beaten with the staffs of the dancers. The cutting was done quite deeply, so that blood was always drawn. The children were also prohibited from looking up into a tree from under its branches until after these scarifications had completely healed, else the tree would bear no fruit. The entire assemblage next entered the dance-house, the dancers going directly to their positions in the rear without the preliminary ceremony of entry which was required in most other ceremonies. The children were made to lie on the floor and were again covered with their blankets. The dancers then performed for their benefit, making a greal deal of fun both of the children and of the scarification cere- mony. They danced thus for a short time, then went on the west side of the fire, where they turned their heads slowly to the left four times, after which the people cried ‘‘ya ...’’ The dancers then ran out and into the brush, where they took off and left their dancing para- phernalia. This ceremonial leaving of the dance-house was supposed to remove all illness from the village, the dancers taking it with them as they went out. The spirits which they represented supposedly returned at that time to their supernatural home at the south end of the world. Another feature of the initiation in the Gi’ksii ceremony is de- seribed by a Central Pomo informant, who says that young men were initiated by being ceremonially shot with the bow and arrow. STEPHEN POWERS ON THE GUKSU CEREMONY Powers describes what he terms a ‘‘spear dance’’ among the Galli- nomero (which evidently refers to this same ceremony), as follows :2? First they all unite, men and squaws together, in a pleasant dance, accom- panied by a chant, while a chorister keeps time by beating on his hand ‘with a split stick. In addition to their finest deerskin chemises and strings of beads, the squaws wear large puffs of yellowhammers’ down over their eyes. The men have mantles of buzzards’, hawks’, or eagles’ tail-feathers, reaching from the armpits down to the thighs, and circular headdresses of the same material, besides their usual breech-clouts of rawhide, and are painted in front with terrific splendor. They dance in two circles, the squaws in the outside one; the men leaping up and down as usual, and the squaws simply swaying their bodies and waving their handkerchiefs in a lackadaisical manner. Occasionally an Indian will shoot away through the interior of the circle and caper like a 22 U.S. Dept. of Interior, Contr. N. A. Ethn., m1, 179-180, 1877. ''428 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 harlequin for a considerable space of time, but he always returns to his place in front of his partner. After this is over, the coward or clown is provided with a long, sharp stick, and he and his prompter take their places in the ring ready for performances. A woman as nearly nude as barbaric modesty will permit is placed in the center, squatting on the ground. Then some Indian intones a chant, which he sings alone, and the sport, such as it is, begins. At the bidding of the prompter, the coward makes a furious sally in one direction, and with his spear stabs the empty air. Then he dashes back in the opposite direction and slashes into the air again. Next he runs some other way and stabs again. Now perhaps he makes a feint to pierce the woman. Thus the prompter keeps him chasing backward and forward, spearing the thin air toward every point of the compass, or making passes at the woman, until nearly tired out, and the patience of the American spectators is exhausted, and they begin to think the whole affair will terminate in ‘‘mere dumb show.’’ But finally, at a word from the prompter, the spearman makes a tremendous run at the woman and stabs her in the umbilicus. She falls over on the ground, quivering in every limb, and the blood jets forth in a purple stream. The Indians all rush around her quickly and hustle her away to another place, where they commence laying her out for the funeral pyre, but huddle around her so thickly all the while that the Americans cannot approach to see what is done. Thus they mystify matters and hold some powwow over her for a considerable space of time, when she somewhow myste- riously revives, recovers her feet, goes away to her wigwam, encircled by a bevy of her companions, dons her robe, and appears in the circle as well as ag despite that terrible spear-thrust. Men who have witnessed this performance tell me the first time they saw it they would have taken their oaths that the woman was stabbed unto death, so perfect was the illusion. Although this travesty of gladiatorial combat is intended merely for amusement, yet all the Indians, these stoics of the woods, gaze upon it with profound and passionless gravity. If they laugh at all it is only after it is all over, and at the mystification of the Americans. Referring to another phase of the same dance, as practiced in another division of the Pomo, Powers says: Their fashion of the spear dance is different from the Gallinomero. The man who is to be slain stands behind a screen of hazel boughs with his face visible through an aperture; and the spearman, after the usual protracted dashing about and making of feints, strikes him in the face through the hole in the screen. He is then carried off, revives, etc.23 The novices who were thus shot were called ted’ktedk (C) [plural ted‘ktedkau], and the person who did the shooting, at the direction of the head captain, was called yo’mta (C). The informant did not state just where the shooting was performed and was not explicit as to its exact nature, but it appears probable that it occurred in the dance-house. These novices were forbidden to eat fresh manzanita berries and the flesh of the fawn, the gray squirrel, and the red-headed woodpecker. After the shooting ceremony the novices were taken out into the area directly in front of the dance-house, and here a ceremony 23 Op. cit., p. 194. ''1917] Barrett: Ceremonies of the Pomo Indians 429 of healing was performed over them by the one who shot-them. He told them that they would have long life and health, and that a feast would be held for them in the course of a few days. COMPLETION OF THE GUKSU CEREMONY The Ga’ksi-dancers appeared only once each day in this Gi’ksii ceremony, though various other dances might be held during the day, and it was only upon the first morning that the ceremony about the pole and the scarification above described were held. The ceremony lasted, all told, six days. The ceremonies of the first day have just been described. Those of the following three days consisted of one appearance of the Gi’ksiis each day, accompanied by a simple dance. On the morning of the fifth day, however, the children who under- went the searification on the first day were again assembled and driven by the dancers as rapidly as possible about the village and out into the valley. The children held one another’s hands as they were driven, making a continuous line. When they had become quite fatigued, they were made to he down and the dancers covered them with branches. They remained here throughout the day and were again driven about in the same manner just after sundown, being again covered with branches, under which they stayed until morning. They were then brought in by the dancers and made to perform a short dance in a brush inclosure, called ma’le (E), which was built just outside the dance-house for this special purpose. After this, an old man, probably the same who performed the scarification, sang over the children. During this dance each child carried a small willow twig, which he threw onto a pile at the end of the dance, after which he was free to go his way, and the entire ceremony was ended. The fire-tender bore these twigs away and deposited them at some distance from the village. A Gii’ksii-dancer appeared at other ceremonies, but only for the | purpose of removing sickness from the village. He was sometimes | called in, as were other dancers, but often he appeared unannounced. _ He, however, always notified at least one individual, whose duty it was to assist him and direct his movements. Apparently this indi- vidual was not a particular official, but might be any friend of the Gi’ksi-dancer. The ceremony was a very short one. The Gi’ksi ran rapidly in and passed in a contra-clockwise direction four times around the fire. He then hurried to a position directly in front of the center pole and here ran swiftly back and forth four times over a ''\- 430 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 short, straight course. He then ran around back of the center pole and stopped on its west side. Here he turned his head slowly to the left ; then ran a short distance toward the door, stopping and repeating this motion, making in all four such stops. After this he ran swiftly out through the tunnel and back to the woods, where he undressed and returned as an ordinary civilian to the village. As he started to run out of the tunnel, the people said, ‘‘ya ...s... ptitsa’l kam’’ © (EB), that is, ‘‘ya ...s... healthy make us.’’ The prolonged ‘‘s’’ was simply a hissing expulsion of breath, and as it was blown out in this fashion any disease which might possibly have found lodgment in the body of the individual was supposed to depart with it and to be taken by Gi’ksi to his home in the south. Before dressing, the Gi’ksi-dancers always chewed up and rubbed unon their bodies the very sweet-scented seed of a certain species of conifer, kawa’cap (E), growing plentifully in the region of Clear Lake. A Gi’ksi-dancer was forbidden to eat meat or drink anything before the ceremony or before doctoring a patient, as described below. The Gi’ksi-dancer might, however, eat vegetable foods and drink water after the ceremonial swim, which always occurred directly after his dance. He could not eat meat or greasy food of any kind for four days after a ceremony. TREATMENT OF DISEASE . In addition to their part in the searifying ceremony just described, the Gi’ksi-daneers formed a class of medicine-men, and were often called in to minister to the sick. These ‘‘doctors,’’ when curing the sick, dressed themselves in the costume of the regular Gi’ksi cere- mony. As in the ceremony also, the Gii’kstii doctor had to be cere- monially summoned, and he came in from the woods impersonating the supernatural Gi’ksi. The latter was pictured, to all intents and purposes, as coming from his home in the south to perform the ‘‘medicine’’ rite and carry away with him the disease from the sick person. A special call was used in this case as follows: ‘“‘hyd... hyd’ .. .’’ repeated four times. The Gi’ksii doctor never spoke and never sang over his patients, but constantly blew a double bone whistle in a characteristic way, a very short blast followed by a very long one. Upon reaching the patient, who might be either in or out of doors, he ran around him several times. He then inserted the point of his staff under the neck of the patient and made motions four times as if prying upwards. ''1917] Barrett: Ceremonies of the Pomo Indians 431 He next inserted the staff under the shoulder and repeated this prying motion four times. He did the same at the hips, and finally at the knees. 4 He next tapped and pressed down with his staff; first upon the forehead, then upon the chest, then upon the belly, and finally upon the knees of the patient. After this he ran rapidly out of the village and into the hills, where he stopped and turned his head toward the left four times. He then disappeared and was supposed to have returned to his supernatural abode in the south, carrying with him the ailment of the patient. While the above was the typical procedure of one of these doctors in curing a patient, he had great latitude, and might, at his own option, omit altogether certain of the above mentioned movements or use others in their places. For instance, he might pry as above, or he might press and pat the body of the patient. On the other hand, he might simply pass his staff down over the body of the patient a number of times, usually four or some multiple of four, or he might omit the use of the staff entirely and ‘‘doctor’’ with his whistle only, in which case he bent over or knelt beside the patient and blew his whistle over the various parts of his body, particularly those recognized by the patient as the seats of pain. ‘DANCES The dances either formed integral parts of the above ceremonies or, as stated, might be incidental and entirely unrelated to them. The word for dance is xe in the Eastern Pomo dialect, and ke in that of the Central and Northern Pomo. The following is a list of the Pomo dances: gilak ke kara’iya ke hoho ke or hod’howa ke sawe’t ke cokin ke hi’wé ke ditika ke 1’dam ke ya’ya ke xo’ke yo ke xahli’igak ke matco ke gu’kst ke léhu’ye ke ma’ta ke kali’matoto ke or kali’matautau ke lo’le ke iwi ke mo’mimomi ke gunt’la xe to’to ke he’lehela ke tatgt ke da’ma ke dja’ne ke badji’ca ke sita’iya ke ''432 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 In a large measure the various dances were very similar to one another so far as the steps were concerned. The characteristic step of the men was a rhythmic stamping of the feet, with the body held in a half-crouching posture. Sometimes this dancing was done ‘‘in place,’’ that is, without moving from one situation. As a rule, how- ever, the dancer moved over a definite course in each dance. The movement was varied slightly in accordance with the songs. Some songs were very lively and the steps correspondingly rapid, while others were much slower. All were usually sung to the aeccompani- ment of the large foot-drum, and split-stick, or cocoon rattle. Some- times the dancers used single or double bone whistles. The women usually danced in place, twisting the body about and swaying slightly from side to side with little or no motion of the feet. In some instances, however, they moved over a definite course as did the men. The dance paraphernalia of the men consisted of the following articles: 1. The feather skirt. 2. The head-net, bolmaki (E). 3. The down-filled head-net, i’bolmaki (E). 4. The skewer, called kano (N, C, E), with which the feather headdresses, tufts, ete., were pinned to the head-net. 5. The feather tuft, biterk (E), kaa’itcil (C). 6. The big-head headdress. 7. The yellow-hammer feather forehead-band, tsd’lopa (N, C, E). 8. The trembler plume, kata’s (N, C, E). 9. Loose down, te (E), which was sometimes scattered about over the freshly painted skin. 10. A fillet of pepperwood leaves, béhe’p marit (E). 