The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, October 4, 1896, Page 23

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, STUNDAY, OCTOBER 4, 1896. 23 Building of the Great Warships for the New Navy Active work on the thgee battle-ship!! will now commence and $12,000,000 from Uncie Sam’s coffers will be distributed among the workingmen on tke Atlantic and Pacific seaboardsduringthe next three years. It is scarcely six years since the contracts for the first three battle-ships were signed; these have heen completed, a fourth one will soon go into commission, two are in course of construction and prep- arations are under way for three more, making eleven battle-ships turned out from our private shipyards in about nine years. While in point of number our armored fleet is inferior to those of the lazger naval vowers, the fact that they sre new vessels and equal at least to the t productions abroud gives our small navy the advan- tage in not having to cs a dead load of old csaft of doubtful utility, such as are carried on foreign navy lists and many of which inspire more terror by their names than the ships themselves Since 1886 about $150,000,000 has been appropriated for the reconstruction cf the navy, and tne benefits of this expenditure r than the average 4 It bas raised the United fre the bottom of the list of wers to the fifth in number and icy, and ensbled this country to back up its demands with a respectable force at sea, and that alone is worth the money expended. But the much greater nefit derived has been the bmlding up of a great industry. Ten years ago there was only one shipyard in the country where a ship of any considerable size Id be built; now there are a dozen, ch four arecapable of undertaking vattle-ship building. Ten years ago the capacity of the largest rolling-mill in the United States was only about 4-inch jron plates; now there are two armor-| vlants capable of turning out 18-inch Harveyized steel plates. In 1886 we had no gun foundries worthy of the name; now the Government gun-foundries at Watervliet and in Washington assemble and finish guns from 16-inch caliver down to 4-1nch rifies from the forgings made at Midvale, Bethlehem and other steel works, The capacity of all these yards, steel plants and gun foundries is sufficiently great 1o warrant the belief that they could double the present navy in two years, for they are all thoroughly equipped and have | thousands of experienced workmen to draw on in case of emergency. Another natural result of the growth of the several industries connected with navy material is that the cost has been consid- erably reduced, caused by competition and experience in the work. The best steel plates and shapes used in any country are now produced at half the cost of ten years ago, when much inferior material had to be accepted. The cruisers of 1886 could no | doubt be duplicated at the present time for 20 per cent less than then, and in battle-ship building there has been a drop of nearly 22 per cent, although the re- quirements have become greater. The following tablé shows the battie-ships built or authorized to be built, year of contract, dieplacement, contract cost, exclusive of armor and armament, and the contract cost per ton: CONTRACT COST OF BATTLE-SHIPS, zes. BATTLE-SEIPS. "sum; Tons. | Contract. l.‘.‘;‘;_ Indiana. 1890| 10,300/ 3,020,000 $293 1890 10430’1‘ 20 000|293 Comparing the cost of the Indiana with that of No. 8 it will be noted that there is & decrease of nearly 22 per cent., The bid of the Newport News Company in 1895 on Nos. 5and 6 was undoubtedly too low and made without a full realization of what the work really was, and the recent bid by the same firm, showing an increase of 18 per cent on the bid of a year ago, indi- cates that there is now a better under- | standing ofnaval work tnan in 1895. As compared with the British battle- ship Jupiter of 14,900 tons the contract cost is apparently 43 per cent greater at Cramp’s than in England, but with a few more ships built in this country this margin will decrease as our experience grows. The contract price paid for the Jupiter is $1,675,000 for hull, $452,165 for machinery, $72,500 for erection of hydrau- nc gun machinery, making a total of $2,199,665, or st the rate of $147 per ton displacement. It may be mentioned in this connection that the armor for the Jupiter#is contracted for at $1,463 750, whereas that for No. 5 or the Kearsarge will cost $1,570,320. The weight of the latter is 2821 tons, but as the weight of the Jupiter’s armor is not made public no comparison of cost in this instance can be made with approximate correctness. The three new battle-ships are combi- nations of the Towa and Kearsarge types, with such improvements as have been de- cided most desirable. For the purpose of comparisons the following table shows the dimensions and principal data of the three types: Kear- sarge. Dara. No. 7. Length on water lin: Displacement, tons.. Horsepow! Main battery, 12-inca. 18-inch. In the secondary battery the Iowa and Kearsarge carry twenty 6-pounders, which in No, 7 bas been reduced to seventeen. The Iowa and No. 7 carry also four 1-pounders. The Kearsarge has six, and the usual four machine guns com- pletes the battery of ail three types. Itisn the substitution of rapid-firing guns of 6-inch caliber that No. 7 shows ade- cided advance over ber predecessors. This will be easier understood from the ap- pended table, showing weight of projectile and the rapidity with which the several guns may be fired. CaLIERR, WEIGHT, Rouxps 1N INCHES. PD8. AMINUTES. 