membership, with
initiatory rites and reciprocal duties. Each society had its peculiar
songs; and there were officials chosen from among the members because
of their good voices and retentive memories, to lead the singing and
to transmit with accuracy the stories and songs of the society, which
frequently preserved bits of tribal history. Fines were imposed upon
any member who sang incorrectly, while ridicule always and everywhere
followed a faulty rendering of a song.

The right to sing a song which belonged to an individual could be
purchased, the person buying the song being taught it by its owner.

These beliefs and customs among the Indians have made it possible to
preserve their songs without change from one generation to another.
Many curious and interesting proofs of accuracy of transmittal have
come to my knowledge during the past twenty years, while studying
these primitive melodies.

Indian singing was always in unison; and, as the natural soprano,
contralto, tenor, and bass moved along in octaves, the different
qualities of tone in the voices brought out the overtones and produced
harmonic effects. When listening to chorals sung by two or three
hundred voices, as I have many times heard them in ceremonials, it has
been difficult to realise that all were singing in unison.

Close and continued observation has revealed that the Indian, when he
sings, is not concerned with the making of a musical presentation to
his audience. He is simply pouring out his feelings, regardless of
artistic effects. To him music is subjective: it is the vehicle of
communication between him and the object of his desire.

Certain peculiarities in the Indian's mode of singing make it
difficult for one of our race to intelligently hear their songs or to
truthfully transcribe them.

There is no uniform key for any given song, for the Indians have no
mechanical device for determining pitch to create a standard by which
to train the ear. This, however, does not affect the song; for,
whatever the starting note, the intervals bear the same relation to
each other, so that the melody itself suffers no change with the
change of pitch.

Again, the continual slurring of the voice from one tone to another
produces upon us the impression of out-of-tune singing. Then, the
custom of singing out of doors, to the accompaniment of the drum, and
against the various noises of the camp, and the ever-restless wind,
tending to strain the voice and