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personal chastity and honor. There were many ceremonial customs which had a distinct moral influence; the woman was rigidly secluded at certain periods, and the young husband was forbidden to approach his own wife when preparing for war or for any religious event. The public or tribal position of the Indian is entirely dependent upon his private virtue, and he is never permitted to forget that he does not live to himself alone, but to his tribe and his clan. Thus habits of perfect selfcontrol were early established, and there were no unnatural conditions or complex temptations to beset him, until he was met and overthrown by a stronger race.

To keep the young men and young women strictly to their honor, there were observed among us, within my own recollection, certain annual ceremonies of a semi-religious nature. One of the most impressive of these was the sacred" Feast of Virgins," which, when given for the first time, was equivalent to a public announcement of a young girl's arrival at a marriageable age. The herald, making the rounds of the teepee village, would publish the feast something after this fashion:

"Pretty Weasel-woman, the daughter of Brave Bear, will kindle her first maidens' fire to-morrow. All ye who have never yielded to the pleading of man, who have not destroyed your innocency, you alone are invited to proclaim anew before the Sun and the Earth, before your companions and in the sight of the Great Mystery, the chastity and purity of your maidenhood. Come ye, all who have not known man !"

The whole village was at once aroused to the interest of the coming event, which was considered next to the Sun Dance and the Grand Medicine Dance in public importance. It always took place in midsummer, when a number of different clans were gathered together for the summer festivities, and was held in the center of the great circular encampment.

Here two circles were described, one within the other, about a rudely heartshaped rock which was touched with red paint, and upon either side of the rock there were thrust into the ground a knife and two arrows. The inner circle was for the maidens, and the outer one for their

grandmothers or chaperons, who were supposed to have passed the climacteric. Upon the outskirts of the feast there was a great public gathering, in which order. was kept by certain warriors of highest reputation. Any man among the spectators might approach and challenge any young woman whom he knew to be unworthy; but if the accuser failed to prove his charge, the warriors were accustomed to punish him severely.

Each girl in turn approached the sacred rock and laid her hand upon it with all solemnity. This was her religious declaration of her purity, her vow to remain so until her marriage. If she should ever violate the maidens' oath, then welcome that keen knife and those sharp arrows!

Our maidens were ambitious to attend a number of these feasts before marriage; and it sometimes happened that a girl was compelled to give one on account of gossip about her conduct. Then it was in the nature of a challenge to the scandalmongers to prove their words. A similar feast was sometimes made by the young men, for whom the rules were even more strict, since no young man might attend this feast who had so much as spoken of love to a maiden. It was considered a high honor among us to have won some distinction in war and the chase, and, above all, to have been invited to a seat in the council, before one had "spoken " to any girl save his own sister.

It was our belief that the love of possessions is a weakness to be overcome. Its appeal is to the material part, and, if allowed its way, it will in time disturb the spiritual balance of the man. Therefore the child must early learn the beauty of generosity. He is taught to give what he prizes most, and that he may taste the happiness of giving, he is made at an early age the family almoner. If a child is inclined to be grasping, or to cling to any of his little possessions, legends are related to him telling of the contempt and disgrace that fall upon the ungenerous and

mean man.

Public giving is a part of every important ceremony. It properly belongs to the celebration of birth, marriage, and death, and whenever it is desired to do special honor to any person or event.

Upon such occasions it is common to give to the point of utter impoverishment. The Indian in his simplicity literally gives away all that he has to relatives, to guests of another tribe or clan, but, above all, to the poor and the aged, from whom he can hope for no return. Finally, the gift to the "Great Mystery," the religious offering, may be of little value in itself, but to the giver's own thought it should carry the meaning and reward of true sacrifice.