13 1,100 1 i 2 minutes. iz 850 3 In & minutes. 8 260 2 1o 8 minutes 6 100 16 in 8 minutes 5 50 6 in 1 minute. 4 33 10 in 1 minute. and 315 for the 12-inch, 24 inches for the 8inch and 15.6 for the 6-inch rifle. The slight apparent advantage of 3 inches which the 13-inch gun has over the 12- inch is more than offset by the latter’s quicker service. The Ordnance Bureau, however, insisted upon the larger guns in the Kearsarge, notwithstanding the chiet constructor’s arguments to the contrary, and thus while in every other navy the largest guns are not over 12 inches, our navy still carries an unnecessarily pon- derous gun, much heavier by far than re- quired to penetrate any ship’s armor. The four 13-inch rifles on No. 7 are mounted in pairs in two balanced Hich- born turrets. The turrets and barbettes will be of Harveyized armor, fifteen inches thick, augmented ou the slanting faces by two more. These turrets of the cone shape ave a decided improvement upen’ the vertical turrets hitherto used, as the slanting sides virtually increase the horizontal thick- ness by a couple of inches, thus making the turret armor nineteen inches, against thirteen inches in . the Iowa and Kear- sarge. Of the 6-inch rifles two are placed on each broadside within an armored citadel six inches thick on the upper deck, eight are on the main deck amidships bebind the casemate armor, and two will be placed forward protected by six inches of armor. The armor will consist of a belt 163 inches thick and 7 feet 6 inches 1n depth at the water-ling, extending four feet be- low water. This belt will go clear around the ship, tapering to four inches at each end. From the top of this side belt up to the upper deck the space occupied by the main deck battery will be protected by five and a half inch ‘armor, backed below the main deck by 'copper dams with corn- pitch cellulose and bunkers full of coal, Athwartship bulkheads twelve inches thick will run inboard to.the barbettes from each end of the thickest part of the sige armor, and on top of these four walls there wiil be a flat protective deck two and three-quarter inches thick. Below and within this adequate protection thus formed will be piaced the engines, boilers, magszines and shelirooms. Tne protec- tive deck will be three inches thick for- ward and four inches aft. The engines will consist of two triple expansion, each in its own water-tight compartment, and there will be eight large single-ended boilers, in four separate compartments, to carry 180 pounds of steam. There will be four above-water torpedo tubes, two on each broadside. In the bulkheads and other divisions of the Mull, where wood hitherto has been used, steel sheeting or fire-proofed wood will be used wherever possible to minimize the danger of fire. No premiums for excess of speed are offered, but a penalty of $25,000 on each quarter knot is imposed for the first half knot below the required contract speea. The plans and specifications of these battle-snips were prepared by the Bureau of Construction and Repairs and copies were forwarded to prospective bidders within eighty-two days from the date of approval of the act authorizing their con- struction. The propelling machinery is calculated to develop about 2000 more horsepower than the Indiana, Massachuserts and Oregon, and will probably exceed the Towa, which is calculated at 11,000. There will be two trile expansion engines, each in its own water-tight compartment, with cylinders of 354, 51 and 78 inches in diameter and 8 common stroke of 48 inches. The boilers, eight in number, will be single-ended and placed in four water- tight compartments. These boilers will have 685 grate sur- face, against 532 cf the Oregon class, and e e e~ carry 180 pannds steam, which it is caleu- latea will work the two propellers of six- teen feet diameter at the rate of 120 revo- lutions per minute when making full speed. One noticeable feature is that the two smokepipes are placed on a line athwartships, as in the latest foreign PE OF NEW BATTLE-SHIP TO BE BULT A ships, instead of as hitherto, one abaft the other. The boilers, eight in number, are placed in four water-tight compartments, They will be single-ended, about sixteen feet in diameter and ten feet long, placed in pairs in each compartment, with their backs THE UNION IRON WORKS. 27 against the central fore and aft bulkhead The firing will thus be done athwart ships, instead of as in previous vessels with double-ended boilers—fore and aft. This system, adopted in late ships of foreign - navies, has the advantage of bringing the coal within easy reach of the furnaces. Here Is a City Without Trees! 