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BY H London t Printed by Stkwart & Mubsay, Old Bailey. 3 TO LADY SIMPSOiV, ^^ following SIfeeltljw a„b ^mchotts ILLUSTRATIVE OP I.IFK ON TUB WILD BORDERS OF THE PACIFIC, AND OF THE SAVAGE TRIBES HOLDING INTERCO.H ,E W.TM THE HONOURABLE IIUDSON's BAY COMPANV, OVER WHICH SIR GEORGE SIMPSON HAS SO LONG AND SO ABLY PRESIDED, ARE DEDICATED, AS A SMALL TRIBUTE OF AFFECTIONATE RE(MRD, BV H.R LADYSHIP'S SINCERE AND DEVOTED FRIKND, THE AUTHOR. 3?6 id . INTRODUCTION. It is well known that the life of an Indian trader is one of hazard and adventure ; and that he is the witness of scenes, exemplifying- the habits and the character of Indians, which it is seldom the lot of an ordinary traveller to look upon. Compelled to penetrate the wil- derness, hundreds of miles beyond the resort of civilized men, he surprises the savag-e inha- bitants in their most secluded haunts, and often makes himself a home where the keen- ness of his observation, his previous knowledg-e of character, and the material interests of the wild race by which he is surrounded, are the only pledg'es of his safety. The long* estab- lished trading posts also, in the neighbourhood Vlll INTRODUCTION. of which some degree of civilization may ohtniu, are lone and isolated spots, the lig'ht of which dimly fades away in the surrounding darkness, and hut too often hrings into strong relief, on its confines, the startling forms and hideous characteristics of a harharic life, which is yet irilded with some traits of nohleness and generosity, and which the trader, if any man living, is enabled to look upon with an intelli- gent eye. Such are the circumstances and such the situation hi which the writer of the following pages has been placed, as an agent of the great trading* Company whose operations now cover as with a vast network the breast of the North American continent, from Hudson's Bay to the Pacific Ocean. As an actor in the scenes which he has faithfully described, it is just possible that he may sometimes express his opinions with unusual warmth. His sin- cerity, and the fidelity of his narrations, no one will doubt, when they find the savage virtues as conspicuous in many of his sketches as the darker traits of character which it was his more especial purpose to delineate. I r INTRODUCTION. ix on The Hhifting* scene of his narrative may be described, for the most part, as the famous Oreo'on territory, lying* in the watercourse of the oTeat Cohnnbia River and its numerous tributaries. The country is one of wild aspect, diversified by rug'g'ed steeps and deep ra\ iues, with here and there a rich valley of green pasture, watered by some mountain torrent pursuing* its devious way to the liroad waters and boundless prairie lands, or sandy ])lains. The wild races inhabiting" this widely-spread reg-ion are of various character ; in g'eneral, those who follow the chase — the mountain and woodland tribes — are the more warlike and g'enerous ; while those who li\e along" the banks of the streams in the more fertile reg-ions, are comparatively mean in spirit and treacherous in their intercourse. To this rule, it may be observed, there are many exceptions on the east side of the Rocky Mountains, which it is scarcely necessary to mention. If the author can be said to have any pre- ference for one of these swarthy clans before another, it is possibly for the chivalrous " Flatheads/' who " have never been known INTRODUCTION. to shed the blood of a white man/* and are as brave in war as the " Crows" and " Black- feet/' their hereditary v^nemies.* It is ag'ainst these latter, more especially, that his righteous anathemas are hurled as the persecutors of the Indian trader, whose courage and hardihood often avail nothing, when beset by Indians in the defiles of the mountains, or threading his way through ,the mazes of the forests. To sur- prise the weary traveller in the security of his sleep, to attack the camp in some luckless moment when discipline is for a while relaxed ; or, least of all, to rob the armed traders and trappers of their stray pack-horses, these pre- datory bands will follow them through wood and ravine for weary days and nights, lurking with untiring patience in the bushes, like beasts of prey, or peering from the crevices of the rocks till the yell of their sudden onset renders concealment no longer possible or necessary. * Five different tribes, inhabiting the plain country to the east of the Rocky, are denominated Blackfeet, viz., Piegans, Blood Indians, " Gros Ventres " or Big Bellies, ^urcies, and Blackfeet Proper. INTRODUCTION. XI r The traits of Indian life and character illus- trated by the following* sketches are, however, not all, nor even for the most part, of this nature ; some of them are domestic scenes of trag'ic interest, and others relate occur- rences in which the Indians had little or no direct share. It may be observed here, also, that g-reat and rapid chang-es are taking" place, by which the native population of these wilds is more and more sensibly affected every suc- ceedinof year. Not the least of these is the extended organization of the g'reat Fur Com- pany, which has now penetrated the remotest districts, and sends its emissaries into the most secluded g-lens. Next to this, perhaps, may be reckoned the rivalry of the Eng'lish and American adventurers, and the recent influx of immioTants from the United States. A word on this subject, on the toils and privations which must necessarily be under- g-one by those who seek a home beyond the Rocky Mountains, may not be out of place. It is hard to conceive by what inducement so many thousands of reasonable men could have been prevailed on to leave their comfortable xu INTRODUCTION. homes and fertile lands for this wild adven- ture ; except, indeed, the spirit of enterprise, which seems to he inherent in the Ang-lo- American race, and which rejoices to meet and overcome every kind of difficulty, is sufficient to account for it. By whatever hope induced to undertake this distant pilg'rimag'e, it is sad to think of the disappointment that awaits the lately happy family whose home- stead is broken up, and their little all con- ve^'ed into these deserts by the poor animals which had heretofore rendered such useful ser- vice on their farms; — sad to picture them, herding" together for mutual protection, as they advance slowly, while the months roll on, through a country teeming with warlike marauders, and often surprised by the trea- cherous bands described in these pages. In course of time the waters of the Missouri roll behind them, and the river of their hopes may be seen glancing* in the distance. Now, how- ever, the dreary wastes of burning sand and scrubby wormwood, unrelieved by any nobler vegetation and affording* a scanty pasture to the tired quadrupeds at wide intervals only, INTRODUCTION. Xlll beg-in to dissipate the sang-uine hopes in which they had so lately indulged. Provisions fail ; hunger, thirst, privation in every form are en- dured ; till, weary and way-worn, the travellers at length reach the banks of the Columbia. If fortunate, they effect various exchanges with the Indians for fresh horses, to replace their own tired animals no longer able to proceed. Their little hoards of ready money are ex- pended to procure the necessaries of existence, and they arrive at length in the settlements denuded of everything — in short, destitute — to begin the world anew. While the hazards these adventurers must underg'o, and the savage life of the wilderness for which they are bound, will be found illus- trated in these occasional sketches of Indian life, it may be well to remark that to depict them has not been the object of the author; as the occurrences he has described were spread over many years, and have a different kind of interest. Impressed by them at the time as an eye-witness, he has here recorded them without art or ornament, in the hope that they may serve for the amusement of hi i^ XIV INTRODUCTION. others who feel an interest in tales of adven- ture, and to add to the stock of authentic anecdotes from which alone a true judg-ment of the Indian character can be formed. CONTENTS. :.l Chap. L- II.- III.- IV.- V.- VI.- VIL- VIII.- IX.- x- XI.- xn.- xin.- XIV.- XV.- XVI.- -Experience of the Indian Character -The Red Feather, Flathead Chief -The Burial of the Dead and the Living -An Indian Festival . -A Tale of Western Caledonia -The Bloody Tragedy . ■The Burning of the Dead . -Intermittent Fever -A Western Caledonian Feast -The Great Dalles of the Columbia ■The Unfortunate Daughter -The Shewappe Murderer . -The Storm.— The Mother's Grave -The Suicide's Cross . The Death of our Favourite Donkey •The London Packet . Page 1 22 48 57 '0 110 126 137 147 163 176 187 196 202 207 213 •, (' '•I TEAITS OF AMERICAN INDIAN LIFE, CHAPTER I. EXPEDIENCE OF THE INDIAN CHARACTER. Having had frequent opportunities of ol)- serviuo" the customs and traits of character hy whicli the various trihes of Indians are distinguished, and more particularly of those who inhahit the western part of North America beyond the Rocky Mountains, I have been surprised to remark how ffilsely their chnracter is estimated in the recently published journals of certain travellers. These g'entlemen have been delig'hted to represent the aborigines of North America, as quiet, ])eaceable souls, me- riting* nothing" so much as the most delicate at- B 'I TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. teiitlon on the part of their European visitors. Two works of this description are more par- ticuhirly in my mind at this moment. The author of the first^ it is to he ohserved, scarcely left the confines of civilization ; and the second had merely an opj)ortunity of comnmnicating* with a few Indians who had resided from their infancy in the vichiity of long- estahlished trading* posts^ where they had acfpiired the art of comporting- themselves with some deg-ree of propriety^ in order the more readily to g-ain a livelihood and to ac- quire the means of satisfying* their fictitious wants. The forefathers of these people^ heing* independent of the traders, made no scruple of exhibiting* the vices which their sons are studious to conceal. Their wants were com- paratively few; the bow and arrow sup- plied the means of procuring* larg*e ani- mals y fi'om the bark of the willow they made fishing- nets ; the skin of the hare or the bea- ver sufiiced them for clothhig*; and fire was always at their command by resort to friction. By these and the like simple means were all their necessities supplied ; and there is no rea- INDIAN CHARACTER. 3 son to doubt that they lived as happily as their natural disposition to indulg'e in war and rapine would permit. It cannot he said that the present g'eneration is really improved by the chang-e they have underg'one in some of these re- spects. The trader^ having' in view his own sole benefit^ has taug'ht them the use of European clothing', with the addition of much superfluous finery ; and their modern virtues become them about as Avell as th(^se g'arments, and are just as consistent with their real character. In a word, those ver}^ Indians whose quiet de- meanour has ')een so much lauded, onl^- con- ceal, under this specious mask, all the vices which their fathers displayed more openly : unprovoked murder and habitual theft are committed by them whenever the opportu- nity offers ; and their character, g-enerally, is of a description to afford a constant source of anxiety to those who reside among' them. Such being the treacherous disposition of those Indians who, residing* in the immediate vicinity of the trading* posts, are in a g'reat measure restrained by fear, and other causes co-operating", to check their evil propensities, TIIAITS OF IN^ \N LIFE. wluit must lie he destined to experience who wanders among" the lawless tribes that are stran<>'ers to the luces of Enropeans ? It is the dark character of the latter that I shall here endeavour to illustrate, leavino' it to my readers' judg'ment whether the reports that tra- vellers have chosen to s])read respecting* them, are v\ orthy of his reliance. In some of the suc- ceeding* sketches, the savag'e virtues are also a little shown ; for what may be called a irtue in the breast of a wild Indian cannot be denied them, thoug'h it may be manifested in g-laring" defiance of the laws of civilized society. In 18^*9 I was a}){)ointed to exi»lore the ^i'act Ivino* south of the Columbia, between that river and California. For iive years pre- viously I had been similarly em})lo\ ed to the east^^'ard of that tract, where I had had many rencontres with the warlike tribes that cross from the east side of the Hocky ^Mountains, to wao'e war with those residino* on the west. War, hunting*, and horse-thieving*, are the sole pursuits of these reckless and most terrible of all forag*ers, in the prosecution of which they have no respect for persons. The prizes they most INDIAN CIIAllACTEU. 5 covet nre pcal])s and liorses — it mntter.s not wlietlKT tliev 1)6 snntcliod tVoin tni(l«^r or In- dian ; tlion^'h^ in tlie former case, tliey luive been tau*li time to con^ ince them that we could resent the un- proM)ked attack. Three of our horses were already Avounded, and if we oursehes had escaped, it was probably owing* to the poor beasts havino* sheltered us from tlie arrows. I therefore ordered a rifle to be discharo'ed at them. The ball was true to its aim, and a man fell. This was sufficient as a first lesson ; for on witnessing* it they at once took to flight, leavhig* their companion dead on the field, as a mark of their evil design and its punishment. I trust they were not only duly INDIAN CHARACTER. 11 impressed with our superiority over them, but likewise with a sense of the lenient treatment they had received, althoug'h, from past ex- perience, I could have little hope at the time that the effect of either would be very durable. After three days' further travelling", over a country as barren as ever Christian traversed, we came to the lands of another tribe, residing* on the waters of the llio Colorado. These Indians I strongly suspected to be the same who, the year ])receding', had massacred ten men atta(*hed to the party of Mr. Smith, an American adventurer. This ill-fated i)arty consisted orig-inally of thirty -five indi\iduals, all of whom, except- ing' four, fell victims on this and other occa- sions to the blood-thirsty spirit of the na- tives. Thoug'h he was one of those who escaped, it would almost nppear as if this enterprising" American had been doomed even- tually to suffer a like fate, for the follo^ving• year, while on his way from St. Louis to Cali- fornia, for the purpose of purchasing* mules and horses, he left the nmin party about three miles, accompanied only by two men, in quest M 4' ,. '"T- 12 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. ■i>. of water. He found the object of his search, and paid for it the heavy price of his life. His protracted absence naturally exciting' con- siderable alarm, thoug'h his true fate was not immediately sus])ected, senrch was made, and his body, tog'ether with those of his two com- panions, found stark and stifi' upon the g'round. The unhappy men had been nnu'dered in cold blood, by Indians concealed in the bushes till the fovourable moment arrived for the ac- comjdishment of their ruthless purpose. I was intimately acquainted with poor Smith, and it was from himself that I learned the i)articulars of his misfortunes first alluded to. As the brief story will tend to confirm my observations upon the Indian character, I will here relate it in the narrator's own words. ^^ After sufferino- severely in crossino* the barren desert, I was truly well pleased," said he, ^^ to discover a fine stream of fresh water, which proved to be the north branch of the Rio Colorado. On sounding* it, I found it too deep to ford, and as g'rass, which m^^ lean horses much required, appeared to be far more abundant on the opposite side, I ordered :M INDIAN CHARACTER. 18 ten men of the party to g*et them across, A\'hich they according'ly did, b}' driving* them into the water, and accompanying* them swinnning. For se^ eral days I liad been unsnccessfnlly searching- above and below uur position for a fording* place, without discovering* a vestig*e of any Inuntm inhabitants ; but no sooner had my men Luided on the opposite shore, than upwards of a hundred Indians rushed on them, from behind a thicket of willows, and murdered the whole. My horses were speedily secured and driven oft' out of sight, and it is scarcely necessary to say that any attempt at j)ursuit under such circumstances had been hi ^ ain. Such was the situation in which I found my- self, with property to the value of ten thousand dollars j and rather than the villains who had so deeply injured me should reap an}' benefit from it, I had the whole thrown into the riA er. We then made a raft, and crossed o^ er, a\ hen we found the bodies of my unfortunate men so mutilated as to be scarcely recognizable. We consig*ned them also to the keeping of the deep, for as you well know, not even the dead are respected by the wild tribes of these parts." .n'T 14 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. The details of their now melancholy journey till their arrival at St. Gabriel, a Spanish mis- sion in California, need not be repented. Be- ino- unsuccessful in his errand, OAvinc to the deficiency of his property and the mistrust with which the Spaniards viewed him as the first American who had penetrated to their settlement by land, Mr. Smith now resolved on proceeding' to our depot on the Columbia, which is known as Fort Yancou^er. The Spaniards, I may remark, had subjected him to a brief confinement in prison, but being* li- berated throug'h the influence of an American captain, whose ship was in the vicinity, he left St. Gabriel with the purpose I have men- tioned. When within three days' journey of his new destination, being* arrived on the bor- ders of the river Umpqua, he again expe- rienced a reverse — a more dreadful one than that already related. Here, then, I shall re- sume the narrative in his own words, and it will hence appear by what a slender tenure the trader holds his existence; if he escapes to return to his home, he may, indeed, thank the Almig'hty alone for his preservation. INDIAN CHARACTER. 15 111 American It is proper to observe tliat 1113'self, as well as se\eral of our o'eutlemeii, had on various occasions visited the villag'e where the first treason occurred^ but then we were at all times strictly on our g'uard. The iiatiAes, too^ were sometimes in the habit of resorting' to Vancouver to trade^ and were well ac(piainted with us. They sooii^ however, disco^ ered })oor Smith's Jiarty to be strang'ers, and determhied to take advantage of the misplaced confi- dence he seems to have reposed in their mild and 2)eaceahle disposition. " Finding" myself among* Indians/' he says^ "whom, from their possessing* many articles of European merchandize, and frequently naming' you and several other g'entlemen, I began to consider no long'er as enemies, I relaxed my usual vigilance. Having* pro- long'ed my stay for two days, to recruit the worn-down animals I had purchased at St. Gabriel, on the third morning" I directed Mr. Rog'ers, my assistant, to have eveiything' in readiness, desiring" the men also to clean their rifles, preparatory to a start on the morrow. I then, accompanied by two men, embarked in :ili -"'^^- ' • lir ' ■■" -^i-ii 16 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. II canoe, and proceeded in searcli of a suitable crossino-place, the banks opposite our encamp- ment being- too steep for the liorses to sur- mount. On my return, after an absence of three hours, a\ lien within half a mile of the tents, I observed a number of Indians runiiing' towards us along* the bank, yelling* most fear- fully. Immediately suspecting what had hap- pened, we crossed over, and secreted ourselves in the bushes, the Indians discharn'ino' tlieir o'uns at us without effect. Anxious to ascer- tain the fate of my part}', I then ascended an eminence, from whence I could plainly per- ceive that the camj) was destroyed, and not a A'estige of man, horse, or mule, to be seen. " Thouo'h conscious that the wretches a\ ould not dare to pursue us, in a country so thickly wooded, I yet considered it to be most prudent to be concealed during* the day, and to travel only under cover of the night. On the second day Ave perceived some of the Company's ser- vants, who conducted us safely to Vancouver.'^ The day preceding* Mr. Smith's arrival un- der these circumstances, one of his party named John Black, who had escaped the INDIAN CHARACTER. 17 massacre at the camp, had also made his way to Fort Vancouver, and preparations had at once heen conmienced by the superintendent of the Company's' affairs, to ascertain the fate of Mr. Smith and his two men. This party was on the eve of setting* out, when the arrival of the fug'itives relieved us of that anxiety. From Black we elicited the ])articulars of the massacre in the followinof words : — " Soon after Mr. Smith's departure, while some of the men were cleaning* their rifles, some cook- ing*, and others trathcking" with the natives, on a sudden the latter, in number exceeding* two hundred, with dreadful shouts, rushed on us, before any one was prepared for defence. I," said the poor fellow, " escaped the g-eneral fate, being* wounded and left for dead, but recovering", succeeded in effecting* my retreat hither." Thus fell eig'hteen men, far from their homes, their rel-ations and their friends. As for the survivors, they met with every atten- tion from us which their destitute situation demanded. Decisive measures were adopted to recover Mr. Smith's property. All the c y 18 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. furs, with most of the horses and mules, were recovered and restored to their rio'ht owners, who subsequently made them over to the Company at a valuation rather exceeding* the current price, which the ag^ents of the Com- pany cheerfully offered to the adventurer, in sympathy for his forlorn condition. I have only to add that his losses and misfortunes were insufficient to deter him from new enter- prises. With the persevering" spirit charac- teristic of his countrymen, he ag"ain entered the field the next year, when his career was closed as has already been related. To return to my own situation. As 1 have before remarked, I strong-ly suspected that the Indians among* whom we now found ourselves, were the same party who, the year before, had cut off part of Mr. Smith's men as first related. They appeared to be bolder than any I had yet seen ; but on a narrow scrutiny, I could perceive nothing- to confirm my suspicion of their identity. No tracks of horses were seen, but this was a circumstance readily accounted for by the fact that the country- was too barren to admit INDIAN CHAKACTER. 19 mules, were o'ht owners, ver to the cceediiig" the )f the Corn- venturer, m )n. I have misfortunes 1 new enter- airit charac- ain entered career was Hon. As 1 suspected now found who, the r. Smith's ared to be but on a nothing" to tity. No this was a r by the n to admit of their being easily maintained. My men were eag-er to reveng'e the massacre upon them ; but as I had no proof that these were the guilty persons, I witiiheld my consent to their entreaties. That punishment, however, which I was slow to inflict on them for past deeds, of which they were doubtless guilty, they shortly drew upon themselves by present misconduct. On the day following our appearance among them, they swarmed about the camp, every man carrying, in addition to his proper arms, a long stick on his shoulder, in derision of the manner in which we carry our guns. Ob- serving the greatness of their numbers, I took the precaution of posting an extra guard over our horses, and warned the men to hold themselves in rerdiness for the worst. Besides their usual fire-arms, I fur- nished each of our little party with a spear giving orders not to reload after the first volley, but to charge ; for I was apprehensive lest, during the interval of loadinpf^ the Indians might make a rush, and overpower us ; and that a speedy attack was meditated, I could muxmrniTSTjatme-ina'-^ ■ ■ ^.r •3_:x_-X'v!fimsj^^:j^ 20 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. no lonofer doubt. Our preparations com- pleted, I admitted a few Indians into the ramp, purposely that they mig^ht observe our state of defence, and with the hope that it mig'ht deter them from attacking" us. Unhappily for them, the desired effect was not produced, for presently one of the g^uard was wounded, and the alarm g"iven that the Indians were securinof our horses. This was sufficient for me. They had shed the first blood, and I was resolved that theirs shovdd repay it ; and as it was now for life or death with u , I ordered a g'eneral discharg-e, to be followed up by a charge with the spear. The first, however, sufficed ; for on seeing- the number of their fellows who in a sing-le moment were made to lick the dust, the rest ing-loriously fled, and we saw no more of them. Twenty- six remained dead on the field. It w^ould be inconsistent with my object to continue the narrative of the expedition, and our other travellino* adventures in this reofion. It is not my purpose to write a book of adventure, but to illustrate, as far as my ac- quaintance with circumstances may enable .1 ■.*-'■ * i INDIAN CIIAKACTEU. *^1 me, and from various points of view, tlie chamoter of the Indian tril)es. The little I have advanced, from my own experience, may sufHce to show that they do not ])osses3 the fine (pialities attrihuted to them in recent puhlications, and the followino* sketches will make hoth their hetter and their worse cha- racteristics still more manifest. If any one be scepticid, after all, in reg*ard to the latter I can only say, that it "would he easy to multiply instances of the most atrocious and unprovoked cruelty practised by the Indians og'ainst those eng*ag'ed in the fur trade. It is enouo'h to hint at the sad fate of Livino*- ston, Henry, Hug-hes, Millar, Jones, Kennet, Smith, McKenzie, and Corrio-al, chiefly officers of the service, besides nearly three hundred and fifty men, Americans and servants of the Company in nearly equal proportions, who have fallen victims within the last twenty years. ",' f \m iMMI Q9 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. CHAPTEK 11. THE RED FEATHER^ FLATHEAD CHIEF. In the year 1823^ I was appointed to the command of an expedition^ desthied to operate southward of the Columbia^ where beaver were known to abound^ which, down to that period, had never been molested by the hand of civi- lized man. According-ly, during* the six suc- ceeding- years, I was employed in the perilous and disag'reeable duty involved in this adven- ture. Our party usually numbered thirty men, chiefly fur-trappers, the whole well- armed and mounted, besides each possessing* a relay of thirty horses, applicable to the pack or the riding'-saddle, as necessity re- quired. Danger is an excellent disciplinarian, and since each of my followers, viewing* the THE RED FEATHER. QH case throug-h that medium^ saw the necessity of strict attention to his leader^s orders, I had the less difficulty in enforcing- the system of precaution I have already mentioned as indispensable to the common safety ; and by attention to which many tracts of country \>ere passed over with impunity, which other- wise it would have been rash to adventure upon. The systematic order of our pro- ceeding's possessed the double advantag-e of enabling* us to cope successfull}' Avith our foes, and to associate in confidence, when circumstances rendered it expedient to do so, with those whom we reg*arded as friends, at least for the time being". On one occasion, being* desirous of pene- trating* a tract of country more than usually infested by the marauders we had to dread, I joined company with the camp of the Flat- head nation, at that period proceeding* on their annual visit to the buflfiilo-ii-rounds. At this time, their camp consisted in all of two hun- dred lodj^es, but it A^ as ancientl}' much more numerous j war, in which they were conti- nually eng-ag-ed, having^ within a few yeurs, ■*" •• ]>A »'fr^ ■KLM< i''- 24 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. thinned off the flower of the young" men, and g'iven a preponderance to the enemy's force which told sadl}^ to their disadvantage. A short digression must here be permitted me by way of explaining their present position to the iiidulo'ent reader. Eesiding on the head waters of a stream tributary to the Columbia, they had been accustomed, from time immemorial, to resort to the grounds southward of their own in quest of buflalo ; from the chase of which they derived their chief subsistence. In the prosecution of these annual excursions they had invariably met with much opposition and unprovoked molestation from the Blackfeet, a roving' horde of real Ishmaelites, "their hand against every one, and every one's hand against them." Under ordinary circumstances, the bravery and chivalrous address of the poor Flatheads had enabled them to resent the insults of their opponents, and to repel their unprovoked attacks ; but, unhappily, a few years anterior to the period of which I am writing, a fatal advantage obtained by the Blackfeet at length destroyed the balance of THE RED FEATHER. 25 >• men^ and ;my's force mtag'e. A rmitted me position to if a stream had been il^ to resort eir own in ! of which ;e. In the rsions they osition and Bhickfeet, eSj " their one^s hand umstances, jf the poor esent the •epel their ily, a few lich I am ed by the balance of power^ and told with murderous eifect ag'ainst the former. This was the acquisition of fire- arms ; AN'hich implement of warfare the former obtained by trafficj throug'h their proximity to the American frontiers^ lon^ before the more secluded Flatheads were acquainted with its use, save in its deadly effect upon the ranks of their most valued warriors. More recently, however^ their intercourse with the Columbia traders had furnished the weaker party with the means of repelling' the attacks of their oppressors^ but not before their numbers had been reduced, throug-h the causes alluded to, far beneath that of the rivals. Under these circumstances, they had made a com])act with a small adjacent sept, called the Cootanys or Kootanais, and for mutual protection the allies proceeded to their hunting'-g'rounds in com- pany ; their united numbers, but still more their remarkable bravery and address, now rendering" them more than a match for their overbearing* opponents. Our march was conducted with much re- g-ularity ; all the arrang-ements being- over- looked by the camp chief^ known among- us by 1 1 I ■ Hi "■■.■■ i i«^aU«i& 26 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. the appellation of " Cut Thumb." In order to assure our party as much as possible ag'ainst the ordinary risks of the way^ a position was allotted to us in the midst of the whole band^ and which, whether in the march or when encamped, we invariably occupied. In this manner we journeyed for ten or fifteen days, occasionally meeting* with a few stray buffalo, but experiencing- no molestation on any hand, nor indeed seeing- the vestig*e of an enemy. But as at sea, the calmest weather when it precedes a storm is the more to be dreaded, since the mariner is thereby lulled into treache- rous security ; so in these prairies, an unusual interval of peace but too frequently aug'urs a speedy reverse of fortune. Thus did it prove in our case. Rendered careless by the seem- ing' absence of danger, the Indians frequently neg'lected the ordinary precautions necessary to secure against surprise or robbery. Their horses were left untethered and ung-uarded, and their proceeding's, g'enerally, marked by a sense of the most careless, yet most un- warranted security. For my own part, I maintained the usual I .