Had we seen the program, we should not have permitted the word _Aino_ to appear upon it; nor should we have allowed announcement of a “bear-dance” of which we never heard. It is true that there is dancing at bear-feasts but that is different from having a dance that is called a bear-dance. As to the name of our people it is not Aino, but _Ainu_, which is a word in their own language meaning man. The Ainu are “men”—i. e. _the_ men. It is a common thing for people in a certain stage of culture to name themselves in this way. The Eskimo call themselves _innuit_, “man”; the Moki Indians of Arizona, call themselves _hopi_, “men”; and the Delaware Indians called themselves _Lenni Lenape_, “men of men.” The word Aino is neither an Ainu nor a Japanese word; it approaches the Japanese word _ino_, “dog,” and there is no doubt that this similarity shades the word when used by the Japanese, to whom the Ainu often are as “dogs” and who have a legend that the Ainu are really the offspring of a woman and a dog. From the Ainu point of view the word Aino is a reproach and they resent it. While it occurs in many books, there is already ample authority in practice for using the proper form Ainu, which should absolutely supplant the other. The matter is of sufficient importance to have called for government ruling and in official documents Ainu is to-day _de rigeur_. In calling attention to this matter, we inadvertently offended both English and Japanese passengers, who had worded the program. The _yukara_ are curious and interesting but are rarely, if ever, mentioned in the books. They are ancient war-songs and we only knew that a manuscript collection of them exists in the library at Mito. On inquiring of our men, we learned that they knew many _yukara_, so one day upon the voyage we went down to hear our first one. Kutoroge was singer; Sangyea beat the time. They seated themselves side by side upon the floor. Kutoroge began to sing in a low voice; single words were long drawn out and interrupted with curious throat gurglings; the singing of a single line of words was a matter of time and great apparent effort. Sangyea struck one stick against another, and from time to time gave a cry as if to excite the other’s courage. Kutoroge grew louder and the encouragement was more frequent and pronounced, until both were wrought up to a considerable pitch of excitement.