1 rode uptown on a cable-car a few days ago carrying a branch of madrona. The fact does not sound particularly note- worthy, but there was one feature in con- nection with my carrying the branch that surprised me greatly. That was the inter- est excited. by my burden among my fel- low travelers. One would h’ve supposed my bit of a characteristic” Californian. tree to be some rare exotic, so curiously was it regarded. Two ladies opposite me were evidently aiscussing it. “Yes, it is the magnolia,” one said; ‘‘you can tell by the leaves.” A gentleman next me examined the foliage, fingering it curiously, and looked puzzled, but said nothing. Another was bolder; and, leaning forward, said tentatively, “That is laurel, is it not?” I explained that it was madrona, and a pleased mur- mur ran from lip to lip. *'Itis very nice,” commented my interrogator. “The tree must be quite handsome.”” It seemed a singular thing that among 80 many residents of California not one recognized this, one of the earliest of Cali- fornian trees, The Lone and Silent Watcher of the Ripening Harvest, View of the And yet the average San Franciscan can hardly be blamed’ for not knowing by sight the commonest trees. We have been at most extraordinary pains to keep every touch of grace and beauty from our city streets, and it must be admitted that our efforts have been very largely success- ful. The monotonous gray stretches of our bay-windowed, wooden houses along the monotonous gray stretches of our treeless streets would drive the stranger within our gates mad with homesickness were it not for the never-ceasing fascina- tion of our hills, the beauty and wonder of the matchless'bay and the charm of the blue sky. Ban Francisco will never have the ap- pearance of a city of homes until we are wise enough to plant trees along our streets and in our gardens. It is'a curious shortsightedness upon cur part that leads us to devote time, money and patience to the cultivation of palms and other semi- tropical trees upon our lawns, to the neglect of the beautiful and characteristic varieties that would add so much to the interest and charm of our city. ‘What meaning or attractiveness is there about the dreary rows of palms that bave been set out along our water-front? The planting of these trees is the crowning ab- surdity of the many that have signalized | erying‘ Home the Harvest. adventitious, unfamiliar air. They appear just about as truly indigenous as does Cninatown. For the elms some raison d’etre is apparent, but palms are a cheap attempt to persuade the newcomer-into the belief that he has come to a tropical climate. He soon finds out the contrary. In the early days of our city’s growth, when it was deemed unsafe to build in brick, the impression also prevailed that we could not have trees on this windy peninsula. How absurd is this notion, and how much of charm its prevalence has lost to the city, he may judge who will make a trip along Taylor street, walking northward from California. Here, for nearly a block, stretches a row of joyous, smiling maples, their tops stretching up- ward against the sky, their foliage making pretty patterns on the walk and pavement beneath. There is cure for homesickness in that maple walk. Itis worth climbing a high hill and going some distance out of one’s way just to pass beneath that gra- clous greenery and fancy oneself to be taking a leisurely stroll for pleasure, in- stead of hurrying along the naked, glaring Bringing the Choicest of the Strange Indian Town on a Cliff 400 Feet High. the “improvements” in that quarter. ‘Why should the city by the Golden Gate, the chief entrepot of a region possessing such distinct individuality and loveliness as characterizes California’s sylva, at- tempt to rival the scenic effects of every seaside village in Kanakaland? Rows of palms have a pleasing air of locality along Waikiki beach and Hilo harbor. On the Ban Francisco water-front they have an streets where nothing is met to divert us from our feverish anxiety to keep up with the procession. It ought not to bs so. There is no reason why we should not have trees along our streets, and trees that belong to our landscape and are a part of our locality. There are plenty of these, most of them far more beautiful than the tropical trees we are coaxing to grow. Some of them are Strange Harvest Ceremonies of an Uncanny People admirably adapted for lawns, quick grow- growers and not too large, branching grace- fully ana full of individual character. The Western juniper, Lawson’s cedar, the Western yew and the California nutmeg are among these. The last named is a very lovely tree, growing to a heighi of sixty or seventy feet, with siender, droop- ing branches and shining green leaves; bark is a lovely light-brown, the new branches in the soring-time pleaming bright red through the foliage. Our yew, too, has a delicate, feathery beauty, stretching itself against the landscape withthe lightest of penciled strokes. It grows very straight and its foli is thin and delicate and an exquisite light-green. The redwood grows slowly, yet I have seen one planted in a garden attain a noble growth in twenty years. They are being destroyed so rapidly among the hills that San Francisco should really make an effort to secure a few along some of our uptown thoroughfares, in order to show the Californian mountaineers of twenty years