11. A small green twig or a bunch of shredded tule, used in certain dances. Any object of this kind carried in the hand while dancing was called kato’hle (E). Certain of these objects were prescribed for certain dances. In addition, various items of ordinary personal adornment were worn which do not specifically belong to dance paraphernalia—ear plugs, pendants, necklaces of beads, ete. The dance paraphernalia of the women was the same as that of the men, though, as a rule, the men dressed much more elaborately than the women. The latter had, however, one special type of forehead- band which they alone used. This was a fur band or roll provided with a number of beaded, yellow-hammer quill bangles. An important part of the attire for any dance was the painting, which varied greatly and was usually carefully prescribed for each ''1917] Barrett: Ceremonies of the Pomo Indians 433 danee. The body, or a large part of it, might be covered with one solid color, and longitudinal or horizontal stripes of various widths and also dots of various sizes might be used. Black paint, masi’k (E) (literally, coals or charcoal), was most easily obtainable and most freely used. It consisted of ordinary charcoal from the fire. If a large surface was to be painted, the charcoal was pulverized in the palms of the hands and rubbed on. If lines were desired, this powder might be applied with the finger, or a piece of charcoal might be used as a pencil. Also stripes were some- times produced by scraping off part of the paint with the fingernails, leaving the skin exposed along these lines. In case a sticky surface was required, as, for instance, when down was to be later applied, the paint was mixed with saliva. White paint, wala’lac (E), made from a whitish or very light blue earth, was also considerably used. It was applied as was the black paint. Red paint, Shma’r (E), was made by pulverizing cinnabar, which was a rather rare mineral in the Pomo region and was much prized and used very sparingly. For purposes of presentation it is simplest to divide the dances into three classes: (1) those danced by men and women together ; (2) those danced by men; (3) those danced by women. Fairly full information was obtained about some of these dances, while in other cases barely the names were remembered. The following dances come under the first heading: ~ Cidlaie = mateo’ . gunt’la ho’ho lehuye da’ma c0’kin kali’matoto dja’ne duti’ka iwi’ kara’iya yaya he’lehela sawe’t yo DANCES IN WHICH MEN AND WOMEN PARTICIPATED Gilak.—The Gi‘lak dance differed from most other Pomo dances in that it consisted of two performances: one used for opening and closing proceedings; the other, or main dance, coming in between. The men painted with a single color (black, white, or red) all of the face below the eyebrows, after which they scattered eagle-down upon it. This gave the face a white, fluffy appearance. They painted the chest and shoulders black. The legs were painted either all black ''434 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 or all white. Then longitudinal stripes were scratched through the paint with the fingernails. The arms were painted with three bands, each four fingers in width; one about the middle of the upper arm, one about the elbow, and one about the middle of the forearm. Upon the top of the head each wore a feather tuft. This was parted from front to rear, and the yellowhammer-feather forehead- band, which was attached to the hair so as to hang down to the eye- brows, passed through the part in this and hung down the back to about the hips. A feather skirt tied just under the arms, and entirely covering the back, completed the costume, except for a few green twigs Fig. 8—Position of dancers in gi’lak ke. which were held in both hands directly in front of the face while the dance was actually in progress. No whistle was used by these dancers. The women painted the upper part of the body in the same way as the men and wore a feather tuft and the regular woman’s forehead- band with bangles. They wore no feather skirt, but otherwise attired themselves as did the men. The men were divided into two groups at A, A (fig. 8) on both sides of the rear of the dance-house, the women dancers being likewise divided into two groups at F, F on each side of the drum. When all was ready for the dance, the head singer started an air and sang alone for several minutes. Then, at a given signal, the burden-singers joined in with the chorus, all accompanying their ''1917] Barrett: Ceremonies of the Pomo Indians 435 singing with split-stick rattles. This was the signal for the beginning of the first or preliminary division of the dance. The men went to a position about midway between the center pole and the drum, where they formed a line BC, the women forming a group in the position G, directly behind the line BC. Here was held the preliminary division of the dance, called tehe’sbax (EJ), in which the participants danced in place for a few minutes. The men next moved to the position DE, passing on each side of the center pole, the women following them to the position HI. They thus formed two lines, facing the center pole. Here the principal part of the dance was held. The chief singer again started the air, being joined at the proper time by the burden-singers. Simultane- ously with the latter, the master of ceremonies gave the signal for the dancers to begin. During the dancing he repeated the proper dance formula?‘ four times, finally saying, ‘‘i, i’ . . .’’ and the dancé stopped. At the beginning of the dance, upon the signal from the master of ceremonies, the dancers, both men and women, whirled around and faced the fire, and as the dance stopped at the above signal they whirled back again so as to face the center pole. The dancers moved sidewise back and forth four times in all, along the lines DE and HI. Standing in their original positions, they then performed for the second time the movement first described, thus ending the dance. This entire dance might be repeated as many times as desired, no definite number being prescribed ; but when each set of three divisions, as above stated, was finished, the dancers returned to A, A and F, F, retracing as nearly as possible the courses which they had traversed in coming from these two positions. After the last set of this dance, they removed their dance costumes near the drum. hohé ke—The hoh’d or ho’howa dance, which may be taken as a type of many of those dances which follow, lasted from one-half to three-quarters of an hour and could be danced at any time of year. The men were dressed as follows: The lower part of the face (i.e., below a line running from just under the ear to a point just under . the nose) was painted black. A black band, about four fingers in width, ran from each of the acromia to the sternum. Four similar bands encircled each arm, two above and two below the elbow, while four such bands were placed upon each leg. Upon the head each man wore a feather tuft, a yellow-hammer feather forehead-band and a pair of trembler plumes, and upon the back a feather skirt. Each dancer carried a bone whistle also. 24 Any dance formula such as this was called baki’mhwakil (E). ''436 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 Each woman wore a feather tuft and the usual woman’s forehead- band. In each hand she earried a small bunch of shredded tule. These bundles, called kato’hle (EK), were made by tying together at one end several stems, perhaps six or eight inches long, and then ‘shredding the loose ends with a basketry awl. This dance was a very lively one and took its name, as did several others, from some of the words of the song accompanying it. Part of the burden of this song is a high-keyed ‘‘hé, ho, ho, ho ...’’ very rapidly spoken by the burden-singers in unison. The music was provided by a head singer, several burden-singers, and a drummer. Each of the singers used a split-stick rattle. co’kin ke-—The c0’kin dance was very similar, in many respects, to the hd’ho ke. One informant said that the dress and painting were exactly the same, except that the upper arm and thigh bore one painted band each, instead of two as in the ho’/h6 ke. diti'ka ke-—The same might be said of the diti’kake (C), or diti’ga xe (HE). The dress of the men was identical with that of the ho’ho-daneers. The men used no whistles. The women wore the regular woman’s forehead-band. From one to perhaps eight or ten persons danced at once, and the dance had no stated duration. As one informant expressed it, they simply danced until they were tired. ya'ya ke.—Little could be learned concerning the ya’ya dance, ex- cept that it was danced by both men and women, and that. the painting and attire were the same as for the ho’h6. The feather skirt was worn, but no whistle was used. yo ke-—The men decorated themselves for this dance as for the ho’ho dance, except that there were three stripes around the arm instead of four, and with the addition of some down scattered over their heads and faces. Each woman had a narrow, black line running down the chin and a similar line running out from each corner of the mouth toward the ear. Otherwise her decorations consisted of a feather tuft and a yellow-hammer feather forehead-band. A consid- - erable number of men and women sang, each keeping time with a split- stick rattle. matcé’ ke-—In the mated’ dance the music was provided by one man, who accompanied his song with a split-stick rattle. The dancers painted themselves as in the yo’ dance. Each wore a feather skirt. leh’ ye ke—The léhi’ye dance was sometimes called the ka’teaha. The term léhi’ye is the correct one for this dance. In fact, the term ka’teaha has been applied to it only recently and was derived from the ''1917] Barrett: Ceremonies of the Pomo Indians 437 fact that whenever certain of the Pomo men became intoxicated they almost always sang the songs of this dance; hence the name ‘‘whiskey dance,’’ or ka’teahake. If paint was employed it usually consisted of a coat of black on the lower part of the face and three bands about each arm and each leg. Other designs were used, however. Upon the head the dancer wore a feather tuft, a yellow-hammer feather forehead-band, and a very large trembler plume, worn erect at the back of the head. Each man wore a feather skirt. The women painted the lower part of the face and wore a feather tuft and a yellow-ham- mer feather forehead-band. kali’‘matoto ke—The kali’matotd or kali’matatitat, the thunder dance, was danced each morning and each evening during four suc- cessive days. It could be danced at other times of the day in addition if desired, and other dances might meanwhile be performed at any time of the day except morning and evening. The men painted their naked bodies with vertical stripes. Upon the face but one stripe appeared, running from ear to ear and just below the nose. Upon the head each man wore a down head-net, a feather tuft, and a pair of trembler plumes. No yellow-hammer feather forehead-band, down, or feather skirt was used. The women dressed very simply. They wore the same stripe on the face as did the men, and upon the head a head-net of down and a feather tuft. Both men and women had bone whistles, and each man had a light staff?> four or five feet long, with one or more cocoons attached as a rattle at its upper end. tw’ ke-—In the iwi’ (C) or Coyote dance the men were nude ex- cept for a coat of white paint over the entire body. Upon the head there was a feather tuft, parted from front to rear to permit the passage of a large yellow-hammer feather forehead-band from the root of the nose over the head and down the back. The women were simi- larly painted and attired, except that each wore an ordinary skirt of shredded tule or other material. Each dancer carried a small bunch of green twigs in the hand, so held as to obscure the face as much as possible. This perhaps typified the crafty and slinking nature of the coyote. The music was provided by one singer, who used a cocoon rattle. guni'la ce—In the gini’laxe (E) or Coyote dance the women dressed as in the ho’ho dance. The men painted themselves as did the performers in the ghost dance, and wore the parted feather tuft 25The general term xe’ dakdik (EH), signifying anything held in the hand while dancing, is applied to this staff. ''438 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 with the yellow-hammer feather forehead-band passing through the part and down the back. They also wore feather skirts, and used whistles. he'lehela ke.—The painting for this dance was the same as for the ho’ho. Each man wore upon his head a down head-net, a pair of trembler plumes, and a yellowhammer-feather forehead-band. Each had a bone whistle and a ke’cige. Neither whistles nor feather skirts were used. Each woman wore a feather tuft and a down head-net. A fairly high pole similar to the one employed in the initiation rite of the Gi’kstii ceremony was erected in the area directly in front of the dance-house. The participants gathered about its base and each man attempted to climb it, while the women danced in a circle about its base. The wife of the climber, and sometimes other women, threw balls of ““pinole”’ (grass-seed meal) at him as he ascended. da'ma ke.—Coneerning the da’ma dance, little could be learned save that it was connected with some sort of esoteric organization and was very rarely danced. There was but one woman who was said to know all the details of this dance, but the opportunity did not present itself to interview her. She is now deceased. dja'ne ke.—The dja’ne dance was always danced by two men and four women, the men forming the middle of the line, two of the women being at each end. They wore similar costumes, which were very simple. All that could be learned concerning the details, however, was that the mouth was painted black with a short line running out from each corner, and that each dancer wore a feather skirt upon his back and used a whistle. kara'iya ke—The kara’iya dance was danced by two men and two women, and only once during any given ceremony. Men and women dressed alike, except that the women wore the ordinary woman’s skirt. No paint was used. Upon the head was a feather tuft, a yellow- hammer-feather forehead-band, two trembler plumes and some down. Each dancer carried a bone whistle. sawe't ke-—No details were learned concerning this dance. DANCES IN WHICH ONLY MEN PERFORMED There are known among the Pomo at least five dances in which the performers were always men. They are the hi’we, the i’dam, and the xo or fire dance and the ghost and the Gi’ksti dances mentioned above. hi’'we ke—While this was danced by men only, women were privil- eged to witness it. The dancers first painted the entire body black ''1917] Barrett: Ceremonies of the Pomo Indians 439 and then added many white spots irregularly placed all over the body. Each daneer earried a staff six or seven feet long and similarly painted. The face of the dancer was painted black, and each wore a large feather tuft on his head. This was, however, not so large as that worn by the Gi’ksi-dancer. The music for this dance was quite unusual in that the drum was not used. The head singer also acted as master of ceremonies. The dancers formed a straight line and danced in place without any forward or lateral motion, and all joined in the singing. vdam ke—Little could be learned of the i’dam dance, -except that it was danced by men, with women participating in the singing. One unique feature was that while it was in progress no one in the village might keep water in his house. Also if any one ate meat during a ceremony in which this dance was used he would become insane and could be cured only through the ministrations of the chief dancer of the dam. While no further evidence was obtained in substantiation, these facts point to the existence of an esoteric society connected with this dance. One informant maintained that the last man who knew the details of this dance died some years ago. xo ke-—The xo ke, or fire dance, was held at any desired time during a ceremony. It usually followed the feast of welcome, as