-i THE RED FEATHER. 27 In order to ible ao'ainst position was ivhole band, ih or when In this fifteen days, ray buffalo, 1 any hand, an enemy, ler when it be dreaded, nto treache- an unusual y aug'urs a lid it prove the seem- frequently necessary Their ng'uarded, narked by most un- the usual IT discipline among* my men, and soon had rea- son to cong'ratulate myself in not having* yielded to the lazy example of our Indian companions 5 for one morning* it was found that a larg-e number of horses had been stolen during" the nig-ht, whose owners had now to lament the imprudence into which they had been tempted. Fulfilling' the old proverb of "shutting- the stable -door after the steed is stolen," every precautionary measure was now adopted, when no longer of any avail : scouts scoured the country on all sides : whoops, shouts, maddening* yells of rag*e and disap- pointment resounded throug'h the camp ; all which gave way to soberer counsel when the result of the reconnoissance was made known by those deputed to that duty. Every con- current circumstance pointed to their inveterate enemies, the Blackfeet Indians, as the authors of this outrage. It was also ascertained that the course of their retreat was due west, and that they were in all probability a detachment from an extensive camp whose fires were dis- covered in a valley some twenty miles distant. Such was the position of affairs : council ^■•^' ■^m 28 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. upon council was held^ and my opinion con- sulted every hour of the day to settle some knotty point in the discussion, while I. like a skilful o'eneral; usually contrived by the wording" of my decisions to avoid committing' myself in the estimation of either party aifected by them. To be brief, the final issue of all the arg'uments adduced was this ; that the horses were stolen, the thieves were at hand, and that at all risks reprisals must be made. A party of young* men speedily assembled, in anticipation of the adventure, but this was not definitively ar- rang-ed, since one of the principal personag'es of the camp had remained ^s yet a silent but not unobservant spectator of what was passing', and without his sanction no enterprise of this nature could with propriety be undertaken. This seeming* apathetic, thoug'h influential member of the band was the " lied Feather," so called from the distinctive badge he at all times wore to indicate the dignity to which by common acclamation he had been elected. His colleague the ^^ Cut Thumb" was camp chief, and had attained the supreme dig-nity throug-h his acknowledg'ed wisdom in the affairs of ■I I THE RED FEATHER. 29 } every day life. The "Eed Feather" was leader of the warriors^ and had received his chivalrous appointment in consideration of his extraordinary prowess in the field, and the address he exhibited in all that related to mar- tial concerns. The haug'hty and reserved demeanour he usually assumed was well cal- culated to impress his companions with a lofty opinion of his character j while his suavity of manner when addressed, tended to secure for him their re<^ard and esteem. Bold and fear- less, he was at the same time prudent and skil- ful beyond any Indian who roved the prairies : his renown was spread far and wide ; and among" all the Flathead warriors there was not one whose name resounded so frequently in the Blackfeet camp, when the lamentations of the bereaved told of valued racers disap- peared, or the wail of widows g'ave signal of deeds of death. Tall, well-shaped, and mus- cular, his person exhibited every characteristic of strength and activity; while his features were marked by well-cut, expressive outlines, which would have distinofuished him to the most casual observer as a man of character 5* ; H: >' r\ • \ . 30 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. and ability. Such in outward seeming- was the " Red Feather/' towards whom at this cri- tical period, every eye was turned in expecta- tion of counsel. AVhen at leng'th his long'-deferred judgment was delivered, the hasty preparations that had been undertaken on the spur of the moment were rendered void, since all immediate re- taliation was discountenanced by the old war- rior. " Peace for a while/' said he ; '' let us not be hasty : the Blackfeet are even now on their g-uard against our enterprises, and would frustrate them. Let us send the pipe of peace towards them, and meet them as friends : time rolls on, and we shall yet be quits with them before the grass is withered on the prairie." The advice was acted upon : after an inter- change of messag'es, a grand meeting was agreed to, and the spot of the conference fixed. It was a level part of the plain, bordering on a small stream that meandered lazily through the boundless expanse of the surrounding prairies. A few willows skirted the brook in some favoured spots, but in general the arid banks produced but the coarse prairie grass. ■^ THE RED FEATHER. 31 diverf^ified in certain low bottoms, where tlie moisture of the brook soaked Ihrong-h the soil, by patches of wild vetch, and rank thickets of hemlock — a baneful weed which thrives won- drously in these sequestered reg-ions. Repairing" hither at the appointed time, we found the Blackfeet already posted to receive us ; and after a due allowance of ceremonial prepa- rations, we proceeded to the business of the day, with all the consequence and sincerity of prac- tised diplomatists. At the head of the Flat- head party, by virtue of his dignity of peace- chief, rode our notable leader the "Cut Thumb,'' attended by the pipe -bearer and a varlet of no small importance in his own esteem, who carried the bag" of medicine. The "Red Feather" and myself followed close behind, representhig* the native prowess and allied strength of the clan; while the rear was broug-ht up by a g'allant cavalcade of warriors, who fretted their steeds with knee and bridle, making them caracole as they rode along-, in order to show off their skill in the menage. The cavaliers of the opposite party ^\ ere not a whit inferior to them hi these r •• /' •;-:M ■'■; V ;^:v'^' 1 ;■> ■' i ' T' ' ', I S2 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. kiiig-htly accomplishnients, and bestrode their ill-jifotten animals with an air of the most con- summate self-possession. To tlie imposing" display of these first ap- proaches to each other, succeeded the pipe of peace, and other affectations of friendship ; all which being* happily ended, the assembly was repeatedly harang-ued by the orators on both sides, who, if they wanted the euphonical polish of a Cicero, mig'ht have vied with De- mosthenes in the energ-etic vig'our of their lan- g'uag'e. On the part of the Flatheads, a re- capitulation of g-rievances from time immemo- rial opened the discussion : this was met by an arg-ument having* much the same tendency, and yet more point, in behalf of the opposite faction. ^^ You complain," said they, " that we have stolen your horses ! While you are speaking the blood of our young* men whom you have slain is yet warm ; their scalps are not dry that you took from us. You say that in days past, before your white fathers g^ave you g'uns, we killed many of you ! has not your reveng^e been complete ? Only last year twenty of our warriors were cut off as with * , THE IlED FEATHEll. .S8 fire ; three of their sculps even now decorate the ^ lied Feather/ wlio stands l)efore u.s. You, * Cut Thumh/ you — you who now accuse us of injuring' the Fhitheads — with your spells and incantations have cast sickness into our camp : our children <>*asj) for hreath^ our very horses are less fleet than Avas their >\ ont, solely owing' to your strong* medicines, and the viru- lence of your hatred towards us. As for the horses you have lost, the Slto^ihonicj^ nnist have taken them ; not one has entered our camp : our young* men are low spirited and are hecome as women j how then could they have done so bold an action ? " In this strain of mutual recrimination and defence the parley was carried on to the end ; both parties pre- tending* to believe implicitly the ex})ressions of g'ood will and peaceful intentions lavishly poured forth, yet each in\\'ardly chuckling* at the other's credulity. A hollow peace was eventually patched up by these punic diploma- tists^ and the two camps separating, went afterwards each on its way, in the direction where they expected to find buffalo. Three days afterwards the " Red Feather " ;■;:■[ . ,1 ,f'.;"- n 34 TRAIT3 OF INDIAN LIFE. ciune to my tent. " To-duy I go for horses/' said lie : " the Blaokfeot are iinsuapioious ; my young men have seen their camp ; their horses are un\\atched. The IMaek," added he, al- luding to one which had attracted my atten- tion from the symmetry of its shape — " the Black must he mine at all risks." Attended b}' two of his followers, he went off the same night, not as usual on horseback, but on foot, each of the party carr3'ing a small supply of dried meat, and a tough Iuhso that sufficiently declared the nature of their mission. Meanwhile we had fallen upon buffalo. Im- mense herds of these uncouth beasts ranged over the prairie, which was intersected in every direction by the deeply-worn paths of their periodical migrations. The grand busi- ness of the year now commenced in good ear- nest : the hunters prepared their trained racers for the duties of the chase ; everything was put in readiness j but no man ventured to leave the prechicts of the camp. At length the chief, having ascertained that all the preparations were complete, gave the welcome signal — pro- claiming, in a loud voice, that all were now at THE llED FEATIIEU. 35 liberty to depart, and ad(lin<»' Hiich njcoin- meiidatioiis as seemed necessary for maintain- ing' order among* the multitude. Joy beamed from every face ; the very horses seemed alive to the excitement of the occasion ; and as they drew near the buffalo, could with difH- culty be restrained. The whole cavalcade, consisting' of some three liundred hoi'semen, were shortly eng'ag'ed indiscriminately in the herd. At first the poor victims stood eyeing' their approaching- enemies; then, s if mistrusthig' the nature of their intentions, they beg'an to move slowly off in a body ; their sullen walk soon changing* to an awkward g'allop, and as their rear and flanks became more and more pressed by their pursuers, ending- in a g'eneral rout. Now was the crisis of the chase, and the hunter's opportunity, when he showed his skill, not to mention his g'ood taste, by selecting- the fattest animals as they scuttled over the plain. Shot after shot resounded in every direc- tion ; while the scarcely less fatal arrow did its share in the g'eneral work of destruction, only more silently. The horses, trained to the task, •* , •li ' , I w- 30 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. seemed as if intuitively acquainted with what was required of them j keepiiig* even pace with the selected animal, and preserving*, at all times, a distance of several paces from its side ; watching* pointedly its every motion, and lig'htly springing* away whenever it would g*ore them, as if anticipating* its intentions even hefore they were put in practice. Several hundred animals lay scattered in every direction around us. In the distance the retreating* herds were rushing* wildly over the plain, sometimes e?iveloped in dust, then emero'ino' from the cloud and becomino- ao*ain visible as the flickering* wind shifted athwart, or in the line of their course. Here and there a scattered horseman, more eager or better mounted than the rest, still pursued tlie flying* bands; while a dropping* shot, from time to time, sounded the knell of another victim. The hunters beg*an to congregate, and the division of the p ey alone was wanting- to flnish the day's proceeding's. Suddenly a cloud of dust appeared on the horizon, in the direction of our preceding* day's march. All eyes were strained to discover the cause. There were THE RED FEATHER. 37 no buffalo in that quarter to account for the commotion ; but all conjecture was soon put at rest: the peculiar cry with which the Indian jockeys urg'e on a band of horses^ maddening" them by some strange sympathy beyond con- ception, was heard from time to time, repeated with o'rowinji' distinctness as the excited horses approached ; a yell of welcome broke forth, when at leno'th a numerous band became dis- coverable, driven by three mounted Indians, who were soon recoo-nized as the " lied Feather" and his two daring* associates. As they drew near it mig-ht be seen that the horses were well-nigh exhausted ; the foam, trickling' down their quivering* flanks, ming-led with the accumulated dust, and completely disguised their exterior features. Anon they would slacken their pace, and seek momentary relief by snatching* languidly at the tufts of grass around them ; but the shrill and piercing whoop, whose strangely discordant modulation it were vain to endeavour to express, or even to imitate, would again set them off with re- doubled energy, its strange unearthly sound seeming to act like enchantment upon the I! ■m ■m I '>'] n, . f i'i^ 38 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. I ■ muscular frames of the animals, tliroug-h its influence over the inward faculties. What the cause of this peculiar s} mpathy between man and beast may be, or what connection between the cry in question and the extraordinary effect produced by it, is not hi my power to determine ; but the fact is too commonly known, and too well authenticated to admit of doubt. In this instance I was deeply struck by the sing-ular infatuation of the poor jaded brutes. Wearied to exhaustion, they yet seemed to rise superior to all bodily weakness, as soon as they heard the cry of their perse- cutors in the rear. On they rushed; death, destruction mig-ht be before them ; fire, or a precipice, might intercept their path; but it seemed as if no obstacle could for a moment check their progress while under this strange spell. Arriving at the camp, the " Eed Feather " and his tv'o associates dismounted at a bound, slipped the cords in an instant out of their horses' mouths, and turning- them loose, ut- tered a loud whew of complacency, finishing' with a hearty laugh at the success of their (i,^ THE RED FEATHER. 89 I > exploit. After their hung-er had been ap- peased with a supply of boiled meat propor- tionate to their long' fast, served to them in the principal lodg*e, the endless pij)e was hg'hted, and they recounted the hazards they had underg'one ; to which, thoug'h one would have supposed some of the incidents not to be over agreeable, they invariably g*ave a ludi- crous or jocund turn. Their delighted audi- ence listened with infinite relish to the story of this adventure: the braves relating' how they had overheard the luckless Blaekfeet boasting" in their camp, and chuckling* o^er their fancied security. ^^ But," said the " Eed Feather,'^ in conclusion, and in a tone of dis- appointment, " the Black was left behind after all. I visited in one night almost every tent in the camp ; for he was not loose with the band. I crept on my belly among* the horses' feet, and sought and sought to no purpose. At length I found him. He was tied, but not tethered with a picket : his master held the cord as he slept ; the day was breaking, or I would have cut it." Then, warming* ngain with the remembrance of his successful forav, horse on which the witness had reached his own camp, as they were feeding* in open day in a meadow close by the lodg*es. They had scarcely time to mount their prizes when they were discovered. Giving rein to their steeds they uttered a shout of defiance, and struck in the direction of home, pursued after a short interval b}^ a numerous party of the enemy. But they were safe from pursuit. They had, as they knew, secured the two fleeiv"«^t runners of the band, and set at nought all the endea- vours of their pursuers to overtake them. Prompted by the dictates of their fury, the latter resorted to a common expedient to Avreak their vengeance. The wind, which had till now been scarcely perceptible, began to blow freshly from the river. The " lied Feather," whose horse showed not the least symptom of distress, had reined him up and stopped for some minutes as if in defiance of the enemy. Suddenly the pursuing party stopped, and in a moment a bright blaze gave warn- ing to the " lied Feather" that no time was to be lost; they had set fire to the m il Ml 40 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. i plain. Driven by tlie fierce wind, the flame advanced with surprising" speed : a oroad strip of marly soil destitute of all veg'etation lay before them, beyond which the fire could not pass. To reach this was their only chance of safety. The distance was easily accom- plished by the narrator, since he was close to the margin when the flames arose; but the " Red Feather" was less fortunate ; his act of defiance cost him his life. When in safety himself the Indian turned to ascertain the progress of his father-in-law. He was within a quarter of a mile of the desired haven. The Black strove g^allantly to reach it, but all his eftbrts were useless ; the raging" element, fed with the dry g-rass, advanced with the speed of an eag'le. A short few moments and all was over. The " Red Fea- ther" lay a blackened corpse among- the smoking' ashes, his g-allant steed beside him ! Such was the melancholy end of the boldest warrior of the Flathead tribe, whose renown yet lives among* the wild races to whom his name was in days of yore familar. Shortly after this melancholy event I THE RED FEATHER. 47 separated from tlie brave and hospitable tribe that it had pluiig'ed into niournino* ; and of whom it is but due to remark, that of all the tribes on the west side of the Eocky Mountains they stand pre-eminently alone, in not ha\ino" shed the blood of a white man. My journey to the Columbia was effected in six weeks — not, however, without undergoing" considerable anxiety and j)riva- tion; all which was soon forgotten in the hearty welcome I received from my worthy friend B , who shortly before ha J been appointed to that station. a !l 1 i iff 48 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. CHAPTER III. THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD AND THE LIVING. I ONCE Avitnessed a strangle occurrence^ which, after repeated mquiries^ I find to be an iso- lated instance of what may excite perhaps no little surprise — the voluntary interment of a livino- Indian. Four other p-entlemen were present at this tragedy, for such it may truly be called^ and should this narrative ever meet their eyes they will readily bear testimony to its correctness. The circumstance g'ave occa- sion to many remarks at the time, more es- pecially among' ourselves, for we could with difficulty conceive a human being* possessing" so much perverted resolution as to sacrifice himself in a manner so dreadful : but the facts BURIAL OF THE DEAD AND LIVING. 49 wpre obvious, and all siirniises vanished before them. Suicides, indeed, are of Huch oonstnnt occur- rence among' civilized nations, as to excite little comment, and the circumstances of the crime, are often of almost incredible horror. It is well known that they are less fre(|uent among* savage tribes ; and if thoy are more connnon among" some of these unfortun.Mte peo- ple than others, it will generally be found that they are connnitted under some momentary impulse of desperate excitement. Instances of calm, resolute self-destruction, such as that I am about to relate, are certainly of rare occiu'rence. It is worthy of remark, also, that the proportion of suicides among the fe- males, far exceeds that of the males, the causes for which I do not pretend to assig'n, though they may reasonably be soug'ht in the cruel usage to which they are subject. It was in the autumn of 18'25, two days after my arrival at Wallwalla, near the con- fluence of the north and south braiiches of the Columbia, after an absence of eleven months. I was enjoying the long* disused luxury of a m- . 4 50 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. g'lass of wine^ in compiiny with Mr. D and liis companions^ when a young* Indian entered, and requested the presence of the former gentleman at his tent. The visit was rather a long* one, and on his return, Mr. D informed us that the "Eagle," a chief of this place, had lost a son, who had just breathed his last. This was the second of his children who had died within a few months, and the bereaved father appeared to be in a very desponding state in consequence. His wife, however, was still ali\'e, and there like- wise remained two married dauo'hters to com- fort his declining days, lliches, too, were his, if these could have afforded him any consolation; for, possessing* more than a hundred horses, he ranked among the opulent of the tribe. Unhappily, notwithstanding all that yet re- mained to him, life had lost its charm. All his hopes and all his desires had been centred in his departed sons — his only stay in the dechiie of life — for whose sakes any sacrifice would have been endured, and for whose pre- mature fate no mourning* in his eyes seemed sufficient. BURIAL OF THE DEAD AND LIVING. 51 The interment of the corpse was np pointed to take place on the following' day ; but the deceased not being* one of our number, no impression was made on us by the announce- ment. Far otherwise had it been one of our own companions in adventure ; for the death of a friend in these savage wilds has g'enerally a deep and lasting- effect on his fellow-so- joui'ners 5 and althougli it be the common lot of humanity, yet the idea of dying* in this country, without, perhaps, one loved lieart to soothe the dying* moments, and \\ithout the participation in that holy rite which re-assures us of merc}^ hereafter, is indeed a melancholy prospect. Such were the circumstances, nnder which one of those assembled on this occasion, poor D , some years afterwards yielded up his breath. He was a g'ood-hearted, generous fellow, and much respected by all \> ho knew him. Our school days had been passed tog'ether, and the friendship then contracted, increased instead of diminishino* with increasiii<)* \ears. Poor fellow ! Little did he or I then anti- cipate so early a termination to his earthly !l •' 5S TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. career, which he fulfilled in a maimer alike honourable to his head and his heart. D was invited to attend the burial j and being* the commandant of the establish- ment, could not with propriety refuse showing* this mark of respect to the family of the chief. The invitation was likewise extended to the other g-entlemen and myself, for ^^llom the same inducement did not exist, so that, in short, we felt disposed to decline. Yielding* to the persuasion of D , however, we accom- panied him, and, as the event turned out, I was not sorry we did so. The scene A\'e wit- nessed was unparalleled in my experience, and thoug'h horrifying" in the extreme, it was yet, from its very strang'eness, of absorbing* in- terest. Tlie g*rave was dug* on a small eminence, some furlono's distant from the fort. On reach- ing* the spot we found an immense concourse of natives assembled, among* whom the father and family of the deceased were conspicuous. The former stood on the brink of the grave, in a de- sponding* moodj and thoug'h he permitted no outward symptom of g*rief to appear, it was BURIAL OF THE DEAD AND LIVING. 53 ninence. yet evident to all that a mig'lity and continued effort alone kept it in restraint. lie appeared to be about fifty years of ag"e, and his form and features, thoug-h stern and swarthy, offered a model of manly beaut}". The mother and her daug'hters were loud in their expressions of g-rief ; but that of the father, from its \evy calmness, was the more terrible, and I could not but sympathize with feeling's so ob\'iously acute. The weeping' and wailing* of the assembled friends were the only sounds to be heard, and for a long' while the business for A\hich they were assembled was suspended, as if no one was willing' to impose the last trial of their hearts upon the bereaved parents. At leng'th the father g'ave a stern order that the body should be deposited hi the g'rave ; a mandate which was reluctantly obeyed by her ^^ ho had equal cause to mourn their g'reat loss. The old man then commanded silence, and in a resolute tone of voice beg'an to address the assembled multitude. Having* called atten- tion to the different events of his life, as con- nected with the rank he occupied, he proceeded J^ 1 ■ 1 ! •4 II 1 ! 1 It- 54 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. to remind them— always addressing himself to Mr. D , — of the domestic afflictions he had endured, concluding- with the recent death of his eldest and most heloved son, whose corpse was now before us. " And now," said he, ^^ the string of my bow is broken, the last hope of my declining- days has forsaken nie. Seek not to dissuade me from the resolution I have adopted, for I am resolved upon follow- ing- him, and all you can urg-e Avill be in vain ; life has no long-er any charm for me. I was once a liuntei', but am now no long-er so; I was once the proud father of two noble sons ; but, alas! wiiere are they? I was once a warrior, but am no longer so. Wherefore shall I continue to cumber this earth Avith my useless presence ?" The silence that now prevailed was so deep that not even a breath was audible. The old man i'olded his bl-anket around him, cast one farewell look on the fair fields and the broad- rolling- ri\ er in the vicinity ; and then, to the surprise of all present, descended composedly into the pit, and laid himself upon the corpse of his departed son. " Throw in the earth, BURIAL OF THE DEAD AND LIVING. Oi) fill up the grave, cover up my last earthly residence/' exclaimed he. " Nay, do not hesi- tate, for I am resolved to die." Screams of agfony arose from his afflicted wife and dauofh- ters ; vehement expostulations were resorted to by all around ; but the old chief remained firm. Not the tenderest entreaties of those who were dearest to him amon^ the liv"'"' — not the ea^er representations of his friends, backed by the usually influential voice of D , could, for an instant, shake the re- solve of the self-devoted victim. " I will die!" said he ; '^ seek no long'er to prevent it ; I repeat it, I will die!" When it was found that all expostulations and entreaties were in vain, the friends held a clamorous council among* themselves, which resulted in a decision to obey the will of the chief. When he saw that his wish would be complied with, he ag*ain spoke, and g-ave directions for the disposal of his property : his horses were ordered to be divided anion o* his relations, ten of the finest being* first o-iven to Mr. D , who was looked upon by the Indians as an adopted father. I : ■•■ 56 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. Meainvliile I had advanced to the brink of the g-ra^e^ in order to observe narrovly the countenance of the old man. I could perceive no symptoms of weakness. The same stern calmness which was at first perceptible, still continued to characterize it, and as the clods of earth beg-an to shower down upon him, still not a muscle relaxed. In the midst of the most fearful bowlings and lamentations were the horrid obsequies performed ; the clay and the sand being* filled in, the gTeen sod was at leng-th carefully arranged over the small spot which marked the last resting-place of the living and the dead. Agreeably to the last request of the " Eagle," Mr. D caused a flag to be placed over his grave, the tattered remnants of ^^'hich still fluttered in the breeze when I last visited the spot j serving to indicate to the passer-by the scene of the horrid though voluntary sacrifice I have related. AN INDIAN FESTIVAL. 57 CHAPTER IV. AN INDIAN FESTIVAL. Six years ag-o^ being* the sj)riiig- of 1882^ I was stationed on the north - west coast of America, at t!.3 recently -formed settlement of Fort Simpson, at the mouth of the Nass River. This establishment was the only one as yet maintained there, and its erection was so recent, that our knowledge of the savag-e tribes in the midst of whom we were settled, was very scanty. At this particular season, the natives from all quarters are in the habit of assembling' on the shores of the Nass, for the purpose of obtaining" a supply of small fish, of delicate flavour, termed Olichonj which resort to this stream in innumerable shoals to spawn, and afford active employment during 1) . 68 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. the brief season they remain^ to the native fishermen. Altlioiio'h at all times most gfuarded to avoid any surprise from our rude neig'hbours, the overpowering- numbers thus cong'reg'ated from all quarters in our ^n> mediate vicinity, g'ave an additional spur to <. v.^ lance; and the need of watchfulness will be ap^ arent, when I add that the an hole g-arrison, including* myself and the other officers, did not exceed twenty men. With this insiofnificant force it became us to exercise unremitted attention, and certainly every one g*ave himself to the harassing* task with a zeal which the occasion fully de- manded. One morning" in April, I observed, and re- marked to one of the gentlemen, that the natives were assemblinof in unusual force im- mediately in front of the g-ates, and we both agTeed that it had a suspicious appearance. We remained in suspense for some minutes, when one of the principal chiefs came to our little fortress, demanding* admission, as he had something" of importance to impart to me. The formal manner in which this request was . n AN INDIAN FESTIVAL. 50 made increased instead of diminishing" my anx- ious curiosity. He was ushered into my room of state^ a chamber set apart expressly for the reception of the g-reat men of the land. I observed that he took the precaution of closing- the doors, and thoug"h I was under no apprehension of present dang-er to myself, the strang'er being' completely in my power, I nevertheless, and very naturally, felt some misgiving's as to the purpose of a morning- call attended with so much formality. Being* seated, the chief remained some time in silence, and then, as if moved by the spirit, commenced as follows : — " Great Chief of the Whites, you are too vig'ilant not to have ob- served an unusual concourse of my 3'oung men in front of your fort ; they are there by m}^ orders, and without evil design. It is my intention to give a g'reat feast. We are come here to make preparations for it, and I require your assistance." It is scarcely necessary to say that such a solution of the mystery was very much to my satisfaction, and that I cheerfully complied with the request of the grand steward of the 00 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. forthcoming' banquet. Canoes continued g'oing' and corning* every day and hour, all freig'hted with cargoes of dingy savag'es. For ten mortal days, not a moment of tranquillity was experi- enced ; the concourse of Indians at last assem- bled on the g-round exceeding*, on the most moderate calculation, 1,500 souls. The pre- parations for the feast were of course on a propoi'tionately g-rand scale — at least as far as labour and expense were concerned. A lot of deals, recently received, amounting* to about a thousand, were put in requisition, and employed by the natives to erect a temporar}^ shed for the acconmiodation of the g'uests ; while other articles necessary to their operations were bor- rowed, as wanted, from us. Our vigilance, it may be imag^ined, did not abate under these circumstances, of the since- rity of which we had no g'uarantee. We had property in our warehouse to a larg-e amount, offering* a g*reat temptation to their cupidity, and, indeed, other considerations apart, had no inclination to put their for- bearance to the test, or to submit ourselves to their tender mercies. The two gentlemen AN INDIAN FESTIVAL. 