Orphans and the aged are invariably cared for, not only by their next of kin, but by the whole clan. It is the loving parent's pride to have his daughters visit the unfortunate and the helpless, carry them food, comb their hair, and mend their garments. The name "Wenonah," or Eldest Daughter, distinctly implies all this, and a girl who failed in her charitable duties was held to be unworthy of the


The man who is a skillful hunter, and whose wife is alive to her opportunities, makes many feasts, to which he is careful to invite the older men of his clan, recognizing that they have outlived their period of greatest activity, and now love nothing so well as to eat in good company and to live over the past. The old men, for their part, do their best to requite his liberality with a little speecn, in which they are apt to relate the brave and generous deeds of their host's ancestors, finally congratulating him upon being a worthy successor of an honorable line. Thus his reputation is won as a hunter and a feast-maker, and almost as famous in his way as the great warrior is he who has a recognized name and standing as a "man of peace."

The true Indian sets no price upon either his property or his labor. His generosity is limited only by his strength and ability. He regards it as an honor to be selected for a difficult or dangerous service, and would think it shame to ask for any reward, saying rather, Let him whom I serve express his thanks according to his own bringing up and his sense of honor."

Nevertheless, he recognizes rights in property. To steal from one of his own tribe would be indeed a disgrace, and, if discovered, the name of Mamanon," or

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Thief, is fixed upon him forever as an unalterable stigma. The only exception to the rule is in the case of food, which is always free to the hungry if there is none by to offer it. Other protection than the moral law there could not be in an Indian community, where there were neither locks nor doors, and where everything was open and of easy access to all comers.

The property of the enemy is spoil of war, and it is always allowable to confiscate it if possible. However, in the old days there was not much plunder. Before the coming of the white man there was, in fact, little temptation or opportunity to despoil the enemy; but in modern times the practice of "stealing horses" from hostile tribes has become common, and is thought far from dishonorable.

Warfare we regarded as an institution of the "Great Mystery "-an organized tournament or trial of courage and skill, with elaborate rules and “counts" for the coveted honor of the eagle feather. It was held to develop the quality of manliness, and its motive was chivalric or patriotic, but never the desire for territorial aggrandizement or the overthrow of a brother nation. It was common in early times for a battle or skirmish to last all day, with great display of daring and horsemanship, but with scarcely more killed and wounded than may be carried from the field during a university game of football.

The slayer of a man in battle was supposed to mourn for thirty days, blackening his face and loosening his hair according to the custom. He, of course, considered it no sin to take the life of an enemy, and this ceremonial mourning was a sign of reverence for the departed spirit. The killing in war of non-combatants, as women and children, is partly explained by the fact that in savage life the woman without husband or protector is in pitiable case, and it was supposed that the spirit of the warrior would be better content if no widow and orphans were left to suffer want as well as to weep.

A scalp might originally be taken by the leader of the war-party only, and at that period no other mutilation was practiced. It was a small lock not more than two inches square, which was carried only during the thirty days' celebration of a

victory, and afterward given religious burial. Wanton cruelties and the more barbarous customs of war were greatly intensified with the coming of the white man, who brought with him fiery liquor and deadly weapons, aroused the Indian's worst passions, provoked in him revenge and cupidity, and even offered bounties for the scalps of innocent men, women, and children.

Murder within the tribe was a grave offense, to be atoned for as the council might decree, and it often happened that the slayer was called upon to pay the penalty with his own life. He made no attempt to escape or to evade justice. That the crime was committed in the depths of the forest or at dead of night, witnessed by no human eye, made no difference to his mind. He was thoroughly convinced that all is known to the "Great Mystery," and hence did not hesitate to give himself up, to stand his trial by the old and wise men of the victim's clan. His own family and clan might by no means attempt to excuse or to defend him, but his judges took all the known circumstances into consideration, and if it appeared that he slew in self-defense, or that the provocation was severe, he might be set free after a thirty days' period of mourning in solitude. Otherwise the murdered man's next of kin were authorized to take his life; and if they refrained from doing so, as often happened, he remained an outcast from the clan. A willful murder was a rare occurrence before the days of whisky and drunken rows, for we were not a violent or a quarrelsome people.

It is well remembered that Crow Dog, who killed the Sioux chief Spotted Tail in 1881, calmly surrendered himself and was tried and convicted by the courts in South Dakota. After his conviction he was permitted remarkable liberty in prison, such as perhaps no white man has ever received when under sentence of death.

