well as of other waters, and the Bow-head that makes its summer run along the American coast as far as the Arctic Archipelago. In September it strikes westward to Herald Island, and in October back to the Behring Sea, where it is supposed to spend the winter months at the southern edge of the ice. It is one of the large members of the whale family, sometimes attaining a length of sixty feet or more and yielding whalebone sometimes over twelve feet in length. The Bow-head is a timid, peaceful animal, preferring to visit the small bays and secluded nooks of the northern coast, where it can feed unmolested.

All along the coast of Arctic Alaska, there are lagoons of various sizes; many of them have streams as feeders, while others have no feeders but have openings into the ocean, which become temporarily obliterated by sand when there is a heavy sea breaking on shore.

It was into the latter form of lagoon that, a very long time ago, a school of Bow-heads had entered. The wind blowing on shore had obliterated the entrance, so the whales were entrapped with apparently no means of escape, yet they all crossed the beach and regained the ocean, a feat they probably could not accomplish to-day. The people watched them as they worked their way over the beach, the large ones making rapid progress while the small ones were very slow.

The Killer is one of the larger members of the whale family, which the natives prefer not to attack, as it can be very vicious at times. Even much further south than Alaska, the creature has the reputation among the shore whalemen, of chasing the boats to the shore occasionally and has had many victims. Its chief food is the seal and beluga, while its sly disposition enables it also to capture the water birds. Placing itself just beneath the surface, with open jaws, it emits a substance that attracts the birds who settle down on the waves and begin feeding; the Killer then darts forward, capturing the birds which it quickly devours. It is also said sometimes to attack as large an animal as the Fin-back.

III

THE METIGEWĒK

The Metigewēk was the largest of the numerous traditionary birds of Tigara. Its enormous size and strength enabled it to seize and bear to the interior the whales on which it used to feed. Even to-day when the older inhabitants find the skeleton of a whale, back from the coast in the interior of the country, they declare it was the victim of a Metigewēk at some remote time of the past.

One of the earlier inhabitants has been credited with a somewhat similar experience to that of Ganymede.

A hunter having killed a deer was in the act of cutting it up preparatory to carrying it home. Noticing a shadow coming over the ground, he looked up just as a Metigewēk swooped down and seized him in its enormous claws and bore him aloft. The bird carried him to a great height, so that the earth was almost lost to view. The man having retained his spear began stabbing the bird; at last the wounds proving fatal, the Metigewēk gradually descended and reached the earth just as it expired. That night the hunter slept under the wing of the bird, ultimately reaching his home in safety.

IV

ORIGIN OF MAN

There is a fascination at the camp-fire. Men that have remained silent through the day will become entertaining under the genial influence of the crackling logs as they blaze and send their myriads of sparks skyward. So this evening as I examine the notes in my Polar log-book, collected at many of those fires, I find that man, no matter how humiliating the admission may be, is forced to yield the palm of antiquity to woman and—chewing gum. Yet as we pause to consider the subject, from the Polar man's point of view, it is but natural that woman should be first, for without her aid there certainly would be no men.

My log-book says that at a very early time of the world's history, long before day and night had been created, or the first man had made his appearance, there lived an old woman, indeed very old, for the tradition of her having had a beginning, if there ever was such a one, had been lost. We must bear in mind that during the first stage of the world everything remained young and fresh; nothing grew old. It was not until a much later date that the indiscretion of a boy brought those physiological changes known as growing old into the world and placed a limitation to the period of youth. The old woman was like a young girl in her appearance and feelings, and being the only inhabitant of the earth, naturally felt very lonesome and wished for a companion. She was one time chewing "pooyā" (chewing gum) when the thought arose in her mind that it would be pleasant to have an image to play with, so taking her "pooyā" she fashioned a man, then by way of ornamentation placed a raven's beak on his forehead.

She was delighted with her success in making such a lovely image and on lying down to sleep placed it near her side. On awakening her joy was great, for the image had come to life and there before her was the first man.

V

WHAT BROUGHT AGE INTO THE WORLD

At a time long ago, before old age had been introduced and while our early ancestors were still enjoying a state of perpetual youth, a boy was living with his grandmother. One day she remarked that they were out of provisions, to which he replied: "Never mind, grandma, I will set a snare and we will quickly have an owl to feast on." He skipped merrily off and soon had ensnared a large white owl. On approaching the bird, the following conversation took place:

Owl—"What are you going to do with me?"

Boy—"I am going to kill and eat you."

Owl—"Don't you do it."

Boy—"Why not?"

Owl—"If you kill me, I will make you an old man."

Boy—"Grandma and I are hungry, and we are going to eat you."

Owl—"Again I warn you, if you kill me I will make an old man of you."

Notwithstanding the warning, the boy killed the owl and started to carry it home.

Household duties did not hang heavily on the ladies of that day, so grandma was killing time by watching for the boy's return. At last, slowly approaching and dragging a large white owl, she saw a withered old man, stricken with the infirmities of age. It was her grandson who had left her but a short time previous, a merry, happy youth.

So old age was introduced into the world for the first time and has continued ever since. And often since that day many an old Inupash[3] who has felt the infirmity of age coming on has sighed and sincerely wished that the boy had shown more discretion by hearkening to the warning of the owl.

VI

TOONGNA

The belief in an evil spirit is in all probability as old as the inhabitated world. It seems to be one of those traditions that has descended with man from the most remote times, not having lost but having gained strength through its long ages of descent. No matter where one may travel, he finds the majority of mankind firm believers in such a spirit.

Even here in the far North among the Polarites there is such a belief. "Toongna," the evil one, is supposed to be the adversary of man, and to him is ascribed all the misfortunes that afflict the people. Some he makes sick, while others he causes to be unfortunate in their undertakings. If a mother loses her new-born babe, Toongna was at the bottom of the misfortune, and she is placed under the superstitious ban called "Karookto," not being allowed to mingle with the rest of the villagers for a number of months, and the same tribal law is enforced in all families where death has occurred. Should a hunting party visit the interior in quest of deer and not meet