01 who were with me merited, however, all my confidence, and this relieved my mind of a g-reat load of anxiety. Trnly may it be said, that Indian traders experience severe trials in the course of their duty j not to mention the pi'ivations which they cheerfully underg-o, Alas ! that many w ho look forward for the reward of tranquillity and repose at last do so, too often in vain, frequently cursino* the day they ever left their homes to pass their lives among' Indians. At leno'th, all the great preliminaries being- finished, the hour was at hand when the affair was to "come off." On the eleventh day, shortly after sunrise, two Indians carrying* a long' pole, at the end of which A\ere sus- pended feathers of the bald-headed eagle, came to the fort g'ates, and Avith a loud voice desired admittance to the white chief. Their request being- granted, they advanced into the hall, and after duly performing* their obeis- ance, touched with their wands of ofHce myself and the two gentlemen who were present with me. This grand ceremony, we were given lo i\Q TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. uiiderstiind^ was to be construed into an invi- tation to attend the entertainment of tlie day, to connnence about noon. We now held a con- sultation concerninj*" the })roj)i'iety of accepting' an invitation of this nature ; after (hdy ^^ eio-h- injr the ar}»*unients for and ao'ainst such a show of C()ni})hiisance5 1 decided on (h)iiig* so, and that one of the <^entlenien, the surg'eon, should like- wise attend ; thus setting* at nought the \ ag'ue rumours of evil intended ag'ahist us, a\ Inch we could not avoid hearing*. We first made every arrangement with tlie g'entleman who remained at home, respecting* the measures ho should adopt in the event of treachery, and then, accompanied by six men and our body g'uard proceeded to the house of feasting*, -which, if I mig'ht conjecture future events by l.he lugubrious visag*es of the men, was likely to prove to some of us a house of mourning*. The building* was erected within a hundred yards of the fort, and to sug*g*est the idea that we were prepared to reveng*e any treacherous measures, two field-pieces were exposed in a commanding* situation in the block-houses. On our arrival at the entrance of the ban- AN INDIAN FESTIVAL. 03 quetiiig"]! nllj which the IiidiunH hjid extem- porized with eonsideiiihle skill, we found the crowd so "Teat that iiiiiTess was tor a nioiuent impossible. A f'riohtful hovvliii<^" and shout ing*, however, soon drew attention to onr presence, and six stout fellows, whose ofhce of nrasters of the ceremonies seemed blended with that of special constables to j)reserve thff public peace on this occasion, hiid about them with such rio'ht g'ood-will and elfect that a wide passa«^'e was opened for us, and the jackall-like howls of the expectant revellers partially quelled as they retired on either side. In this state we entered the building*, wliich we found to be of very ample dimensions, provided also, at one end, with an elevated stag'e, before A\hich a parti-coloured curtain was suspended. The whole of the remaining* area was occu})ied by rows of seats arranged as in the pit of a theatre, the tout ensemble, indeed, forcibly reminding* me of the plan of arrang'ement adopted in places of that descr'])tion, in more polished situations than a scarcely known s})ot oi' tlie north-west coast of this continent. As the honoured g'uests of the chief, we w^ere accom- 64 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. modated with a couple of chairs within a short distance of the stag*e, and during* the brief interval occurring* before the attention was other^^ ise demanded, had a favourable oppor- tunity of computing* the number of Indians pre- sent, A\ Inch could not have been less than eig*ht hundred, exclusive of women, who were seated apart, and of a crowd of slaves of both sexes^ who eagerly throng*ed the entrance with the hope of witnessing- the g-rand doing's about to proceed within-doors. A stop wa3 soon put to my speculations on this point, by the elevation of the curtain which innned lately followed a signal proceeding" from behind it. On the stag-e, boldly erect, stood the lord of C\e banquet, recog-nizable by his lofty stature and the stately proportions which im- parted a peculiar g*race and dignity to his bearing*. On his face he wore a grotesque mask of wood. More interesting* still, his head was surmounted by an emblematical figure, representing* the sun, rendered lumi- nous by some simple contrivance in the in- terior. As all eyes were turned upon him, the stage was so arranged that he gradually INDIAN FESTIVAL. 65 f: disappeared beneath it, bearing* with him the source of hg*ht by which our artificial little world was illuminated, and leaving* us in total darkness ; a state of atfairs which, knowing* the savagely treacherous characters with whom we were associated, was by no means aii'reeable to us white men. The matter w as 80 contrived, hoAvever, that daylight presently began to appear ag*ain, until, by slow degrees, our Indian Phoebus, bearing* the bright orb of day, whose temporary absence we had deplored, stood erect before us in all the meridian splen- dour of his first appearance. Three times was this alternate setting* and rising of the sun repeated, each repetition eli- citing* rounds of rapturous applause, expressed by shouts, screams, bowling's, and gesticulations, most indescribably appalling*, and such as might cause a momentary shudder to the stoutest heart. To do our entertainer jus- tice, his performance, simple as it was, was most creditably carried throug*h, and spoke much in favour of the native talent of its originator. The deception by which the gradual appearance and disappearance of the 66 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. lig-ht wa8 imitated, was indeed most cm- plete, and productive of much satisfaction to us all. Then came the second act of this dra- matic representation, consisting* in a g'rand dance performed in the true North-west Coast style, by forty young* women, each rejoicing* in a choice article of feminine trinketi*y in- serted, secundum artem, in the lower lip. Their motions, as my friend the surg*eon re- marked—for I myself am no judg'e of these affairs — were in perfect unison with the music of a chorus sung* by the dancers themselves ; and, althoug'h they had not enjoyed the advan- tag*es of instruction under Italian masters of the art, they at least contorted their limbs to as g*ood purpose as is usual in exhibitions of a like nature. The dancing* having* continued for half an hour, the exhibition ceased, but there was yet no sig'u of the promised feast, beyond the strong* odour of putrid oil which perv aded the place, and which indicated the exiy.ence of something* in the shape of eatables in the vicinity. The delay was presently explained when the chief entered the arena of the hall, INDIAN FESTIVAL. 67 followed by slaves bearing* presents. He laid at my ffet ^ve beautiful sea-otter skins, and a quantity of beaver, while a proportionable quantity fell to the share of my comi\i.iion. Furs, war-dresses, slaves, and other property, were then distributed in adequate portions among" the assembled chiefs. The slaves, poor unfortunates ! thoug-h thus transferred to stran- g-ers, viewed the chang-e with a seeming" in- difference, well knowing" that, here or else- where, slavery was their inevitable lot, and that it was scarcely possible to chang'e for the worse. Pity that the Slavery Emancipation Act does not extend its influence to these remote shores, where the labours and suffering's of the unhappy wretches whose condition it might ameliorate, cease only with death. Immense piles of meat and north-west delicacies of all descriptionr now appeared, and judging" from the concourse of g'uests, I con- sidered they were sufficient to consume the whole, without assistance on my part. Per- haps I may here acknowledg-e, without much dang-er of wounding* the sensibility of my kind entertainers, that I felt little desire to partake TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. cf tJ'fcir g-ood cheer^ having* strong* and not un- reasonable mi8g"iving*s that human flesh mig*ht compose an undisting*uishable portion j it being- known^ in fact^ that slaves are frequently sacrificed as a honne bouche to gTace the re- past. Having' intimated our desire to the ^hief^ the word was instantly g-iven to make way for our departure. The officious masters of the ceremonies, as prompt in obedience as command, instantly obeyed the mandate, and in a few moments we emerg'ed into the open air, honoured as we went by the same un- earthly shouts that had g-reeted our arrival. This mode of salutation, until we g'rew accus- tomed to it, caused us some surprise : all over the interior it is usual for the natives to remain, on the arrival of straiig*ers, more than usually quiet, so that conversatior i^ remarks of any kind, seldom commence till the intro- ductory pipe of ceremony has made the oour of those assembled. As for our friendly convives, whose hospi- tality we may have failed to appreciate, they passed a sleepless, thoug*h doubtless an agree- able night, and daylight the next morning INDIAN FESTIVAL. 69 found them still revelling" in the excess of their enjoyment. A few hours more, and the re- membrance of all this jollity was all that re- mained to rejoice their lodg'es in the wilderness. The slaves of the entertainers speedily de- molished their grand banqueting'-hall ; replaced the deals as they found them ; and, to their honour be it said, restored all borrowed articles. Best of all, they incontinently took their own departure, leaving" us once more in that state of comparative ease and tranquillity which their ^rand revel had so long" and so disag'reeably interrupted. 'mmM ■- 70 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. CHAPTER V. A TALE OF WESTERN CALEDONIA. Ten or twelve years are now elapsed since I was stationed at Fort Killmaurs, in the Babine country, on the seaward frontier of Western Caledonia. Since then I have been a wanderer far and near^ ray perverse fate never permilting" me to sojourn long" in the same spot; but driving* me about without cessation, like a ball in a tennis-court. While in the heyday of youth, this vag'rant kind of life was not without its charms to one of my unsettled dis|>osition : with advancing" years, however, soberer tastes, and less adventurous desires, have crept over me, until I could heartily wish foi a life of g-reater tranquillity. s k 5^ A TALE OF AVESTERN CALEDONIA. 1 The potentates who rule my destiny seem, however, otherwise inclined, and I now dis- cover, to my overpowering" chagrin and dis- comfort, that what I began willingly, and regarded as amusement, I must continue in earnest and ag'ainst the grain, like physic, ad- ministered to one who might wish it " to the dogs ^' — " lejluxj m^mnena le reflux WLamcneP When, oh, when, will this life of involuntary peregrination cease ? But a truce to useless plaints, and let me ask you, the happy reader of my sometimes unhappy narrations, if you have ever been in Western Caledonia ? If you have not, I must tell you that Fort Killmaurs, my old chnrg-e, is situated on the borders of a superb lake, called by the natives " Nata," by ourselves denominated '^ Babine/' Wherefore this dif- ference of name ? and what the orig'in of the latter ? you may perhaps ask. Know, then, that the inhabitants of the vicinity, like those of the neighbouring" sea-coast, have a strange custom of inserting" pieces of wood, or ivorv, in the shape of small platters, concave on both sides, into perforations made in the nether lips ' 1. I 72 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. of the fairer portion of the community. Jean Baptiste, a Canadian, having* a nice eye for analogy of form, and detecting" the likeness of this self-imposed deformity to the bahlne, or lip of a cow, or a horse, saw no better way of perpetuating* his discovery than its imme- diate ajiplication as the disting'uishing* name of the tribe. This delicate appellation has since taken a place in the nomenclature of the country, of which it would be now difficult to deprive it ; notwithstanding the frequent incon- venience which is allowed on all hands to result from the arbitrary mode of naming places, without reference to the aboriginal nomenclature, by which alone they ought to be distinofuished. Fort Kilbnaurs, at the date of my present story, had been established about a year only. Tt had been my lot to superintend the cutting of the first stick at its commencement, and to witness the hoistinof of the British flao*. It is scarcely credible how expeditiously Jhi'ts are ^^ knocked up/' and what is meant by their completion^ in this country. After this epoch, to which I had for some time, and most A TALE OF WESTERN CALEDONIA. 73 anxiously looked forward, I bpo-an to feel more at ease, as, happen what mio-ht, we had now the means of ensuring* our safety in the event of any sudden rupture with the swarthy savag'es who surrounded us. The sense of secu- rity, and the leisure which a year of anxiety at length left me, was favourable to the conside- ration of plans for acquiring* a more intimate knowledg'e of the surrounding* country. Several projects presented themselves to my mind, all smacking* more or less of adventure, until it became utterly impossible to remain quietly ensconced in my chimney-corner. I at leng'th determined, as a j)re7fiier pas, on paying a visit to the village of Hotset, which, tt.e natives informed me, was situated at some days' march distance, on the borders of a large stream, of which that issuing from the Nata Lake was a tributary. Following up this resolve, I speedily put affairs in train for its due prosecutioi) : in the first place, making such dispositions as I deemed necessary for the safety of the post during my absence, and consigning the charge to my junior in command. I then selected such of the ser- 74 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. vants as I wished to accompany me, and set forward on my voya<»*e of discovery. There is something* animating* in the very name of an expedition to explore new coun- tries, and how much more in the actual pro- secution of one ! Who, while only })erusing' the history of another's wandering's, has not experienced a feeling", however slig'ht, of envy, as each wayside adventure is reproduced with life-like distinctness in the magic mirror of his imagination? Who in his rfveries upon the romance of travel has not felt his heart bound with the zest of discovery, seasoned with the humour of a Bruce or a Le Vaillant ; or who but has sympathized with the hopes and the fears, and the daily disappointments of some adventui'ous Park, or equally adventurous Clapperton ? Alas, for us poor north-westers ! we can only envy the fame of these renowned names. But, as 1 ha\ e said, there is some- thing* which tends to exalt the mind in the prospect of exploring" reg"ions till now trodden only by the footsiops of the savag-e ; some- thing" which g"ive8 a hig'her tone to all our feeling's, calling* every talent of observation A TALE OP WESTERN CALEDONIA. 75 into pliij, and provoking* curiosity which one is willing" to strain every nerve to g-ratify. Mainy rfvenons a nos movtoufi. On leaving* Fort Killniaurs, our route lay towards the end of th^; lake. A larg*e canoe, manned by ten select men, skimmed over the waters in reg-atta style; the adjacent shores echoing* the song's of the rowers, as they bent to the oars, and one after another caug*ht up the exhilarating* chorus. The pleasure of riding* over the waters, the pure air, the panorama of the unknown shores, and the cheerful songs of my companions, all contributed to the balmy feel- ing* of g'ladness which came over me, as 1 mused on the adventures which lay before lis. I was by no means confident of a welcome reception when we should arrive at our destination, and was moreover wtII aware that it was the rendezvous of all the black- guards and all the g-amblers of the sur- roundhig* villag'es. I had, however, taken every precaution to ensure our safety as fiir as the arming* of the party w ent ; and it now only remained, by a judicious line of conduct, to avoid all occasion of rupture with the natives IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) // -^ A' 1.0 I.I 11.25 tii us itt 122 g2.2 m u ■ 40 ^ /,. V '/ /A HiotDgraphic Sciences Corporation 31 WIST MAIN STRUT WEBSTIR.N.Y. 14SM (716)172-4503 * ! 1 'I "* 76 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. of Hotset, to whom the face8 and manners of Europeans were as yet unknown. A few hours served to take us to Nass- chick, a villag-e occupied by some of the Lake Indians. This villag^e, or rather hamlet, is situated at the extremity of the Nata, at a point where the opposite shores, gradually convergfing" for some distance, approach each other so nearly as to indicate, at the first g-lance, the commencement of the stream by which the waters of the lake are discharg'ed. We were received here with g'reat demon- strations of joy ; and as this spot had hitherto been the extent of our visits in this direction, I availed myself of the happy disposition evinced by the inhabitants to press the necessit}' of their furnishing me with g-uides for the continuance of our journey. Ihis proposition was met with very little favour; and it was evident to me that a feeling* of dread at visiting* the natives of Hotset, whose sincerity, even in times of peace, they always mistrust, opposed an effectual barrier to the speedy accomphsh- ment of my wishes. Seeing", therefore, that none of those present were willing* to accom- A TALE OF WESTERN CALEDONIA. 77 pany me, and desirous of showing* the Indians that we could travel without their assistance, I asked one of the chiefs for verbal direc- tions as to the route, and gave the word for starting- again. We now proceeded by land, the canoe and its appendages being left in care of the chief. Having coasted for some distance along the left bank of the river, the road, which was in some places scarcely traced, struck obliquely up into the interior, in a direction nearly west by south. The country, for the remainder of this day's march, was level, but much obstructed by the abundance of brushwood, and by wind- fallen trees, which in many places impeded our progress. The day following, having passed several diminutive lakes, we began to ascend, and presently came in sight of a high moun- tain, over which it was evident we should be obliged to pass, though at what precise point was a problem most difficult to solve, as the track which had hitherto guided us, no longer appeared. As this occasioned us all very considerable anxiety, considering the difficulty and danger in which we might immediately be I* < 78 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. involved by attempting' a wrongf pass, I or- dered a halt, and had breakfast prepared, while some of my most active men went to examine whether there existed on either side of us, any indication of the track usually followed, and from which we mig-ht have inadvertently deviated. They had scarcely set out on this errand, before their attention, in common with my own, was arrested by a faint shout, which appeared to proceed from the side of the moun- tain. Hereupon our scouts returned, and I ordered a couple of shots to be fired as a sig-nal, which was instantly answered by a sing^le one in return. The smoke of the dis- charge served to indicate the position of our unknown neig;hbour, and presently after, two human being's were seen cautiously descending* the face of the steep declivity, sometimes dis- appearing among" the crannies of the rocks, at others standing* in bold relief in the fore- ground. The approach of these fortuitous visitors seemed to promise the means of extricating us from our dilemma. They proved to be sheep- hunters, from the vicinity of Nass-chick, who v*1 A TALE OF WESTERN CALEDONIA. 79 had on several occasions visited Killmaurs, and attracted my regard by the modest propriety of their demeanour, combined with an air of independent confidence by no means common to their associates. The father of these young* men, for they were brothers, was an Indian of the Rocky Moun- tain Secanny tribe^ who had married a woman of the Nataotins. Attached in some deg'ree to the latter by this connection, he had yet at all times maintained the stately independence which characterizes the Secanny, as contrasted with the Babine Indian ; or which, in a more extended view, is morally distinctive of the native hunter of the wilds of North America, from the more ignoble fisher of its waters. The parents of his wife had long" since paid the dobt of nature, and now the only tie which hud bound the old man to these strange lands, was dissolved by the death of his partner, which had taken place some months previous to the present rencontre. Thus released from the ungenial society of those who had no claims upon his regard except their connec- tion with his wife, and from the bonds of con- ^^'/-i 80 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. jug^al affection which had hitherto restrained his wanderings propensities, the veteran hunter proposed to himself the abandonment of his adopted country ; with a view to rejoining", in company with his two sons, the society of his old friends and relations, if haply they yet roamed amid the wild fastnesses of the Rocky Mountains. In prosecution of this object, he and his sons were now eag-erly employed hunt- ings to procure a sufficiency of provisions for a grand feast in memory of his departed wife, and as a valedictory repast to the associates of his married days, to whom, perhaps, he was now about to bid an eternal adieu. The welcome arrival of these young" men removed every difficulty, as they readily agreed to join company with us. After break- fasting", we set forward in good heart, and be- gan ascending the steep acclivity opposed to our progress ; a labour, I must add, by no means agreeable, or very rapidly accomplished, as we were compelled to stop from time to time in order to recover breath. Marching" or climbing in this painful manner, and envy- ing the comparative facility with which our A TALE OF WESTERN CALEDONIA. 81 g-uides overcame every obstacle, we were four hours reaching^ the summit of the mountain. Here I g'ladly sat down to admire the fine panorama of the country which it afforded. Behhid us lay the extensive lake of the Na- taotins, its immediate shores fring-ed with a dark line of pines, while the hackg*round offered an ag-reeable variety of fir-crowned eminences, interspersed with brown, grass- covered hills. The great height of our posi- tion afforded a bird's-eye prospect of all the western portion of the lake j its deep indenta- tions lying exposed to the eye as if accu- rately delineated by the hand of some huge giant, on a chart of dimensions huge enough to be regarded as an exact jiortraiture of nature. On our left hand was a chaotic assemblage of mountains, all of them more or less wreathed with suow, which, drifted b}^ the wintry gales among the angular projections of the rocks, had resisted the heats of bygone summer, and now lay dazzlingly white, as the declining sun cast its weakened rays upon them, causing a mirage by which the picturesque effect of the 'f i 82 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. whole was greatly heightened. Our own mountain^ for so I shall term the one whereon we stood, bore away the palm, however, for its goodly stature, from all the rest. A lofty pinnacle, whose summit was covered with a venerable crown of eternal snow, reared its head on the right hand of our path, over- topping all the neighbouring heads, like a patriarch of the olden days, standing amidst the crowd of his attendant elders, or like some leaf-crowned monarch of the forest, rising pre-eminently conspicuous over its less noble companions. Having sufficiently admired the scene, 1 turned to ask the opinion of my fellow tra- vellers, who, I thought, would at least par- ticipate in the delight I felt on beholding it. I had, however, miscalculated on the measure of sympathy to be expected from these Cana- dian or Indian rovers, for anything wherein beauty and grandeur, however sublime, call for the exercise of the imagination. Three of them were stretched at full length enjoying a doze after the fatigue of the ascent ; the rest were unconcernedly smoking, reclined against seen. A TALE OF WESTERN CALEDONIA. 83 their bundles; while the two Indians sat stoic- ally puffing" their small calumets, inhaling" the precious fumes with an indescribable gusto, and again emitting them, after a protracted internal circulation, heaven knows through what intricate channels, like the breath of the war-horse. Such was the disposition of the forces, and certainly if a stupid indifference to the gran- deur or beauty of nature could have en- titled its possessor to a premium, each of my companions in arms might have contended for its acquisition. I observed, however, that one of my men, while all the others were either asleep, or idly chatting together, sat silently by, without seeming to regard any thing that was seen or done in his presence. He was a Canadian, of Franco -Scottish descent, and, from the sobriety of his character, had been preferred to the situation of body servant to my august self. This man, at least, thought I, seems to enjoy the scene in admiring silence: but here again I was mistaken; his thoughtful reserve proceeding, as will be seen, from another and totally different cause. 4 1 t 84 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. ^^ Dorinez-vous, Bernard ? " said I^ in a half jocular way, wishing* to ascertain the sen- timents of the only one whom I deemed capable of appreciating* my own entliusiastic admiration of the scene — " Dormez-vous ? *' ^' Je ne dors pas/' re})lied lie, in a serious tone of voice, and hi a manner quite different from usual. "Je n'ai pas envie de dormir, vraiment, Monsieur. J'ai de quoi m'occuper Tesprit." ^^ Bon la — what\s in the wind now ? You seem low-spirited — surely nothing* has hap- pened to disturb your equanimity in this out- of-the-way place." '^ Have the kindness/' said he, " to continue the march, and I will then, without attracting" the notice of my comrades, impart to you, as we go on, the subject which now disturbs me. ?> I saw that the poor fellow was really at- tacked with some strang*e misgiving", and at once accorded his request, desiring" him to follow me closely, in order that he mi^ht com- municate the story which seemed to weigh upon his mind. \ A TALK OF WESTERN CALEDONIA. 85 Our patli lay for some distance along* the top of the mountain. A few scattered and shrivelled hlades of g;raHS, interming'led with an occasional tuft of a brown weather-beaten- looking* ])lant, somewhat resembling* the Scot- tish heathy were the only indications of veg'e- table life in these elevated regions. Hug-e wreaths of snow, from their situation unaffected by the summer sun, filled every cranny on both sides of the ridg*e along* which we were walking* ; while the long* shadow of the snowy peak on our rig*ht spread a sombre g-loom over the immediate vicinity, strong*ly contrasted with the lig*htsome aspect of the unshaded precipices opposite. Before us lay an ap})a- rently interminable vista of mountains, rising* precipitously from the sides of a deep valley into which we now beg'an our descent. I was about to remind Bernard Debreuille of his promise, when it suddenly struck ine that I had not yet named the mountain, which, as being* the most remarkable in the vicinity, and now for the first time traversed by civi- lized feet, certainly merited some distinction of this sort. I referred to Bernard. M UM 86 TRAITS OP INDIAN LIFE. i. 1^ * * " Call it Saint Bemardy Monsieur ; it is to- day the fHe dedicated to ray patron ; and, moreover, I will give you g-ood reasons to prefer that name." "So let it be, my g*ood fellow," said I, laughingfly, " be your reasons what they may." We were interrupted by a shrill whistle not far from us. " Hist I " said Bernard, firmly closing* his lips, and looking intently forward — " Mon- sieur, je vous en prie ecoutez ! " "Tut, tut I" said I; " Bernard, my good lad, you become childish, leave me alone ; " and as I spoke, I withdrew my gun-cover, took aim, and sent a bullet through the brain of the innocent cause of his alarm — a fat mar- mot which had been curiously peering at us from the mouth of his hole, and which, from its colour, was scarcely distinguishable from the surrounding rocks. In the neighbourhood, I observed many tracks of these animals, and the guides informed me that these hills were tiieir usual resort. They appeared to con- gregate in small colonies, burrowing in the ground, and announcing the approach of I A TALE OF WESTERN CALEDONIA. 87 dang'er by the shrill whistle before alluded to. There are two species of these animals, respectively nihabitiiig* the hig-h lands and the low country; both in much esteem as articles of food, and as such, a [^ood deal sougfht after. They remain confined to their burrows during* the whole of the dead season, while fruits and different herbaceous produc- tions are not prociu'able ; and are remarkable beyond other animals for their improvident habits. The shadows of evening* now beg'an to over- take us, and it was necessary to hasten on- wards to some spot where water and fuel for the nighf s consumption mig'ht be found. After descending" rapidly for about half an hour, we discovered a small spring", issuing* from the vicinity of some stunted pines, where w^e en- camped till morning*. In the course of our hurried descent, Debreuille accounted for his despondency by explaining* to me that his slumbers of the preceding* nig-ht had been disturbed by dreams, involving* the fate of some of his dearest friends ; among* others, of a young* woman, the dauf^hter of a rich Cana- •^ I m 88 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. i ^ I HV diun farmer, to whom he was clandestinely he- trothed. To crown the whole, Saint Bernard, his patron saint, had appeared to him in a vision, predicting" death, and warning* him of. instant repentance of those sinful deeds which he, in common with other mortals, was daily committinof. Despising* superstition as much as any man, I vet saw that this was not a case to he trifled with. It was evident to me that the imag^i- nation of the poor man was more than or- dinarily affected ; and, duly sympathizing* with his feeling*s, I pointed out to him the folly of submittino' to the influence of such trivial causes. I endeavoured to convince him that his foreknowledg-e of the approaching* fete-day of his patron saint had g-iven rise to his imagi- nary visitation, suppor *ng* my arg-ument by instancing* his ridiculous alarm at the harm- less whistling* of the marmot, so opposed to his ordinary calmness under circumstances of sur- prise less childishly trifling* than those in ques- tion. He admitted the justice of all I said, but it was easy to discover, from his despond- ing* tone of voice, that I had not succeeded in .