. 
NORTH SHORE BREEZE 
(I, ANCIENT AND WONDERFUL. 
te Freaks of Degeneracy and Intermarriage in the Unknown 
2 New Mexico Communial Dwelling. 
getting ready to take some 
of Zuni, when the typeset- 
»ed me last week, but the 
iad already stopped me. As 
ated they hate a camera and 
n with the old-time hatred. 
te the Mexican because to 
is a Spaniard, and to the 
‘they attribute all the trou- 
restraint ever laid on them, 
y hate him for the religion 
to found there. Being sun 
vers the 
' churches and the white 
pads to Zion. They see God 
imshine and hear him in the 
ind they don’t want any 
. erosses and fancy doings. 
) get back to the camera and 
‘esting time I had trying to 
to be good, lift the chin a 
d look pleasant. 
foot and horse races were 
the village and there I got 
‘good photograph, and none 
ndians made any objections, 
‘interior view, showing the 
ground and the abandoned 
‘I had difficulty in getting 
y one of a dozen exposures 
ood. It was mid-afternoon 
tried. The driver went with 
nding a good view I got out 
ra, but before I could focus 
en squaws and Indians 
in front, gesticulating and 
ng I would change my 
t and try it again, but they 
get directly in front of the 
, If I had not been told that 
lows had not courage enough 
2 white man, I would not 
d sand enough to stay on 
for ther piercing black eyes 
ited gestures made the ven- 
like a bad risk. I gave up 
mpt, put the camera in my 
ind just as we left I slipped 
driver, who took a hurried 
shot which is fairly good. 
y on top of the dobie wall 
loses the burial ground I 
id the camera six times in an 
r to get a view of the hun- 
fe skulls, arm bones, jaw 
ruded from the ground, but 
jans would jump the dobie 
e squirrels and shut off the 
But outside the village, 
the aged Indians sun them- 
long the river banks, I had 
Yunis have little. 
gs, and ribs that lay on top. 
(By M. J. Brown, Eprror Lirtie Vauuey, N. Y., Hus) 
no trouble in’ getting individual 
views, for these old fellows readily 
posed for me when I offered them 
smoking tobacco, apples, ete. 
Hundreds of years ago, when the 
Spanish soldiers found Zuni, they 
tore out some of the houses in the 
center of the village and erected for 
the Indians a church, an exact count- 
erpart of the famous San Miguel 
mission in Santa Fe, and enclosed a 
burial ground adjoining it. The 
Zunis, being sun-worshippers, did 
not take to the Catholic faith, and 
as soon as the soldiers left they 
butchered the missionaries and 
abandoned the church. ‘Time and 
again the Spaniards endeavored to 
establish their religion there and 
convert the Indians, but the trader 
told me the missionaries did not hold 
out, and the attempt was finally 
abandoned. 
The old church, dismantled, stands 
today. Its dobie walls are four feet 
thick, and the handsome hand carv- 
ings on the old beams inside are as 
beautiful as the day the work was 
done. 
But the burial ground—let me tell 
you something gruesome. It is one 
hundred feet square and for nearly 
four hundred years every dead Zuni 
has been buried there, until now 
there is literally more bones than 
earth. When an Indian dies a shal- 
low grave is scooped out on top of 
the other graves, the body dumped 
in, and then the thickest of the seat- 
tered bones of the previous dead is 
kicked in on top of the new corpse. 
Then to add to the horror, the village 
hogs had rooted a hole through the 
dobie wall, got inside and did a mis- 
cellaneous and very careless job of 
exhuming, and everywhere human 
bones protruded. Near the dobie 
wall was a splendid skull specimen 
of some old, forgotten warrior, that 
I yearned for. The blowing sand for 
many years had given it a beautiful 
polish and it glistened in the sun. 
But the Indians were suspicious and 
there was no chance. I told the 
driver I would give him five dol- 
lars if he would help. me to get it 
when darkness came. But darkness 
did not come. The night was full 
moon. We remained in the village 
until nearly midnight, but the In- 
dians dogged our steps, and around 
the burial ground wall a hundred or 
31 
more stood for hours. They don’t 
wan’t their dead: bones disturbed by 
white men—hogs are a different 
proposition. 
The village is built almost to the 
water’s edge of the’ Zuni river, and 
running back up ‘the bluff. The 
stream is so nearly dry that there is 
barely a current. ‘All the sewage 
from the village and the seepage 
from the burial. ground runs down 
the banks to this sluggish stream, 
and then’the villagers scoop it up 
and drink it. A white man would 
not last thirty days under these con- 
ditions, but the Indians are immune. 
I found one place, and one only, 
where the Zunis excel—they are mar- 
velous foot runners, and have won- 
derful endurance. Many of these 
Indians will literally tire out, run 
down and capture a wild colt, by 
keeping him away from water and 
continually chasing him for twen- 
ty-four to forty-eight hours. I saw 
a young strappling win a foot race 
across an uneven prairie, a distance 
of fifteen miles, in one hour and 
twenty eight minutes. But taken 
away from their village they do not 
make good. Different conditions, 
different food and their inherited 
lack of sand make them easy losers 
in the white man’s game. 
But the Zunis are game sports at 
home. One of their sport day events 
was a.horse race, five miles under 
the whip, no saddles or stirrips and, 
absolutely naked jockeys. For hours 
before the event the Indians congre- 
gated out on the prairie, where bet- 
ting was fast.and furious. They wa- 
gered their -earnings, bracelets, 
rings, belts, blankets, necklaces, sad- 
dles and bridles. The course was 
two and.a half miles out and back, 
across the prairie, and when the 
ponies finished their sides dripped 
with blood, where the cruel quirts 
of the jockeys had cut open their 
skin. 
As a Socialistic community Zuni 
suited too well. They have a loose 
form of marriage, which is little less 
than a license to practice polygamy. 
After marriage an Indian takes any 
squaw that looks good: to him, and 
the one robbed doesn’t object or 
care. Ambition and jealousy have 
been bred out of him. They live 
only in the today—just exist. They 
are farmers to the extent of simply 
subsisting. When one has something 
to eat and the neighbor has not, the 
neighbor drops in and boards a 
while. They farm much in common 
and run their sheep together. Once 
a year in December, they have a re- 
ligious festival, when Indians from 