The cause of his act was a solemn commission received from his people, nearly thirty years earlier, at the time that Spotted Tail usurped the chieftainship by the aid of the military, whom he had supported. Crow Dog was under a vow to slay the chief in case he ever betrayed or disgraced the name of the Brulé Sioux.

There is no doubt that Spotted Tail had committed crimes both public and private, having been guilty of misuse of office as well as of gross offenses against morality, and therefore his death was not a matter of private vengeance, but of national retribution.

A few days before Crow Dog was to be executed he asked permission to visit his home and say farewell to his wife and twin boys, then nine or ten years old. Strange to say, the request was granted, and the condemned man sent home under escort of the deputy sheriff, who remained at the Indian Agency, merely telling his prisoner to report there on the following day. When he did not appear at the time set, the sheriff despatched the Indian police after him. They did not find him, and his wife simply said that Crow Dog had desired to ride alone to the prison, and would reach there on the day appointed. All doubt was removed next day by a telegram from Rapid City, two hundred miles distant, saying, " Crow Dog has just reported here."

The incident drew public attention to the Indian murderer, with the unexpected result that the case was reopened, and Crow Dog acquitted. He still lives, a well-preserved man of about seventy-five years, and is much respected among his own people.

It is said that in the very early days lying was a capital offense among us. Believing that the deliberate liar is capable of committing any crime behind the screen of cowardly untruth and double dealing, the destroyer of mutual confidence was summarily put to death, that the evil might go no further.

Even the worst enemies of the Indian, those who accuse him of treachery, bloodthirstiness, cruelty, and lust, have not denied his courage, but in their minds it is a courage that is ignorant, brutal, and fantastic. His own conception of bravery makes of it a high moral virtue, for to him it consists not so much in aggressive self-assertion as in absolute self-control. The truly brave man, we contend, yields neither to fear nor anger, desire nor agony; he is at all times master of himself; his courage rises to the heights of chivalry, patriotism, and real heroism.

"Let neither cold, hunger, nor pain,

nor the fear of them, neither the bristling teeth of danger nor the very jaws of death itself, prevent you from doing a good deed," said an old chief to a scout who

was about to seek the buffalo in midwinter for the relief of a starving people. This was his childlike conception of courage.





LONG-DEBATED issue was settled at a meeting of the Board of Education of New York City held on November 23, 1910, when the plan of furnishing three-cent luncheons to the public school children of New York was officially declared successful. At this meeting it was voted that the equipment for cooking and serving luncheons be installed in three additional school buildings -School 107, at 272 West Tenth Street; School 92, at Broome and Ridge Streets; and School 120, at 187 Broome Street. The system was already in working order in School 21, in Mott Street. Without doubt it will now be indefinitely extended. Behind this victory lie two years of hard work and thorough experimentation. Because it is well managed, the scheme appears to be a simple one; but it has been elaborately worked out, and rests upon an unusually solid foundation of common sense and experience. Further more, it is the achievement of one able and disinterested woman, Miss Mabel Kittredge, who is already well known through her Association of Practical Housekeeping Centers, with its " model flats," or tenement-house object-lessons, and who in this later enterprise has been faithfully assisted by Mrs. Ernest Poole, wife of the writer and sociologist, and by Mrs. Benjamin Whittaker. These three women now comprise the New York School Lunch Committee, of which Miss Kittredge is Chairman.

Everybody can grasp the fact that a school-child, especially one that is already under-nourished, needs a midday meal. But not everybody knows that there are comparatively few children who can take

for granted the daily supplying of this need; only that small percentage, in fact, who come from comfortable, well-ordered homes. A table spread with a substantial luncheon does not automatically appear at a stated time in the homes of the poor, even when the mothers spend their days at home; and however the well-fed citizen may picture it, this pleasant miracle is still less likely to occur in the many homes where both parents are engaged in outside employment. There are therefore thousands of children who can at the utmost gain nothing but dubious scraps by going to their homes at midday. If, on the other hand, they are supplied by their parents with a few pennies to buy food for themselves at noon, their purchase is practically sure to include rankly unwholesome pastry, tea, coffee, or something worse than these.