^ A TALE OF WESTERN CALEDONIA, 89 my object, and that the untoward fancies by which his min(. was oppressed, yet haunted him. It was still the same throuo-h all the next day's march, notwithstanding* his own evident desire to conceal his melancholy, and the efforts which I repeatedly renewed to divert his attention. Poor fellow, his was a disease which has baffled the utmost skill of physicians more learned than myself, and the utmost care of how many solicitous and beloved friends! After tra^'ersing• the sides of the valle}', through which a small rivulet g'urg'led merrily towards the main stream, whither we were directing" our steps, we reached the spot previously desig-nated by the g'uides, and en- camped as before. On the morrow, the sun did not find us ling-ering- ; and by noon we arrived on the hills which overlook the roman- tically situated villag'e of Hotset. It was in all probability owing* to the heat of the day that we found all quiet, the only sig'ns of life being* a few children, and half-a-dozen curs, lazily rolling* in the g*rass. A loud whoop from our Indian companions, however, made \' it 4. •♦: 00 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. our approach known, and immediately all was animation ; crowds upon crowds of naked sa- vag-es pouring" out of the huts, and clamor- ously repeatingthe cry of " netta ! netta ! " the word expressive of Europeans, hy which the quality of their visitors was announced. Formed into Indian file, myself leading the column, we descended into the plain adjoining the lodges. Of these there were twenty-eight, of large size, each of thehi affording accommo- dation, on an average, to six or seven famihes. The village was divided into two, by the course of the river, which at some distance above and below was of considerable breadth, but at this particular spot was contracted within very narrow limits by steep rocks on either side, rishig perpendicularly to a great height, their upper masses overhanging* towards each other, and making- a fearful chasm, throug'h which the torrent foamed and boiled, as it dashed madly along. Over the narrowest part, where it was not more than forty feet across, lay a huge pine-tree stripped of its branches, which had been felled desig'nedly to form a bridge of communication between the A TALE OF WESTERN CALEDONIA. 91 opposite sides. The neig'hbouring" country seemed to consist of a variety of strong* wood and prairie, in unequal proportion, the former by far predominating* ; while in the immediate vicinity of the village were scattered groups of stunted aspens, which contributed to form, on the whole, an eng-ag'ing* prospect. I had time to cast but a very cursory glance at the general features of the scene, when we were met, on the confines of the villag'e, by the principal inhabitants, headed by their chief, " bearded like the pard/' as were a great many of his retainers. The attire of these magnates was ludicrously incongruous, and I had some trouble to suppress a smile as I offered my hand to each in succession, a symbol of which they had learned the meaning from their neighbours of Nass-chick. Accus- tomed as I had been to the extravagancies of an Indian toilet, I was scarcely prepared to witness such grotesque refinement as I found displayed by the beaux of Hotset, whe- ther they strutted up in gaudy shreds of worn- down finery combined together in the most indescribable confusion of lines and forms, 1 1. .. m TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. :i if: or, less diffuse in their tastes, paced soberly forwards in suits, or half-suits, ot shabby g-enteel vestments which mig-ht have g-raced the purlieus of Monmouth-street. One grim- looking fellow stood eminently conspicuous in a scarlet coat, unaccompanied by that nether appendage which a delicate spectator might have deemed necessary to decorum ; while another, his nearest neighbour, rejoiced in a regimental coat of the Sappers and Miners, and the very decorous adjunct of a half- worn pair of corduroy trowsers ! The whole of these fineries, I must add, by the way, had evidently been assumed for the occasion, as one of great state, and it seemed only charitable to ascribe the little discrepancies I have men- tioned to the hurry of their toilet. It may occasion some surprise that savages who, as I have said, were perfect strangers to the sight of Europeans, should possess so many articles indicative of a commercial intercourse. To explain this, it is only necessary to state that the river affords a communication between these unsophisticated races and the Indians inhabiting the coast and its mouth, known by i« M-i .^i- A TALE OF WESTERN CALEDONIA. 93 e men- the name of Chyniseyans. Throug'h this channel, a constant barter of furs in exchang-e for articles of European merchandize pro- cured from the traders by the Chyniseyans^ is carried on, upon a scale of mag-nificence of which the example cited must suffice. The ceremony of hand-shaking* having" been g'one throug'h, with a g'ravity which its novelty, to one party at least, did not fail to secure for it, the chief led the way to his lodg'e, to reach which it was necessar}' to cross the primi- tive bridg'e I have mentioned. This, to the eyes of the natives, who were accustomed to the feat from their childhood, offered nothing" to cause a moment's tremor or apprehension, and it seemed not to enter into their minds that a different view of the subject might be entertained by others. For my own part, I must acknowledge that I felt some repugnance to follow, as they unhesitatingly led the way, over the fearful abyss. In order to conceal my hesitation, and gain time to '^ screw my courage to the sticking" place," I turned roi .d, and ordered the men, excepting" Baptiste, my interpreter, to re-ascend the hill which over- il V t, -i 04 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. looked the village on the Killmaurs' side, where I requested them to erect the tent, and await my return. I warned them, at the same time, not to place too much confidence in the integ-rity of the Indians, and to be ready at a moment's call, should I unhappily require their assistance, to repel treachery ; not, how- ever, that I suspected it, but merely to put them on their proper guard, by giving* them grounds for salutary suspicion. After giving these orders, observing all eyes turned on me, I assumed as much unconcern as I could, and resolutely advanced, like a sick man bent on swallowing a disagreeable draught, to cross the g'iddy passage. Luckily, it was not more than fifteen paces across, and by keeping my eyes steadily fixed on the opposite shore without allowing" them to stray downwards on the rushing' stream, I got on much to my own satisfaction, and without betraying any symptom of the awkward feeling's of ner- vousness which I had inwardly experienced. Baptiste followed me closely, and we were presently ushered with great formality into the lodge of Snigg^letrum, the nom de guerre m A TALE OF WESTERN CALEDONIA. 95 by which I understood the chief to be distin- guished. Being" seated a la Turque, on £ bear-skin spread for my accommodation, Baj)tiste sta- tioned on my right hand, and my two Se- canny guides, who stuck to me wherever I went, on my left, I had leisure to look about me ; Baptiste in the mean time preparing tobacco for a general smoking bout, the usual pre- liminary to the transaction of all ceremonious bushiess here as elsewhere among the Indians. T^ie lodges, I observed, were built on the same model as the Carrier, though more spacious, and of neater construction ; boards split from the cedar-tree forming the sides, instead of the peeled sapling firs used for that purpose by the latter. Some of these boards v/ere of great breadth; one which I subsequently mea- sured was more than four feet, while others which I casually saw, appeared even to exceed that limit. Among other ornaments indicative of a commercial intercourse with the natives of the coast, I noticed a couple of paltry mirrors nearly a foot square, set in deal frames gaudily ornamented with gilt and varnish. On one of i^' 06 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. ■II •■ the larg-e boards just mentioned also, a hng under full sail was rudely delineated in char- coal and Vermillion — the work, as I under- stood, of one of the Chyniseyan chiefs who periodically come up the river to trade. According' to the Carrier custom, a meal was speedily prepared, and set before me, con- sistnig" of a fat beaver boiled, of which, out of compliment to my host, I slig'htly partook, the remainder being" set aside, and afterwards sent to my tent. Our store of tobacco, mean- while, had come into gTeat request, and the dense cloud of pung'ent smoke which canopied our heads, g-ave sensible testimony to the ener- getic use that was made of it. Tobacco ! By that simple word how many ideas are conjured up ! How strang-e that a weed at first nauseating" and unpalatable, and whose effects are confessedly pernicious to the constitution, should obtain such hi^h rank among" the choicest luxuries of the human race; and how much more strangle that it should have attained this hig-h consideration, and come into universal use, in defiance of the anathemas fulminated ag"ainst it by ecclesiasti- A TALE OF WESTERN CALEDONIA. 97 cal authority, and the decrees of temporal po- tentates ! So it is, however. In the civiHzed portions of the g'lohe, tobacco forms the prin- cipal luxury of the lower classes at larg-e, and the only one of many individuals. At sea, tobacco is the solace of the mariner in his perils, and his comforter in many a dreary watch. In the wilds of America, ask the hardy voyag'er, ask the rude trapper, ask the dusky savage, from the bleak shores of Labra- dor to the remote coast of the Pacific, to name his g'reatest luxury — Tobacco, tobacco, tobacco : this and this only, is the g-reat desi- deratum. With it in plenty all is wellj without it, g-loom and dullness instantly prevail. So it was, that eating" and smoking* in the present case prepared the way for a g-ood un- derstanding" with the chief, to whom I com- municated, throug"h the medium of my inter- preter, the precise object which led me to visit his lands, expressing*, at the same time, a wi.«!i to enter into arrang-ements with him, by wLim a constant intercourse for purposes of traftic mig-ht be established. His answer was favour- able to my views, and after a protracted con- H .; J 98 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. I .' versatic ».^ 1 left the lodg-e to return to my men. Before departing*, however, presents of furs were made to me by " Snigfg'letrum," and several of his principal men, which I caused to be transferred to the tent. Amon^ other articles was one with which, under present circumstances, I would gfladly have dispensed. This was nothing else than a young" bear, alive, of the red-snouted species, well-known for the savag-eness of their dispo- sition. When it was presented to me by " Snig-g-letrum," I was on the point of re- fusing* it, but Baptiste privately whispered me that the bear was the family symbol of the chief, who would not relish any mark of dis- respect shown towards it. Thus warned, I thought it best to accept the unwelcome gift, and to dispose of it subsequently as I best could. This ill-omened beast was in the end the cause of much trouble ; and when I first saw it dragged forward by a long cord which compassed its neck and one fore -paw, I secretly wished it once more free in its native woods, or anywhere except in my un- willing possession. The perverse brute seemed A TALE OF WESTERN CALEDONIA. 09 little inclined to move in the direction re- quired, but struggfled and pulled back most strenuously; emitting* cries harrowing* in the extreme, resembling very nearly those of a young" child, so pathetically modulated, that one could almost fancy the poor animal had sense approaching to that of humanity, and was supplicating* the mercy of its tor- mentors. At length, to my momentary satisfaction, the knot g^ve way, and Bruin availed himself of the accident by making off with himself towards the trees. The tocsin, however, was sounded, and crowds upon crowds of savag*e8 set off in pursuit, and after a short chase succeeded in recapturing* the runaway. But this was not done without much resistance, so that one tall fellow, of the family of Couthiro, another of the chiefs, had his hand severely lacerated by the teeth of the now inftiriate animal. To reveng*e the injury, he seized an axe, and would have sacrificed the bear on the spot, had the bystanders not prevented him. For my own part I must acknowledge that I would willingly have seen an end put to fur- • • f m ?., r 100 TllAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. :M ther trouble, by tbis summary infliction of con- dign punisbment, bad it not been for the commotion wbicb tbe very attempt to commit an action so deg-rading* to tbeir family pride at once created among" tbe partisans of tbe bear. Knives and da^g'ers g-leamed fortb in an instant, wbile muskets, and all tbe minor instruments of war, were bastily assumed by either party, and a collision seemed impending", likely to involve serious consequences. At tbis juncture, boping- by my interference to quiet tbe disturbance, and to allay for a time tbe virulent animosity of tbe two parties, tbe explosion of wbicb bad been broug'bt on by a cause so trivial, I advanced witb Baptiste, tbroug'b means of wbom I essayed tbe office of a mediator. Tbe yells and sbouts of several bundred voices, ming-ling* in barsh dissonance, were gradually reduced to quiet by my appearance — so far, at least, tbat Baptiste^s words could be beard; and after a wbile it was agreed between tbe rival parties to relin- quisb bostile measures, and to unite in ren- dering my stay among" tbem agreeable. Meanwbile, tbe bapless cause of all tbis A TALE OF WESTERN CALEDONIA. 101 commotion, having* been secured by a leathern cord, the end of which was fastened round the trunk of a tree, had turned about so often in his endeavours to escape, and so tij^litened the halter, as I may well call it, considering* the catastrophe which it caused, as to strangle himself. I had wit enough to conceal my secret satisfaction, as the brute lay, half-sus- pended, his tongue lolling" out, his eyes start- ing from their sockets, and his unclosed lips displaying the grinning teeth which seemed only a too faithful caricature of the savage brawl we had just witnessed. His death, since it was evidently accidental, was looked upon without concern; and as there was nothing in the customs of the tribe to prevent the flesh being" eaten, I had the carcass sent over to my men, who made a hearty meal of it. Shortly afterwards, I re-crossed the bridg'e, and ascended to my tent, where I partook of supper, which Bernard had prepared during my absence ; and, having* posted a couple of sentinels, to be relieved at intervals, slept in broken slumbers till morning*. The next day was occupied in making* re- P" ( I 102 TRAITS OF INDIAN UFE. turn presents to the chiefs, trading in furS; and discussing the many topics which presented themselves in the course of conversation; so that it was not till the following morning at sunrise, that I could arrange for setting out on my return. The hour having arrived, I now wrr.t to pay a parting visit to the chief ; again crossing and re-crossing the rude bridge — a feat which, being by this time in a degree accus- tomed to, I began to view with less dread than at first. Unhappily, when I returned from this visit of ceremony, I found that I had lost my keys, which I supposed had remained in the lodge where I had been sitting. CalUng to one of the men to go in quest of them, Debreuille, though not particularly named, set off on this errand, and, reaching the bridge, appeared to hesitate, but the next moment, as if ashamed of his weakness, hastily crossed over. Observing how little confidence he had in his footsteps, I called out to him, when he presently returned from the lodge, not to risk the bridge, but to proceed on foot below the fall, and then cross in a canoe. This sugges- A TALE OF WESTERN CALEDONIA. 108 tion he did not adopt, bein^ perhaps afraid of the sarcasms to which it might give rise among his companions ; and with much anxiety I saw him again attempt the crossing. The uneasiness I felt, proceeded from ano- ther cause besides the actual unsafeness of the passage ; for, since the poor fellow's visionary communication on Mount St. Bernard, I thought I had perceived at intervals, s} mp- toms of insanity in his demeanour, and these, unhappily, had appeared to increase daily. It was, therefore, with feelings highly excited, that I saw him advance dubiously and un- assisted, on the frail bridge which alone sepa- rated him from eternity ; for it is needless to say, that one false step, while in this position, would be instant destruction. The object of my solicitude seemed, as he slowly and hesitatingly proceeded, to become gradually more agitated by the nervous feel- ings which few persons have not experienced on similar occasions, and which affect us witli such mysterious awe. Whether a friendly voice would have re-assured him at this mo- ment it is impossible to say, for we were afraid . i- *■ c ./ 104 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. of calling" out lest the tottering equilibrium which he with difficulty preserved^ should at once be destroyed. He had reached the cen- tre of the chasm, and his situation was now indeed critical ; his fine form appeared as if spell-bound, so motionless was he ; his ex- pressive physiog-nomy seemed worked to a frenzy of excitement by the tumultuous feel- ing's which agitated him; and, as he g-azed downwards on the roaring torrent which rolled beneath him, it seemed as if his every sease were fascinated by some mysterious object, which no one but himself could perceive. Every eye was now fixed on the poor fellow, and a breathless silence reig'ned among* the numerous spectators, which rendered still more awful the rushing" din of the cataract, in itself dreadful to contemplate. A poet has written of ^^ darkness visible:" to adopt the saira idiom of expression, this dread chmax of silence was indeed ^^ silence audible." So oppressive did it at length become, that, un- able long^er to control my feeling's, I advanced to the edg-e of the chasm, and endeavoured, by signs, to attract the attention of the unfor- a brium lid at e cen- 3 now as if is ex- to a 8 feel- g'azed rolled sense object, rceive. fellow, g* the 1 more itself written \ax of So at, un- vanced red, by unfor- A TALE OF WESTERN CALEDONIA. 105 tunate man. It was in vain : he stood un- moved and immoveable, still gazing intently as before. " Debreuille ! Bernard !" whispered I. ^^ Ber- nard I " I called, in a louder voice — " Bernard, look up ! Come on, man, for the love of God, come on ! " It seemed for a moment that he had re- covered his self-possession, but, as he stared wildly towards me, and stamped his foot im- patiently on the tree, I saw that reason, which had so long tottered on her throne, was now completely cast down. The unfortunate ma- niac seemed no longer to feel giddy or alarmed at his perilous situation. He gesticulated most fearfully, again and again fixing his eyes intently on the water. ^^ Bernard ! " I again shouted in a loud voice, " come on, I command you !" He looked up, shrieked out wildly and hor- ribly, uttered some words that seemed to imply recognition, and again relapsed into his state of abstraction. While endeavouring to invent some means of extricating the man from this perilous situa- i Ii ! n. 106 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. tion, my attention was attracted by the most fearful screams I ever heard. ^^ Oui ! " cried the maniac, ^^ oui ! je la vois — je la vois ; pour la dernier fois, je la vois.'' And he sprang* wildly forwards : " Je la vois, je la vois, je la " The sentence was never completed. The unfortunate and hapless -fated individual dis- appeared for ever in the foaming* torrent, leav- ing the horror-stricken spectators gazing after him, as if able to pierce the dark waste of waters which had swallowed him up. No vestiges of his body were ever discovered ; but, to mark the spot where the sad catas- trophe occurred, I caused a rude cross to be erected 5 a sad memorial of the first visit of Christians to this secluded spot. Our return to Kilmaurs was attended with no occurrence worthy of notice y and it was long after reach- ing home ere I could dismiss from my imagi- nation the fearful cries which had been uttered by poor Debreuille at the closing moment of his existence. Peace to his soul ! Three years after the events I have related, I was passing the winter on ftirlough in Mon- A TALE OF WESTERN CALEDONIA. 107 e most L V018- i vois. >» la V018, [. The lal dig- it, leav- ig after ^aste of overed ; I catas- \s to be visit of return ;urrence reach- imagi- uttered it of his related, n Mon- treal. Time, which gradually eifaces the most vivid impressions, had kindly thrown a veil over the sad memory of my visit to Hotset ; and the fate of poor Debreuille, if it ever re- curred to mind, was dismissed as hastily as possible. Mixing" daily in the sober gaieties of the city, I had little time for the intrusion of melancholy thoughts, and here, if any- where, T might have expected immunity from them. This, however, was not to be. One day I was invited by a friend to accompany him on a visit to the Chapel of the Hdtel Dieu Convent, to witness the assumption of the veil by a girl whose noviciate had recently expired. It was a grave ceremony, to be sure; but still so interesting, that I hesitated not to accept his invitation, and arm in arm we proceeded to the scene of its per- formance. On our arrival, we found the chapel nearly full of people; the rites of the day being then about to commence. The object of the ceremony stood alone, and was re- markable for the air of calm resignation which pervaded her features, in themselves 108 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. surpassingly lovely, but now seeming of a more elevated order of beauty, from the religious fervour which animated them, as with supernatural li^ht. On a bench in one corner sat an elderly couple, who seemed deeply impressed with the solemnity of the occasion ; but more deeply ag-itated by some internal feeling* which they vainly endea- voured to conceal. These were the parents of the novice — of her who was about to sever the dearest ties which connected her with this life — to renounce father and mother for a more mysterious relationship which it mig-ht be beyond the power of the poor old people to comprehend. Mass was performed, and all the imposing" rites prescribed by the Church of Kome on similar occasions. The anthem pealed throug-h the aisles, and every studied form was gone throug-h, so well calculated to clothe the broken heart, as with garments of honour. The cere- mony was over, and the beautiful Canadian bade a final adieu to the vanities of this world. I felt impelled to inquire her name and history of my friend. " She is the daughter of a rich \ TALE OF WESTERN CALEDONIA. 109 m of a the im, as in one seemed of the ■f some endea- parents out to ed her mother hich it oor old habitant," replied he — " of him whom you re- marked seated in the chapel, and her name is Ad^le d'Aubigne." " Enough ! " rejoined I : " I know the rest." Need I add that I recog- nized the heart-stricken lover of the hapless Bernard Debreuille. iposmg 3me on hroug'h ,s gone broken le cere- madian s world. history ■ a rich It • c . li 110 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. f f.-*w 'S ' "I •i 4! ^•1' '" *l • * , ,1 i i;' t • CHAPTER VL THE BLOODY TRAGEDY. On the evening of the 6th December we were seated around our cheerful fireside, ^' holding- sweet converse*' on the different topics of news we had lately received from Canada and Eng- land by our overland express, when a loud knocking at the door attracted the attention of all present, and a Mr. H , fi'om the Dalles mission, made his appearance, accompanied by a servant of the Company from Walla Walla, one of our trading posts on the upper part of the Columbia. They announced to us the melancholy tidings of the murder of Dr. and Mrs. Whitman and twelve Americans, with the entire destruction of Wai-let-pu mis- THE BLOODY TRAGEDY. Ill u mis- sion. The following" particulars of this bloody tragedy may be rehed on. For some time previous to the massacre, a number of the Cayoux Indians, who resided in the vicinity of the mission, had died of the measles and dysentery, which prevailed in every part of the country. The worthy doctor had been most constant in his attendance on the sufferers, administering not only medicines, but such other comforts as, indeed, he could ill afibrd from his slender stock. Unhappily, his efforts for their relief were vain; the mortality in- creased, rather than diminished ; and the horrid idea became impressed on the superstitious minds of the Indians, that Dr. Whitman and others had conspired to exterminate them by means of poison ! This idea, however it may have originated, received corroboration, as has since been ascertained, from the instigations of one Joseph Louis, a Spanish Creole, who for upwards of a year had been employed about the mission in the service of the kind master whom he now sought to destroy. The number of deaths continuing to increase daily, con- firmed the diabolical suspicion once entertained. 1 L ir |:i ) I 112 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. rn- ' and soon these wretched men resolved on re- venging* their supposed wrongs, and securing* their future safety, by murdering all the inmates of the mission. As the base Creole had urged them to this fatal determination, and promised his assist- ance in the bloody deed, so he was almost the first to commence the trag'edy, by murdering* two brothers of tender j^ears, the eldest not more than sixteen ; a most cruel and cowardly act, for at the time, both lay prostrate on a bed of sickness. The hour of ten in the morning was selected for the butchery, and before many minutes had elapsed, no less than twelve victims had been sacrificed to their wild and revengeful superstition. The first was a tailor, killed on the bench where he was seated at his daily labour ; a poor inoffensive being, little sus- pecting, and perhaps still less prepared, for so awful a chang'e. The next was the worthy doctor himself, who had entirely devoted the last ten years of his life to the instruction of those very savages who were now about to reward him so cruelly. This instruction, I ought to remark, had consisted not only in the THE BLOODY TRAGEDY. lia principles of Christianity but in the tillag-e of the soil, the value of which had long been proved by their abundant harvest. Alas for him, that he had laboured in vain in the cul- ture of their wretched souls ; and let us hope that he will meet his reward in heaven ! He was seated at a desk writing* when he heard the yell of the murderers, and going to the door, received his first wound. He did not for an instant lose his composure, but calmly returning into the house, drew a chair towards the fire, and sat down, his hands clasped together in prayer, resigned to what- ever fate might await him. During this brief interval, the bloody work was going on out- side, and the good kind-hearted Mrs. Whit- man, who was upstairs, and had rushed to the window on hearing* the report of fire- arms, had instantly received, from one wretched miscreant, a ball in her breast. Bleeding profusely, she hastily descended to her husband's room, and, embracing him, began to wipe with her handkerchief the blood that was trickling from his wounds. He fondly returned the caresses of her who, I II I' 114 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. I m for the last fifteen years, had been the devoted partner of his joys and sorrows in the missionary field, and who in this last dark hour proved herself the same affectionate wife, reg'ardless of her own suffering's, and only thinkhig* of affording* rehef to her beloved husband. To him what a truly melancholy consolation must the conduct of such a wife have been : she hi a dying" state herself, yet solely intent upon his comfort! Thus embraced, and perfectly re- signed to their fate, the blood-thirsty wretches, armed with guns anr axes, rushed into the room, and they were instantly torn asunder never more to meet in this world. The chief, with his axe, so mutilated the face aiid head of the worthy doctor, that he soon ceased to suffer. The fate of Mrs. Whitman was still more cruel ', she was thrown down, and drag-g-ed by the hair of her head into the mud, where, with blows and kicks, the inhuman monsters termi- nated her existence. The heart sickens at the recital of such horrid brutality, and gladly w^ould I draw a veil over the remainder of the narrative. Let me, at least, relieve it of some portion of its THE BLOODY TRAGEDY. 115 horror, by a few words on the character of the worthy doctor and his amiable wife. Indeed it would be ung'enerous in nie, havinj*" been for many years acquainted with both, were I not to pay a just tribute to their worth. He was, indeed, an honest, upright, and benevolent man ; and perhaps there never was one more devoted and zealous in the missionary cause, which had been his study from early years, and was now the sole and constant subject of his thoug-hts. So anxious was he to prosecute his labours to a successful issue, and so san- g-uine of at last overcoming all difficulties, that although his health was considerably im- paired of late, and he had been warned by the Indians to leave the place, nothing could divert him from his purpose, and much less their threats, which had lately convinced him that those for whom be had made so many sacrifices were capable of rewardnig him with a cruel death. Such was the brave-hearted missionary himself; and now, would that my pen could do justice to the character of the good and kind-hearted Mrs. Whitman ! In her, it may truly be said, that the orphans • ( 116 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. '" 1' li i^li- found a protector and a mother, for she had no less than nine under her care at this very time ; and these she not only educated, but taug-ht the various duties that in after life would prove beneficial and advantag'eous to them. Often, since this melancholy catastrophe, have I heard these poor creatures deploring, with plenteous tears, the loss of those who had been to them as father and mother. I could say much in illus- tration of the character of this amiable, and may I add, heroic woman ? As a wife, it was her hig-hest delig-ht to anticipate not only the wants of her husband, but of all who visited her hospi- table mansion, which pleasure I often had. The last sad scene, however, is the most convincing* proof of her fond and devoted attachment to her husband. May we not hope that they will be re-united in heaven ? Peace to their memory ! they indeed deserved a better fate. To return to the scene from which these reflections have happily diverted us a short time. The next victim was Dr. Whitman's assistant, who, as several eye-witnesses have alleg'ed, not only implored the Indians to spare him, but acknowledg'ed it was too true THE BLOODY TRAGEDY. 117 that the doctor had administered poison to kill them, thereby confirming" all that the base wretch Louis had said, to urge them to these horrid crimes. It is sad to think with what tenacity men will cling* to life, and what base expedients they will often resort to in the for- lorn hope of preserving" it. Althoug'h a stranger to me, I am yet confident, from his well-known character, that this unhappy man had no other motive; and if the alleg"ation be true, this subterfug-e afforded him only a temporary re- spite. After making" this admission, the savages promised to spare his life, and left him. A few minutes after, however, an Indian, who was at some distance when the promise was made, and was not aware of it, came up with him, and in another moment his earthly career was ended. While these scenes were enacting-^ two Americans who had concealed themselves managed to effect their escape — one with his family, consisting of a wife and four children. This little party took the road to the Company's establishment; but the poor woman, having just risen from a bed of sickness, soon became \ . ' 4 ll I' ■ ji if If •'"■ I' h^- 118 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. too faint and exhausted to follow ; she, there- fore, entreated her husband to save her chil- dren, and leave her to her fate. As there was a ray of hope that all mig'ht he preserved, he carefully concealed her with three of the chil- dren in the bushes, and taking' one in his arms, succeeded in reaching* the fort, a distance of twenty-five miles, in safety. No time was lost by the gentlemen in charg-e there, in sending* reli':;f and assistance to the poor woman ; but strangle to relate, after a search of two days, the husband despaired of finding- her, and con- cluded that she was lost to him for ever, sup- posing* they had been discovered and murdered by the Indians. He was on the eve of aban- doning' his search, but a friendly Indian, who had accompanied him from the fort, was far from losing" all hope, probably knowing* from experience, that if she had been discovered and murdered, some vestiges of the deed would yet be apparent. In shorty he renewed the search, and succeeded in finding* the now almost lifeless woman, lying* concealed with her children in the very spot where they had been left, wdth scarcely any covering*, and |!