“Now the corn, as we believe, has an enemy—the sun who tries to burn the corn. But at night, when the sun has gone down, the corn has magic power. It is the corn that brings the night moistures—the early morning mist and fog, and the dew—as you can see yourself in the morning from the water dripping from the corn leaves. Thus the corn grows and keeps on until it is ripe. “The sun may scorch the corn and try hard to dry it up, but the corn takes care of itself, bringing the moistures that make the corn, and also the beans, sunflowers, squashes, and tobacco grow. “The corn possesses all this magic power. “When you white people met our Mandan people we gave to the whites the name Maci´, or Waci´, meaning nice people, or pretty people. We called them by this name because they had white faces and wore fine clothes. We said also ‘We will call these people our friends!’ And from that time to this we have never made war on white men. “Our Mandan corn must now be all over the world, for we gave the white men our seeds. And so it seems we Mandans have helped every people. But the seed of our varieties of corn were originally ours. “We know that white men must also have had corn seed, for their corn is different from ours. But all we older folk can tell our native corn from that of white men.”—Wounded Face (Mandan) “I will now stop a moment to explain something in the other form of this tale. “According to this way of telling it, there was a garden and in the middle of the garden was a tree. There was a platform under the tree made of trunks and slabs; and there those two girls sat to watch the garden and sing watch-garden songs. They did this to make the garden grow, just as people sing to a baby to make it be quiet and feel good. In old times we sang to a garden for a like reason, to make the garden feel good and grow. This custom was one used in every garden. Sometimes one or two women sang. “The singing was begun in the spring and continued until the corn was ripe. We Indians loved our gardens and kept them clean; we did not let weeds grow in them. Always in every garden during the growing season, there would be some one working or singing. “Now in old times, many of our gardens had resting stages, or watchers’ stages, such as I have just described. We always made our gardens down in the woods by the river, because there is better ground there. When we cut off the timber we would often leave one tree standing in the garden. Under this tree were erected four forked posts, on which was laid a platform. This made the stage; in the tree overhead we often spread robes and blankets for shade. “This resting stage was small. It was just big enough for two persons to sit on comfortably. Corn was never dried on it; it was used for a singing and resting place only. It was reached by a ladder. Its height was about four and a half feet high. “This resting stage or watchers’ stage was built on the north side of the tree so that the shade of the tree would fall upon it. Robes were laid on the floor of the stage to make a couch or bed. Sometimes people even slept on this platform—sometimes a man and his wife slept there. “This resting stage we used to rest on after working in the garden; and to sing here the songs that we sang at this season of the year, and which I have called watch-garden songs. A place to cook in was not far away on the edge of the garden. It was a kind of booth, or bower. With a stake we made holes in the ground in a circle, and into the holes thrust willows. The tops of these willows we bent toward the center and joined together to make a bower. Over the top we threw a robe. We built a fire beneath to cook by. “Our gardens I am describing were those at Like-a-fishhook village; and they were on the Missouri on either side of the village. They were strung along the river bank for a mile or more on either side of the village.” “The owner of a field would come and notify the crier of some society, as the Fox or Dog society, or some other. The crier would go on the roof of the society’s lodge and call, ‘All you of the Fox society come hither; they want you to husk. When you all get here, we will go to that one’s garden and husk the corn!’ “We young men of the society all gathered together and marched to the field to which we were bidden. In old times we took our guns with us, for the Sioux might come up to attack us. As we approached the field we began to sing, that the girls might hear us. We knew that our sweethearts would take notice of our singing. The girls themselves did not sing. “At the corn pile in each garden would be the woman owner and maybe two or three girls. On our way to some field, if we passed through other fields with corn piles at which were girls, each young man looked to see if his sweetheart was there; and if he saw her he would yell, expecting that she would recognise his voice. “Sometimes two societies husked at one corn pile. Any of the societies might be asked. If the pile was too big for one society, another society was asked, if the owner could afford the food for the feast. “Different societies would be husking in different gardens all at the same time. “Sometimes a group of young men belonging to different societies were asked to come and husk. This was chiefly at small gardens; the societies were usually asked to come and husk the big corn piles of the larger gardens. “If a society went early, they got through just after midday. By early I mean nine o’clock in the morning. “When we had finished husking one pile, we went to another. We worked late, by moonlight, even. “Some man of the family and his wife would be out all night and watch by the corn if they had not gotten all the husked ears borne in to the village. Also while the pile awaited husking watchers stayed by to protect against horses.” “Small ears were tossed into one place. Four or five women would carry off these ears in baskets; they bore the filled baskets right up the ladder to the top of the drying stage. The braided strings were often borne home on the backs of ponies, ten strings on a pony. They were hung like dead snakes on the railings above the floor of the stage to dry. “Boys and young men went to the husking bees because of the fun to be had; they wanted to see the girls!”