But the primary need of a child is to be physically nourished, and a teacher who knows that his pupil is hungry must have very little heart for enforcing mental discipline. Many teachers have, of course, felt this and expressed it, with the result that the proposition to supply schoolchildren with free luncheons was several years ago repeatedly brought up for discussion. It was decided, however, that to furnish food where it was not asked for was not a legitimate municipal function. The old cry of pauperizing the poor was sounded. And officially the matter dropped.

Then Miss Mabel Kittredge, made confident by her long experience in practical domestic economy, petitioned the Board of Education to allow her to try an experiment in one school building. The privi

lege being granted, Miss Kittredge looked over the facilities for her plan offered by school No. 51, on West Forty-fourth Street, between Tenth and Eleventh Avenues, and made exceedingly careful calculations. The building already contained a small and rather rude kitchen and a range where luncheons were daily prepared for the teachers in the building. It also contained an Assembly Hall, a room large enough to seat two hundred children. Being allowed the use of these rooms, two women were hired to do the actual cooking, under careful, even mathematical direction, and it was made known among the two thousand children in the building that hot midday luncheons were to be on sale at prices ranging from three to five cents. Miss Kittredge already familiarly knew the class of children with whom she would have mostly to deal, and the homes they would come from. She foresaw the unexpressed conservatism and suspicion that would have to be combated. On the other hand, she assumed that neither parents, teachers, nor onlooking sociologists could formulate any real objection to the children's spending their lunch pennies for a wholesome meal instead of an unwholesome one. It remained, of course, a matter of chance whether the boys and girls themselves would make the sensible choice, whether any considerable number of them could be reclaimed from their habitual dietary vagaries.

But, drawn either by curiosity or by the smell of hot soup, the children did come to be fed. Scarcely a hundred lunch-tickets -mostly the three-cent kind—were presented at first, but it wasn't very long before there were two hundred. The patronage was uniformly hungry, but almost uniformly obliged to restrict its outlay. So the first change in plan was to drop the four and five cent luncheons as being too extravagant for the juvenile purse and to re-establish the meals on an invariable three-cent basis. It was found that the average child can spend this sum. And consider for a moment what, under Miss Kittredge's arrangement, he obtains with it. The favorite luncheon, the directors say, is soup, which is made of the best materials, and is not diluted. It is not only nourishing but temptingly palatable. In the school made up largely of Irish

children barley soup was alternated with rice and pea soup and with clam chowder, and two large slices of bread are served with each luncheon, of whatever it may consist. Meat and potato sandwiches and hot cocoa make up another luncheon, and macaroni and tomato sauce is a dish popular among all nationalities. Baked beans, farina with milk, and rice pudding with milk are other menus. This list is varied somewhat for the Italian children in Mott Street, who are offered with their two slices of bread sometimes potato soup, sometimes lentil soup with stock, sometimes split-pea soup, and sometimes minestra, or vegetable stew. Lima beans and macaroni, rice with cheese or tomato sauce, peas with pasta, beans with pasta, and cocoa with meat and potato sandwiches, are other substitutes. And for one cent apiece the following sweet "extras" are offered: prunes, banana, cup of cocoa, four crackers, sweet potato, apples in all styles, gingerbread, jelly sandwich, spice cake, and cranberry sauce. All these dishes are, of course, chosen primarily for their nourishing properties, but the matter of their taste is also scrupulously considered. The dreary colorlessness of the institutional meal is avoided altogether. Good materials are bought, the dishes are properly flavored, and they are served steaming hot. Most amazing of all, the accounts are kept under perfect control.

The members of the committee have substituted one arrangement for another until now their dispensing system works with oiled precision. Before school each morning brass checks, good for one meal, are sold in the school yard. Children who need luncheon and are unable to pay receive checks from their teachers and the money is collected later from charitable sources. It is not known, however, among the pupils which of their number pay for their own meals and which are helped. At nine o'clock word is sent to the cook as to the number of luncheons that will be needed at noon, thus doing away with any waste. One cook is able, according to the present simplified arrangements, to prepare a meal for two hundred children. Promptly at twelve o'clock, for fractions of minutes as well as fractions of pennies have to be considered in this enterprise, a great tin tank of soup-assuming that

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