- THE BLOODY TRAGEDY. 110 but sup- without food or fire to keep them warm : in which deplorable state they had now remained four days and nig"hts. The whole party reached the fort in safety, and it is g-ratifying" to add, that the woman, thoug-h confined to her bed for some three weeks, was restored to health, and to her friends. The other American escaped by following*, in his wounded state, a mark which he struck upon by mere chance, and which led him, by a course of two hundred miles, to the Clearwater mission, where he had never been before, and which he reached after six da} s and nights travelling*, though without food. In these escapes we have additional evidence of the extraordinary exertions and sufferings — in many instances surpassing belief — which the human frame will bear, rather than yield its precious life. After Mr. Rodders had fallen, and the two surviving" Americans had thus baffled pursuit, or escaped unnoticed, there remained but the now desolate women and children, who had been eye-witnesses of the massacre of their husbands and fathers. The number of thes*^ unfortunates excf^eded fifty, and my readers ; i <•*-'' •II 120 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. must imag-ine the state of their feeling's at the time, and the severity of the trial they under- went. Their lives, indeed, were spared them, hut three of the youngf women were reserved for a more cruel fate, over which I must draw a veil. The other women and children were detained in captivity, and doomed by their cruel masters to toil day and nig"ht, until all of them, including" the three women above men- tioned, were fortunately released, and restored to their friends, with the exception, however, of three children, who had died. During* this period — a lon^ interval to them of nearly a month — they were suffering" every indig'nity, and being- threatened with death, fear deprived them of their rest. They wer at the same time abundantly supplied with food by the Indians, which, indeed, was from their own stock, but they could have easily been deprived of it, and of their lives also. The object of these wretches in detaining* them was to pro- cure a ransom, and having their victims so completely in their power, they too well suc- ceeded. Late one evening", the poor captives reached the Company's establishment, strongly I. THE BLOODY TRAGEDY. 121 g-uarded by not less than forty Indians, each of whom had some claim to make which dire necessity compelled us to satisfy. Such was the terror and nervous prostration to which they had been reduced, that althoug'h every comfort which the slender menns of the estab- lishment could supply had been prepared for them, it was many days before they could feel satisfied of thejr escape from the thraldom of their persecutors. Another incident worthy of record in this tragical history, was the almost miraculous escape of the 1 ^v. Mr. Spalding", for which, indeed, he was indebted to the timely aid and advice of the Rev. Mr. Brouillet, of the Ro- man Catholic Mission. The former g-entleman was on his return from the Umitalla River, where he had been to visit the sick, and when within a short distance of the mission at Wai- let-pu, where his arrival was hourly expected by the Indians, he was h'ippy enoug-h to meet the Rev. Mr. Brouillet, who had just left the scene of bloodshed. He had g^one there, it appears, to administer baptism to two children, and the reader may judg*e what his surprise, -('■.• l! ^ li !' W 122 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. I -n . ■»' and the state of his feeling's must have been to find the bodies of twelve of his fellow- creatures so shocking-ly mutilated, and lyingf like dog's in the mud and dirt, with scarcely any covering. With the assistance of his in- terpreter, he dug" one grave for all, and having procured shrouds, he had the satisfaction — and a melancholy one it must have been — of render- ing- them the last kind office that one mortal owes to another, and which, had they not for- tunately gone there, would have been denied by the cruel murderers. Had their remains been exposed one night longer, they would have become a prey to wolves and dogs ; but they were now spared this last indignity that could possibly have been inflicted on them. The Rev. Mr. Brouillet was returning from the performance of this duty, being accom- panied by his interpreter, and an Indian, who had evil designs on Mr. Spalding, when they met the latter about six miles from the mis- sion. On this, they all came to a stand, and it required some presence of mind on the part of Mr. Brouillet to warn Mr. Spalding of his danger, without creating any suspicion in the THE BLOODY TRAGEDY. 12J3 mind of the Indian whereby he would have en- dang-ered his own life^ without securing* his object. He ordered the interpreter to stop and hg'ht his pipe j and by the same ruse detained the Indian in the rear to strike fire. The two divines proceeding* on in company^ Mr. Spalding" was soon made acquainted with the particulars of the late occurrence, and strong'ly advised to escape ; his Catholic friend assisting* him from his own small stock of provisions. This advice was acted upon in the same haste that it was given : there was no time for deliberation j his life was at stake j and in an instant he left the trail, and proceeded towards the mountains. Mr. Brouillet meanwhile made all despatch to reach his own mission, and when almost within sig'ht of it, the Indian interpreter overtook him. The former, finding" Mr. Spalding- no long-er in company, cast a savag-e and threat- ening* look on Mr. Brouillet, and immediately retraced his steps in pursuit of his victim. Fortunately, a dense fog", and, presently after- wards, the darkness of nig*ht coming" on, frus- trated his evil desig-ns, and thus the life of Mr. Spalding was preserved to his wife and family^ I" II? 124 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. I' ii H whom he rejoined at Clearwater, f>fter wander- ing* for six days and nigfhts among* the moun- tains, loshig his horse and provisions, and at last reaching" home barefoot. Would that I might now close this melan- choly narrative, but the fate of two A mericans stationed at the Grist Mill, twenty miles from the mission, must not be omitted. Althoug-h six days had elapsed since the destruction of the Wai-let-pu Mission, and more than suffi- cient time for the ruthless perpetrators of these crimes to have reflected on their enormity, their thirst for blood was unsatisfied. Dis- covering* the forlorn situation of these two men, who were then lying* sick and helpless in their beds, the cowards resolved on their destruction, first advancing* slowly towards them, lest they should have any weapons of defence at their command. This was not the case; on the con- trary, they were implored by both to spare their lives ; but mercy was a strang*er to their bosoms, and in another instant the assassins ut- tered a horrid yell, and left the place, their knives and hands covered with the blood of theirvictims. Theywerethe lastwhofell in this bloody trag-edy. THE BLOODY TRAGEDY. 125 " Reveiigfe is sweet ! " May it fall on them tenfold, ft»r richly do they deserve it ! The sole extenuating" circumstance, that of being* urged on to the commission of their lioii'id crimes by the bad and ngrateful wretch Louis, can never justify them in so cruelly murdering their benefactor, who had sacrificed his health to promote their happiness in this world, and their hopes of the same boon in the next. Far less would it justify them in num- bering among their victims the benevolent Mrs. Whitman, and twelve others, who indeed were deserving of a less cruel fate than that which my pen has faithfully recorded. 126 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. n "*■ tl CHAPTER VII. THE BURNING OF THE DEAD. In the autumn of 1835 I was strolling" on the banks of Stuarf s Lake, anxiously looking* out for the arrival of our annual Canada express, which was now momentarily expected; my thoughts occupied, as may easily be imag-ined, with many and sometimes sad reflections on the nature of the intellig*ence that would so soon reach us. Of how many dear relations and friends mig'ht not death have deprived me during" the lapse of the long" year since last I heard of their welfare ; and what important chang-es in the political world mig*ht not have taken place, affecting* the interests of that coun- try, and of those dear friends, at all times present to the mind of a poor, secluded exile ! I--' THE niKNING OF THE DEAD. 127 The sombre and thick-coming' fancies in which I indulg-edj were suddenly interrupted by a succession of harrowing* screams which issued from a neig'hbouring' thicket of pines. Ahhoug-h unarme(i, I rushed forward to ascer- tain the cause ; personal security on sudi an occasion being* a secondary consideration^ and indeed at all times little reg'arded by me, who, by placing- my trust on Him above, have so often been, I may say miraculously preserved in the many perils I have underg'one. I had not penetrated far into the wood, when I un- expectedly found myself in the midst of an assembly consisting* of not fewer than a hun- dred swarthy Indians of both sexes, whose na- turally savag*e countenances presented at this moment, beg'rimed as they were with a com- position of fish-oil and charcoal, an appearance more than usually revolting*. Guns, axes, and clubs, appeared in the hands of some, while brig-ht dag*g'ers g*listened, as they moved, from beneath the blankets of others. My surprise at finding* myself suddenly in the midst of so rude an assembly was at least equalled by the astonishment evinced by the savages them- " . ■V'y.^ 1*28 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. !!£i(ili'"i'^ . m. Helves ; for, on such occasions as the present, which I sj)eedily discovered to be for the pur- pose of consuming" a dead body by fire, stran- j»*ers are never invited, and seldom venture to intrude. Ilecovering" from my momentary surprise, and lookin<^ hastily around me, I perceived the corpse of an Indian, a young" man of the villag'e, recently deceased, stretched on the g-round in the midst of a knot of mourners. It was in a state of perfect nudity; and, from the protracted illness which had preceded death, seemed to be reduced to a mere skele- ton. Its head was supported on the knees of an individual whom I conjectured to be the widowed wife, although her form was so shrouded by the folds of a rag-g-ed blanket, and by the persons of the bystanders, that it was impossible to say, with any certainty, even to what sex the sad and silent mourner mig^ht belong". Close to the corpse lay a quantity of dry fir ; a wood in its very nature inflammable, and in the present instance rendered so in a tenfold deg-ree by being" reduced to thin splin- ters. THE miRNING OF THE DEAD. 1J>9 The observation of a few moments liud served to make me acquainted with these -j- ticulars, and to urg-e further my curi,, .»,y, excited, before now, by the accounts I had heard of the barbarities exercised on these occasions, more especially towards the women. My pre- sence, however, had served to put an effectual stop to their proceedings, and I beg-an to think that the ceremony would be deferred. Un- willing; to lose such a favourable opportunity of gratifying" my curiosity, I showed no dis- position to retire, not even when three elderly men advanced towards me, and intimated, in a manner which there was no misunderstanding*, their desire that I should do so. I was re- solved, in short, unless they should have re- course to force, not to relinquish my position, and therefore made signs that they should pro- ceed with their ceremony, which I had no wish to interrupt. Upon this they doggedly withdrew, and a vociferous consultation, accompanied with much savage gesticulation, ensued, in which the women bore a prominent part, smothering with their shrill unearthly screams the more K 180 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. deeply intonated cacophany of their lords and masters. 1 may remark here that motives of human- ity had induced myself, and the other g'entle- men stationed in this district, to endeavour all we could to abolish the barbarous practice of burning the dead, which seems to hold its g-round more tenaciously in these parts than anywhere else in the interior of the continent. On the north-western coast, indeed, it is still in vogfue, but durino' m/ residence of five years in that quarter, it was g-radually de- creasing* in frequency ; and they had, to my knowiedg-e, on several occasions adopted the European mode of burial. In Western Caledonia, too, to the g-reat benefit of those concerned, the civilized mode of interment is graining" ground, for in 1885, out of eleven deaths which came under my notice, five bodies only were disposed of by burning* ; and in the two succeediup* years three out of five were decently interred. It is here, as else- where, with the old people, rather than the younger g-eneration, that most difficulty occurs when practices more cong'enial with the spirit THE BURNING OF THE DEAD. 181 of humanity are presented for their adoption. The former are most tenacious of their here- ditary laws and customs, assig'ning* when urged for a reason, that they are too old to deviate from the path followed by their fore- fathers. In this, and many other respects, the Carriers are the most superstitious tribe of Indians I ever met with. But to revert from this digression, and pro- ceed with my revolting* narrative. The issue of the noisy consultation among* the natives seemed to be favourable to the continuance of the ceremony. The doleful howling-s which my appearance had interrupted, recommenced, and I was advised to keep a respectful dis- tance, as the danger of too near approach was imminent. This, however, did not affect my resolution to remain, and I accordingly secured myself a favourable position for wit- nessing the proceedings. The near relations of the deceased now commenced erecting the funeral pyre. This was done by laying alternately transverse layers of the split wood before alluded to, till the pile attained the height of about I' ■. 11 IK "^'" 132 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE, four feet, being* at the same time of a corre- sponding* breadth, and more than six feet in leng'th. On the top of the whole was placed the attenuated corpse to be consumed, on which were presently showered down offering's innumerable from the bystanders, in the shape of blankets, shirts, coats, and indeed property of every description, the whole in- tended as a holocaust, propitiatory of the wandering spirit. Meanwhile I had an opportunity of more narrowly observing* the person and demeanour of the unfortunate widow, for whose sufferings now in prospect, every feeling- of sympathy was excited in my mind. She was of youth- iiil appearance, not more than eighteen years of age, and as far as I could judge throug-h the disgi^sting fucus with which her face was besmeared, comparatively handsome. Her youth, the sorrow, feig^ned or real, depicted in her features, and the air of resignation exhibited by her whole figure, prepossessed me warmly in her favour, and from my heart I exclaimed, — Alas! poor unfortunate, your troubles commence early in life: may THE BURNING OF THE DEAD. 1.33 they weig-h lig'htly on you ! She advanced^ and took her place at the head of the pyre, there to await the progress of events. It was soon evident to me that every one stood on his g-uard, for it frequently happens on these occasions that the relations of the deceased reveng-e his death on some unfor- tunate being", suspected of being" its cause } not by direct ag-ency, but throug'h the mys- tical power which they ascribe to the object of their suspicion, under the phrase, being strong in medicine. These mutual miso'ivincrs seemed to increase at the moment when the mother of the defunct advanced towards the pile with a lig'hted fag-g-ot. The screams and g'esticulations of the savag-e crowd redoubled in energ-y, and all rushed to take, as it were, one parting* look at the earthly remains of their countryman. In an instant, the whole pile was in a blaze, and such was the sickening* sensation it occasioned to me, that I was almost inclined to withdrav/, with my curiosity only half satisfied. And now, as the flames flickered in fantastic shapes and ghastly colours over the blazing* VI 4, I , h I! <■ I 'i« .1 a 4 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. pyre, commenced the suffering's of the poor widowed victim. The husband's relations vied with each other in the infliction of their diabolical tortures, while those of the wife stood silently apart, stoi tally witnessing* the whole scene of barbarity, nor once stretching out a hand to avert a sing-le blow from the poor sufferer. It was with difficulty that I could rL^ rain the ebullition of my feelings, but how much more did I require all my self-command when the poor wretch was flung violently among the flames. She fell back- wards, singed and scorched, and only strug-^led forward into the cool air to be ag*ain and ag*ain subject to this exquisite torture, and ever at the instigation of her diabolical mother-in-law, who urged her party to the act. While this tragical scene was enacting*, the poor wretch was upbraided by her tormentors with fifty imaginary offences against connubial propriety, which, I was afterwards informed, had not the slightest foundation in truth. At length, ex- hausted with the dreadful tortures to which she had been subjected, their victim fell prostrate and nearly lifeless on the grass, a low moaning THP BURNING OF THE DEAD. 185 sound being" the only indication that the spirit had not already departed from its earthl}^ tenement. I was congratulating myself that I had witnessed the last act of cruelty, when suddenly the demoniacal mother-in-law, raised to a perfect frenzy, of excitement, seized an axe, and rushing like a fiend on the hapless object of her wrath, inflicted a serious wound on her shoulders. This sudden relapse of malice was more than I could bear, already in a state of feverish excitement from the pro- tracted tortures I had witnessed. Springing forward, I wrested the weapon from the hands of the old woman, whom I flung violently aside. Perhaps it was fortunate for me that vengeance had been fully g'lutted ; no further attempt was now made to injure the unfor- tunate widow, who lay senseless and bleeding beside the still blazing embers of the pyre. During the twenty minutes which had been thus fearfully occupied, the body was consumed to ashes, Howhngs, screams, lamentations, had continued uninterrupted the while, but now every voice was hushed, and all but the nearest relations of the deceased had retired 136 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. from the spot. These last sat silently eyeing* the now dying" embers, and when the fire waH extinct, they collected the ashes and uncon- sumed frag-ments of bones, which they care- fully wrapped up, and then one by one de- parted. The widow, helpless, exhausted, as she was, had been left alone on the g-round the nig-ht throug'h, but her sister humanely kept her company. By the laws of the Carriers, the widow is made to carry the ashes of her husband until the final inurning", and during* this interval, sometimes of two or three years, she remains a slave to his nearest of kin. At her eman- cipation, when the ashes are disposed of, a g-rand feast is given, the materials of which are furnished by all the connections of the de- ceased. This ceremony over, the widow is at liberty to enter the connubial state ag-ain should she be so inchned ; with the prospect of a repetition of her sufferings hanging* in terrorcfn over her head, should it be her lot to underg*o a second widowhood. INTERMITTENT FEVER. 137 CHAPTER VIII. INTERMITTENT FEVER. Historical documents have made us ac- quainted with the fact that the human race have been afflicted with more or less deadly pestilences fi'om time iuimemorial j and a pe- rusal of the records which detail the suffering's incidental to some of these supposed testi- monials of the divine wrath is inexpressibly harrowing- to the feelings. This is more parti- culoi'iy the case — in all probability because we are best acquainted with its circumstances — with that of London in the 3 ear 1666, by which some sixty or seventy thousand persons were swept away in a few months ', the utmost skill of man, according* to the knowledg'e and experience of the age, being vainly opposed to S,g* ! i' 1, -' i '» . 1 1 r. r 188 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. its ravages. The yellow fever of America, and the plague which continually manifests itself ill the Levant^ and all along the Gre- cian Archipelago, would furnish, perhaps, many scenes equally distressing to those who sympathize with the sufferings of their fellow- creatures ; while it is well knowi>. what deadly havoc has heen caused in most parts of the world, hy the periodical visits of the cholera morbus. To these and similar instances, I am able to add the following brief memorial of a scene of suffering which came under my own notice a few years ago. Returning to Fort Vancouver on the Columbia, after a short fibsence in the autumn of 1880, 1 found a few of the servants suffering under an attack of intermittent fever. Two medical men being resident there at the time, its first appearance caused no serious appre* hension to those in health. But some alarm began to arise when it was found that, instead of disappearing before the remedies applied, the malady fast increased both in virulence and extent. In twenty days after the first symptoms of its appearance, the whole garri- 'i; • INTERMITTENT FEVER. 139 son, with the exception of two, amounting* in all to five g-entlemen and eig-hty servants, had successively undergone the ordeal, and still remained subject to the influence of this pesti- lential fever. Those who remained in health, were, of course, unable to attend properly to so many invalids, and this increased the incon- venience under which both men and officers suffered in common. The annual ship soon after arrived from London, brini»'ino' a season- able supply of medicines, the recent demand for bark and other tonics having* speedily exhausted the limited stock we possessed. Other assistance it was soon out of their power to render us, the new comers being* presently attacked in a similar manner to ourselves, and confined with a sing-le exception to their beds. The suffering's of all under these circumstances were necessarily severe, and attended with much serious inconvenience ; yet thanks to the remedies thus provided us, and other wise measures by which the virulence of the dis- ease was mitig'ated, few deaths occurred in the garrison. Such was the visitation as we experienced it ; 1:!: » . ^. H i: ■;i ♦ 1^' .+ 140 TRATTS OF INDIAN LIFE. but with the native population, alas ! the case was different. Who shall describe the suffering's of these unsophisticated children of the wilder- ness ; or who depict the forlorn condition they exhibited while subject to such a scourg-e? Let others, if they will, essay the task ; for myself I despair of doing* it justice, though the scene is imprinted on my memory with a dis- tinctness which actual observation alone could communicate. A few words, however, may serve as a memento of this sad event, however inadequate to express its fearful reality. In close contig-uity with our clearances was a villag'e containing* about sixty families of In- dians ; a few miles lower down was a second, of at least equal population. These villag-es, before the fell visitation I have mentioned, resounded with the hum of voices ; smiling* on the shores of the mag'nificent Columbia, they refreshed the eyes of the lone traveller, wearied with the unbroken monotony of woods and waters, in the same measure as the brig*ht strand of a newly discovered island raises the sinking" spirits of some forlorn wanderer on the deep. Here, if the wayfarer could not i i; INTERMITTENT FEVER. 141 command the artificial comforts of the Euro- pean hostel, the wants of nature were at least cheerfully supplied j and the hireling* smiles of mine host, easily forg-otten in the cheer of an Indian welcome! In this sequestered spot, seated on some rude turfy knoll, was it matter of pleasant contemplation to witness the even- ing pastimes of the simple villag'ers. The lively g'ambols of the children j the more stir- ring games of the youths ; the sober gravity of manhood, and the doting garrulity of old age j human nature^ in short, here as else- where, affected the hearts of all who were not callous to these finer impressions. Such was the scene I had often wit- nessed when visiting these hamlets. A short month had passed away ; the shadow of death on the wing had just fallen upon our little community, and passed by ; and now, as I drew near the well-remembered lodges, how different were the feelings I experienced ! All, all was changed. Silence reigned where erst the din of population resounded loud and lively. No voice of young or old to awake the echoes of the neighbouring woods. Alas ! r \^ ■ 142 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. 1 ■ ■I (■■■ where are thv y who not Ion**" since peopled this deserted spot? Where are they disap- peared ? Let these unhuried carcasses resolve the question ; these torn and niang-hMl corpses, say wherefore. Why hnj^er those foul hirds around the spot, g-org'ed, and scarcely noticing* my presence ? — yon wolf, who eyes askant the wretched scene, and re\els in the ideal enjoyment of his interrupted banquet? The death-like silence around me, the fell vestig-es of a sad calamity which I descry — the loathsome remains of mortality which alone indicate what was once the scene of life and vig'our — are my only answer. These speak louder than words, more than volumes ; they tell me with awful distinctness that here, where the voice of laug'hter, and the rude Indian chant, have so often made my heart g'lad, the fever-g-houl has wreaked his most dire veng^eance ; to the utter destruction of every human inhabitant. It may be inquired how such fatal effects arose from a cause not g-enerally productive of them. This may be easily accounted for in the trust which these poor, deluded savages reposed in the jug'gling' mountebanks with INTERMITTENT FEVER. 14.*^ whom the soieiiop therapeutic solely rests among" them ; and their total neii-leet of the precautions that were reconmiended by us for their adoption. Maddened by fever, they would rush headlong into the coolinii' stream, where, in search of relief, they found only the g'erms of dissolution. Dreading" lest the putrified remains of the dead should occasion some more dreadful pes- tilence, we proceeded forthwith to remove them. But, as this \\ ould have been a work of much labour, besides being* inexpressibly disg'usting", it was resolved to consume them by the most purifying* of all elements. Ac- cordingly, they were collected in heaps, and the whole point of wood where they lay set on fire. Upon this occasion one poor old man who had retired among- the branches to repose himself — probably the only survivor of all the inhabitants of the nearest villag'e — narrowly escaped a more cruel death than his friends and kinsmen. Too weak to extricate himself from the wood, it was only by his cries that we learned the fact of his existence, and could discover the spot where he was concealed. *• i IH , 144 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. Thoug-h preserved from a fate which it is dreadful to contemplate^ his life had only a short respite; for, on the morrow, wasted to death throug-h neglect and sickness, he breathed his last. This was the last case of a fatal nature which fell under my notice, and certainly the measure of horror was full to the brim, and without any further addition to cause its overflow. It was not till the month of November that the symptoms which incommoded the g-arrison began to abate, and another month elapsed ere they had entirely disappeared. They have since occasionally manifested themselves among the whites, as well as the native population of the lower villages; but the result has never been so fatal as the first appearance of the fever. Much inconvenience, however, arises from it; and I may instance the case of a party under Mr. W — — , who were attacked by this disease on their way from the Rio Sacramento, when two of his men fell victims to it, and the remainder with difliculty reached Fort Vancouver, and that only after assistance, both of men and medicines, had been sent to »* i^lrt' INTERMITTENT FEVER. 145 them. Two years previously^ I had myself visited the Sacramento^ but saw nothing of any general sickness. Mr. W . however, had found the intermittent fever raging" among" the natives 5 and, seeing" that his whole party under went its ordeal, it was in one respect a fortunate circumstance that it was not confined to them, since, had the natives been in their wonted g-ood health, it is probable that an expedition thus weakened would have fallen a sacrifice to their vindictive treachery. It is a question of some interest where this epidemic had its first orig-in ; and upon the whole I have little doubt that it came from the direction of the Spanish settlements ', for, in the country north of the Columbia, it has hitherto not made its appearance 3 thoug-h still flickering" about the lower parts of that river. To suppose it contag"ious from per- sonal contact would be very erroneous, since it doubtless proceeds from miasmata pervading* the atmosphere, whose virulent qualities are ehcited only by certain coincident circumstances of local orig"in. After all, perhaps, the most plausible mode L 1 1 ^ . '• '1 1 ? ' , \: t 1 i ^ 1 j 1 * * . ■i . ri''' t 146 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. of accounting" for the g'eneration of this malady is, to attribute it entirely to foul exhalations from low and humid situations ; thoug-h even to this supposition there are objections which it is difficult to overcome, and which tend to sub- vert every preconceived theory on the subject. acqi A WESTERN CALEDONIAN FEAST. 147 : CHAPTER IX. A WESTERN CALEDONIAN FEAST. The native villag-e of Stellah is situatefl some twenty miles from our establishment^ .