dyed blue with sunflower seeds. He knows well the way to weave pretty diaper patterns which remind one of French worsted designs. The blankets are serviceable to the last degree and in the loose garment of the women will, perhaps, endure a whole generation. Belts of bright colored yarns, embroidered kilts of cotton and embroidered woolen sashes are chef-d'œuvres of the weaver.
The light side of life is uppermost in Moki-land. The disposition of the Moki is to make work a sport, necessity a pleasure and to have a laugh or joke ready in an instant. This is the home of song makers; the singing of the men at work, of the mother to her babe, of the corn grinders, of the priests in assembly chamber or in the kiva-vault, constantly ripples forth. There is no need for songs of the day; love songs, lullabys, war songs, hunting songs, songs secular and religious give variety in plenty. The dark side exists, to be sure, but the Mokis are so like children that a smile lurks just behind a sorrow. The seriousness and gravity with which the ceremonials are conducted is very impressive, and no one who has seen the Snake dance will fail to note that the Moki can be grave at times. Telling stories is one of the amusements of winter around the fireside. Until the ground is frozen it is dangerous to relate the deeds of the ancients: then they have gone away and will not overhear to the harm of the storyteller. Rabbit hunting is another favorite amusement, and parties of young men often do more hard work in one day thus than in a month otherwise with few results to show of "long ears" slain by the curved boomerang. In the proper season berrying parties go out for a day's picnic; the Mokis enjoy traveling, and a journey of fifteen or twenty miles to a berry patch and back is not thought anything out of common. When the green corn comes then the Moki lives bountifully. Tall columns of white steam arising in the cornfields at early
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