it may be called, which was tendered the guests immediately after their arrival. It required no special paraphernalia. In fact, it amounted to little more than a regular sweat-bath, such as was taken in the sudatory,”® except that it was on a larger and more elaborate scale. xahli'igak ke-—See under Ghost Ceremony, above. gi’ ksi ke-—See under Gi’ksi Ceremony, above. DANCES IN WHICH ONLY WOMEN PERFORMED Two dances are still remembered which come under this heading. They are the ma’ta and the lo'le. ma'ta ke-—One man acted as master of ceremonies and another sang to the accompaniment of a cocoon rattle. The dancers painted’ the cheeks and lower part of the face black and then scratched vertical lines in the paint. The only headdress worn was the yellowhammer- feather forehead-band. In each hand was held a small green branch. The arms hung down, but with a flexure at the elbow which brought these green sprigs directly in front of the dancer. The dancers formed a line and danced back and forth sidewise over a short, straight 26 See the article on ‘‘Pomo Buildings,’’ in the Holmes Anniversary Volume, mentioned above. ''440 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 course. This is one of the very few dances which may yet be seen, though in a modernized form, at Fourth of July celebrations. lo‘leke-—As before, a man acted as master of ceremonies and another man sang, accompanying himself with the cocoon rattle. The informant was not certain just what kind of costume was worn, but knew that no paint was employed. ADDITIONAL DANCES The names of several other dances are remembered, but nothing in regard to detail. These are mo’mimomi, toto, ta’igt, badji’ca, and sita’iya. The last of these was said by one informant to make up, along with the gi’lak and ho’h6 and ditii’ka dances, a special ceremony, about which nothing further is known. THE MESSIAH CULT During the latter years of the nineteenth century a ‘‘Messiah’’ cult has been introduced among the Pomo by the Wintun of the Sacramento Valley. In comparatively recent times the ‘‘prophets”’ of this cult acquired great importance and, while the cult flourished, to a certain extent superseded the leaders of the old ceremonies. This eult first appeared among the Pomo at Upper Lake, then at Sulphur Bank, then at Long Valley, and finally in the Ukiah Valley. The function of the prophet, or dreamer, as he is commonly styled by the Indians, was to have dreams or waking visions concerning dances and oe other matters in which the people were interested. The prophets were supposed to receive through these visions direct revelations from presiding spirits, and the people formerly gave much credit to their teachings. They virtually formed a priesthood which replaced the old ‘‘captains’’ in the direction of all ceremonial matters. One of the characteristic features of this cult was the painted designs upon the interior of the dance-house. The last truly primitive dance-house of this type in the Pomo region was photographed by the author in 1901, 1902, and is described and illustrated elsewhere.** Another important feature was the erection before the dance-house of a pole bearing banners and streamers decorated with the particular designs which the priest had seen in his vision. 27‘*Pomo Buildings,’’ Holmes Anniversary Volume. ''1917] Barrett: Ceremonies of the Pomo Indians 441 CONCLUSION Pomo ceremonies were in general quite simple and the ceremonial life was characterized by an absence (1) of any fixed ceremonial season or sequence of ceremonies, and (2) of any extensive priesthood or secret order controlling ceremonial matters. Some of the ceremonial performances possessed certain esoteric features, such as initiation rites and special restrictions on the part of the uninitiated. We note the presence of a few fairly elaborate ceremonies and a considerable number of dances, some of which were employed as in- tegral parts of certain ceremonies, others as merely incidental to them. These dances usually followed one another without any definite order or relation, though in certain cases definite dances were prescribed as parts of given ceremonies. One ceremony has a definite mythological background, but this has been lost elsewhere. No myths are told today to account for the other performances. In most of the danees an indefinite number of both men and women might participate. In two dances the number of performers of each sex was definitely prescribed. In five, only men might participate, and two were strictly women’s dances. In other words, there is patent in Pomo ceremonies a rather thorough going democracy regarding the positions of the sexes. Transmitted September 21, 1916. -_ Vga $4 gk '' '' '' UNIV, CALIF. PUBL. AM. ARCH. & ETHN. (BARRE PEARE 7 POMO BEAR DOCTOR’S SUIT MODEL IN PEABODY MUSEUM ''UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PUBLICATIONS IN AMERICAN ARCHAEOLOGY AND ETHNOLOGY Vol. 12, No. 11, pp. 443-465, plate 7 July 11, 1917 POMO BEAR DOCTORS BY 8. A. BARRETT CONTENTS PAGE Introduction 443 Origin Account 445 Acquisition of Power 452 Assistants 454 Hiding Places 454 The Magic Suit 455 Weapons and their Use 457 Rites Over the Suit 458 Communication between Bear Doctors 461 Panther Doctors 462 Comparison with Yuki Beliefs 462 Comparison with Miwok Beliefs 463 Summary 464 INTRODUCTION One of the most concrete and persistent convictions of the Indians of a large part of California is the belief in the existence of persons of magic power able to turn themselves into grizzly bears. Such shamans are called ‘‘bear doctors’’ by the English-speaking Indians and their American neighbors. The belief is obviously a locally colored variant of the widespread were-wolf superstition, which is not yet entirely foreign to the emotional life of civilized peoples. The Cali- fornia Indians had worked out their form of this concept very defi- nitely. Thus Dr. Kroeber says:* 1A. L. Kroeber, ‘‘Religion of the Indians of California,’’ present series, Iv, 331, 1907. ''444 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol.12 A special class of shamans found to a greater or less extent among probably all the Central tribes, though they are wanting both in the Northwest and the South, are the so-called bear doctors, shamans who have received power from grizzly bears, often by being taken into the abode of these animals—which appear there in human form,—and who after their return to mankind possess many of the qualities of the grizzly bear, especially his apparent invulnerability to fatal attack. The bear shamans can not only assume the form of bears, as they do in order to inflict vengeance on their enemies, but it is believed that they can be killed an indefinite number of times when in this form and each time return to life. In some regions, as among the Pomo and Yuki, the bear shaman was not thought as elsewhere to actually become a bear, but to remain a man who clothed himself in the skin of a bear to his complete disguisement, and by his malevolence, rapidity, fierceness, and resistance to wounds to be capable of inflicting greater injury than a true bear. Whether any bear shamans actually attempted to disguise themselves in this way to accomplish their ends is doubtful. It is certain that all the members of some tribes believed it to be in their power. Pomo beliefs differ rather fundamentally from those here sum- marized. In the first place, the Pomo appear to know nothing of the magician acquiring his power from the bears themselves. Since they ascribe no guardian spirit to him, he is scarcely a shaman in the strict sense of the word. The current term ‘‘doctor,’’ misleading as it may seem at first sight, may therefore be conveniently retained as free from the erroneous connotation that ‘‘shaman’’ would involve. In the second place, the power of the doctor was thought to reside wholly in his bearskin suit, or parts thereof, and apparently was considered the result of an elaborate ceremony performed in its manu- facture and subsequent donning. This distinctly ritualistic side of the bear doctor’s practices removes him still more clearly from the class of the true shaman. Thirdly, there is a detailed Pomo tradition of the origin of bear doctors. This story is cast in the mold of a myth; in fact, its initial portions may be taken from the current mythology of the tribe. Other parts are, however, remarkably unmythical and matter of fact. The resultant whole is therefore rather incongruous, and, in the form recorded, may have been somewhat influenced by the speculations of an individual. But the events which it describes agree so closely with the beliefs which the Pomo at large entertain concerning the practices of recent bear doctors that the question of the extent of the prevalence of the myth among the group is of less importance than the insight which the tale affords into the Pomo mind. Its many specific references make it a suitable introduction to the presentation of the other data secured. ''1917] Barrett: Pomo Bear Doctors 445 These peculiarities render a comparison of Pomo bear-doctor be- liefs with those of other Californian groups desirable, but the published data from elsewhere are unfortunately too fragmentary to make such a study profitable at present. It has only seemed feasible to append some comparisons with Yuki and Miwok beliefs. It may be added that the statements which constitute the body of this paper are the statements of native informants cited as repre- sentative of their convictions, and not as the opinions of the author. The degree to which the reputed practices of bear doctors were actually practiced is far from clear, as Dr. Kroeber has stated. Whether, however, they rest mainly, partly, or not at all on reality, they furnish interesting psychological material. ORIGIN ACCOUNT The following tradition was obtained in January, 1906, from an old Eastern Pomo man and his wife. The husband stated that he had himself been a bear doctor at one time in his life. In his later years he became a noted practitioner of ordinary Indian ‘‘medicine,’’ and was much in demand as a “‘sucking doctor.’’ His old wife proved a very valuable informant on Pomo mythology, and it was while relating myths that the subject of bear doctors was mentioned and the fact developed that her husband had practiced this craft when a younger man. The incident led to a full discussion of the entire matter with the couple, and resulted in the recording of the following material. This was given by the Indians more as a personal favor than for any other reason, and was communicated only after a pledge that their story would not be spread about as long as the two were still alive. Both are now deceased, as is also the interpreter who aided in recording the material, so that there is no reason for longer with- holding this information. Out of deference to the relatives of the three, it seems best not to name them in these pages. Besides the myth, these two old people furnished the greater part of the descriptive information given in the remainder of this paper, but additional data from other informants have been included. Unless otherwise stated, the Pomo terms are in the Eastern dialect. In the days before Indians were upon the earth, and when the birds and mammals were human, there was a large village at dand xa.2. These people were ___? This is the site of an old Eastern Pomo village and is situated in the foot- hills about two miles northeast of the town of Upper Lake. It is located on the western slope of a hill and overlooks the lake. ''446 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 great hunters, pursuing their game with bows and arrows and spears. But chiefly they set snares in every direction about the village. They had caught many kinds of game, but finally found a large grizzly bear in one of the snares. They saw that his carcass would furnish a great feast, but they were confronted with the difficult problem of getting their prize to the village. Each of the birds tried unsuccessfully to carry the bear, first on his right shoulder and then on his left, in the following order: tsai (valley bluejay), auat (crow), tll (a species of hawk), tiyal (yellowhammer), karats (red-headed woodpecker), sawalwal (mountain bluejay), bakaka (pileated woodpecker), kabanasiksik (a large species of woodpecker), cagak ba biya (a species of hawk), kiya (a species of hawk), stwa (mountain robin), tsitotd (robin redbreast), tcuma tsiya (grass bird), and tinital. Finally a very small bird, tsina bitat kaiya patsork,? sueceeded in carrying the bear. He first tied its front and hind feet with a heavy milkweed-fiber rope in such a manner as to enable him to sling the carcass over his shoulder with the body resting upon his hip. No one else had thought of any such method. The ingenuity of this bird, the smallest of them all,, won success and enabled him to walk away easily with the heavy load. The others laughed uproariously and shouted their approval of the feat, immediately naming him birakal-ba-kidjon,4 literally grizzly-bear-you-carrier. Thus he carried the grizzly home to the village, and Bluejay, the captain, cut it up and divided the meat among all the people. As a reward for his service birakal-ba-kidjon was given the bearskin. This was a very valuable present, worth many thousands of beads.5 With this skin in his possession, birakal-ba-kidjon thought a great deal about the grizzly bear and became very envious of his powers of endurance, his ferocity, and his cunning. He forthwith began to study how he might make some use of the skin to acquire these powers. He needed an assistant, and finally took his brother into his confidence. The two paid a visit to cd dand, a high mountain east of the village. They then went down a very rugged cafion on the mountain-side and finally came to a precipice the bottom of which was inaccessible except by way of a large standing tree, the upper branches of which just touched its brink. f In a most secluded and sheltered spot at the foot of this precipice they dug a cavern called yélimo, or birakal yélimo, which they screened with boughs so that it would be invisible even if a chance hunter came that way. They dug an entrance about two feet in diameter into the side of the bank for a distance of about six feet. This led slightly upward and into a good-sized chamber. The mouth of this entrance was so arranged as to appear as natural as possible. Some rocks were left to project and twigs were arranged to obscure it. Asa further precaution against detection the brothers always walked upon rocks in order never to leave a footprint, in case any one became curious about their 3 Identity unknown, and common Indian name not recorded. 4This name in the Northern dialect is bita badm, and in the Central dialect is bitaka yalo djak, literally grizzly bear between the legs flew. The Northern people say that the name of the bird previous to the accomplishment of this feat was mdbasomsd. In speaking of this bird one Northern informant stated that when the first people were transformed into birds this man was wearing a very large head-dress. This accounts for the fact that the bird now carries a large topknot. 