\t the west end of Frazer's I>ake, by the confluence of a stream which flows into it at this spot from the French I^ake. Here, at the repeated solicitation of Hanayah, the Carrier chief, I consented to g-race a festival which he was about to give to his friends and neig'hbours, with my own lordly presence. Thoug'h hardly persuaded to this act of condescension, I may whisper in the reader's ear, that Hanayah's re- quest had in reality coincided with my own inclinations from the first : my desire being* to acquire a more intimate knowledge of our rude I ■ ^ •11 ll \ » ' ' 1 ^ ' t * »» 148 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. iieiofhbours from their livinir manners. I had feig-ned reluctance^ however^ in order to en- hance the merit of complying* with the chiefs wishes. I shall attempt to describe what I witnessed on this occasion^ with as much accuracy as the impression left on my mind will permit, first introducing* to my reader's acquaintance, the prime g^enius of the whole affair, my worthy host, Mr. Hanayah. A little fellow, some four feet ten inches in heig-ht, of spare make, and bearins: on the whole a marvellous resem- blance to that caricature of our species, an ape, will hardly come up to the idea he has probably formed of an Indian chief in his own wilderness ; yet I cannot be g'uilty of the gross flattery to describe him otherwise. Endow this little comicality with a dash of g'ood humour, and the extra measure of self- conceit which Dame Nature kindly allows to little people in other climates besides this — in order, perhaps, to eke out their stature — and you have a pretty correct idea of the promoter and leader of these intended revels. A WESTERN CALEDONIAN FEAST. 149 But contemptible as may be the opinion which a mere personal description of this man must create, it were unfair to deny him the merit of maintaining* a very rig-id autho- rity among" his people. To obtain as well as to preserve this influence, Hanayah had adopted the plan of a most arbitrary sove- reig'n, and addressed himself rather to the fears than to the love of his subjects ; but with this important difference from his civilized prototypes, that his means of exciting* dread were impalpable. Conscious enoug-h that he could not boast of an ^^eye like Mars to threaten and command/' he wisely eschewed any pretensions to the character of a brave, for on this score he would have found plenty of competitors to dispute the palm of superiority. Like a skilful g-eneral, he went more cunning-ly to work, and by aiming* at the superstition of hih followers, secured for himself exactly that kind of respect which once on a time, had he lived in enhg'htened England, would have gained him the compliment of a fag'g'ot and a tar-barrel. This g'ood man, in short, possessed the attribute of the ^^ evil eye" in all its perfection; w^as more- 150 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. n ! ' f over a seer of undoubted pretensions ; and could utter oracles like the Delphian Apollo. Is it any wonder that Hanayah, with such trans- cendant qualities^ obtained the influence which is justly allowed them in more polished communities ? Despatching* my tent and other necessaries in a canoe, I rode to the scene of festivity on horseback, attended by my interpreters, and found a large concourse of Indians encamped amonof the trees. Some of these were from Naut- lais, others from the Babine's Lake, and not a few from the borders of Simpson's Eiver— dow^- rig*ht scamps these last, and unattached to us bv the same commercial ties which secured the ft/ g^oodwill of the rest. I was made welcome with a fat beaver and some berries, set before me in the lodg'e of my entertainer. This was a spacious building*, perhaps forty feet square, having" a small door at one end, and the ridg'e- of the roof being left uncovered to permit the eg-ress of the smoke. Four posts, carved with g-rotesque fig'ures, supported the double ridge- trees upon which the roofing-sticks rested; and a thick covering of pine-bark effectually excluded A WESTERN CALEDONIAN FEAST. 151 the heaviest showers. The sides of the build- ing were formed with broad boards split from the pine-trees, but no care was taken to join them, or even to fix them solidly ; so that the larg-e interstices allowed free ingTess to the air — a circumstance the less considered, as the buildings was merely appropriated for summer use. A general cleaning" up had evidently taken place in anticipation of the usual con- course of g-uests ; and saving a few bundles of property and utensils pitched against the sides of the building, it exhibited none of the ordi- nary signs of habitation. The feast was appointed to begin the next morning, and, as my tent had meanwhile been pitched, I retired to it, and was shortly visited there by the whole body, gentle and simple, of the assembled crowd. A few feet of tobacco cut up and distributed, afforded a general smoke, after which the rude leve^ retired, and left me to my own reflections. I slept little during the night, for the company assembled in the vicinity, by groups of twenty or thirty together, kept up an incessant uproar till day- light. In fact, each of these assemblies main- !•• ! . y . 15 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. tained a g-ambling" table^ where all the passions exhibited in the polite hells of St. James's were exemplified in a more barbarous and no less energetic manner. For some time I amused myself with the observation of their motions from a distance. The little fires by \ hich they sat, were kept continually blazing", and the lio-ht thus afforded enabled me to dis- ting-uish the gestures of the players without difficulty ; the run of " luck/' and the chang*- ing" passions of those engag'ed, being- often indicated by the violence of their g-esticula- tions, aided by a more emphatic intonation of their wild song*. Some disputes occasion- ally arose which threatened serious quarrels, but they were invariably arrang-ed, after much vociferous altercation, without leading* the dis- putants to extremities. I cannot help remarking-, by way of paren- thesis, on that indomitable passion for play which prevails among* the aborig*ines of this continent, and its sing*ular coincidence with the same propensity among polished nations. The universal prevalence of this vice among* the natives, the excesses to which it sometimes A WESTERN CALEDONIAN FEAST. 153 lefids, the misery it causes, the uncoiiqueraMe hold it maintains upon the deluded wretch who has once indulged in it, are as deplorable in the one case as the other. The trader far away from home, in pity of the uninstructed, unsophisticated, and half- naked savag'es of America, is induced for a moment to lament their want of the civilized educat-'^n of Europe when he beholds them enofaffed ii these de- grading* orgies. Alas ! the n^xt instant he is only humiliated by the remembrance of similar scenes in the most refi'^ed society. Go, visit the mag'nificent temples of Mammon in St. James's, or shift the scene to Paris, to Amsterdam, or any other of the capitals of Europe, and shall we not there find, despite of book-learning" and all the vaunted influences of civilization, as much eagerness for the g-ains of this detestable vice, as in the comfort- less lodofe of the most barbarous savage? Sad to think, it has its foundation in the worst feelings of our nature, for its in- dulgence must invariably occasion as much distress to the one party, as exultation to the other. Selfishness — every gradation, in ^ . 154 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. I- short, of meanness — is developed and per- sonified in this one accursed vice of our com- mon nature. But I am dig-ressing" from my stor}', and must either renounce such disquisitions or leave my tale unfinished. After I had breakfasted, of course in my own tent, Hanayah came to usher me to his lodg-e, where the native guests were already assembled. I was placed in a position which commanded a view of the whole assembly, my interpreter being* accommodated near me. The other g-uests were seated on the g-round, in rows, back to back, and, with the exception of the vacancies preserved between the rows, occupied the whole area of the lodg^e. There were, perhaps, two hundred present. Huge piles of dried meats, with vessels of bear's-g-rease and fish oil, besides quantities of berry-cakes, were stowed up in the vacant places, so as to leave barely room to pass and re-pass. At length, the important business of the day commenced ; and even to me, who, from con- stant intercourse with the Indians, had learned to conquer in some degree the delicacy ac- A WESTERN CALEDONIAN FEAST. 155 quired during" my youth, it was a most dis- g-ustiiig" exhibition. By way of commence- ment, Hanayah advanced and laid before me a beaver. He then returned to his heap ; and, seizing' another in both hands, advanced to the most dignified of his native g^uests, and squat- ting* down, presented it to him, tail foremost. Upon this, the honoured individual seized a knife, and commenced forthwith an attack upon the proffered morsel, which the chief con- tinued to hold with exemplary patience till the guest had satisfied for the time his voracity. The animal, thus despoiled of his fair propor- tions, was presented to another and yet an- other of the g-uests, the allotted portion always diminishing" with the rank or consideration in which he mi^ht be held. When all were thus served, a new course, attended with the like ceremonies, at once beg-anj and so on till all the provisions were exhausted. About a dozen of his relations, all tributaries to the feast, assisted the head man in the distribution of the viands, the like etiquette bein^ scrupu- lously observed by the whole. As the banquet proceeded, I observed that the guests, without I I I > * •■if ^ 150 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. one decent exception, had amassed a largv heap of meats, all tossed " hig-g-ledy-pig-g-ledy " into their dishes, tog-ether with a heterog-e- neous compound of berries, beards-grease, and fish-oil. I mention these distinctions, but it is quite clear they reg-arded everything" as fish that came to their nets. An utter contem})t of cleanliness prevailed on all hands^, and it was revolting" to witness their voracious endea- vours to surpass each other in the gluttonous contest. When the stock of provisions was drawing- to a close, a circumstance occurred striking-ly illustrative of the brutish gluttony which may almost be said to form a distinctive mark of the Carriers. Hanayah, filling" a larg-e dish with bear's oil, placed it before a Nautlay Indian, named Kusmalah, saying", ^^ Drink this." From the tone of his expression, I saw he was displeased, and was at a loss to conjecture the cause ; but it was soon explained. " Wherefore this ? " said his surprised g-uest. " Who accused me last winter of eating* all A WESTERN CALEDONIAN FEAST. 157 my store of grease?" rejoined Hanayah j " 1 have at least enoug'h left to g-ive you a sur- feit. Drink, drink I I insist upon it." Poor Kusmalah, the " observed of all ob- servers/* relu(*tantly endeavoured to comply, but nature was unequal to the task ; and after swallowing* about one-half the contents of the dish, he was constrained to set it down. He then stripped off his coat and threw it to Hanayah, thus purchasing* exemp- tion from the further exaction of this stranofe penalty against evil-speaking*. The same plan was adopted, with similar results, in another instance ; and it appears to be a standard maxim of Carrier etiquette thus to punish backsliders from the truth, in aifairs such as the present. Need I say more to illustrate — i-^ " The feast of reason and the flow of soul" in which I was such an envied partaker at this stately banquet ? As the day was far advanced before the company separated, and the ceremony of dis- tributing the presents was deferred till the 158 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. morrow, I retired to my tent, resolved on waiting" another nig'ht to witness the conclu- sion of the festival. Shortly after dark, I heard a great tumult in the chief's lodge, and was informed that the natives, of whom a large party had assembled there, were quar- relling*. As blood is frequently shed at these meetings, when the hereditary jealousies of neighbouring- septs and families are sure to manifest themselves, I deemed it right to visit the scene of dispute, and, if possible, to quell it. Summoning" my interpreter, and taking- my sword in case of need, I pro- ceeded to the lodge. There was a large assemblage of Indians, most of whom were standing under arms, and eyeing each other with an air of mutual defiance, while the wordy war maintained between the rival par- ties bade fair to exasperate their feelings to the utmost extremity. Seated upon the g-round, in the midst of the lodge, was Hanayah, together Avith two other craftsmen of the same art. Each of them wore a kind of coronet formed of the inverted claws of the grizzly bear, strung together in a circle, I >i A AVESTERN CALEDONIAN FEAST. 159 solved on le conclu- • dark, I fs lodg-e, of whom vere quar- i at these ilousies of •e sure to rio'ht to )ossible, to reter, and id, I pro- s a large horn were ach other while the rival par- ir feeling's upon the was craftsmen are a kind claws of a circle, Ddg'e, the badg-e of the supernatural powers to which they aspired. These worthies had been en- g'ag-ed in the exercise of the black art, as they professed it, doubtless, to their mutual edification, if not to the satisfaction of their followers ; and it was in the course of their dark proceeding's that the disag-reement had arisen : a spectator, in short, having roundly accused one of the learned trio of causing" the death of his fa+her, an old man of fourscore years recently deceased, throug-h the pure de- cay of nature. This was the prime cause of the disturbance ; and, having* first drawn attention to my presence, upon these hints I spoke. To be brief, I g'ave them a round scolding*, and rated the whole of them soundly, not even excepting* the potent Hanayah him- self. The desired effect being* attained, I then removed to my tent, and threw myself down till the morning*, undisturbed by aug'ht save the musquitoes, which abound in summer- time. The distribution of the presents next morn- ing* was prefaced by a ceremony to which much importance was attached. This wixs the pro- 100 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. duction of such relics of the several defunct nieiiibers of Hana} ah's family as the piety of their relations had preserved, and which w ere now to be consig'ned to the flames. These were exhibited by the chief, each in turn, to the spectators, while a passing* mention was made of their departed owners. Pots, |.,tins, knives, locks of hair — any, the most insig- nificant trifle in fact— ser^'ed to recall the memory of its onetime beloved possessor ; and as each trifling* memorial was produced, it was aflecting* to hear the low murmurhig* plaint which arose from mothers, from fathers, or irom children, as the departed objects of their aflection seemed onc'3 more to speak to iheir hearts. Be the other attributes of the feast low and unamiable as they may, the exhibition of this simple outbreak of natural affection is yet hallowed in my memory, and there, I trust it will always remain enshrined with all that is worthiest of human sympathy. It is a g'ratification deep beyond measure to witness among* rude being*s such as these, the excite- ment of those pure feeling's of our nature which remind us of our common orig'in, and A WESTERN CALEDONIAM FEAST. 161 which, with ties iiidissohible in all ag-es and in all climates, still bind man to man. The distribution of the })resents occupied but a short time, xhese consisted of blankets, g-uns, kettles, capots, and other articles of trade ; of which every one present at the feast received his due share, that of the g*reat men exceeding* their inferiors in the proportion of six or eight to one. For my own part, in order to comply wdth the established etiquette, I accepted a necklace of shells, valued among* the Indians at the rate of a large blanket, in return for which I took care to jnakt* over to Hanayah other articles more than equivalent to what I received. In the course of the dis- tribution the number of blankets g*ivt n by each was accurately counted, and Hanayah's pro- portion amounted to fifty distinct articles. This jeremony ended, a g*eneral rout ensued ; each departing* on his way without an instant's delay. The native canoes might now be seen setting' off in all directions : in ten minutes afterwards not a stranger was left on the ground. After a pleasant ride homewards I r^rrived M 16-J TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. at the fort^ not too favourably impressed with the deli^ncy of Carrier etiquette^ but on the whole gratified with what I had witnessed, nnd revolving" in my mind the strange incon- sistencies of the world, whether displayed in the saloons of a j)rince or the rude cabin of a North American savage in Western Cale- donia. THE DALLES OF THE COLUMBIA. 163 CHAPTER X. THE GREAT DALLES OF THE COLUMBLl. Among the iiinumerahle streams which inter- sect the American continent, and afford the adventurous triider the means of a precarious intercourse with its remoter re<>"ions, the Columbia is pre-eminently conspicuous ; not only as bein^ one of the most im|x>rtunt rivers on the western side, but likewise for tlie peril'^ that attend its navio'ation beyond a certain dis- tance from the ocean. Meanderinof throuofh a desert region, often rendered moie wild and picturesque by the rude vestiges of ancient volcanic action which abound in it, the stream is frequently interrupted in its peaceful course ; rushing' along" in impetuous torrents over the detached masses, or continued ridg-es of vol- I. 104 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. [I caiiic rock by which its bed is obstructed. Of these rapids one of the most dreaded at certain periods, is the Dalles ; distant about 100 miles from the sea, and so called by the Canadian voyag'pr, in common with other places, where a stream is straitened in by steep rocks, so as to create a leng-thened torrent of narrow limits, but fearful streng'th, and rapidity. In this particular place the river is parted into a luunber of channels, separated from each other by insulated tong'ues of rock, which rise abruptly from the surface of the waters. Some of these channels are navig'able, though with great risk even to the most expert boatmen, at certain periods of the year : but in the summer season, when the melting* of the mountain snows have swelled the flood beyond its ac- customed limits, most of them become un- distinguishably blended tog'ether, and the mig'hty waters roll along* with irresistible fury. When this occurs, even the most daring* quail before the perils of the navig*ation, and in fact all enterprise of the kind is then considered at an end. It may be supposed that the scene on such occasions is indescribably majestic in THE DALLES OF THE COLUMBIA. 16'i its character. The mig-hty torrent twirls, leaps, and rebounds, as the rocky islets I have alluded to, oppose its prog'ress ; Avhile occa- sionally, as if by some instinctive impulse, a sudden swell from behind, comes fairly break- ing* over the half- checked waves before it, as if impatient of their dilatory and indecisive pro- g'ress. Along* the shores, on every advancing* point of rock, the native fishermen station themselves, sweeping* the eddies with lig'ht ing-eniously wroug-ht scoop nets, and thus speedily procuring* an ample supj)ly of the brig'ht scaled salmon as they ascend. Seals, attracted thither by the ascending* shoals, swim triumphantly among* the whirlpools and eddies, at the lower part ; sometimes floating* supinely, with their heads above the billows, and ag'ain darting* to and fro, either in sport, or while pursuing* their scaly victims, with admirable velocity. It was in the summer of 1830 that I ar- rived at the Dalles on mv return to Vancouver, after an absence of eleven months, spent in scouring* the prairies in quest of beaver. I had a small party of trappers under my command, ''i u il 160 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. and having* left our horses at Walla Wala, where a crazy boat had been furnibhcd us, we had reached thus far on our descent, without an accident of any moment, and in eaj^'er anti- cipation of a speedy restoration to our friends. Exhihirated by such a prospect, the natural vivacity of the Canadian voyag'eurs, increased to ten times its usual vig-our — " From morn till noon, from noon to dewy eve," the paddle song* echoed over the stillness of the swiftly g'liding* stream, and now that necessity forced a " portage'^ on them, the active crew speedily overcame the obstacle, and the boat ag*ain floated in safety below. The heat was intense ; and thoug-h the breakfast hour was g'one by, the stench of putrifying- salmon was so overpowering', that I resolved on proceeding* a few miles lower down, before takhig* my morning* repast. According*ly, the men were directed to push off and prepare for this important event of the day, at a spot indicated, while I resolved to saunter downward by land. Little did I then anticipate the sequel. Scarcely had I set out, when the men put THE DALLES OF THE COLl^MRTA. 107 forth, and beg'an steering" in an ol)liqne din c- tion across the stream, in order to avoid a string" of whirlpools that for a short distance impeded the direct navig'ation j and as the boat shot majestically onwards, I lialf repented my resolution of walking", envying" the swan-like ease with which she appeared to descend, so contrasted with my own fjitig"uing" prog"ress. Suddenly, however, the way of the boat was checked ; so abruptly, too, that the rowers were nearly thrown from tlieir seats. Reco- vering their equilibrium, they bent to their oars with redoubled energy, but the craft yielded nought to their endeavours. The incipient gyrations of a huge whirlpool at the same instant began to be felt, holding the boat within its influence. The vortex was rapidly forming, rnd the air was filled with a confused murnmr, hio-h above which m?"*ht be heard the hoarse voice of the bowsman, shouting, '^ Ha- meZy rameZj ou nous sommes pais ! " The danger became momentarily more imminent; there was no longer any doubt of the sad mischance which had befallen them, for yielding '.o its fatal attraction, the boat glided, at first slowly, 108 TRAITS OF INDIAN IJFK. II ^. I into the whirlin;^' vortex ; its ])row rising* fenr- fiilly fia the pitiless waters hurried it round with inoreasing' velocity. Is it surj)risiii<>- that T prrpw dizzy and faint as I g'azedj until at len<^th one wild, 1 -iig" cry wnnied me that all was over, and suddenly restored my senses to their activity ? Alas ! to what purpose, save an overpowerinj^* sense of g'rief, was the restoration of my faculties of thoug'ht ! Utterly incapable of rendering* assistance to my drowning* companions, I stood a helpless spectator of the scene. The spot where the boat had disappeared, no longer oflfered any mark whereby to note the sad catastrophe that had even now occurred there, the vortex was filled up, and its very site was no longer dis- tinguishable ; for awhile it was more like a dream than a real occurrence, so little vestige ap- peared of the life-struggles which had just taken place. A few moments more, and the paddles, sitting-poles, and various other articles of a buoyant nature, were cast up in all directions around, while here and there, a struggling victim was discoverable, hopelessly endeavour- Tin: DALLES OF THE COLUMIUA. ino iwg to evfide the fate that awaited him. One hy one they disappeared, drawn down })y the leaser vortices that continually formed, and ap;'ain as speedily filled up, in the environs of the catastrophe. After a hrief interval, noui>'ht was to he distinii'uished hut the now mournful rushing" of the waters, and I s;it down with the consciousness of being- left, in the fullest sense, alone. At the time, I dared not hope that even one of my unfortunate companions had es- caped ; but it eventually proved that one of them, poor Baptiste, the steersmnn, had that ^ood fortune. By seizing* four empty keg's, lashed tog-ether, according* to our mode of transport, the buoyancy of these vessels had floated him off, and the Indians picked him up some miles below the scene of the misfortune. For his companions, it was only after long* hi- tervals that the corpse of one or another was occasionally found lying* far away along* the beach, whither it had drifted with the de- scending* current, iind at length been cast by its capricious eddies. Since then, twelve years have elapsed. Near IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) If A O ^ >. ^ 1.0 1.1 IttlM 12.5 £! fig IM u& 1 — II '-'^ 1''^ ^i 6" ^ ^^ ^ /: '/ HiotDgr^c Sciences Corporation 33 WKT MAIN STRHT WIBSTM.N.Y. MSM (716) 872-4503 ► > \f m: i-' I II , f I .'• 170 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. the spot where I witnessed this sad event, there now stands a humble edifice, rearing* its lowly roof above the stunted oaks around it, and environed with several small enclosures where the arid soil of the locality has been sub- jected to a partial tillag-e. This little home- stead is a station of the American Wesleyan Society, whose missionaries have been estab- lished there since the year 1837, with the view of Christianizing" the savag'e residents of the vicinity. Still numerous, these last have yet decreased sadly in numbers, since the date of my story. What may be the ultimate fate of the rest, it is not for blind mortals to foresee ; suffice it to say, that their present condition is such as to enlist our warmest sympathy. To one boasting" even the shadow of a philan- thropic spirit, it is impossible to witness the state of these pooi people without experiencing" a heartfelt pang" of pity, and cherishing* an earnest wish that something" may ere long* be done to ameliorate their sad moral condition. A few remarks may not be out of place in this connection concerning" the most effectual means of persuading" the savag^e mind to em- piiii' THE DALLES OF THE COLUMBIA. 171 brace the pure doctrines of Christianity. That there are, in fact, certain ag'encies whereby this end may be accomplished, more practical, and therefore more promising* than the advo- cacy in the first place of a systematic theolog-y, is a position which I assume as too firmly esta- blished to require any comment; althoug-h confessedl}^ at variance with the persuasion of a religious body, signalized for their fervent piety, and the zeal with which they seek to disseminate the seeds of gospel truth among the nations. It is impossible not to admire the untiring energy of this widely-spread sect in such a cause. But, alas ! the best inten- tions of these g*ood people are frustrated for the most part by the self-reliance to which I have alluded, causing them to reject the employment of those intermediate means of conversion, which, like tillage applied to the soil, are often absolutely necessary to prepare uncultivated minds for the reception of the good seed. Without some co-operating influ- ence, whereby the dormant energies of the mind and body shall be awakened to activity, it is, I fear, but a hopeless task to inculcate 'f " rf ^ . I' * 17-2 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. those pure precepts of morality which are co- existent with, and dependent on, a state of civilization, partial, of course, in the beginning*, but of increasing" breath as it proceeds, and of greater depth as it extends itself. The in- fluence of Christianity can never really be felt except commensurately with the advancement of knowledge, as, indeed, knowledge is of little avail without Christian virtue ; each recipro- cally promoting the strength of the other, in an ever-increasing ratio of progress. To instance the erroneous views sometimes insisted on, with regard to this particular sub- ject, I may mention the custom of estimating the missionary, in this particular spot, by the number of communicants, without considering their sincerity, or demanding any further quali- fication than their formal acquiescence in a creed or ceremony, whose outward form is alone adopted; while, it may be, the whole daily conduct is utterly at variance witn its evangelical spirit. As a proof that this is often the case, I may here relate what came under my own observation when re-passing the scene of my mishap already related, on my THE DALLKS OF THE COLUMBIA. 178 way into Western Caledonia so lately as last summer. It so chanced, on this occasion, that I en- camped at the Dulles, and passed the Sabbath there. An hour or two before noon, Mr. P , the resident missionary, made his appearance in the camp, ring'ing* a small hand-bell as he proceeded to the principal lodg'e, by way of summons to those desirous of attending morning' service. A g'oodly con- course was soon assembled, whose outward decorum was in g'eneral unexceptionable ; in whom, however, candour compels me to remark, I could disco^'er no symptoms of that inward chang'e which common report had led me to expect. Among- the cong're- g-ation, my companion, Mr. D , a Catholic priest who accompanied me on my way up the river, likewise attendea. As the service proceeded, we observed in one corner of the lodg-e a young" man, lying* there in the last stagfe of consumption, his brother, a 3'outh of about eighteen, seated by his side. After a brief interval, the attention of every one was aroused by the announcement that the spirit m } I,. ■ -"I - ! ■' (f. ' 'm f> '»- iff 174 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. of the sick man had departed ; and with the ferocity of a tiger his brother sprang* upon a decrepit old woman who sat listening- to the preacher's discourse. Before a hand could move to her succour^ the infuriated savug'e had severed her head from the body. A thi'ill of horror '^ransfixed the civilized portion of the assembly, but they could only execrate the deed they had not been able to pre^ ent. As for the rest, they excused the bloody act of their countryman upon the usual plea — that it was through the evil incantations of the poor victim that the deceased had underg'oiie a ling-ering* disease, terminating* in his death as just witnessed. Yet these men had been, and still are, represented as evangelized in an eminent deg*ree. The occurrence I have related is but a type of a thousand atrocities daily occurring* among these supposed converts to the merciful precepts of Christianity. Were it an isolated instance, I should be disinclined to advance it as an arg*ument for or agfainst a g'eneral proposition ; and I merely bring* it forward to show how mistaken are the views of those benevolent THE DALLES OF THE COLUMIHA. 175 enthusiasts, who are prone to exag-g-erate the most distant shadow of success into the fullest confirmation of all the most san- g*uine hojx^s that may he entertained hy their supporters. As for the belief in sorcery itself^ these benig^hted heathens are less to be ridiculed and blamed than our own country- men of a past g-eneration, whose infatuated belief in the worst horrors of witchcraft led them into excesses ten times more horrible than this unprovoked murder. And, surely, when these deeds come eventually to be judg'ed at that tribunal where we must all appear, the irreg'ular impulse of the savag-e breast will plead for extenuation far more efficaciously than the systematic barbarities of those blind credulists, who have '' loved dark- ness rather than lig'ht, because their deeds are evil ! " I^ff .rr- '•¥ 4 1 i[ 1 V . 1 I t 1 ' , ♦ I f. 170 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. CHAPTER XL THE UNFORTUNATE DAUGHTER. Seldom or never has it fallen to my lot, dur- ing* my protracted residence in these savage wilds, to witness occurrences so trag'ic as I am about to relate, and in which I was so deeply interested in consequence of a previous ac- quaintance with the parties. Scenes of vio- lence, indeed, as many of these sketches bear witness, and incidents of romantic adventure, have been of frequent occurrence in my ex- perience; but these circumstances may properly be called trag'ical, not merely froia the violence in which they result, but from the harrowing feeling's excited by them, and the dramatic shape in which they address the imagination. The heroine of my story, v.as the daughter ]; THE UNFORTUNATE DAUGHTER. 