t in the skin of their breast, ropes passed
through and secured by wooden skewers, and then the men swing and surge
until the skin gives way and tears out. This is very painful, and some
fairly shriek with agony as they do it, but they never give up, for they
believe that if they should fail to fulfil their vow, they would soon die.

On the fourth day every one has been prayed for, every one has made to the
Sun his or her present, which is tied to the centre post, the sacred
tongues have all been consumed, and the ceremony ends, every one feeling
better, assured of long life and plenty.

Most persons have an entirely erroneous idea of the purpose of this annual
ceremony. It has been supposed that it was for the purpose of making
warriors. This is not true. It was essentially a religious festival,
undertaken for the bodily and spiritual welfare of the people according to
their beliefs. Incidentally, it furnished an opportunity for the rehearsal
of daring deeds. But among no tribes who practised it were warriors made by
it. The swinging by the breast and other self-torturings were but the
fulfilment of vows, sacred promises made in time of danger, penances
performed, and not, as many believe, an occasion for young men to test
their courage.

From the Indians of the tribe, the Medicine Lodge woman receives a very
high measure of respect and consideration. Blackfoot men have said to me,
"We look on the Medicine Lodge woman as you white people do on the Roman
Catholic sisters." Not only is she virtuous in deed, but she must be
serious and clean-minded. Her conversation must be sober.

Before the coming of the whites, the Blackfeet used to smoke the leaves of
a plant which they call _na-wuh'-to-ski_, and which is said to have been
received long, long ago from a medicine beaver. It was used unmixed with
any other plant. The story of how this came to the tribe is told
elsewhere.[1] This tobacco is no longer planted by the Piegans, nor by the
Bloods, though it is said that an old Blackfoot each year still goes
through the ceremony, and raises a little. The plant grows about ten
inches high and has a long seed stalk growing from the centre. White Calf,
the chief of the Piegans, has the secrets of the tobacco and is perhaps the
only person in the tribe who knows them. From him I have received the
following account of the ceremonies connected with it:--

[Footnote 1: The Beaver Medicine, p. 117.]

Early in the spring, after th