5 In very early times it is said that a string of four hundred beads was worth an amount about equal to two and one-half dollars. Later, after the introduction of the pump-drill, this value dropped to one dollar. On the basis of modern valuations of such skins, and under the higher rating of beads, this hide would have been worth 12,000 beads. ''1917] Barrett: Pomo Bear Doctors 447 movements. They even went so far as to have the rocks at the foot of the precipice, where they stepped from the branches of the tree, covered with leaves, which they were careful to adjust so as to obliterate the slightest vestige of their trail should any one succeed in tracking them to this point. In this cave they began the manufacture of a ceremonial outfit. They went out from the village daily,® ostensibly to hunt, and they did, as a matter of fact, kill deer and other game, which they brought back to the village; but they never ate meat, nor did they have intercourse in any way with women. When asked why he was thus restricting himself, barakal-ba-kidjon evaded the truth by saying that he expected to gamble, and that he had a very powerful medicine which would yield him luck only with.the most rigid observance of certain restrictions. When they began this work of preparing the outfits, they also provided a large sack of beads with which to bribe to secrecy any one who might discover them. The two worked thus in the cavern four months. When the outfit for birakal-ba-kidjon was done, the latter emerged from the cavern and ran around its entrance eight times each way, first in a contra- clockwise and then in a clockwise direction. The two then prepared a level, elliptical area, about twenty by fifteen feet, smoothed like a dancing floor, where birakal-ba-kidjon might practice and become a proficient bear doctor. Upon putting on the suit for the first time, the procedure was as follows: While seated in the dancing area, birakal-ba-kidjon took the bearskin in both hands and swung it over his right shoulder and then turned his head to the left. This was repeated four times in all. He next adjusted the skin carefully over a basketry head-frame and placed the latter securely upon his head. He next inserted his arms and legs within the suit and laced it up tightly in front, beginning at the lower part of the belly and lacing upward to the neck. He then tried to rise and act like a bear. This he did four times, saying ‘“‘ha’’ (strongly aspirated), and turning his head to the left after each trial. He finally arose on all fours and shook himself after the fashion of a bear, some of the hair falling out of the skin as he did so. He then jumped about and started off in each of the four cardinal directions in the following order: south, east, north, and west. Hach time he ran only a short distance, returning to the practice area for a new start. Finally, the fifth time he started off, he went for about half a day’s journey up the rugged mountains to the east. He found that he could travel with great speed and perfect ease through thick brush and up steep mountain-sides. In fact, he could move anywhere with as much ease as though he were on a level, open valley.7 .On this journey he hunted for soft, sweet manzanita berries, finally returning to the practice ground after covering a great distance, perhaps a hundred miles, in this half day. He repeated this ceremonial dressing and the race into the mountains for four days, returning each evening to the village and bringing the game he had 6 In giving the account the informant stated that while making their cere- monial attire the two worked entirely at night, as was always done by Indian bear doctors later, and then only upon perfectly dark nights, when the moon was not shining or when it was obscured by clouds. In case the moon suddenly emerged from behind a cloud they. immediately ceased their work. This was made necessary by the fact that many hunters were abroad at night. 7 Another informant told of a marvelous journey said to have been made by his grandmother while the family resided many years ago in Hight-mile Valley. She went during one night to Healdsburg, Sebastopol, Bodega Bay, and Big River, thence returning to her home, covering in those few hours about two hundred miles. ''448 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol.12 killed. Finally, on the fifth day, he again put on his ceremonial dress and went over to a creek, called taaiaka, situated a considerable distance northeast of his hiding place. Here he found a bear standing erect and eating manzanita berries. The bear attempted to escape, but birakal-ba-kidjon gave chase and by virtue of his supernatural power was able to tire and outdistance the bear, overtaking him at length and killing him with an elk-horn dagger, which was part of his outfit. He returned and brought his brother, who tied the bear’s legs together, as had birakal-ba-kidjon when he won his name, and carried the carcass to the village, birakal-ba-kidjon meantime returning to the secret cavern. The brother skinned the bear and told the captain to call all the people into the dance-house to receive their portions of the meat. On the following day a great feast was celebrated, every one joining and providing a share of acorn mush, pinole, bread, and other foods. The two brothers then announced that they were again going out to hunt. Instead, they really went to this secluded spot and made a second bear doctor’s suit. This one was for the brother, who underwent the same training as his brother. Finally the two brothers started out one day toward the north, going up to a creek called guhul bidame. Here they found a deer hunter coming down a chamise ridge. They hid until the hunter came within about fifteen paces of them. They then sprang out and attacked him, the elder of the two bear doctors taking the lead. This hunter was followed at a distance of perhaps a quarter of a mile by four others, and when he saw the bears he made a great outery to his comrades. After a short chase the bear doctors caught and killed him. They tore his body to pieces, just as bears would do, took his bow and arrows, and started off. Meantime the other hunters, who were Wolves (tsthmeiw), hid and escaped the fate of their companion. After the bear doctors had departed, they gathered up the bones and whatever else they could find of the remains of the dead hunter and took them back to the village. The usual funeral and burning rites ° were held, and the whole village was in special mourning on account of the fact that the hunter had been killed by bears. The bear doctors went back to their hiding place, disrobed, and returned to the village as quickly as possible, arriving shortly after the four Wolves had brought in the remains of their comrade. They ate their supper and retired almost immediately, though they heard the people wailing in another part of the village. Their own relatives, the Birds, were not wailing, for they were not directly concerned, since the different groups of people lived in different parts of the village and were quite distinct one from another. During the evening the captain, Bluejay, came in and told the brothers the news of the hunter’s death, asking if they had heard anything of the manner of it. They replied: “*No; we know nothing of it. We went hunting, but saw nothing at all today. We retired early and have heard nothing about it.’’ Bluejay then said: ‘‘We must make up a collection of beads and give it to the dead man’s relatives, so that they will not consider us unmindful of their sorrow and perhaps kill some one among us.’’ The bear doctors agreed to this and commended the captain for his good counsel. Accordingly, the next morning Bluejay addressed his people, saying: ‘‘ Make a fire in the dance-house. Do not feel badly. Wake up early. That is what we must expect. We must all die like the deer. After the fire is made in the dance-house I will tell you what next to do.’’ Every one gave the usual answer of approval, ‘‘O’’. ''1917] Barrett: Pomo Bear Doctors 449 After the usual sweating and cold plunge by the men, the captain again spoke, calling their attention to the fate of their friend the day before and asking that every one contribute beads to be given as a death offering to the relatives of the deceased.8 Bluejay himself contributed about ten thousand beads, and others contrib- uted various amounts, but the two bear doctors contributed about forty thousand beads. This very act made the other people somewhat suspicious that these two were concerned in some way with the death. As was usual, under such circumstances, word was sent to the Wolf people that the Birds would come over two days hence with their gift. The Wolf captain accordingly told his people to go out and hunt, and to prepare a feast for the Bird people for the occasion. On the appointed day the beads were brought by the Bird people to the house in which the deceased hunter had formerly lived, the usual ceremonial presentation of them to the mourners was performed, and the return feast by the Wolves was spread near by. The next morning the two brothers again left the village, saying that they were going hunting. They went to their place of seclusion, donned their bear suits and again started out as bears. By this time they had established regular secret trails leading to their hiding place, and regular places on these trails where they rested and ate. These trails led off in the four cardinal directions, and when they put on their suits it was only necessary to say in what direction they wished to go and what they wished to do, and the suits would bear them thither by magic. Upon this occasion they went eastward, and finally, in the late afternoon, met Wildcat (dalom) carrying upon his back a very heavy load. They imme- diately attacked and killed him, but did not cut him to pieces as they had Wolf. It is a custom, even now, among bear doctors never to tear to pieces or cut up the body of a victim who is known to have in his possession valuable property. Hence they stabbed Wildcat only twice. When they looked into the burden basket which he had been carrying they found a good supply of food and a large number of beads of various kinds. They took only the bag of beads, which one of them secreted inside his suit. Upon reaching their place of seclusion they removed their suits and were soon back in the village. After supper they again retired early. Now Wildcat had started off early one morning to visit friends in another village, saying that he would be absent only two nights. When at the end of four days he had not returned his relatives became anxious about him, and his brother and another man set out for the other village to ascertain whether he had been there or if something had befallen him on the way. They found that he had set out from the other village to return home on the day he had promised. Then they tracked him and found his dead body. They made a stretcher? and carried the body home. . They arrived at the village about mid-afternoon, and when about a half mile off they commenced the death wail, thus notifying the village of their 8 The bringing of beads as a death offering from one village to another, or from one political group of people to another, is called kal kubek, while such an offering taken to the home of the family of the deceased by relatives in the same village is called kal banek. 9 This stretcher is called kaitsak, and consists of two side poles with short cross-pieces bound to them in such a manner as to resemble a ladder. It was used in early times for carrying the wounded or the dead back to the village. A corpse was bound to it by a binding of grapevine and the two ends of the stretcher rested upon the shoulders of the bearers. ''450 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 coming. The people came running out to meet them, and the first to arrive were the bear doctors, who immediately assisted in carrying the stretcher into the village. Every one wailed for the departed, but the two bear doctors were loudest in their lamentations. Also they contributed liberally, in fact, more than all the other people together, when the death offering was made up. For sometime thereafter the bear doctors did not go out, but finally they did so, returning with four deer, which they gave to their captain to be divided among the people for a feast. This the captain did, after the usual sweat-bath, on the following morning. The next day the two brothers left the village before daybreak, donned their bear suits and journeyed southward to the Mount Kanaktai region. They made the journey by way of the east shore of Clear Lake, Lower Lake, and on down to near the present site of Middletown. Here they found a hunting party setting deer snares.1° One of these men was driving the deer up out of the canon toward the place where the snares had been set. He saw the bear doctors and called out to his comrades: ‘‘ Look out for yourselves; there are two bears coming.’’ The hunters were up on the open, brushy mountain-side. Two of them ran down the hill to a tree, but the bear doctors reached it as soon as they, and, as they started to ascend, attacked and killed the two, taking their bows and arrows. The other hunters then attacked the bear doctors, who fled northward, pursued by the hunters, whom they outdistanced. The bear doctors became tired and very thirsty, for they had drunk no water all day, so they ran up Mount Kanaktai to a small pond just southwest of its summit.11 The bear doctors first ran four times each way around the pond and then disrobed completely, even taking off their bead armor. Leaving their entire suits lying on the shore, they first swam and rested, and then hung their suits on some small trees near by. : Shortly two men appeared, who approached close to them. The bear doctors said: ‘‘Oh, you have come; well, let us eat.’’ The strangers came and seated themselves beside the bear doctors. They then had a good meal of seed-meal and meat. The belts and strings of beads worn as armor inside the suit were piled up on the shore near by, and when the meal was finished the bear doctors gave all these beads to the two men, saying at the same time: ‘‘You must never tell any one, not even your brothers, mothers, or sisters, what you have seen and what we are doing.’’ They even told the two men who they were, where they lived, and all about their activities. The men looked closely at the bear suits hanging near by and then went their way. The bear doctors again put on their suits and returned to their hiding place, disrobed, and traveled home in the evening, retiring early as usual. When the people heard of the killing of two more hunters by two bears, they suspected the brothers, and formulated a plan to spy on them. All were to go hunting and certain ones were to keep a close watch on these two, and see just where they went and what they did. They also discovered that the 10 They were making a bicé gd; i.e., setting snares in the brush without making a brush fence. The fence with snares is called bicé wart. 11 This pond, which is said to furnish the only water on this great mountain, was called ka kapa, and is said to be one of a very few ponds apparently without a spring, and called ka dabd, which are supposed to have been made in prehistoric times by bears as resting places for themselves. This pond is nowadays almost never visited by any one except hunters who have lost their way. ''LOLT | Barrett: Pomo Bear Doctors 451 skins of the two bears killed by the brothers were nowhere to be found in the village. The captain called all the men to go on a deer hunt, and all set off westward about midday to build a deer fence and set snares around Tule Lake, for they knew that many deer were feeding in the tule marsh there. Nothing unusual happened that day, but after all had left the village early the next morning some children who were playing about the village saw the two brothers birakal- ba-kidjon, who had remained away from the hunt, giving illness as their excuse, start off toward the east. Some of the children stealthily followed them, while two others ran over to Tule Lake to warn the hunters. About midday the hunters saw two bears coming toward them. Several of the best hunters hid at an advantageous point in the very thick brush and tule, while the others continued their shouting and beating the bush to drive the deer into the snares in order that the bear doctors would not suspect the trap that had been set for them. The hunters had agreed to act as though they did not know that the bear doctors were near, but to shout if they were seen, ‘‘T'wo brother deer are coming!’’ thus giving the hidden hunters notice of the approach of the bears. If deer only were seen, they were to shout, ‘‘The deer are coming! ’’ Finally, one of the hunters on the east side of the lake saw the bears and shouted, ‘‘ Look out there; two brother deer are coming down the hill!’’ There were two trees standing some distance apart with a thick, brushy place on each side. One hunter hid behind each tree. A third hunter stood very close to a near-by opening in the deer fence and in plain sight of the bear doctors, who immediately made after him. At each jump of the bear doctors the water in their baskets rattled and made a great noise. The hunter was but a few feet from these trees when the bears came close to him, so he dodged between the trees and the bears followed. Immediately the two hunters behind the trees attacked the bears from the rear with their clubs and jerked the masks from their heads. The other hunters came up armed with clubs, bows and arrows, and stones, and found the bear doctors standing very shame-facedly before their captors.12 Every one shouted: ‘‘These are the two we suspected; we have them now.’’ Some wanted to kill them immediately with clubs, others wanted to burn them alive, but the captain restrained them and insisted upon first questioning the bear doctors. They finally confessed to the murders, and took the hunters to their hiding place. Here they exposed their entire secret and told all the details of their work: how they dug the cavern, how they made the ceremonial outfits, and how they killed people. The hunters then stripped the bear doctors and took them, together with all their paraphernalia, and the property they had stolen, back to the village, placed them in their own house, tied them securely, and set fire to the house. Thus ended the bear doctors. That is how the knowledge of this magic was acquired. It has been handed down to us by the teaching of these secrets to novices by the older bear doctors ever since.13 12 This loss of magic power and their consequent capture was explained as a supernatural penalty for their attempt to kill more than four victims in any. one year. 13 One informant ascribed the source of Pomo bear doctor knowledge to the Lake Miwok, to the south. This opinion, of course, conflicts with the preceding origin tale. ‘ ''452 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 ACQUISITION OF POWER Even as late as the closing years of the nineteenth century many of the Pomo were convinced that bear doctors were still active; this in spite of the fact that the whites had at that time long possessed complete control of the entire region, and had succeeded, purposely or otherwise, in suppressing most of the aboriginal practices of the Indians. Evidently the belief was a deeply rooted one in the native mind. On the other hand, since the nefariousness of the alleged practices would cause them to be carefully concealed, there are now some Pomo skeptics who maintain that bear doctors never existed. Both men and women of middle or old age could become bear doctors, the same name" being applied to both. In fact, it is said that women sometimes made very successful bear doctors; even a woman so old and feeble that she-could hardly walk would acquire great powers of endurance and swiftness through this magic. It is said that a bear doctor always learned from an old person who was or had been one. The training for both men and women was precisely the same and they were on a par in every way. A female bear doctor could not operate during her menstrual period, but a male bear doctor was similarly restricted by the menstrual periods of both his wife and his female assistant or the other female members of his household. He was even prohibited from going near his bear hiding-place during his wife’s menstruation. The periods of other members of his household also restricted him.*® No specific fee was paid for instruction in bear-doctoring, but the instructor was given a large share, usually one-half, of the spoils obtained by the new doctor in his murders. Also he could command the assistance and protection of his pupil, who must stand ready, if necessary, to lay down his life for his instructor. Each bear doctor selected some friend to whom he willed his entire outfit and whom he instructed fully in its use. Upon his death this protegé took possession of the paraphernalia and the hiding place of his friend and used them as he saw fit. “Aa The bear doctor was known to the Pomo as gauk birakal, ‘‘human bear.’’ Birakal specifically denotes the grizzly bear. The brown or cinnamon bear is lima, but black individuals, which we reckon as of the same species, were called ciyo birakal, ‘‘black grizzly bears,’’ by the Pomo. 15 It would appear that restriction depended rather upon co-residence than blood kinship. The extent to which the taboo might accordingly affect a bear doctor’s activities will be realized when we reflect that it was customary for several related families to reside in one house, each family having its own door and each two families a separate fire. In the center of the house was the common baking pit. ''1917] Barrett: Pomo Bear Doctors 453 A bear doctor might ‘‘catch’’ a man who was out in some lonely spot, particularly a solitary hunter, take him to his hiding place, and teach him his secrets.1° Particularly was this the case if the bear doctor happened to be a man possessed of few friends, since it was thought necessary for him to will his paraphernalia to some one. Stories are told of specific instances in which persons have been thus made captive and instructed. Thus: An old she-bear caught a young hunter from a village in the Santa Rosa Valley. She first jumped out upon him from her hiding place and frightened him badly. She rolled him about on the ground and made as if to kill him. Though greatly frightened, the boy made no outcry, but watched her closely. Finally she sat astride him for quite a long time and the boy ceased to be alarmed. She then led him away over the long journey to her hiding place on a high, rocky peak east of Santa Rosa. On the way they heard, late in the afternoon, the people down in the valley calling his name as they searched everywhere for him. Finally they arrived at the bear’s cave in the rocks, where she had a bed of moss and leaves just as a bear usually does in its den. In the early part of the evening the boy became homesick and fearful of his fate and began to cry. It was then that the bear doctor revealed herself. She removed her suit, showing her human form, and said to him: ‘‘I did not catch you to kill you. I desire only to show you how we become bear doctors and instruct you in our magic. Only human beings live in this section of the mountains. In the morning I shall place my bearskin suit upon you and you shall practice bear-doctoring.’’ This did not, however, reassure and comfort the boy, and he continued to sob and weep during the greater part of the night, despite the repeated assurances of the bear doctor that she would not harm him, but was, on the other hand, just like an elder sister to him and wished to teach him powerful magic. She finally prepared a good meal for him and he forgot his fright and, temporarily, his own people. During the night she taught him her songs, and at daybreak began to instruct him in the ritual of donning the suit. This, of course, required that he should completely strip himself. At first he was much ashamed, but the bear doctor told him that he must not be, any more than if he were only exposing his nose. About midday, this part of the instruction being finished, she put her own suit on him and gave him his first practice. She told him to first jump four times along the ground and then jump up and try to catch a high limb of a near-by tree, trying repeatedly until he could catch the limb. Then he would be able to do anything that she could. She then stepped back, looked him over, and smiled at him. This made him conscious and he hung his head and did not move until she commanded him to jump. At first he jumped only short distances, but he continued his practice for four days, each day donning the suit with the elaborately regulated ritual, and finding, each day, that he could jump a little farther and a little higher than on the previous one. At last he succeeded in reaching the limb and in jumping down at one jump and back to the starting point in four more. His tutor rejoiced at his success, and said: ‘‘Now you will succeed in every 16 Usually, however, a person caught in this way was used as a ‘‘head rest’’ and servant, it is said, and received no instruction whatever. ''454 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 way and enjoy good luck, secure plenty of beads and other goods, be able to travel far and possess great endurance.’’ She then gave him a complete outfit and told him that he would thereafter procure an easy living and wealth if he would use it and observe the secret rites she had taught him. She, herself, had acquired great quantities of property— beads, food, and other commodities—which she stored in her hiding place. A bear doctor was not permitted to kill more than four people in one year, upon penalty of the loss of his magic power and consequent capture upon his attempt to kill the fifth. ASSISTANTS A bear doctor must always be assisted by some one. He usually hired some female relative who could be trusted to secrecy. She wove for him the water baskets which formed part of his costume and cooked for him the special food which he must eat while operating as a bear doctor. She must observe the same restrictions as the bear doctor himself, abstaining from meat or foods containing blood in any form, and also from sexual intercourse. The evil consequences of a violation of these restrictions did not befall her, but the bear doctor himself was sure to be killed in combat or captured, which meant certain death at the hands of an outraged populace. This assistant was never the bear doctor’s wife, but the wife, if he had one, must remain abed in the morning until the sun was high and the bear doctor was well on his way from his hiding place. She might then rise and go about her daily routine as usual. If he had no wife, his female assistant must observe this restriction for him. In making a suit, it was necessary for a bear doctor to have an assistant who not only helped in the actual construction of the suit but also sang the long series of songs required during the ceremony when the suit was first put on. HIDING PLACES Since custom prescribed that every person leaving a. village told where he was going and the purpose of his mission, it was difficult for a bear doctor to get away, undetected, for the pursuit of his nefarious practices. All his preparations must, therefore, be made in perfect secrecy. Very frequently he gave as an excuse for his absence that he intended to go in search of manzanita berries or hunting in some distant locality, sometimes announcing a stay of several days. Since he was forbidden to partake of food or water on the morning of the ''1917 | Barrett: Pomo Bear Doctors 455 day he wore the bear costume, he usually ate and drank heartily the night before, and repaired to his hiding place before daybreak. To lend color to his excuses, he uusally brought home some game or berries. As a rule these were not handled at all while wearing the bear suit, although apparently it was believed that no penalty was attached to doing so. Whenever possible a bear doctor found some natural cave or se- cluded spot in a deep eafion, or in the most rugged mountains. If necessary, he dug a cavern, as related in the foregoing myth, taking care to scatter the fresh earth about in such a manner that it would not be detected. Such a place of seclusion was called yélimo, birakal yeélimo, or kabé ga. Near by a level ‘‘practice’’ ground, called ciyd xe gai, literally ‘‘bear dance place,’’ was prepared, where, the weather permitting, the bear doctor performed the ceremonies connected with donning his suit. In bad weather these rites were performed in the sheltered cavern. This practice ground was simply a level place in the bottom of a cafon near the caver. ‘It was an elliptical clearing about twenty feet long by ten to fifteen feet wide. No trail led to it, the bear doctor and his assistant exercising the greatest care to obscure as much as possible every evidence of their movements, not even a broken twig being left . about as a clue. THE MAGIC SUIT @ The suit of the bear doctor, called gawi, was made as follows: First, an openwork basket was woven of white oak twigs to fit the head and with openings for eyes, nose, and mouth. Disks of abalone shell with small openings to permit actual vision were fitted into the eye openings in the basket. This basket served as a foundation over which to place the skin of the bear’s head. It was made so that it exactly fitted the wearer’s head and remained in place even when he moved violently. The covering of this helmet, as also the outer cov- ering for the rest of the body, was usually made of real grizzly bear skin, though a net covered with soaproot fiber was sometimes used. The skin of the bear’s head was shaped, but not stuffed, so as to retain its proper form, the eye-holes of the skin being made to fit the shell- filled eye-holes in the basket. The remainder of the bearskin was’ fitted exactly to the body, arms, and legs so as to perfectly hide every part of the body and give the wearer the appearance of a grizzly. When soaproot fiber was used in making the bear doctor’s suit, a ''456 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 fine net was first woven and thickly covered with shredded soaproot fiber (ap tsida). This was woven entirely in one piece and so arranged as to completely cover the wearer from head to foot, including the basketry helmet just mentioned. It laced in front. A low shoe, with the sole rounded and shaped somewhat like that of a bear’s foot, was worn. This shoe was made of woven basketry held between two hoops and so arranged that the foot went between the two sections, which were attached directly to the costume. It was said that