177 of a couple, both of native extraction, who re- sided as inmates of my establishment. The character of the father, who was some- what advanced in years, was base and treach- erous to a degTee 5 and thoug;h, g-enerally speak- ings, a fond parent, he was possessed of no other redeeming" quaHty, notwithstanding* the good advice so lavishly bestowed upon him. He was respected, indeed, because dreaded, by the natives around, who well knew that, once ex- cited, he would hesitate at no crime, to accom- plish whatever end he mig-ht have in view. The mother's character, on the contrary, was so much the opposite of this, that its delinea- tion, though ever so briefly, is indeed to me a pleasing relief. During the long period of her connubial probation, she had Uved re- spected and admired — enduring with pa- tience the slights and injuries to which her graceless partner continually subjected her, and using every endeavour and straining every nerve to bring up a numerous family with propriety. Such were the parents ; and it cannot be a subject of much wonder if the child of 178 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. ^ r .1 , 1 ». . this ill-assorted couple should exhibit a way- ward disposition. Notwithstanding* a kind motlier*8 constant care, the evil exanijde and innnoral habits of her father, had doubtless implanted in her mind the seeds of that evil which eventually ripened into such pernicious fruit. In appearance, she was tall and g-ood- looking", with a complexion savouring* of the brunette, eyes of jet black, and a fig*ure every way prepossessing^. Her hand had been fre- quently sought in marriag'e ; but the old man, preferring* to see her united with one of his own descent, selected at length him, whom I shall now introduce to my reader's notice. The son of a respectable Indian trader, he had been sent, while yet a child, to Canada, and there placed under the care of a clerg*y- man, who, I am confident, did ample justice to his charg*e. This is the plan frequently adopted by Indian traders ; but not unseldom, after a lavish expenditure of money, and the most anxious solicitude, they are doomed to see every hope blighted, and to learn, too late, that they have laboured in vain. Others, more fortunate, have reason eventually to congratu- THE UNFORTUNATE DAUGHTER. 179 late themselves, on seeing^ their children become efficient and respectable members of society, fulfilling" admirably the most cherished du- ties of life. Let it suffice to say, that he of whom I now speak was not of the latter number. As reg^ards his conjugal relations, I shall only remark that he exhibited at all times a disposition extremely jealous, treated his wife with incessant rig-our, and in other respects afforded her frequent reasons for dis- satisfaction and distress. It was now the g-loomy month of November, a period rendered still more dreary in these parts by the early commencement of a winter seven months in its duration. I well remember it was the 10th day of the month, and I was seated in my little parlour, ruminating* on the dreary prospect before me, when the father of the g-irl — who, by the way, was now a matron, having been married some half-score of years, and g-iven birth to several children — entered the room unexpectedly, habited in the g-uise of an Indian. I was struck with the fearful dis- tortion of his countenance, in which the worst passions of ra^e and revenue were depicted. ' i L 1. >■ y r 180 TRAITS OP INDIAN LIFE. I < My first impulse on witnessinnf the unuiuai spectacle, was a feeling* that he meditated some evil desig-n upon myself; but a moment'ij reflection convinced me that the supjiosition was fallacious, for his family had been in- variably treated by me with great kindness, and he himself, notwithstanding the evil cha- racter that he bore, was personally indebted to me in many important resj)ects. I therefore fixed my eye upon him, and calmly awaited till he should break the moody silence which prevailed, and explain the object of his visit. This he presently did, informing" me in a sullen tone, that he had come to request my permission to proceed in quest of his daughter, who, he said, had recently eloped from her husband ; adding* his deter- mination that she should not survive the disgrace which she had thus brought, not only upon herself, but upon every member of the family. Knowing well the stern and revengeful character of the man with whom I had to deal, I endeavoured to calm his fury, by representing the heinousness of the crime THE UNFORTUNATE DAUGHTER. 181 he evidently meditated; resolvin<»- at the same time to watch liis motions narrowly, lest, in his thirst for blood, some other most innocent victim mijz'ht fall a sacrifice. On inquirinnf more particularly, I learned that the unfortunate wonuxn was residin"* with her Indian paramour at a neig'hbouring" villagfe ; but seeing* the state of mind in which the father was, I conceived it prudent to refuse him the permission he so earnestly solicited. Upon this he declared his intt^n- tion of sending" his sons for her, since on no account should she reside long;er with the partner of her infidelity. To this arrang'e- ment I could, of course, make no objection, and accordingly could only renew my deter- mination to watch the father closely, and to interfere at once if I perceived any open manifestation of the sinister desig^ns he had cherished, but which, I was fain to hope, the delay that would take place, and the influ- ence of my reasoning's, would have the effect of counteracting. I felt relieved when my uncouth visit )r had departed, for his features, naturally saturnihe and forbiddaig', were now m »Tfr 1 1. * It ^ ¥ fi ' ;'j ^^ r " f' ■ I 5;' 'A I t 1- ;' ^ ; \l\ ] I .• • ^-'J* ■! 1 ■ (»^ :i;1si :1i« 1; T ' i 182 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. distorted by an expression perfectly demon- iacal. Shortly after his departure, the poor mother made her appearance, and with tears implored me to restrain her husband's fiiry. I could only assure her of my determination not to permit him to proceed to any extreme mea- sures, and this, I was happy to observe, had the effect of tranquikzing* her fears in some measure. The sons set out so secretly that no one was aware of their departure until some time after- wards. Meanwhile, as we well knew that, dead or alive, they would not return without their frail and dis^aced sister, both the mother and myself employed our influence, in order to prepare the father for the trying* interview that awaited him. It was not till after the lapse of fifteen days that the young* men re- turned, bringing with them the now penitent woman. She was received by her mother in the most affectionate manner, only the g'entlest reproaches for the misery which her miscon- duct had occasioned, being* ming-led with her abundant tears. As for the father, he kept THE UNFORTUNATE DAUGHTER. 183 f men re- aloof in g-loomy impatience of a scene so r i act- ing* to others, and on his daughter's approach- ing* to implore his forgiveness, he spurned her from him, and turning about, walked moodily to his dwelling. The daughter, who had fallen into violent hysterics, was carried in after him , and while in this state, I besought the father to compassionate the penitence she so obviously manifested. Not obtaining a reply to my satisfaction, and dreading no serious consequences, while supposing that natural affection would soon resume its sway, I left the scene, and returned home. Under pretext of holding a consultation with his Indian relatives, the father next day summoned them to meet him. When they were assembled at the spot he had designated — a small g-reen in the neigh- bourhood — the old man, followed by the ma- jority of his family, not excepting the subject of his appeal, presently made his appearance. The principal individual of the group, the un- happy victim of a pernicious education, stood, with downcast air, on the left : but her grief had greatly subsided, and she was now more I' ^ I;. ) ^>" r I ■» 184 TRAITS OP INDIAN LIFE. calm than when I last saw her. Doubtless she hoped that, the cup of her affliction being" now full to the brim, forg-iveness on the part of her father would ensue. Alas ! how mis- taken were her anticipations, how erroneous the hopes we had all entertained up to this moment ! The scene was of brief duration j the words spoken, few and dreadful in their import. Every one kept silence, and the eyes of many were turned wistfully upon that relentless old man. At leng-th the oppressive silence was broken. '' My daughter," said he, " has brought shame upon me : it is thus I efface the stain." With this, he sprang" suddenly towards her ; and, ere a hand could move to arrest his pur- pose, or a tongue could utter one word to divert it, he plunged his dagger in her heart. Then, instantaneously disengaging it, he re- peated the blow on his own bosom, and both fell lifeless on the ground. The consternation to which this ti ngic catas- trophe gave rise, had not yet subsided, when a man dressed like a traveller, and whom I re- THE UNFORTUNATE DAUGHTER. 185 cogTiized as the husband of the unfortunate woman, appeared suddenly among- the assem- bled crowd. He bore a bloody dag'g'er in his hand, and with a loud voice proclaimed the death of the paramom* of his faithless wife. " He no long-er survives my disgrace," said he, " and I am now contented." With these words he disappeared, and I never afterwards fell in with him. I shall not attempt to describe the g-rief of the survivors of this wretched family ; how the mother swooned at the unexpected termination of the meeting", and how the other members of the family deplored in turn the death of a father and a sister. Suffice it to say that, in common with others, tears flowed freely from my own eyes, as I surveyed the dismal scene, and witnessed the harrowing* lamentations of the assembled mourners. Years have elapsed since the occurrences above related took place. Still, day after day, does the disconsolate widow continue to visit the joint g-rave, in which, by her own desire, the remains of her husband and dauo'hter were deposited. There, seated in silent g'rief, does 186 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. she mourn their fate, bedewing* with tears the lonely spot they occupy, while deploring" in- cessantly the sad and mournful event of which I have constituted myself the chronicler.* I' ' • The custom of thus mourning over the last resting- place of the dead, is prevalent among most of the tribes west of the Rocky Mountains. Their expressions of grief, however, are generally exceedingly vociferous ; save when the silent tear drops unseen, in unfeigned sorrow, upon the grave of some beloved object. ^.t THE SHEWAPPE MURDERER. 187 CHAPTER XIL THE SHEWAPPE MURDERER. In a former sketch, I endeavoured to impress upon my readers the extent to which the In- dian character has been misunderstood, and how greatly misrepresented, by writers not duly qualified by actual residence among* these wild races, to form a just opinion concerning* them. It is idle to suppose that the casual visitor who may chance to penetrate as far as the confines of our terra incognita^ can have any rea] knowledge of the passions which agitate the savage breast. After getting* a sly peep at some half-score of ragamuffins, and being perchance humbugged with a well- conned routine of hypocritical pretence on their part, such an one may indeed return ".V ^' ' .■'■ i: :i 5; • '' ', ■ ' i ' : , - 188 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. home, deeming' himself become, as if by mag'ic, quite an oracle on the subject ; but how greatly he may deceive himself, and how little he may know of their evil propensities, let these pages testify. To be brief, every Indian is not a hero, nor every female a Penelope, as some would fain insist ; and in proof that they can be both ungrateful and treacherous, let me adduce the following recent and dreadfiil ex- ample. B was one of my oldest and worthiest friends. Our intimacy had commenced some twenty-five years ago, and been ripened by time into the warmest fiiendship. We had shared in each other's perils ; and the narrow escapes we had so frequently experienced, tended to draw still more closely the bond of amity by which we were united. It was our custom to contrive an annual meeting, in order that we might pass a few weeks in each other's company. This reunion naturally possessed charms for both of us ; for it was a source of mixed joy, to fight like old soldiers " our battles o'er again,'' over a choice bottle of Port or Ma- deira ; to lay our plans for the future, and, like I <' THE SHEWAPPE MURDERER. 180 as some veritable g'ossips, to propose fifty projects, not one of which there was any intention on either part to realize. In anticipation of our customary meeting", I was occupied early in the spring* of the last year, in makings my preparations for setting* out, as soon as the breaking" up of the season should permit; ruminating, while thus en- g'ag'ed, on the pleasure that awaited me, and thinking" it a weary while till the short month that intervened before I could leave my post should set me at liberty. Under these cir- cumstances, one day, notice was brought that a messenger, apparently an European, and from the direction in which he approached, evidently from the lower frontier, was seen hastily making* his way across the lake which lay before my establishment, and which pre- sented at the season an unbroken surface of ice thickly covered with a dazzling* bed of snow. He proved to be one of our best pedestrians from the quarter we supposed, striding* with laborious perseverance throug-h the snow, in which, notwithstanding his hug*e snow-shoes, he sunk deep at every step. At % i 190 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. leng-th, he reached the hill upon which I was standing ; and handing" his packet to me, said abruptly, — " Monsieur, B is no more ; he was murdered by ," naming* the Indian by whom the dreadful deed had been committed, and who was well known to me. After re- covering" in some measure from the g'rief and surprise into which the abrupt communication of the sad intellig*ence had thrown me, I re- turned to the house, and sat down to peruse the letters I had received, from which I gathered the following" particulars. One of the Shewappe chiefs, who, from the modest and peaceful demeanour he usually exhibited, had received among* us the surname of Le Tranquille, had after a protracted ill- ness, recently died. The last act of his life fully justified the complimentary epithet by which we had disting-uished him. Fearing* that his relations might be tempted to commit some act of reveng"e upon an innocent victim, in their g"rief for his death, he especially enjoined them to refrain from any act of this nature. He insisted more particularly on their not THE SHEWAPPE MURDERER. 101 molesting* the whites, to whose constant kind- ness and humanity he confessed his obhg'ation. " Go, however," said he, " to the Chief, Mr. B , and ask him, on my part, for a blanket, wherein to shroud all that will remain of me." These were nearly the poor sufferer's last words ; for he shortly afterwards g-ave up the g-host. One of the sons upon this immediately set out, bearing" his father's last messag'e to the fort ', but the widow, whose g-rief had at first restrained her sterner feeling's, soon burst forth in an ecstasy of frantic passion. Seizing* a g-un, which had once belonged to him who now lay lifeless before her, she exclaimed with energ-y — " With this must my husband's death be reveng-ed, and that ere another sun shall have run his course. Go, my son," she continued, turning* to the eldest boy who stood weeping* near her, " g^o, and revenge your father, whose death the foul machinations of others have occasioned, and whom you now, like a child, stand idly lamenting. Go, go ! " she impetu- ously added, seeing* that her remonstrances had •••i 192 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. I' ■j > ■|:'- as yet produced but little effei " gfo, and let the victim you select be of no ordinary rank." The better feelings of the young man, it is but fair to remark, long* sustained him under the virulent reproaches with which his infu- riated mother sought to urge him to this crime. Indeed, her reiterated abuse so affected his spirits, that he sought to commit suicide rather than endure her gibes and provocations any longer. At length, frustrated in the attempt upon his own life, and driven to desperation when twitted with the cowardice of a woman, and with other opprobrious epithets, by his unfeeling mother, he seized the gun, and set jut on his way to the fort, resolved to glut his ingry feelings by the murder of my unfor- tunate fi'iend. Meanwhile the younger brother had reached the house, and recounting his melancholy story, had received not only the blanket re- quested by his dying father, but a further pre- sent, which B 's friendship for the defunct had prompted him to make. Pleased with the result of his mission, and breathing thanks to his fi'iendly host, the young Indian set out on THE SHEWAPPE MURDERER. 193 his return to the lodge. It may be that his soHtary path on the way home was crossed by the intended murderer of his benefactor. Poor B was walkuig* to and fro in a spacious hall, in which it was customary to receive the Indian visitors at the establishment, when a young" man, whom he easily recog- nized as the eldest son of Tranquille, entered, and complaining of the cold (for it was mid- winter) seated himself shivering by the fire- side. After smoking and talking for some time on divers topics, my unfortunate friend turned with the view of entering an adjoining chamber, when his companion levelled his gun, and fired the contents, consisting of a bullet with a quantity of shot, full into his back. His victim fell without a groan, and the conscience- stricken murderer, before the alarm could be spread, was already out of reach, fleeing madly to a distance in search of that safety which he well knew he had compromised by this ruth- less deed. Thus perished my old companion, with whom, for so many years, I had been united in the strictest bonds of friendship. Thus 194 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. ' without the interval of even a moment, after the death blow was dealt, was his spirit ushered into the presence of that dread Being" before whose tribunal — a just, but yet a mer- ciful one — we must one day all appear. What my feelings on this sad occasion must have been, I shall not attempt to describe ; the lapse of time has only alleviated the poignancy of my grief, and I am now resigned to the hope, that when a dark futurity shall no longer be to me as " future," I may meet my friend in another and a better world, where ruthless revenge, and every darker passion of our nature, shall be unknown. The sequel of this sad history I shall dismiss with brevity ; for why dwell particularly upon the retributive measures which the paramount necessity of securing ourselves from the like attacks, compelled us to adopt. After many fruitless attempts, the murderer was at length secured : not without the co-operation of the natives themselves, who when they found us bent upon enforcing justice, beg an one by one to abandon the culprit, w^hom they were at first inclined to protect, but now, with their t , 'I THE 8HEWAPPE MURDERER. 105 usual fickleness, did not hesitate to betray. His person at last being; secured, Mr. C , the leader of the party which had effected the capture, was desirous of taking* him to the fort, there to be publicly hang*ed as an exam- ple in terror em to ths rest. The project, how- ever, was frustrated in the following" manner : — As it was necessary to cross the river, the prisoner was placed in a canoe, with two g'uards, having his hands manacled. By violent exertions, the unhappy man, now ren- dered desperate, contrived to upset the canoe when in mid-channel, and fettered as he was, succeeded in reaching* the shore. A shot from one of his countrymen now compelled him to betake himself to the water a^ain, and, strang-e to relate, he recrossed the river. A second wound drove him once more towards the middle of the stream, when seeing that there was no longer the shadow of a chance of escape, and bleeding* profusely from the wounds he had received, he raised himself for a moment in the water, called out, in a loud voice, acknowledging the justice of his punish- ment, and then sank to rise no more. mWf? V I' •' ■ ¥ 1'.. 196 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. if r :«■ . 'i ■*■, CHAPTER XIII. THE STORM. — THE MOTHER'S GRAVE. Many years have passed away since an appa- rent accident made me the witness of an affecting" same, the impression of which time has not even yet effaced from my memory. I was at the time on a visit to Canada. Our route lay through Lake Superior, the larg-est sheet of water in North America, and but too well known to the voyag^er for the many dangers that attend its navig'ation. On the occasion to which I allude, we had indeed a very narrow escape from destruction. Du^'ing the early part of the day a favourable breeze had driven us rapidly forward on our course ; but towards the afternoon the gathering clouds, and other well-known signs, gave indications of an THE STORM. 197 approaching" storm. Presently the wind began to increase till it blew a gale ; loud claps of thunder pealed overhead, and echoed along the mountainous shores of the lake, while rain-drops large and heavy began to fall fast upon us. Naturally a timid sailor, I had some time before given directions to shorten sail ', the prudence of which was now evident, insomuch that the crew began to see the extent of the danger which hitherto, with their usual supineness, they had not recog- nized. The bold rocky shores by which we were fast driving precluded the possibility of a landing ; indeed any attempt to approach for such a purpose, with our frail canoe, would have been to court inevitable destruction. As the storm increased, so did the appre-^ hensions of the majority of the crew multiply ; but fortunately the two boutes. to whose experienced care the management of the vessel was confided, retained their self-posses- sion, and while the rest were devoutly crossing themselves, and invoking the name of their patron saint, these wrought hard for the common safety. For myself the while, I hi"'-<'- t, ■ 1:^: I :•■ . ■ 4 •', h ■ I- I, . -I- 198 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. will confess that, while I retained my out- ward self-possession, my hope of escape was hut slender. After scudding" along* for some time, a low point appeared at the distance of several miles in advance. To attain this was now our ob- ject. Hope began to revive in the minds of the despairing crew, who had for some time been in dread of sharing* the fate of some of their companions, who had perished under similar circumstances, in this very neighbour- hood, the preceding* year. Kettles were now employed to keep the canoe clear of water by baling ; paddles to assist the impulse of the shortened sail ; and thus, after nearly an hour of anxious expectation, we reached the pro- mised haven in safety. Rounding the point, we found ourselves suddenly in smooth water, sheltered from the wind, which still continued to blow with violence. By means of my gun, which I had suc- ceeded in keeping dry while everything else in the canoe was soaking, we made a fire ; the tent was then pitched, and the crew found instant provision for their comfort by turning THE mother's grave. 199 the canoe upon its side before the blazing* fag-g-ots. By-and-by, the storm subsided, and I saun- tered abroad. Looking* towards the end of the bay, I perceived, what had not before at- tracted my attention, a thin smoke arising* from among* the trees. Approaching the spot, I discovered a small encampment, but it was tenantless ; and I was conjecturing* what had become of its recent occupants, when my ear was caug'ht bv a low moaning* sound in the vicinity. Directing* my steps towards the spot, I saw, in the midst of a small clearance, a newly-covered g-rave, at the head of which a rude cross was planted. Near it was seated a middle-aged Indian, having* in his arms a young* infant, whose lips he strained to his breast— if haply he might quiet it with the fallacio.is hope of that nutriment of which the death of its mother, who evidently lay interred before them, had deprived it. Another child, a girl of five years old, lay at his feet weep- ing bitterly. He, too, the father of these little ones, by the half - suppresssd moans which from time to time escaped him, gave ■I i 200 TBAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. 5 .,!?•; token of the deep grief which oppressed his soul. After witnessing" for a while this moving* scene, I drew near, and the noise of my ap- proach attracted his attention. I saluted him, and he quietly rose to accept my proffered hand. With the few words of the Sautean lang'uage I possessed, I then invited him to our camp. He followed me in silence, carry- ing* tenderly his half-dying* infant, and followed by the little g'irl, whose g-rief was hushed for a season by the novelty of my unexpected visit. The hung-er of the infant was soon appeased with a little white sug-ar tied in linen. We also supplied its fond parent and his other little one with food, and after a time, while enjoying" the solace of a pipe of tobacco, he told me his brief history. Deprived of his wife by sickness, who had died in the neigh- bouring' camp only the day before, he had just rendered the last sad offices to her remains when I arrived, and there found him, as I have related, in the indulg-ence of that g*rief which, stoic though he is supposed by hasty THE mother's grave. 201 and ill-informed observers to be, is no less characteristic of the American savage, than of the civilized European. Our unexpected visit diverted the g'rief of the poor savag'e. We supplied him with tobacco and ammunition, the first as a luxury, the last to procure food, and next day took our departure ; our Indian friend setting* out at the same time in the opposite direction, in quest of a camp of his relations who were at some distance beyond, upon the shores of the lake. Fine weather and a pleasant breeze advanced us rapidly on our journey, and we soon forg-ot the dang-ers of Lake Superior, thoug-h not the little incident which I have endeavoured to place on record. r remams 202 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. CHAPTER XIV. |f 1 THE suicide's CROSS. A FEW days after my arrival at the post last mentioned, while anxiously awaiting the friends whom I expected to accompany me on my journey, I was strolling" idly about the vici- nity, and had not wandered far from the house, when I was surprised at beholding" a solitary cross, standing* in the middle of a small secluded plain. This emblem of Christianity, under any cir- cumstances, possesses for me, as I fancy for most others, a peculiar attraction ; and in the present instance I felt singular^ disposed to inquire the reason of its being placed in a spot 80 remote from the ordinary place of inter- ment. In most cases, a rude wooden crucifix THE suicide's CilOSS. 203 indicates the last resting* - place of the twy- ageuvy but this which I now saw was so situ- ated as rather to sug-g-est that it had been placed there by some g-ood Christian to mark the retreat where he mig'ht recite in solitude his daily orisons. The following* day I re- newed my visit to the spot, accompanied by my kind host and his lady, when, in answer to my inquiries, I received the following* ac- count of the object that had awakened my curiosity. The cross, contrary to the conclusion I had arrived at, marked but too truly the resting*- place of a fellow -creature, and had been erected some two months before, over the re- mains of an unfortunate being who had here voluntarily terminated his existence. Too weak to bear the reverses which sooner or later must always overtake the infatuated g-amester, the unhappy man had dared to rush unbidden into eternity, adding one more to the long" list of victims to the fatal propensity that had for some time spread but too securely its toils around him. How deceitful are appearances ! A few ~ H. •1 ,;. . I'- { I . V I;- 4* ■ % . r i . i ' ■ 204 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. short years before the sad catastrophe, this young" man had been selected by Mr. D , a Roman Cathohc missionary, on one of his visits to this neighbourhood, as a fit subject for rehgious improvement. Such was the favourable impression made by his external appearance upon the mind of the worthy priest, that the latter took him zealously by the hand. The assiduity and apparent devotion displayed in his conduct confirmed these prepossessions, and in addition to the pains taken to instruct him in the observance of the faith of which he shortly became a confirmed professor, many little acts of favour and attention, in the shape of presents and the like, marked the degree of favour to which he had attained. But alas ! the seeds of relig'ion had been sown on a sandy soil, and as they sprang up quickly, so they grew rank, and perished ! To be candid, moreover, a wearisome routine of prayers, only half intelligible, and repeated by rote without that internal impulse which renders prayer efficacious, is but a poor pro- tection against the allurements and tempta- ' J THE SUICIDE'S CROSS. 205 tioii8 of the world. Such proved to be the case in the present instance. Trials arose, and the unfortunate lad fell, like other world- ling's, a victim to temptation, unrestrained by relig-ious principle. The career of a gambler is too much the same under all circumstances to require much elucidation. A few years ag'o I had seen the unhappy subject of my story in the bloom of early manhood, occupying* a respect- able situation, and respected by all around him. A year before his death I had again seen him, but how great was the contrast. Haggard, and with downcast eyes, he was squatted with scarce a garment to cover him, in the corner of the lodge ; shunned by lukewarm relations, and the friends of his more prosperous days,— those hollow friends who had themselves assisted in his ruin; no one save his aged mother seemed to retain the least regard for the ill-fated gamester. What wonder is it, under these circumstances, that despair should obtain the mastery over a spirit so broken, and a resolution so weak as his! One Sabbath morning, when all the 11' ■ ' I , • •(-■ 1: . • : !' 206 TRAITS OF INDIAN UPE. other inmates of the lodge, with the neighhours who resided around, were assembled at mass, the long-desired opportunity presented itself. His poor mother returned, and where she had left her son, there met her eyes the shattered remains of a suicide ! Whether to mark their abhorrence of the crime, or from a reluctance to associate, even in death, with the Protes- tants, who chiefly used the ordinary burial- place, I know not ; but his relatives preferred interring" him close by the spot where the crime was committed. There stood, and I doubt not stands at this hour, as a memorial of the unhappy dead, the Suicide's Cross. 1 • . .: - 1 1 ' '' tv ■ ■ \ « DEATH OF OUR FAVOURITE DONKEY. 