—Edward Goodbird (related in 1909). “This mush, or boiled, pounded-corn meal was made thus: “A clay pot was three-quarters filled with water and put on the fire to boil. Meanwhile, twelve double handfuls of corn were pounded in the corn mortar; usually we pounded three or four double handfuls at a time. This began after breakfast; it was work and made us women sweat. The corn was hard, ripe corn, yellow or white. “These twelve double handfuls were thrown into the pot of now boiling water, and boiled for half an hour. As there was no grease in the pot, we had to stir the contents with a smooth stick to keep from sticking. “As the corn boiled a scummy substance would rise to the top. To this the woman cooking would touch the point of her horn spoon, and carry it to her tongue and lick it off. When she could taste that it was sticky enough, she knew that it was time to add beans. It took, as I have said, about half an hour for the corn to boil to this point. “She now added some spring salt. This is alkaline salt which we gathered about the mouth of springs. It was white. The woman put some of this salt in a cup and made a strong liquor—in old times instead of a cup she used a horn spoon. She now added the salt liquor to the mess. It took about enough of this white salt to make a heaping tablespoonful to one pot of this corn mess. As the salt liquor was poured into the pot, the woman held her hand over the mouth of the cup, so that if any pieces of grass or other refuse were in it, they would be strained out by her fingers. “The corn when it is pounded does not pound evenly; and so when it was put into the pot, the finer part of the meal was cooked first. This rose to the top, and in old times was skimmed off. The coarser parts of the meal took longer to cook; but the skimmed-off part, when the other was done, was poured back into the pot again. “When the pounded corn meal had now all cooked and the salt had been added, the beans were put in—red, spotted, black, or shield-figured, we did not have white beans in very old times; they were brought in by white men. The pot was now let boil until the beans were done. Beans were always added to the pot. “A pot of corn meal and beans was [almost] always on the fire in the lodge. The boys of the lodge liked to come around when the corn was cooking and dip horn spoons into the thick, rising liquor, and lick it off as I have described the woman doing as she cooked. “It was this sticky, rising liquor taken off the boiling corn to keep and return to it, that was used to rub over a newly made pot. When this was done, the pot was ready to boil corn in. “After using a pot, it was usually rubbed over with the residue of the boiled corn meal, or mush, because this made the pot look better and last longer. “The skimmed-off liquor from a pot of boiling corn meal was also fed to a baby whose mother had died, and whose family could not hire a woman to nurse it.” “I find that the black beans have yielded best, next the red, then the spotted, last of all the white. I have observed before that this is true; that black beans yield the most.”—Wolf Chief “Now deer shed their horns. Old-woman-who-never-dies got these shed horns and bound them on sticks and so we got our first rakes. Her grandson saw what she did and afterwards taught the people to make rakes also. “In later times we learned to make rakes of ash wood instead of horns; but we still reckon the teeth to mean the tines of a deer’s antler. Sometimes deer have six, sometimes seven tines on an antler. So we make our ash rakes, some with six, some with seven teeth. “If the Grandson had not seen what his grandmother did, we Hidatsas would never have known how to make rakes, either of horn or of ash wood.”—Wolf Chief (told in 1910). “And the others retorted, ‘Look, that man puts all the hard work on his wife!’ “Men were not alike; some did not like to work in the garden at all, and cared for nothing but to go around visiting or to be off on a hunt. “My father, Small Ankle, liked to garden and often helped his wives. He told me that that was the best way to do. ‘Whatever you do,’ he said, ‘help your wife in all things!’ He taught me to clean the garden, to help gather the corn, to hoe, and to rake. “My father said that that man lived best and had plenty to eat who helped his wife. One who did not help his wife was likely to have scanty stores of food.”—Wolf Chief (told in 1910). STUDIES IN THE BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES1. Herbert G. Lampson, A Study on the Spread of Tuberculosis in Families. 1913. $0.50. 2. Julius V. Hofman, The Importance of Seed Characteristics in the Natural Reproduction of Coniferous Forests. In press. STUDIES IN LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE1. Esther L. Swenson, An Inquiry into the Composition and Structure of Ludus Coventriae; Hardin Craig, Note on the Home of Ludus Coventriae. 1914. $0.50. 2. Elmer Edgar Stoll, Othello: An Historical and Comparative Study. 1915. $0.50. 3. Colbert Searles, Les Sentiments de l’AcadÉmie FranÇaise sur le Cid: Edition of the Text, with an Introduction. 1916. $1.00. 4. Paul Edward Kretzmann, The Liturgical Element in the Earliest Forms of the Medieval Drama. 1916. $1.00. 5. Arthur Jerrold Tieje, The Theory of Characterization in Prose Fiction prior to 1740. 1916. $0.75. CURRENT PROBLEMS1. William Anderson, The Work of Public Service Commissions. 1913. $0.15. 2. Benjamin F. Pittenger, Rural Teachers’ Training Departments in Minnesota High Schools. 1914. $0.15. 3. Gerhard A. Gesell, Minnesota Public Utility Rates. 1914. $0.25. 4. L. D. H. Weld, Social and Economic Survey of a Community in the Red River Valley. 1915. $0.25. 5. Gustav P. Warber, Social and Economic Survey of a Community in Northeastern Minnesota. 1915. $0.25. 6. Joseph B. Pike, Bulletin for Teachers of Latin. 1915. $0.25. 7. August C. Krey, Bulletin for Teachers of History. 1915. $0.25. 8. Carl Schlenker, Bulletin for Teachers of German. 1916. $0.25. 9. William Watts Folwell, Economic Addresses. In press. |