sometimes, also, similarly shaped shoes were placed upon the hands. At other times nothing was worn on either hands or feet. Before donning the suit an ‘‘armor’’ of shell beads was put on. Four belts covered the abdomen. Each was about six inches wide and made of a different size and form of beads. One, called hmiki, covered the umbilicus. The other three, which were placed one above the other, completely covered the remainder of the abdomen, chest, and back up to the armpits, and were called respectively kibiikal, catanit kiitsa, and tadatada. The last protected the heart, and was made of very large, discoidal beads. Ordinarily these bead belts were woven in the usual way. Sometimes, however, one or more of the four was covered with- out by a layer of woodpecker scalps. Strings of shell beads were wound closely about the arms from wrist to shoulder and the legs were similarly covered. All these beads served as a protection against arrows in case the bear doctor was attacked by hunters. A type of body armor, made of wooden rods and used in open warfare, is said to have been sometimes used by bear doctors. This conisted of two layers of rods obtained from the snowdrop bush (bakol), each rod being about the size of a lead pencil. These were bound together with string, one layer of rods being placed vertically and the other horizontally, in such a manner as to make a very close and effective armor. Two globose, three-rod foundation baskets, called kite tcaddtcadoi, and each about three inches in diameter, were half filled with water and each encased tightly in a closely woven fabric made of milkweed fiber cord, or in a casing of rawhide. One was then tied, inside the bearskin suit, just under each jaw or under each armpit. In the soap- root fiber suit, small pockets were woven on its inner surface for their reception. The swashing of the water made a sound (pluk, pluk, pluk, pluk) resembling that of the viscera of a bear as he moves along. Sometimes, instead of these baskets, a slightly larger pair of plain- twining were tied one at each side at the waist. The doctor never ''19 V7 Barrett: Pomo Bear Doctors 457 wore more than one pair at a time and never wore a single basket alone. Canoe-form baskets ten or twelve inches long and with un- usually small openings were sometimes carried in place of the small, globose baskets above mentioned. They were sometimes filled with water, as were the small baskets, and at other times were used as receptacles for beads, berries, or other commodities. Plate 7 (frontispiece) shows a Pomo bear doctor suit, in the Pea- body Museum of Harvard University, reproduced by courtesy of Mr. C. C. Willoughby. This is a model. While differing in some details from the explanations received from informants, it confirms them in substance. WEAPONS AND THEIR USE A bear doctor usually carried one and sometimes two elk-horn daggers, called 666 a, literally ‘‘elk horn.’’ Such a dagger was from six to ten inches in length and was made by pounding at its base and breaking off the large end point of an elk antler and sharpening its tip. It was rubbed on a grinding stone and smoothed throughout its length and a hole was bored in its base through which a loop about two feet long was passed for suspending it about the neck or from the belt. This loop was always of string, as this is not affected by dampness. Obsidian or flint knives, called bat!, were sometimes used in addition to or in place of the elk-horn dagger. The blade of such a knife was made by first striking the larger flakes from it with a hammer stone and then chipping its edges with an antler chipping tool. This blade was set into a split oak handle and bound securely with string, but was not pitched. Both of these were thrusting weapons. Other weapons were sometimes used, even the stone pestle being employed as a weapon. Bear doctors often operated in pairs, and sometimes in greater numbers. They frequently deployed so as to cover a considerable area in their hunt, and had a method of intercommunication. If a prospective victim was sighted at some distance, the bear doctor stood erect on the top of the nearest ridge, with his back turned directly toward him. This signal brought the other bear doctors into positions to surround the victim. Informants maintain that in the actual attack a bear doctor frequently stood unconcernedly, near the path of his victim, and with his back toward him until he was quite near. He then whirled and attacked suddenly. They stated that this was also the method of attack of a real bear. ''458 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol.12 It is said that the only way to overcome a bear doctor was to seize his head or shoulders and jerk off his helmet. This completely re- moved his magie power. The story is told that Kamachi, a very brave and powerful man formerly living at the Yorkville Rancheria, mis- took two real bears for bear doctors, attacked them in this manner, and finally sueceeded in killing them. RITES OVER THE SUIT When the suit was put on for the first time by the bear doctor, the following elaborate ceremony was performed. The assistant took up his position in the center of the practice ground, having on one side of him four hundred counting sticks, each about the size of a lead pencil, nicely arranged in even rows. Directly in front of him was the entire bear doctor’s suit, except the beads and bead belts; that is, the basketry helmet, the bearskin garment, the two water baskets, the dagger of elk antler, and the obsidian knife. These were the articles which were strictly ceremonial, and which must never be handled by women or children for the reason that they were the property of the particular supernatural beings under whose patronage the bear doctor operated and whose powers were invoked for his success, especially by means of a long series of ritualistic songs sung by his assistant during the ceremony of donning the suit, now to be described. While the assistant sang the ritualistic songs, the bear doctor who was to wear the suit danced up toward it four times each from each of the four cardinal points in the following order: north, west, south, and east. Each time the dancer advanced toward the suit, the singer raised above his head one counter from the one side and as the dancer receded placed it on his opposite side. Thus this portion of the ceremony took sixteen counters. Having thus approached the suit four times the sacred number four, the dancer picked up with his left hand the basketry helmet and danced with it four times around the practice ground, the singer keeping tally with the necessary four sticks. He then danced four times up toward and back from the place on the practice ground where he intended to temporarily place this object, so using another four counters. Thus there were used in all with this one object twenty-four counters. He did precisely the same with each of the remaining five articles of the suit. Thus one hundred and forty-four counters were trans- ferred from the original group to the singers opposite side. ''1917} Barrett: Pomo Bear Doctors 459 He next took all six of these articles in both hands and performed the same cycle of twenty-four dance movements that was employed in handling each separately, so using one hundred and sixty-eight counters up to this point. He then repeated this entire cycle of one hundred and sixty-eight dance movements in precisely the same order and manner as just de- scribed, but using the right hand instead of the left, thus using three hundred and thirty-six counters up to this point. He next repeated all the foregoing movements exactly in reverse order in every respect; taking up the articles in reverse order and dancing toward the cardinal points in reverse order and using the hands in reverse order, thus using six hundred and seventy-two coun- ters up to this point. He finally took the entire suit in both hands and went around the practice ground four times in a clockwise direction and then four times in a contra-clockwise direction, thus using in all six hundred and eighty counters, indicative of that number of separate movements, or rather one hundred and seventy distinct types of movements each repeated four times. _ Throughout this entire ceremony the assistant sang ritualistic songs invoking, in the ascending order of their importance, the aid of the particular supernatural beings under whose patronage the bear doctor was supposed to be and with whom he came into direct contact. According to one informant, these were, in order, brush-man, rock- man, shade-man, spring-man, pond-man, mountain-man, and sun-man, though a large number of others are also included.** In fact, it seems probable that all the spirits of the Pomo world are supposed to be directly concerned. The following were specifically mentioned by the informants: English Eastern Dialect Central Dialect Mountain-man dano gak dan6 baiya Water-man xa gak ka baiya Night-man duwe gak lweé baiya Valley-man gago gak kako baiya Brush-man se gak see baiya Rock-man xabeé gak kabé baiya Spring-man gapa gak gapa balya Shade-man ciyé gak Fire-man x0 gak ho baiya _ 17 Another informant gave as these chief spirits sun-man, mountain-man, wind-man, night-man, water-man, and valley-man, though not stating that they were considered in this order. ''460 University of Califorma Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 English Eastern Dialect Central Dialect Disease-man gak kalal ital baiya Insanity-man gak dagol dakol baiya guksu guksi kukst Whitled-leg widow kamasilidiket miya caki kattcit Dream-man mari maril Wind-man yai ki ya teate Pond-woman dané kawod Blind-man ui bago ul nasai Sun-man da tea Sun-woman da mata Deer-man bice gatk pee tea To all these he sang songs and made prayers the substance of which usually was: ‘‘You know what I am doing. I am doing as you do and using your ways. You must help me and give me good luck.’’ He sang to and invoked particularly Sun-man because he was an all-seeing deity and knew everything that happened all over the earth, and more particularly because as Sun-man rises with the sun each morning he comes with his bow and arrow drawn and ready to shoot on sight any wrongdoer. Unless, therefore, Sun-man was propitiated and previously informed of the bear doctor’s intentions, he was likely to shoot him just as the sun appeared above the horizon. The sub- stance of his prayer to Sun-man was: ‘‘I am going to do as you do. I shall kill people. You must give me good luck.”’ When the suit was finally put on there was a certain amount of | ceremonial procedure. The beads used as armor were first put on the naked body. The arms and legs were closely wound, each with a single long string of beads. The bear doctor then danced around the practice ground four times in a clockwise direction and then four times in a contra-clockwise direction. He next advanced toward and receded from the suit four times each from the north, west, south, and east. He then made four times a motion as if to pick up the suit, and again four times the motion of putting the suit on, after which he donned it and was completely ready for his journey, being endowed with all the supernatural powers of the bear doctor. Throughout the entire construction of the suit, and also through- out the ceremony connected with putting it on, he turned his head around toward the left after each separate action, such as lifting up or putting down any article and after each dancing up and back toward the suit, or running around the practice ground. Each subsequent donning of the suit was quite simple. The bear ''1917] Barrett: Pomo Bear Doctors 461 doctor picked up each article separately and made a motion with it four times toward the part of the body it was to cover, turning his head four times to the left after each of these sets of four motions. He then put on the suit and danced in a contra-clockwise direction four times around the practice area or the interior of his cavern, as the case might be, after which he was fully ready for his journey. In ease of inclement weather the bear doctor dressed in the shelter of the cavern, but if the weather was fair this was always done on the practice ground. In undressing, on the other hand, the bear doctor performed no ceremony at all, but simply took off his suit and carefully laid it away, hanging up in the cavern the bearskin itself to keep it clean. It was necessary that a bear doctor swim immediately upon removing his suit. Still dressed in his bead armor, he went, therefore, to his swim- ming place, removing the beads and piling them on the bank. This was done so that if discovered he had immediately at hand a treasure with which to buy secrecy. The penalty paid by an informer who had been thus bribed was certain death at the hands of the bear doctor. Upon emerging from the pool, he returned to his cavern, carefully folded the belts and strings of beads and laid each away separately until the suit was again needed. COMMUNICATION BETWEEN BEAR DOCTORS Informants state that the various bear doctors all over the country knew each other.*S Two or more of them often met by chance at some spring or other secluded spot in the mountains, and at such times discussed their activities. They might tell each other where they expected to be next month, or what mountain they would use as a hiding place and base of operations next year. Each bear doctor acted independently and knew no restrictions of any sort so far as his fellows were concerned, nor had he or his relatives any immunity from the attacks of other bear doctors, for one bear doctor might become enraged at another and cause his death or that of some of his relatives. The only persons who were immune from these attacks were the captain of the village and his immediate family. He knew all the bear doctors and received a share of their spoils in consideration for his friendly protection. 