hence what tnis majestic troe is like. Like most of our Californian trees. the madrona isan evergreen, and no tree has a more varied loveliness, save, perhaps, the eucalyptus. There is something so vital ‘and vivid about this tree, with its beauty of trunk and foliage aud blossom, that it is a distinct event to come upon one, even in a forest. You seeit gleaming like a jewel, through the phalanxed trunks, long ere you reach it, and you never, for an instant, mistake it for any other tree, Itsoval, shining leaves, dark green above and lighter beneath; its smooth, beautiful trunk that one instine- tively caresses; its gracefu!, free-growing branches, and its bright red’ berries, make up a form so beautiful as never to be for- gotten when once beheld. What a joy they might be to the ineoming traveler thirty years hence had they been planted along our water front. . Among the trees' we have brought from Australia the eucalyptus is by far the most useful as well as the loveliest. The aca- cia, so much favored at first, isan unwhole- some tree despite its popularity, a notable fever-breeder where it grows in any abund- ance. Butthe eucalyptus has never had half a chance in the city, and certainly no trée ever had more detractors. They should ve planted upon some of our hilly streets. i I was glad to note down 'in South Park the other day how the city is redeeming that once waste place. The grouna has been turned over and sown and the eucalyptus trees are already yielding grateful returns in shade and beauty for Harvest to the Old Women., the brief care bestowed upon them. Less than six months ago they drooped cheer- less and hopeless, mere shadows of trees. Now they are vivid and vigorous ard the children playing in their shade may fairly know them for trees, The birds have found their way to them, and the ounce draggled hopeless looking square isa place of attractiveness ana pleasure. It will be strange if this bit of green park in that teeming district off S8econd street does not yield rich returns in better citizenship. Where it does not sink to the level of a fad, as there1s danger of letting it, the growing sympathy of the race with na- ture is one of the most hopeful signs of this time. Itisa question whether lovers of pnre politics and members of our good government clubs might not find it a profitable expenditure of energy to ac- complish making our city beautiful and then put upon our youthful population some of the responsibility of keeping it so. Atall events those of us who are in a po: tion to do so might help the good work by following the advice of the canny Scotchman to his son, “An’ Jock, when ye hae naethin’ else ta do, ye might aye be stickin’ in a tree. It'll be grawin’ when ye're sleepin’.” No one ever becomes suddenly great. The world may suddenly discover great- ness 1n one who has been obscure and thrust upon him in a moment theinsignia of rank among men. Ithasnotmade him great, however, by this bestowal. It has merely acknowledged the fact which ex- isted already in his nature. “Out of nothing, nothing comes,” is just as truein the moral as in the material world. As well might we expect a dead bush to burst into blossom as an arid char- acter to put forth deeds of tenderness and of beauty. The one, quite as truly as the other, is an effect of a cause, and the law which produces a certain result, and no other, from that cause, is as inviolable as the relation between a seed and its fruit. An act of yalor may be inspired by human need, or gualities not before suspected yiay swiftly unfold under the stimulus ot some momentous event. We say the man or woman has suddenly become great, yet we know that the virtues which lifted them above the commonplacs were not born of that moment. They belonged to the character which exhibited them, flash- ing them into view because encouraging conditions had arisen. The perforation of iron at muszle is cal- culated at 34.6 inches for the 18-inch gun 1 do not refer here to that worldly greatness whioch consists of renown or po- sition, These are merely trappings of a life, often won and worn by veriest pre- tenders. They care only to seem great, and are content to strut upon hife’s stage in plumage not their own. Such persons are usually saved the mortification of cealizing how apparent is their disguise by the vanity which makes them seek it. Dazzled by outward show they believe that others, too, will never look behind the mask of things, or measure their reality by any standard higher than their own. The world is full of these shams; so full that shamming is a trade more profit- able to the self-seeking than is regl merit. Though it may cost a struggle to wrest the baubles from competitors, it 1s cer- tainly easier to fight on commonplace levels than to reach untrodden heights beyond the crowd. But when the victory is won it is only a cloak wherewith to cover common 1ihings, not a light which ean traneficure them. The greatness I refer to is of that true kind which belongs to an individual by - heritance from nature. Itis a quality of the soul. Position, or even recognition, bas nothing to do with it. As the sun shines by its own licht, and not because of its position in the