makes a man healthy and hungry, thus cheerfulness cannot but follow, expressed in songs that are from the soul. It must be confessed that the impression of Indian music one draws from various sources is that it consists of whoops, yells, and odd, guttural noises, but this is far from describing Hopi music. Between the light and airy _Kachina_ songs and the stirring though somewhat gruesome chants of the Snake ceremony, there is a variety of compositions to many of which the most enlightened music lovers would listen with pleasure. The Flute music is especially pleasing. In the summer of 1896, the writer had the good fortune to witness the Flute ceremony at the Hopi pueblo of Walpi. In the course of the ritual, which is an invocation for rain, a series of songs are repeated each day for several days. To one hearing Indian music for the first time the sensation was quite novel. The chorus of priests, rattle in hand, sang in unison before the Flute altar, in a narrow, low, windowless room that greatly augmented the volume of sound. The time was set by the speaker-chief, who uniformly shook his rattle eight beats in five seconds for all the songs and for each day's songs with the accuracy of a metronome. There were three beats in each measure. The pitch was low, the range limited, and the deep, vibrant voices seemed to portray the winds, thunder, rain, the rushing water and the elemental forces of nature. The notation is chromatic, not possible to be expressed on any instrument save the violin, or the five-hole transverse flutes which later accompanied the singing. These flutes were played in unison on the octave above the voices, and their shrill, harsh notes marred the singing. In general effect the music is minor, but frequently major motives of great beauty spring out of dead-level monotonous minors. Sometimes a major motive is followed by a minor counterpart of the same. There is much slurring, and an occasional reduplication comes in with great effect. A number of songs are monotonous, with once in a while a vigorous movement. The closing song is spirited and may truly be called beautiful. It consists of several legato verses, each closing with a turn, a rapid vibration of the rattle, and a solemn refrain. In structure and melody it resembles a Christian hymn. The music reminds one of the Gregorian chants, and to the listener some of the motives seemed quite equal to those upon which Handel built his great oratorios. It is a pity that the many beautiful songs of Tusayan cannot be written down and preserved but this will no doubt soon be accomplished. Perhaps some genius like Liszt who gave the world the spirit of Hungarian folk-music will arise to ravish our ears with these musical expressions passed down from aboriginal American sweet singers.