18 So far as could be ascertained, they formed no organized society, and never met as a body. ''462 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol. 12 Any bear doctor or person who knew all the secrets of bear doc- toring usually took his relatives, or, at any rate, certain of them, to this hiding place and showed them enough of his secrets so that they would lose their fear of bear doctors and not be frightened when they heard of the death of some one through an attack by bears. Such partially initiated persons always mourned the loss of the victim as did the rest of the people, but were not, in reality, afraid of the bear doctors. ‘PANTHER DOCTORS While the bear doctor was the most important of magicians, there were also mountain lion or panther doctors, who were also possessed of considerable power. Very little was learned of this class of medicine man save that the head part of their suits was-made of the head and neck of an actual panther skin drawn over a basket frame similar to that used by the bear doctor. The remainder of the suit was made of shredded soaproot fiber woven on to a fine net, which was said to simulate quite well the skin of the panther. The panther doctor wore no bead armor as did the bear doctor, but wore a necklace of small and finely made shell beads around his neck. He always carried a bag filled with valuable beads with which to bribe to silence any one who might discover him. The bear doctor used the beads comprising his armor for this purpose. COMPARISON WITH YUKI BELIEFS The ideas that the doctor is actually transformed into a bear, that bear hair grows out through his skin, and that he comes to life after having been killed—ideas found among certain California Indians*’— have not been discovered among the Pomo. As might be expected, from the contiguity of the two groups and their numerous cultural identities, the Pomo and Yuki’® bear doctors are very similar. The Yuki, however, have certain beliefs that the Pomo do not possess. The Yuki bear doctor began by repeatedly dreaming of bears and was taken out and instructed by actual bears, thus placing the bear in the position of a true guardian spirit, and making the doctor a real 19 Kroeber, loc. cit. 20 This comparison is based on manuscript data of Dr. Kroeber concerning the Yuki. : ''1917 | Barrett: Pomo Bear Doctors 463 shaman. Later he was thought to be instructed and to have his powers developed by older shamans. The Pomo have no such notions. The Yuki bear doctor was not always an evildoer, but in some measure an accepted benefactor, particularly in curing bear bites and in avenging wrongs to his community. His capacity thus was publicly recognized—a fact that is further evidenced by his performance of sleight-of-hand tricks. The Pomo bear doctor never performed any cure, practiced his magic with the greatest secrecy and only for his own satisfaction and aggrandizement, and had death awaiting him at the hands of his own people if he was unfortunate enough to be discovered. The Yuki bear doctor carried a basket containing a stone which rumbled in imitation of the bear’s growl as the shaman shook his head. Analogous to this was the Pomo bear doctor’s set of water-filled baskets which swashed like a real bear’s viscera as he ran. Both carried beads; but the Yuki to secure appropriate burial if killed, the Pomo as an armor and to bribe to secrecy him who might discover him. The mode of attack and the dismemberment of the victim were quite similar in both tribes. COMPARISON WITH MIWOK BELIEFS The Northern Sierra and Plains Miwok ealled bear doctors sulik miiko. These shamans donned bearskins, but, like their Yuki col- leagues, had bears as spirits and exhibited their powers publicly. Like the Yokuts bear doctors, they were thought able to transform them- selves bodily into bears. : The Miwok relate how a man was hunting in the chaparral south of the Stanislaus when a bear appeared and asked what he was doing. The Indian replied that he was seeking an arrow lost in a shot at a red-headed woodpecker. The bear led him into its cave, kept and taught him for four days, and sent him home with several bears as guides. A white man, married to an Indian woman, instigated the building of a dance-house to give the bear doctor an opportunity to show his alleged powers. The latter accepted, came, walked into the fire, pushed aside the flaming brands and made himself a bed in the coals, arose after a time unharmed, swam, and resumed his human form. The Miwok panther doctor was similarly met and instructed by a ''464 University of California Publications in Am. Arch. and Ethn. [Vol.12 panther. He wore no skin and possessed no power of transformation. _ He did, however, acquire the panther’s ability to hunt, it was thought. In extreme old age he revealed his experiences and then died at once. It is clear that the Miwok panther doctor is merely a shaman who has that animal as his personal guardian spirit, and that except for his power of transformation and the character of his guardian, the Miwok bear doctor does not essentially differ from an ordinary shaman. It seems therefore that the institution of the bear doctor has attained its most extreme form among the Pomo. SUMMARY 1. The origin of bear doctors is assigned by the Pomo tothe myth- ical times before men existed, when birds and mammals possessed human attributes. The first bear doctors arose from a relatively insignificant incident, which led one of the smallest of the birds to develop his magic powers. 2. These powers are believed to be now acquired through the wearing of a special suit which endows its wearer with rapidity of motion and great endurance, but which does not itself actually trans- port him or perform any act. 3. The powers are received through elaborate ritualistic songs and prayers to certain supernatural beings under whose patronage the doctor operates. These songs are largely sung not by the doctor him- self but by an assistant while the doctor performs an elaborate dance with the various parts of the costume preparatory to actually putting them on for the first time. 4. In addition to this constant assistant, the bear doctor must have a female aide, who makes certain parts of his paraphernalia and cooks his special food. He is subject to certain restrictions connected with the menstrual periods of this female aide and his wife, and they, in turn, are subject through him to certain other restrictions. 5. Although all-powerful under ordinary circumstances, a bear doctor apparently loses all his magic power as soon as he is captured. 6. Bear doctors are all known one to another, but form no organ- ized group or society. They are also usually known to the chief, to whom they pay tribute and give guarantee of immunity from attack in return for his connivance and protection. ''1917] Barrett: Pomo Bear Doctors 465 7. In exceptional cases the bear doctors are harmless, but in the main their object is to kill and plunder, and they carry special weapons for this purpose. They do not practice curative medicine in any form. 8. There are apparently other kinds of magicians similar to bear doctors. One of these, the ‘‘panther doctors,’’ has been specifically mentioned. These statements reflect the opinions of the Pomo. Some of the practices described by them could easily have had a basis in fact. Whether and to what extent they were actually performed remains ‘to be ascertained. Transmitted November 28, 1916. '' ''INDEX* Titles of papers in this volume are printed in bold-faced type. Acheacauhtin, 259. Algonkin language groups, 73; Plains Algonkin, 73; Yurok and Wiyot, members of, 73. Algonkin verb, principles of forma- tion, 92; three interpretations of, 93, 94, 95; fundamental problem of, 96; 9G Amador County Miwok Indians, 139, 140, 141. Animal material found in shellmound constituents, 5. Arapaho Dialects, 71; vocabulary, 75. 86; phonetic correspondence with other divisions of Arapaho group, 80-82; vowels, 83, 84; con- sonants, 84; voealic and consonan- tal changes, 84; word composition: nouns compounded of two separate words, 85, 86, nouns and verbs with prefixes, 86, with suffixes, 87-90; word- forming prefixes to verbs, 90— 104; eonfusion between suffix and real verb stem, 90, 92; compound verbs, 91; problem of verb analy- sis, 92-97; prefixes, used as words, or made into verbs, 97, as adverbs or similar parts of sneech, 99, used devendently apparently verbal, 103, adverbial (manner), 103, (space), 104. grammatical, 109; suffixes, verb-forming, 105, intransitive, 105, state of being, 106, causative, 107, miscellaneous, 107, 108, grammat- ical, 109, pronominal, 110, 111, con- nective, 112; dubious applicability of designation ‘‘instrumentals,’’ 112; list of transitive stems, 113— 115, of intransitive stems, 115-116, modifications, 116; nouns: forma- tion of plural, 117, 118; gender, 117; case, oblique, 118, possessive, 119, 120, vocative, 120; pronouns: demonstrative, interrogative, per- sonal, 120, possessive, 121; adverbs, endings, 121, 122; numerals, 122, 123; texts, 123-130. Arapaho Indians, 73; language group of Algonkin family, 73; five divi- sions: Arapaho proper, 73; Begging- People, 74; Rock- “People, 13, TA; South People, 73, 74; Gros Ventre of the Prairie, 74, * Univ. Calif. Publ. Am. Arch. Ethn., Arizona, Kaibab Paiute Indians in, 245. Ash found in shellmound constituents, 4, 5, 21. Ash-devils (fire-eaters), 406, 413, 416, 417; dress, 407, 418; ceremonial staff, 418. Atsina (Gros Ventre of the Prairie), Arapaho tribe, 74. See Gros Ventre. Aztees, social organization, 250, mili- tary purpose of, 269; kinship groups, 252. Bandelier, A. F., method of work, 250; summary of his view of Mex- ican social organization, 273, 274, 276; list of his sources, 276-282. Bandelier’s Contribution to the Study of Ancient Mexican Social Organ- ization, 249. Bankalachi tribe, Kern River Sho- shoneans, 220. Banks Islands, terms used in, for cross-cousins, 187. Barnacles found in shellmound con- stituents, 4. Barrett, S. A., 397, 443; cited on tot- emism among the Miwok Indians, 139. Barrio, 253. Basawtnena®, 80. Bear doctors, Pomo, 443; source of material, 445; story of their origin, 445-451; their power, 452, 453; of both sexes, 452; ‘‘head rest,’’ 453 footnote; duties of assistant, 454; hiding places, 455; magic suit, 455— 457, rites over, 458-461, illustration of, opp. 443; weapons, 457; method of attack, 457; communication be- tween, 461; beliefs compared with Yuki, 462, with Miwok, 463; sum- mary of description, 464. Berdaches, 163. Big Creek, 142, 161; list of marriages at, 162; lines of descent, 165, 166; transmittal of eponym, 166; status of inhabitants in terms of relation- ship, list, 175-178; cross-cousin mar- riages at, 189. Blackfoot Indians, 73. Bradley, C. B., 195. Bulbs, food for shellmound dwellers, 6. Viole 12, 467 ''Index Burden (chorus) singers, 399, 400, 434. California. See Central California. See also Northwestern California; South Central California; Southern California. California Kinship Systems, 339. California Place Names of Indian Origin, 31; literature cited, 32, 33. California Shellmounds, Composition Of, ly Californian Indian cultures, 380. Calpixea, 272. Calpullee, 260. Calpulli, 253, 254, 255, 270. Captain, 399. Carquinez shellmound, 2; 3; molluscan species, 24. Castro shellmound, 2, 3; molluscan species, 6, 24, 28. Central California, kinship character- istics, 379; system of hereditary moieties, 382. Central Sierra (Tuolumne) Miwok, 139; marriages, 161, lists of, 162-3, cross-cqusin, 162, 169, 185, 189-193; levirate, 183, 185; lines of descent, 165; transmittal of eponym, 166; moiety animals, 193-194. Ceremonies of the Pomo Indians, 397; sources of information, 398; officials, 399; dance-house, 401, 406; name of ceremony, 401; analysis, 401; procedure of final night, 401; principal ceremonies, 401; da’ma xaikilgaiagiba, 401, 403; gu’ksu 401, 425; gi’kst xaikilgaiagiba, 401; thunder, 401; xahli’igax xaikilgaiagiba (ghost or devil), 401; invitations, 402; welcome to visitors, 403; general characteris- ties, 441. See also Ghost ceremony ; Gi’ksti ceremony. Ceremonies, moiety, 145. Cerithidea californica, shellmound con- stituent, 6, 8. Chareoal as shellmound constituent, 4, 5, 20. Cherokee Indians, cross-cousins, 187. Cheyenne Indians, 73. Chiefs, honorary, in clan organization of ancient Mexico, 256; war, head. 264; election, 265, 266; duality of office, 267, 274. Chimariko Indians, 380. Choctaw Indians, terms used for cross-cousins, 187. Chorus (burden) singers, 399, 400, 434. Chukehansi Indians, social organiza- tion, 40. Chumash Indians, kinship data, 380. ° terms used for kinship terms, 468 oe shellmound constituent, 6, 7, 9, 10. Clan organization of ancient Mexico, 252, 255, 275; governmental func- tions, 256; clan council, 257; execu- tive officers, 258; war-leader, 259; civil officials, 260. See Calpulli. See also Tribe. Codrington, R. H., cited on terms for cross-cousins, 187. Co’kin ke, 436. Communal houses in ancient Mexico, 253. Community ownership of land ancient Mexico, 253, 254, 275. Composition of California Shell- mounds, 1. Confederacy, Mexican, 273. eee Indians, kinship data, 379, 380. Cox, Mrs. Lena, informant, 174. Crab shell as shellmound constituent, in Cree Indians, 73. Creek Indians, terms used for cross- cousins, 187. Crier, 408. Cross-cousin marriage, 185, 187, 189-— 193, 384; Miwok classification of cross-cousins, 187, 384; examples of, at Big Creek, 189; antiquity, 190. Crow Indians, terms used for cross- cousins, 187. Da’ma ke, 438. Dances, in connection with ceremonies, list, 431, 483; paraphernalia, 432; those for both men and women, 433-438, for men only, 438, for women only, 439; additional, 440. See also Ceremonies of the Pomo Indians. Devil (ghost) ceremony, 401, 408, 404— 423; principal features, 422. Dixon, R. B., cited on the northern Maidu, 45. Dja’ne ke, 438. Drummers, 399, 400, 414. Diuti’ka ke, 436. Elk Grove, cross-cousin marriages at, 190. Ellis Landing shellmound, 2; cata- logue numbers of samples, 3; per cent of material passing through fine screen, 6; different sizes of shell fragments, 7; possibly a ceremonial center, 11; volume and weight, 12, 13; population, 12; age, 13; mollus- can species in, 24, 27; occurrence of Phytia myosotis, 26. Emeryville shellmound, 2; catalogue numbers of samples, 3; fish remains in, 5; volume and weight, 13; age, 13; molluscan species in, 24, 27. ''Index Eureka shellmound, 2, 3; catalogue numbers of samples, 3; molluscan species in, 6. Exogamy, among the Miwok Indians, 140, 141-2; two moieties: land, water, 140, 141, 142; percentages, 141, 142; animals belonging to, 143; influence of moiety on marriages, 141, 161, 187; informants, 141, 143. Fire dance, 420, 421. Fire-eaters (ash-devils), 406; dress, 407. Fire-eating, 416, 418. Fire-handling, 416. Fire-tenders, 399, 408, 416, 419, 429. Fish remains as shellmound constit- uent, 4, 5, 17. Fiske, J., cited on Mexican social or- ganization, 250. Food of shellmound dwellers, 5, 6, 14. Fox dialect, verb elements, 92, 95, 96. Fuller, William, informant, 283. Gallinomero, spear dance (gii’ksu cere- mony), 427. Gashowu Indians, social organization, 140. Ghost (devil) ceremony, 401, 403, 404— 423; origin, 406; invocation, 408; uninitiated not allowed, 410; music 413; songs, 417; fire-eating, 418; fire-dance, 420, 421; purification rite, 421; summary of principal features, 422. Ghost-daneers (devils) , 406-423; dress, 407,410; diagrams of courses taken, 409, 411, 415. Gifford, EH. W., 1, 139, 219, 283; cited on social organization in South Central California, 219, 382, on Miwok relationship terms, 224, 232, 242. Gi‘lak, Pomo dance, 433. Greenbrae. shellmound, 2; catalogue numbers of samples, 3; samples taken from one vertical place, 4; mollusean species in, 24, 29; oceur- rence of Phytia myosotis, 26. Grooved stones in shellmounds, 5. Gros Ventre of the Prairie, Araphao tribe, 74; dialect, phonetie corre- spondences with other Arapaho divi- sions, 80-82; modifications of form, 131; effect of composition on mean- ing, 131, 132; verbs, prefixes, suf- fixes, 122; pronominal endings and connectives: intransitive, 133; in- transitive imperative, 133, transi- tive, 134, transitive imperative, 134, negative conjugation, 134; nouns: plural, 135, animateness or inanimateness, 136, locative, 136, possessive pronominal prefixes, 136; aa 136; numerals, 137; text, 469 Gualala Indians, devil dance, 405. Gi’kst, healing deity, 424; personal appearance, 424; impersonators of, in ceremony, 424—5. Giv’ksi ceremony, 423-431; dress of dancers, 424, 425; duration of, 425— 429; searifying ceremony, 425; Stephen Powers cited on, 427. Gi’kst-dancers, medicine-men (doc- tors), 406, 422, 429, 430. Gi’ksi ke. See Gi’kst ceremony. Gunther Island shellmound, 2, 3; cata- logue numbers of