The Sia infant is nourished regularly from the time it is born; and in this particular case the infant was nursed by a woman whose child was three months old, until the third morning, when the mother took it in charge. Though the door of the room could not be left open until the child should have passed out the fourth morning to see its sun father, and the two small windows being stationary, the most fastidious could have found no fault with the purity of the atmosphere. The father of the woman scarcely left her during the four days. He sat by her bed-side, weaving garters, and showing her the tenderest care, and her mother did little else than look after the wants of the invalid and infant and admire and caress the latter. The woman’s husband was absent all day working in the fields, but upon his return in the evening he could be found by his wife’s side admiring the baby and saying pleasing words to the woman of his choice. The family all slept in the same room as usual with the addition the first two nights of the woman engaged to furnish nourishment to the child, who also had her infant with her. By half past 4 on the fourth morning the woman had donned her woolen dress and belt and sat upon the bed awaiting the arrival of the doctress, who soon came, and after a greeting handed ashes from the fireplace to the woman, who receiving the ashes in her right hand rubbed her legs and breast for purification, and then put on her moccasins. The grandmother took the infant from the cradle and wrapping it in its blanket handed it to the doctress, while the father of the woman gave her the two stone fetiches from under her pillow, which she placed in her bosom. The doctress then took from the fireplace a bit of charcoal and put it into the woman’s mouth that the cold winds might not enter through her mouth and congeal her blood and prevent its flow, for should this occur the woman would surely die. The father then handed sacred meal to his daughter and the doctress, and again helping himself he gave some to the writer. The doctress led the way, carrying the infant in her arms and pressing to its breast the ear of corn which had played such an important part during parturition, and had since lain by the side of the child; the woman followed, also carrying an ear of corn, a companion of the first ear (everything associated with life must have its dual, and “corn is life itself, for it comes from the heart of Ût´sĕt; were it not for the mother corn none could live.” These two ears of corn are afterwards wrapped together and laid under the child’s cradle, where they must remain until the next corn-planting time, when it is sown in two or four rows, apart from the main field, and when ripe it is eaten by the child, who takes the nourishment of the mother corn as it draws the milk from its mother’s breast). The writer followed after the woman and, passing a few feet to the right of the entrance after leaving the house, they stood while