sky,so does the great soul shed its power by reason of its own nobility. It may have no rank among men, yet it will outshine them all Its glory may be obscured because of the in- ability of others to perceive it, but its place in nature is fixea by a law that is not con- cerned about the appearances of things. It is great because 1t gives out greatness. Itsrank in nature is determined by its power to bestow. And is not this the truest of tests? We may receive from others what is wholly foreign to one’s own nature, but we can only give what we possess. A selfish man may profit by another’s generosity, but he is careful to preserve himself. A weak man may lean upon the strong, but he will not be found supporting others. A little soul may grasp at greatness, but it cannot give grand powers or an ennobling inspir- ation. Truly we have only what we give, paradoxical as the statement may seem. To strive for self is therefore to prove the poverty of our own souls. To give is the birthright of the noble. How, then, may true greatness be achieved? If we are weary of shamming, if the cloak of power. covers only the nakedness of a slave, and the place of bonor is mocked by a discovery of our own littleness, how may we escape from our petty selves and become noble? Or are we fated to remain forever mere empty receivers of largess from greater natures? 1t secms to me incontrovertible that Out of Nothing, Nothing Comes-— I rue Greatness Is of Slow Growth everything is what it is because of pro- cesses of growth. From the bursting acorn a shoot emerges. At first it is hid- den under ground. Gradually as it pushes outward, it comes into the fostering light. Then the sun gives it vigor, while the rain continues to feed its enlarging roots. pelled by nature’s law of growth it tow- ersat last into a mighty tree, strong in itself, a giver of joy and comfort. Every- where is this familiar process repeated, though by difterent means, in the varied kingdoms about us. Mind grows by feed- 1ng, too, when led outward from its shell according to the laws of mental unfold- ment. Fixed to its own center it can only decay like a germ rotted in the seed, for its law of life 1s to expand. Isit not also 8o with character-building? The little soul is self-centered, the great soul 15 sell-bestowing. In this fact we find quite plainly indicated the method pursued in its unfoldment. And theugh, when stated asalaw, we are at first in- clined to rebel against it, asifit werea sophistry designed to rob us of ourselves, it accords perfectly with everyday experi- ence. When we live for others we enjoy a wider life. When we forget ourselves wé belong to the greater world outside of self. Religion expresses the same fact in bid- ding us give up our livesif we would haye eternal life. Considered. in its relation to character or soul development this can only mean that the soul enlarges by going outward from itsselfish center. In every human soul there is a germ of nobility. It may be altogether hidden under selfishness, like a germ in the seed, walting for the impulse to break its shell and enter upon conditions of growth. This impulse will not come so long as self- ish pleasures satisfy us, but orly when we begin to share the joys ana sorrows of others. Then comes the first taste of that wider life in which the soul expands its native power, growing in greatness by de- grees as marked as are the stages of plant development. There can be neither break nor omission in the process. From the point of selthood to infinity the law of expansion controls its evolving powers, ‘Therefore we may all become great when we cease (0 be selfish. When life means to us something more than the pursuit of pleasure or the round of daily tasks the pettiness of personal experience will be- come apparent. The larger life that awaits us will seem more desirable. Then we shall probably forsake the frip- peries now mistaken for grandeur, glad to leave them as a growing boy who proudly lays away his toys to enter upon a greater dignity, Mercie M, THIRDS. The strangest people living in the United Btates are the Acoma Ingdians of the Puebio tribe, and they can with great certainty claim the credit of) having the strangest harvest ceremonies of any people on earth. Little is really known of these Indians, as their strange home in New Mexico is far out of the beaten paths of travel, and they seldom venture far from it themselves. Acoma is located about forty miles from Fort Wingate, and the region around it is wild and almost barren. The town itself is on top of a cliff, or rather an enormous bowlder, that rises 400 feet above the sur- rounding plain. The top of this is almost inaccessible, and the Indians have only two trails, both being exceedingly diffi- cult and dangerous. The Government has ‘sent several expeditions to Acoma, but little has been found out about the people, who look with disfavor on any attempts to learn anything about certain customs. They are a harmless and simple tribe, but are much attached to the traditions of the pa-t. In fact, they have absolutely refused to give up their old customs in spite of all persuasion. It has never been possible to make the Acomans real good