samples, 3; mol- lusean species in, 6, 28. Guni’la xe, 437. : Half Moon Bay shellmound, 2; cata- logue numbers of samples, 3; mol- lusean species in, 6, 25, 28. Hatanaxawune’na®, 73. Head-singers, 399, 400, 408. He’lehela ke, 438. Hesi ceremony, 404. Hetch-Hetchy Valley, scene of moiety myth, 143. Hi’we ke, 438. Hinana’e/ina®, 73. HO/h6 ke, 435. Holophrasis, possible rehabilitation of, 91, 92. Hopi Indians, personal names, 147. Horn-shell, shellmound constituent, 65.8: Hough, R. B., cited on shellmounds, 12 footnote. Humboldt Bay shellmound, 2; mol- lusean species in, 6, 25. Hupa Indians, kinship terms, 380. dam ke, 439. - Incorporation, rehabilitation of, 91. Infiections of the Voice, On Plotting the, 195. Iwi/ke, 436. Jackson, Amador County, 141. Jamestown, 142, 163, 180, 190, 283. Jesup, Mrs. M. K., acknowledgment, figs Jones, W., cited on Fox dialect, 92, on Algonkin verb formation, 92, 94, 95. Kaibab Paiute, kinship system com- pared with Kawaiisu and Uintah Ute, 244, 245, 248; list of kinship terms, 245, 246; use of Ute terms for spouse, 247. Kali/matoét6 ke, 437. Kara’iya ke, 438. Kawaiisu, and Tiibatulabal Kinship Terms, 219. Kawaiisu kinship system, compared with Tibatulabal, 232; with other Californian systems, 243, with Kai- bab Paiute and Uintah Ute, 244- 248; with Northern Paiute, 366; with Shoshonean systems, 366; ''Index member of Central California kin- ship group, 378. Kawaiisu kinship terms, 228; rela- tionship, list of, 229-232; table of analysis of terms, 233; parent re- lationship, 234; children, 234; step- relations, 234; nepotic relationship, 234; uncle and aunt, 235; marriage, 235, 236; brothers, sistérs, first cousins, 237; grandparents, grand- children, 237; brothers-in-law, sis- ters-in-law, 238; diminutive suf- fixes, 238; identical reciprocal terms, 240; lexical similarities be- tween and Tiibatulabal terms, 241; categorical comparisons, 241—243. Kawaiisu tribe, location, 219; lack of moiety organization, 219; lin- guistic branch of Shoshonean fam- ily, 220. Kern River Indians, 224. Kinship, in the Aztee tribe, 252, 253; in the Chimariko and Chumash, 380; in the Costanoan, 379, 380; Salinan, 380. Kinship systems, California, 339; three-step relationship, 376; three classes, 378, 379, 380; of the Tiiba- tulabal and Kawaiisu groups, 219. See also Luisefio; Kawaiisu; Miwok; Mohave; Northern Paiute; Pomo; Shoshonean; Tiibatulabal; Yokuts; Yuki; Yurok; Washo; Wintun. Kinship and social institutions, 382; Yurok social system, 383; taboos, 383; marriage, 384; influence of culture types, 385; theoretical con- siderations, 385-396. Knights Ferry, 163. Kroeber, A. L., 31, 71, 339; acknowl- edgment, 140; cited on shellmound population, 12; on Yokuts names, 146; on Mohave names, 147; on Yokuts relationship terms, 173; on Kern River Shoshoneans, 220, 245; on systems of relationship, 170, 224, 232, 242, 244; on bear shamans, 443, 444, Ki’kst. See Gi’ksi. Lands, community of ownership in ancient Mexico, 253, 254, 275. Lehi’ye ke, 436. Levirate among California Indians, 183, 185, 384. Lo’le ke, 439, 440. Lowie, R. H., cited on systems of re- lationship, 188; on male descend- ants in Siouan tribes, 188. Luisefo kinship system, 348; terms compared with those of other tribes, 243, 244; classes, 348-350; general features, 351; member of Southern California kinship group, 378. 470 Macoma nasuta, shellmound constitu- ent, 6;°7, 9: Madera County, cross-cousin mar- riage customs, 190. Maidu ‘tribe, bear ceremony, 145; Hesi ceremony, 404. Mariposa Miwok Indians, 139. Mason, J. A., cited on ethnology of Salinan Indians, 172; on totems among Salinan Indians, 193. Masters of ceremonies, 399, 400, 410, 413. Matco’ ke, 436. Ma’ta ke, 439. Melanesian types of marriage, par- allel between, and North American types, 187. Merriam, C. H., cited with regard to Miwok moieties, 139. Messiah ceremonies, 397; cult, 397, 440. Mexican Confederacy, 273. Mexican, Ancient, Social Organiza- tion, Bandelier’s Contribution to the Study of, 249. Mexico, ancient, clan organization, 252, 274; community ownership of land, 253; position of king, 265, 266, 267, 274, 276; military purpose of government organization, 269; ex- action of tribute, 272; commerce, 273; totemism, 273; Bandelier’s views on social organization, 273— 276. See Aztecs. See also Clan organization; Phratry; Tribe. Mexico City, 252. Michelson, T., cited on languages of Algonkin family, 73. Minnitaree Indians, terms used for eross-cousins, 187. Miwok Indians, of the Sierra Nevada of California, three dialectic groups; Central Sierra (Tuolumne), North- ern Sierra (Amador), Southern Sierra (Mariposa), 139; locality, 139; which see. Miwok kinship system, 232, 238. Miwok Moieties, 139; exogamy, 141— 142; two divisions, land and water moieties, 140, 142; percentages of each, 142; connected through per- sonal names, 142; animals of land, and of water, moieties, 143; myth- ical origin, 143; relation of moiety to supernatural powers of shaman, 145; totemism, 142-145; ceremon- ies: funeral, mourning, girls’ pub- erty, the ahana, 145; paints, 146; personal names, 146-189; naming of foreigners, 148; nicknames, 159; objects implied in personal names, 160; marriages, 160-165; table of, 168; genealogies, 165-169; table of, opp. 170; descent, 165, 166-168; in- ''Index fluence of moieties on, 165, 166; terms of relationship, 170-181; social customs affecting, 181-189; types of marriage, 182; tabus, 182; polygymy, 182, 184; levirate, 183; absence of polyandry, 183; cross- cousin marriage, 185, 189-193; list of cross-cousins, 187; conclusions, 193-194. Miwok Myths, 283. Moiety, hereditary, 382; ceremonies: funeral, mourning, girls’ puberty, the ahana, 145. See also Miwok moieties. Moiety organization among Mono and Yokuts Indians, 193; complex- ity of, among Tachi Yokuts, 194; lacking in Tibatulabal and Ka- walisu groups, 219. Mohave Indians, personal names, 147; kinship system, 340; classes, 340— 345; reciprocity, 345; relation to clan system, 345; general features, 347-348; member of Southern Cali- fornia kinship group, 378; terms compared with those of other tribes, 243. Molluscan species in shellmounds: clam, 6, 7; horn-shell, 6, 8; mussel, 6, 7; oyster, 6, 7; Phytia myosotis, 8, 26; representative of species in vicinity, 7; variation in abundance, 10, 24, 25, 27. Mono Indians, dual social organiza- tion, 140, 193; North Fork Sho- shonean, classification of cousins as brothers and sisters, 237. Montezuma, palace, 271. Morgan, L. H., cited on organization of Aztec empire, 250, 276. Mussel, shellmound constituent, 6, 7. Mytilus californianus, shellmound con- stituent, 6, 7. edulis, shellmound constituent, 6, no: Na? wadinahina®, 81. Nelson, N. C., cited on shellmounds, 25D, OVA abo? Net sinkers, 5. i ie narrator of moiety myth, ers Fork, Madera County, Indians, T Northern Sierra Miwok, 139; cross- cousin marriages, 190. Northwest California kinship char- acteristics, 379. Ojibwa Indians, 73. Omaha Indians, similarity to the Miwok of certain terms of relation- ship, 188. On Plotting the Inflections of the Voice, 195. 471 Ostrea lurida, shellmound constituent, 6, 7 ’ virginiana, 8. Oyster, shellmound constituent, 6, 7; Atlantic coast variety introduced, 8. Paiute, Northern, kinship system, 358; classes, 359-361; marriage, 361-362; relations to Washo kin- ship system, 364; member of Cen- tral California kinship group, 378. Panther doctors, Pomo, 462; Miwok, 463. Parcialidades, 253. Pawnee Indians, terms used for cross- cousins, 187. Pentecost Island, New Hebrides, in- stance of exogamic moieties, 140. Phratry, in ancient Mexican social organization, 261, 269, 274; descrip- tion, 270; captains-general (com- manders), 270; dress, 261; tecpan, 271; schoolhouse, 272; house of darts, 272. Phytia myosotis, shellmound constit- uent, 8, 9, 26. Plains Algonkin tribes, 73. Point Loma shellmound, 2, 3; cata- logue numbers of samples, 3; per cent of material passing through fine screen, 6. Polyandry, absence of, among Cen- tral Sierra Miwok, 183. Polygyny among Miwok Indians, 182, 184, 188, 191. Polysynthesis, possible rehabilitation of, 91, 92. Pomo Bear Doctors, 443. Pomo Indians, Ceremonies of the, 397. Pomo Indians, kinship system, 370; classes, 370-371; general features and relations, 371-372; comparison of terms, 243; social organization, 399; ceremonial organization, 399— 401. Powers, S., cited on the ghost dance, 404, 405; on the spear dance, 427. Presidio of San Francisco, shellmound, mollusean species, 7. Radin, P., cited on the clan organiza- tion of Winnebago Indians, 148. Raga Island, New Hebrides, instance of exogamic moieties, 140. Rivers, W. H. R., cited on exogamic moieties, 140; on terminology used for cross-cousins, 187; on kinship and social organization, 386. Rock found in shellmound constitu- ents, 4, 5, 22. Rousselot apparatus, used in securing records of “‘tones,’’ 196. Salinan Indians, moiety organization, 172, 193, 194; kinship data, 380. ''Index San Diego Bay, Point Loma shell- mound on, 2 San Francisco Bay, shellmounds in vicinity of, 2, map foll. p. 29; cata- logue numbers of samples, 3; mol- lusean species, 7, 24; distribution of Phytia myosotis in, 9, 26. San Joaquin Valley, Indians, 194, 219. San Mateo shellmound, 2; catalogue numbers of samples, 3; per cent of material passing through fine screen, 6; mollusean species in, 24, 28; oc- eurrence of Phytia myosotis, 26. San Mateo Point shellmound, 2; cata- logue numbers of samples, 3; per centage of rock, 6; molluscan species in, 24. San Rafael shellmound, 2; catalogue numbers of samples, 3; samples taken from one vertical plane, 4; per cent of material passing through fine screen, 6; molluscan species in, 24, 29; occurrence of Phytia myos- otis, 26. Sapir, E., cited on Yurok and Wiyot languages, 73; on kinship terms of Kaibab Paiute and Uintah Ute, 245, 248; acknowledgment, 220. Sausalito shellmound, 2; catalogue numbers of samples, 3; samples taken from one vertical plane, 4; rock in, 6; mollusean species in, 24, 27; occurrence of Phytia myos- otis, 26. Sawe’t ke, 438. Searifying ceremony, 425; attire, 421. Sea-urchin as shellmound constituent, Shell. See Mollusean species in shell- mounds. Shellmounds, California, Composition of, 1; purpose and method of in- vestigation, 1-4; constituents, 4-7; methods of segregating, 6; environ- ment, 7-12; physiographic contin- uity of, 7-9; variations in mollus- can species, 9-11; age, 12-14. See also names of shellmounds: Car- quinez; Castro; Ellis Landing; Emeryville; Eureka; Greenbrae; Gunther Island; Half Moon Bay; Humboldt Bay; Point Loma; San Diego Bay; San Francisco; San Mateo; San Mateo Point; San Rafael; Sausalito; West Berkeley. Shoshonean family, kinship systems, 366-368; linguistic branches, 220. Sierra Nevada, Indians in, 219. Snake-Woman, 267, 268. Soulsbyville, 283. South Central California, dual social organization, 140. 472 Southern California kinship charac- teristics, 378. Southern Sierra Miwok, cross-cousin marriage, 190. Taboos (tabus), speech, 182, 183, 190; parent-in-law, 383; name of the dead, 383. Tachi Indians, social organization, 140. Tachi Yokuts Indians, complexity of moiety organization, 194. Tecpan, 216. Tecuhtli, 256. Tegula funebralis, shellmound constit- uent, 10. Tehachapi Mountains, Indians in, 219. Tejon Indians, 229 note 11. Tenochtitlan. See Mexico City. Texts illustrating Arapaho dialect, 123-130, illustrating Gros Ventre, ite Thompson, Mrs. Sophie, informant, 143, 174. Thunder ceremony, 401. Tiacatecuhtli, 265. Tlalmilli, 254. Tlatoani, 260, 262. Tones, of the Siamese language, 196, 197; chart illustrating, opp. 212; of the Chinese language, 198 foot- note 4, 204; chart illustrating tones of Pekingese, opp. 124. Totemism, among Miwok Indians, 142-145; in ancient Mexican social organization, 273. Tribe, in ancient Mexico, 261, 274; council, 262-264; head war chief, 264; Snake-Woman, 267, 268. Tribute, in ancient Mexican social organization, 272, 273. Tiibatulabal and Kawaiisu Kinship Terms, 219. Tiibatulabal tribe, location, 219; lin- guistic branch of Shoshonean fam- ily, 220; kinship system, compared with Northern Paiute, 366; with Shoshonean systems, 366; kinship terms, 220; relationship, 221-223; local usages near Kernville, 224; some uncertain usages, 224; table of analysis of terms, 225; frag- mentary genealogy table, 226, 227; additional terms, 226, 228. See also Kawaiisu tribe; Kawaiisu kinship system; Kawaiisu kinship terms. Tulare Lake, 194. Tuolumne Miwok Indians, 139. Turban shell, shellmound constituent, 10. Uhle, M., cited on Emeryville shell- mound, 13. ''© Page 346. line 7. Index Uintah Ute, 220; kinship system com- pared to Kawaiisu, 245, 248; kin- ship terms, 246, 247. Utah, Kaibab and Uintah Ute In- dians in, 244, Ute-Chemehuevi, dialect, 220; spoken by Kaibab Paiute and Kawaiisu, 245. Vegetable food of shellmound dwel- lers, 14. Verb analysis, in Algonkin and Fox languages, problem of, 92-97. Vertebrate remains in shellmound constituents, 4, 5. Voice, On Plotting the Inflections of the, 195. Voth, H. R., cited on Hopi proper names, 147. Washo kinship system, 362; classes, 362; reciprocity, 363; relations to that of the Northern Paiute, 363; to other systems, 364; terms com- pared with those of other tribes, 243. Waterman, T. T., 249. West Berkeley shellmound, 2; cata- logue numbers of samples, 3; mol- luscan species in, 24, 28; occurrence of Phytia myosotis, 26. Williams, Thomas, informant, 283. Winnebago Indians, naming of for- eigners, 148. Wintun Indians, kinship system, 368; classes, 368-369; general features, 369; Southern Wintun kinship type, 369; influence of culture tyne, 382; Hesi ceremony, 404. Wiyot Indians, kinship affiliation, 380; language Algonkin, 73. Ya/ya ke, 436. Yo’ ke, 436. Yo/mta bate, 406, 422. Yokuts Indians, dual social organiza- tion, 140, 193; agreement with Miwok use of personal names, 146; kinship system, 352; comparison with the Miwok, 356-358; classes, 352-354; reciprocity, 354; member of the Central California kinship group, 378; terms compared with those of other tribes, 243. Yuki Indians, kinship system, 372; elasses, 372-373; general features and relations, 373; member of Cen- tral California kinship group, 378; terms compared with those of other tribes, 243. Yurok Indians, language Algonkin, 73; kinship system, 374; classes, 374-375; general features, 375- 376; kinship group, 378, 380. Xahlu/igak ke, 439. Xo ke, 439. ERRATA Page 34, line 14. For appelation read appellation. Page 77, line 11. for lialects read dialects. Page 181, footnote. For p. 81 read p. 189. Page 182, line 13. For polygnous read polygynous. Page 188, line 12 from bottom. For polygnous read polygynous. Page 276, second paragraph. Omit second line. Page 346, line 7. brother-sister names Read: different clans; yet it is only to these cousins that For partrilinear read patrilinear. Page 370, last line. For XI read IX. Page 374, after line 19. Insert: Ne-lai-yewit, sister, female cousin, or more distant female relative of a woman. '' '' '' '' '' '' ''_ RETURN ANTHROPOLOGY LIBRARY top _230 Kroeber Hall 642-2400 ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS MAY 24 1991 | JAN 18 1995 Ai A & 4 QU DEG 19 199! f\\ sy c AAA fh ~ iy UU APR 4 Joon Boe ee UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, BE BERKELEY, CA 94720 RKELEY FORM NO. DD2, 3m, 3/84 ''U.C. BERKELEY LIBRARIES NUNN a €006917584 '' SS ie ep CaS aD Seas es ''