Christians, although they have embraced the faith and are al- ways glad to see a visiting priest. A church was built for them over a hundred years ago and is ctill etanding. They are perfectly willing to attend service, and! most of them haye been baptized, but they will go directly from hearing mass to some secret ceremony held in one of the kivas or meeting-halls of the town. No- white man has ever seen one of these ceremonies, and the chances are none ever will, Another strange thing is that the people have no respect for the church as an edific. When it is not being used for service they see no reason why it cannot be used for something else, and generally have it full of sheep. But they never molest the altar nor disturb any of the articles used in the service. On one occa- sion a visiting priest forgot his prayer- book and was unable to go back for it. It was two years before he got to Acoma again, and there had been no other priest visit the place in the meantime. He haa forgotten all about his prayer-book, but, to his surprise, found it in the identical place where he had left it when he last used it. Tue greater portion of the year Acoma is like a dead city. Men who have re- mained there several days say that some of the people will not leave their houses for weeks at a time. The arrival of visitors is all that will disturb them, and when a party approaches the place they crowd around the top of the cliff erying and ges- ticulating until they find out whether the strangers intend to stop or not. . During the long winters the people Jive indoors, telling stories and playing differ- ent games. In spring they arouse enough to allow the men to go to the fields some distance away and put in seed. Then there is another long interval of quiet un- til the crop is pretty well along and needs watching. ‘I'o watch the &rop 1s an honor, but he who volunteers to do sois exempt from work when the harvest time comes. It is a dangerous job, though, as the watcher has to live alone near the fields, while the rest of the tribe is safe in the little city on the cliff. The Acomans do not harvest their crop as it ripens, but allow it to remain in the fields until everything else is ready to harvest and then make one job of it all. About the middle of September, generally, the chief gives the word and the town wakes up. Where all was quiet and idle- ness the greatest activity prevails and ex- citement fills the people, They act as 1f they had not expected a crop and the first part of their ceremony is to give thanks to the rain god. This they do by heating different instruments, building fires and singine. Several times all the people march around the outside edge of the cliff and then begin the long walk to the fieids, heavy with the harvest. The barvest usually takes about ten days, and in the Meantime it is doubtful if many of the people sleep a wink. All night long they keep up their songs of thanks to the rain god and the nextday start for the fields as soon as the sun rises. So:ze of the fields are three miles away, but all of the crop is carried the entire distance. The men do the digging of potatoes and cutting of the grain and the women carry it on their heads to the hill- top. Great big bundles of chili peppers and grain of different kinds are trans- ported across the sandy fields and up the steep sides of the cliff, where it isde- posited in the harvest-house. While the crop is being gathered the very oldest women in the town are made to work, and they go about their tasks most unwillingly, because they have no right 10 any of the harvest. They com- plain aud refuse and are then beaten until they get to work. They do not do as much as the younger people, but it all counts. ‘When at last the crop is all in and the granaries are filled with food for the long winter there is great rejoicing. And what a lot of good things they do have! There is wheat, corn and barley and big piles of potatoes. Tons of chili and dried toma- toes. Peaches and grapes are there in plenty and also piles of onions and differ- ent herbs that give the meat such a fine flavor. 2 ‘When all is ready the crop is divided. Everybody is there except the old womea, who have no right to any of it. The head of each family gets a share according to those he or she has to support. Tha younger people and children are all given certain quantities. When all is equally divided each takes it to his home and stores 1t where it can be easily reached. The morning after the crop is divided the queerest ceremony of the harvest takes place. The old women who were left out of the division had shut them- selves in their houses all night, but before doing so had carefully left large jars a few leet from their doors. ‘At daybreak the daughters, grand- daughtersand great-granddaughters come to the door and call. All carry large jars filled with the choicest of the harvest and offer them to the old women. With much ceremony the old women accept and puint to the jarin front of their doors, into which the offerings are dumped, and the * jars are.carried inside by all of the daugh- ters taking a hand. The meaning of this part of the harvest ceremonies has never been explained to a white man.