207 CHAPTER XV. THE DEATH OF OUR FAVOURITE DONKEY. Among the many losses arising* from the seve- rity of the winter, to us the unkindest cut of all was the death of an ass, which had attained the patriarchal a^e of thirty years, and has left behind him a numerous progeny to bear testimony to his manifold good qualities. Surely his sad end ought to be recorded, if it were only to ehow that the most harmless and help- less of all creatures have no security against the murderous intentions of the Indians, in these wilds ! Feeling the cold like his neighbours, and trusting to the hospitality of man, the confid- ing animal had approached the hut of an Indian resident in the neighbourhood, with ■/I ^ 208 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. * • J I:-'. ■ ; ■ ' I; ■■ (' j- , ■ li ■ •» ' ('- i ^ ^ the view of obtaining" a little warmth from the fire. Aged, and withal tired, perhaps, a deep sleep had succeeded to this unwonted luxury, and while thus napping, the poor brute was treacherously assailed with axe and knife, by those who should have protected him, as their g-uest. That " murder will out " is a proverb as old as the hills. It was not long ere many- tongued rumour let the secret escape, nor was much time suffered to elapse before the hue- and-cry was raised, and the criminals brought before the presiding* judge, their hands still red with the blood of their victim. The c 1- prits were about to be questioned on the ruth- less deed, when a voice was heard calling out to give them the oenefit of " Lynch law." The judge sig^nified his disapprobation of this violation of propriety, by ordering the court to be cleared, and presently, considering the hig'hly excited state of public feeling", resolved to defer the examination until it should in some degree have subsided : for who, whether beast or man, was ever of sufficient importance to be long' regretted ? After six days' confinement, the trial was DEATH OF OUR FAVOURITE DONKEY. 209 resumed. It was of short duration : the facts being" too obvious to admit of question. When called upon for their defence, the prisoners pleaded starvation as their motive ; but this no one chose to credit. The man then laid the blame upon his wife, or the devil— one or the other of whom he declared to have instigated the deed. This dastardly attempt to shift the blame upon his unfortunate part- ner, occasioned a g-eneral murmur of disappro- bation, which the judg-e was compelled to check in a peremptory tone. It was then proved that the prisoners had hitherto sustained a good reputation for industry and g^ood beha- viour, a fact which evidently had its weight with the jury. At leng'th the judge, whose well-known character for discretion I need not comment upon, charged the jury, warn- ing them to dismiss all prejudice from their minds, and so forth, and they retired to deliberate. After a few minutes, a verdict of guilty was returned, accompanied by a recommendation to mercy, on the score of ignorance of the enormity of their crime. The sentence passed upon the prisoners was p i ;. 1 , ' ■,■ • f i V 210 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIT'^E. — banishment for ever from the county of Vancouver. Such a punishment may at first sight ap- pear lenient ; but its severity will become ap- parent, when it is understood that death itself is perhaps less insupportable to the Indian, than banishment from his native soil. It is the pride and the pleasure of his nature to speak of it. Every conspicuous spot has its appro- priate name, possibly connected by tradition with the prowess of his departed ancestors. When a distant journey is undertaken, the last recommendation to those he leaves be- hind, is, ^^ Fail not, in case of my death, to go in quest of my bones, and bring them to my own lands." I have witnessed several in- stances of Indians dying in this way, not less than twenty days' journey from their ancestral home ; still, through a country nearly impass- able, have the relatives observed religiously that last injunction, and sought their remains, exposed to every manner of privations and hardship. This being well known, ought we not to foel commiseration for the unfortunates, whom we so often see deprived of their natural Js'.' DEATH OF OUR FAVOURITE DONKEY. 'Jll I rig'hts, particularly in the United States, where, with the regularity of a law of nature, the aborig-inal inhabitants are compelled to recede before the white population ? As the settle- ments advance with rapid strides, a question- able remuneration, it is true, is nominally made to the original possessors of the soil, but what compensation can remunerate even these poor outcasts for the violation of their dearest sympathies ? Driven backwards, step by step, and league by league, each stage of their retreat is but a temporary respite from the onward march which dooms them to die at a distance from the bones of their forefathers. Wretched and desponding — moved hither and thither, by the right of might — subject to the will of a coarse and unfeeling* ag'ent, acting in the name of a g'overnment which it is hopeless to resist — they become a prey to contagious diseases, which are ever severest on the poor and miserable. It is almost the only consola- tion remainhig to the philanthropist under these circumstances, that, ere long, the race must become extinct. In the Oregon territory, the population was 11 B ,- 'Jf. r ! Pi'-"' I > ' 212 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. once numerous, as compared with the ordinary population of America. But disease has done its work there also, insomuch that scarcely one- of the orig-inal race is now to be seen. Well do I recollect the day, when the banks of the Columbia and its tributaries were crowded by hundreds of the native races, apparently among; the happiest of mankind, and surrounded by abundance, which it cost them little labour to procure. The river supplied them with salmon, the woods yielded elk and deer, and where wood was scarce, in the upper parts of the watercourse, an adequate supply of fuel was brought down by the annual floods from the mountains. But how is the scene changed ! Immig-ration has supplanted the ori^nal population of the land, and where peace and contentment once reig-ned, they reig-n no long-er. THE LONDON PACKET. CHAPTER XYI. THE LONDON PACKET. It is not easy for me to convey an idea of the degree of excitement that attends the g-lad announcement of the packet from London. Shut out from the world, indeed, as we are, and receiving' tiding-s from home at yearly intervals only, it is natural that anxiety as to their probable nature should prevail among- the expectants. Such being- the case, it is also always interesting* to observe the varied manifestations of joy or g'rief, that are exhi- bited by individuals according^ to the intelli- ofence received by them. O *■' For weeks before the anticipated event, the probabilities attending it form the allper>'a- ding" topic of conversation, both among- tlm p a 214 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. k ■ : 1 ■ »■ II;.. [ 1 ■ nr private circles and at the public mess of our little community. A thousand conjectures arise in quick succession to divide the opinions of those interested, and these are often strengthened by bets upon the points in debate. The excitement increases from day in day, until all doubts are at leng-th solved by the arrival of the ship, first announced by a confused murmur, and then by the noisy exclamations of the children, running* to and fro, delighted with the novelty, and screaming at the top of their voices, " The Packet ! the Packet ! '' The bearers of the precious burden shortly make their appearance, not a little proud of the temporary importance attached to their mission. They advance to the governor'^ domicile, and are ushered into the presence hall, Avh ere, as they well know, a hearty welcome from the great man awaits them. All etiquette is for the while suspended. A motley group of followers thronof around the doors. A few brief inquiries as to the whereabouts of the good ship, and the like generalities, terminate the first act of the important drama, and the If: THE LONDON PACKET. 215 packet-bearers are dismissed kitchenwards, where refreshments await them, and their share of the matter is concluded. Deeply impressed with the importance of his office, the accountant, who, in these matters seems privileg-ed to take the lead, now ad- vances, and hastily rummages through the con- tents of tlie box. Letters are doled forth to their expectant owners. The man of figures seizes with avidity the mass of accounts and books, which seem to possess for him attrac- tions not easily appreciated by the uninitiated, and forthwith retreats to his desk, wherp he J lunges deep into their rriysteries, and peems for the while weaned from extraneous cares. As may be supposed, an event so long looked for, and so interesting to all connected with the establishment, deranges for a while its settled routine ; every one, in short, being so engrossed with the perusal of his letters, that a general silence supplants the ordinai'v buzz of business. At length, the sound of the dinner-bell renews the social compact, the contents of each one^'5 budget are retailed for ^ ■V- ■»• i ■' !■•: 216 TRAITS OF INDIAN LIFE. the general benefit, an extra glass of wine is drunk in honour of the day, and joy and hila- rity, with occasional exceptions, are exhibited in every countenance. Even the ladies share in the general excitement; for besides the familiar topics in which they may be presumed to have an interest, they have their own special curiosity to satisfy, noting* the domestic supplies shipped for th^m — the gowns, the bonnets, the shawls, and fifty other items of necessity or ornament. So passes the day ; another sun appears, and again all is regu- larity and order. I well remember a scene such as I have de- scribed in June 18 — . Among those assembled at the dinner -table on this occasion, I re- marked one young man, recently from Eng- land, in the capacity of a clerk, whose thought- ful look excited my sympathy. I afterwards learned that he had received no letters from home, which accounted in some deo^ree for the sad expression of his countenance. He was the only son of a widow, and beside her he had no other tie upon earth, for every relative he had ever known, had one by one ■- . fir: ill', THE LONDON PACKET. 217 jir own been snatched from his side. The disappoint- ment he had experienced was indeed great, but I had no suspicion that the wound it had inflicted was so serious, until his absence from breakfast the next morning* sug-gesting" the propriety of calling upon him, I found him bathed in tears, and having comforted him as well as I could, left him once more to his meditations. The poor fellow ht^d imbibed the idea, afterwards proved to be erroneous, that his sole relation was dead, for to no other cause could he ascribe her unaccountable silence j and it was in vain that we pointed out to him the possibility of her letters having* mis- carried. Thus, from hour to hour, did the lad pine away, secretly indulging the gloomy ima- gining's which it was soon evident would sap the foundations of his health. The pallor of death began to supplant the rosy hue which his countenance had previously exhibited. Medi- cal advice was resorted to, but his disease was of the mind, and beyond the help of medicine. h:V.:. fe "t ., I' ■ ?!'■■; ,)■■>■ ! t ■ t 218 THE LONDON PACKET. Day after day he g-ot worse, and within a brief fortnight after the arrival of the packet, he expired, a victim to over-excitement and despair ! THE END. m: I within a le packet^ ment and til London : Printed bj Stbwart fc MuamAi, Old Bailey. THE Im] MEJM LEG' April 1853. A CATALOGUE OF ^eU) anil Sbtantrard lSookfi(> PUBLISHED BY SMITH, ELDER AND CO., 65, CORNHILL, LONDON. I. THE STONES OF VENICE. Volume the Second. By JOHN RUSKIN, Esq., Author of " Modern Painters," " Seven Lamps of Architecture," &c. Imperial 8vo, with numerous Illustrations, from Drawings by the Author. II. MEMORANDUMS MADE IN IRELAND IN THE AUTUMN OF 1852. By JOHN FORBES, M.D., Author of "The Physician's Holiday." Two Vols., Post Svo, with Illustrations. {Just ready,) III. LECTURES ON THE ENGLISH HUMOURISTS. By W. M. THACKER AY, Esq. 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TWO THOUSAND MILES' RIDE THROUGH THE ARGENTINE PROVINCES : with an Account of Buenos Ayres, the Rio de la Plata, Monte Video, &c. By WILLIAM McCANN, Esq. 2 Vols., post 8vo, with Illustrations. Price 24J. cloth. " Two highly interesting volunnes, descriptive and historical, handsomely illustrated, and characterized by highly agreeable reading qualities." — fViekly Dispatch. " Ai a traveller Mr. MacCann is amusing } and the vigilance ut' his observation, and accuracy of hii intelligence are remarkable." — Morning Advertiter. <* Mr. McCann's volumes present an admirable account of life in the Argentine Provinces. 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"An informing, close, and neatly- written account of the history, natural features, and productions of the Cape territory, with descriptions of the native tribes j animated by original knowledge, the result of personal experience, and illustrated by graphic sketches of the scenery of South Africa." — Spectator. ** An excellent account of the country and tribes of Kaft'raria from an eye-witness ; with a sketch of Kaffir customs, rites, and ceremonies." — Britannia. *• The book may be read with profit by all who wish to master the South African question." — Daily News. ■A ., ; ••'-lit ''<. ('■. ,' . 1 ,4,;; I? ^ iEehj JFicticns. I. AMABEL : Or, THE VICTORY OF LOVE. By MARY ELIZABETH WORMELEY. In Three ^'^olumes. "This fiction displays ability of a high kind. Miss Wormeley has considerable knowledge of society, much skill in depicting its persons and salient features, with the penetration to pierce below the surface. She is gifted, besides, with consider- able power of reflection, and her manner is easy and efF'-'Ctive. Fhe characters are well conceived and sustained ; many of the latter parts possess considerable and rapid interest, and the composition is buoyant and animated." — Spectator. •"Amabel' embodies four great phases ot a woman's life, of which love is the active element, is remarkable for intensity of sentiment, for its vigorous and polished diction, great range of scene and character and for an originality and energy, developed by the principal persons figuring in it, w lo are all drawn by a master hand ; and it is, in effect, perfect as a work of its class, and may be looked upon as a decided sue- cess." — fVeckly Dispatch. " An exceedingly interesting story, developed with fine womanly tact, and related in a style at once simple, polished, and eloquent, lo enforce the moral that love, the principle, not the passion, infused into our duties, works its own reward, is the task undertaken by the writer of this pathetic and deeply affecting story, and that moral is beautifully held up to admiration and adoption throughout the chequered career of the heroine Amabel, in whose affliction and recompenses the reader feels a lively interest." — Globe. " This work is of a very high order; scarcely inferior to ' Ruth,' with which, indeed, it has much in common. Miss Wormeley writes with a flow of fresh and liealthy sentiment, affording proof that she has followed the human emotions to their source. The characters are living men and viQmtn."—fVeekly Chronicle. *' There is a deep meaning in this tale. The characters are exceedingly well- drawn ; that of the heroine in particular. In the latter portion of the work the in- terest is of the deepest kind ; the force and pathos of its final scenes are enough to entitle the authoress to consideration, and of the highest order." — Sun. " Miss Wormeley imparts to her scenes and characters an interest which must place them in the first class of fiction. The trials of Amabel, her Christian love, the fountain of pure integrity, that gives freshness to her whole life, make her a study for everyone's improvement. The book contains moving spirit, stirring absorbing scenes and events, and the persons are real flesh and blood." — Morning Advertiser. " This is one of the best novels which have lately come under our notice. The story is a perfect romance of real life. The authoress has an easy, graceful style, her dialogues are animated and natural, and her descriptions truthful and attractive. * Amabel' is a remarkable work. It is rife with interest; the principal character is beautifully and truly drawn. Let our readers procure these delightful volumes." — Sunday Times. " * Amabel' is a good addition to fictitious literature ; it inculcates true principles, and is written with a purpose that everyone must appreciate. It contains some power- ful writing, ^nd reflections that strike us by their truth and depth of observation. Miss Wormeley's power lies in her knowledge of the female heart : every turn, every stage of love, from the mere passion to the principle." — Court Journal. '• A charming tale, which will delight the taste and elevate the mind. For vigour of delineation and freshness of manner, it is one of the very best specimens of fiction that has come before us this season." — BeWs Messenger. " ' Amabel' has many passages of great power, and more of truthful pathos." — Britannia, 'J -* «- .OVE. EY. has considerable nt features, with i, with consider- le characters are erable and rapid hich love is the ous and polished energy, developed Iter hand ; and it as a decided suc- tact, and related moral that love, n reward, is the 5 story, and that It the chequered the reader feels a th,' with which, low of fresh and emotions to their tick. exceedingly well- the work the in- ;s are enough to J, :rest which must :hristian love, the te her a study for r absorbing scenes ■jertiser. (ur notice. The TL^ceful style, her and attractive, cipal character is tful volumes." — £8 true principles, ains some power- of observation. every turn, every /. ind. For vigour cimens of fiction jthful pathos." — SMITH, ELDER AND CO. By Kefaj Jfictions. II. THE SCHOOL FOR DREAMERS. T. GWYNNE, Esq., Author of "The School for Fathers." One Volume, crown 8vo. Price lOs. bd. "The master-limner of the follies of mankind, the author of * The School for Fathers,' has produced another tale to the full as attractive as the former, and abound- ing with traits of exquisite humour and sallies of sparkling wit. The book is, what few books are, a rich treat." — John Bull. " * The School for Dreamers ' may be credited with life, humour, and vigour. There is a spirit of enjoyment in Mr. Gwynne's descriptions which indicates a genial temperament, as well as a shrewd eye." — Athenaeum. " Mr. Gwynne touches the conventional absurdities as well as the proprieties of life with a masterly hand, and by a few strokes of singular delicacy lays bare the follies and the sensibilities of mankind." — 5e//'i Messenger. " A story which inculcates a sound and sensible moral in a manner equally delight- ful and effective. The style is fresh, fragrant, and vigorous j the characters are strongly marked, and the incidents interwoven with skill and ingenuity." — Morning Post. '* There is pith in the writing. The descriptions, whether of persons or things, are true and life-like. The personages, too, are realities, and talk and act naturally. Throughout the story, the reader's attention never flags." - Critic. " There is purpose in the present story. It is in effect a biting satire upon ultra-devotion to the crude and undigested mouthings of the leveller and the socialist." — JVeekly Dispatch. " * The School for Dreamers,' a powerfully and skilfully-written book, is intended to show the mischief and danger of following imagination instead of judgment in the practical business of life. The characters of the tah are ably sketched, and the inci- dents effectively described." — Literary Gazette. " An admirable and caustic satire on * equality and fraternity ' theories." — Britannia. III. THE SCHOOL FOR FATHERS ; An Old English Story. By T. Gwynne. Crown 8vo. Price ioj. 6d. •* The pleasantest tale we have read for many a day. It is a story of the Tatler and Spectator days, and is very fitly associated with that time of good English literature by its manly feeling, direct, unaffected manner of writing, and nicely-managed, well- turned narrative. The characters have all of them the air of reality — the charm derivable only from what one feels to have been sincerely observed ; and the effect is genuine and perfectly satisfactory. The descriptions are excellent; some of the country painting is as fresh as a landsca^-e by Constable, or an idyl by Alfred Tenny- son." — Examiner. " A hale, hearty, unaffected, honest, downright English tale — such a one ns is very rarely met with in tliese days. A vigorous painting of English men and manners, by an artist who is thoroughly national in his genius, taste, education, and prejudices. Few are the tales so interesting to read, and so admirable in purpose and style, as « The School for Fathers.' "—Globe. " * The School for Fathers' is at once highly amusing and deeply interesting — full of that genuine humour which is half pathos — and written with a freshness of feel- ing and raciness of style which entitle it to be called a tale in the ficar of fVakefelJ school. It is a tale to amuse and instruct both old and young, and which we should wish to see in the hands of our sons and daughters." — Britannia, '« i;. Currer ^tWs i^efo Jpiction. VILLETTE. By CURRER BELL, Author of "Jane Eyre," "Shirley," &c. In Three Volumes y Post %vOy Price i/, lis. 6d, ** This book would have made Currer Bell famous had she not been already. It retrieves all the ground she lost in * Shirley,' and it will engage a wider circle of readers than * Jane Eyre,' for it has all the best qualities of that remarkable book. There is throughout a charm of freshness which is infinitely delightful : freshness in observa- tion, freshness in feeling, freshness in expression. Brain and heart are both held in suspense by the fascinating power of the writer," — Literary Gazette. " This novel amply sustains the fame of the author of * Jane Eyre' and * Shirley' as an original and powerful writer. * Villette ' is a most admirably written novel, everywhere original, everywhere shrewd, and at heart everywhere kindly. The men, women, and children who figure throughout it have flesh and blood in them, and all are worked out in such a way as to evince a very keen spirit of observation, and a fine sense of the picturesque in character." — Examiner. ** The tale is one of the affections, and remarkable as a picture of manners. A burning heart glows throughout it, and one brilliantly distinct character keeps it alive. The oldest man, the sternest, who is a genuine novel-reader, will find it hard to get out of Madame Beck's school, when he has once entered there with Lucy Snowe, and made acquaintance with the choleric, vain, child-like, and noble-hearted M. Paul Emanuel." — Athenaum. " Of interesting scenes and well-drawn characters there is abundance. The charac- ters are various, happily conceived, and some of them painted with a truth of detail rarely surpassed. The style of * Villette ' has that clearness and power which are the result of mastery over the thoughts and feelings to be expressed, over the persons and scenes to be described." — Spectator. " * Villette may claim the unhesitating commendatior • of readers and critics. . The autobiography of the heroine is at once natural, interesting, cheerful, piquant, and thoughtful," — Britannia. ** * Villette ' is not only a very able but a very pleasant book. It is a tale which, though here and there it is dashed with wonder and melancholy, is as a whole cheer- ful and piquant ; abundant in clear, clear-cut, strongly-drawn etchings, presenting so pleasant and effective a transcript of manners, English and Continental, that its success cannot fail to be remarkable." — Morning Chronicle. " Everything written by Currer Bell is remarkable. She can touch nothing with- out leaving on it the stamp of originality. Of her three novels this is perhaps the strangest, the most astonishing, though not the best. The sustained ability is perhaps greater in "Villette" than in its two predecessors. The whole three volumes are crowded with beauties ; with good things, for which we look to the clear sight, deep feeling, and singular though not extensive experience of life, which we associate with the name of Currer Bell," — Daily News. " The author of * Jane Eyre ' and * Shirley ' has again produced a fiction of extra- ordinary literary power, and of singular fascination ; it is one of the most absorbing of books, one of the most interesting of stories. 'Villette' will add immensely to the author of * Jane Eyre's ' fame, as a philosophical and analytical expositor of the human heart and feelings." — Globe. » SMITH, ELDER AND CO. JWr. '2r&aclieraB*» IXtbn Jptction. ESMOND. By W. M. THACKERAY, Author of " Pendennis,'* " Vanity Fair," &c. Second Edition. In Three Volumes^ Crown 8i;(7, Price l/. lis, 6d, " A second edition of ** Esmond " within a few weeks of the issue of the first, speaks significantly for Mr. Thackeray's growing popularity. . . . Mr. Thackeray has selected for his hero a very noble type of the ca"alier softening into the man of the eighteenth century, and for his heroine one of the sweetest women that ever breathed from canvass or from book, since RafFaelle painted and Shakspeare wrote. Esmond will, we think, rank higher as a work of art than " Vanity Fair" or •* Pen- dennis," because the characters are of a higher type, and drawn with greater finish, and the book is more of a complete whole. The style is manly, clear, terse, and vigorous, reflecting every mood — pathetic, grave, or sarcastic — of the writer." — Spectator. " Once more we feel that we have before us a masculine and thorough English writer, uniting the power of subtle analysis with a strong volition and a moving eloquence — an eloquence which has gained in richness and harmony. His pathos is now sweeter, — less jarred against by angry sarcasm, but perhaps scarcely so powerful. Esmond must be read, not for its characters, but for its romantic though improbable plot, its spirited grouping, and its many thrilling utterances of the anguish of the human heart. Having reached the middle of the first volume, " forward" will be the wish of every reader of this highly-wrought work." — Athenaum. " The interest of * Esmond' is, in the main, purely human interest. The story is more than anything a family story. The effect is as if you had suddenly come into that old time as into a chamber ; and the light you see things by is that of the warm domestic fire blazing there. By that light you see the faces of the painted old ladies, and the jolly men of letters, and the great lords, and the brave soldiers. The book is as interesting as any previous book of the author's, and more absolutely real than any historical novel since Scott's early ones." — Daily News. ** We have at once to express in the warmest terms of praise our appreciation of the skill and taste with which * Esmond ' is written. The story of the novel is ingenious and very elegantly constructed, and carried onward so as to gratify constant curiosity until the end. In short, the book thoroughly occupies our minds with a sense of strength on the part of the writer, of wh.-h the manifestation is always made gracefully." — Examiner. " In quiet richness, * Esmond' mainly resembles the old writers j as it does also in weight of thought, sincerity of purpose, and poetry of the heart and brain. It is wise and sweet in its recesses of thought and feeling ; and is more hopeful, consolatory, and kindly than * Vanity Fair.' Thinking and educated readers will discern in it an immense advance in literary power over Mr. Thackeray's previous writings." — Fraser^s Magazine, " This is the best work of its kind that has been published for many years. As a picture of the social life and manners of English society in the reign of Queen Anne, it must long remain unrivalled. The characters dress, think, speak, and act, just as the men and women did in the time of Queen Anne j they are not mere puppets — Mr. Thackeray's genius makes them live.'* — Atlas, V;' ll-*' s 'i. ' .^■ :.'.-• '•I"' ^'1 • I.J •.. *- OTorfes of ilWr. lausliin. I. THE STONES OF VENICE. Foundations. Volume the First. The With Twenty-One Plates and numerous Woodcuts, embossed cloth, with top edge gilt. Imperial 8vo, 2/. zs. in " The book before us contains Mr. Ruskin's theory and doctrines of the elemen : of architecture, applied to the various points of practical building. Throughout u manifest the great aim of inculcating, by every possible form of precept and example, the absolute necessity of preserving an unfailing correspondence between the desti- nations of buildings, and their forms and decorations. Mr. Ruskin's book cannot be read by any one without improvement to his moral sense and mental discipline. The book has an indestructible value. It tells us the tru*'^ on much where it greatly imports us to be informed. The eloquence of the book s xtraordinary." — Examiner. " At once popular and profound, this book will be gratefully hailed by a circle of readers even larger than Mr. Ruskin has found for his previous works. He has so written as to catch the ear of all kinds of persons." — Literary Gazette. " The reputation which Mr. Ruskin has earned by his former works will probably receive a great accession of lustre from * The Stones of Venice.' This work, as we had a right to expect from the age and evidently growing powers of the author, may be justly described as his most valuable performance, and fitted to become the most popular of all his productions." — British Sluarterly Review. " Mr. Ruskin has seized on the great principle that all art is the expression of man's delight in God's work. This is his clue through the universe ; holding fast by that, h« can never get far wrong. His pursuit of truth is as admirable for its clear- sightedness as it is for its honesty." — Eclectic Review. ** We adjudge this to be an excellent book, and a valuable assistance, if studied with caution, to students of art. The matter is weighty and suggestive ; the style, both forcible and beautiful ; the lucid order of the composition, admirable." — Archi- tectural S^uarterly Reviitv. The Second Volume is in the Press. II. EXAMPLES of THE ARCHITECTURE of VENICE, Selected and Drawn to Measurement from the Edifices. Ncnv in course of publication, im Parts, of Folio Imperial size. Each containing Five Plates, and a short explanatory text, price i/. 15. each. Parti One to Three are published. Fifty India Proofs only are taken on Atlas Folio, price 2/. zs. each Part. SMITH, ELDER AND CO. OTiorlis of Mx. Ulusiiin. III. THE SEVEN LAMPS OF ARCHITECTURE. With Fourteen Et hings by the Author. Imp. 8vo, l/. is. 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THE GOLD VALUER j being Tables for Ascertaining the Value of Gold, as Naturally Produced, or Artificially Amalgamated. By James H. Watherston, Gold- smith. Post 8vo, price 3^. 9^. cloth. ;ft \L Reefs, RICA. Bv 8vo, with rriEs, Emo- rOCQUELER. lie service to the the arrangement essional readers." )RMS. By }vo, loj. 6^., >JES, FOR By Henry and Storm- nONARY Eastern traveller cause in that are of standard and est authority now ND COM- Ascertaining Artificially STON, Gold- SMITH, ELDER AND CO. «5 I) )r 3i£ltUgtouS) anly lEHucational. THE NOVITIATE; or, The Jesuit IN Training ; being a Year among the English Jesuits. By Andrew Stein- METZ. Third Edition^ post 8vo, 51. cloth. *'Thi* is a remarkable book. It describes with a welcome minuteness, the daily, nightly, hourly occupations of the Jesuit Novitiates of Stonyhurst, their religious exercises and manners, in private and together ; and depicts, with considerable acute- ness and powers the conflicts of an intelligent, susceptible, hone!?* -purposed spirit, while passing through such a process."— i?r/rij^ S^uarterly Rpvirw. A CONVERTED ATHEIST'S TESTIMONY TO THE TRUTH OF CHRISTIANITY ; being the Autobiography of Alexander Harris. Fourth Edi- tion,, fczp. 8vo, 3^. cloth. " a very interesting account of the experience of an intelligent and sincere mind on the subject of religion. We can honestly recommend the book to the notice of our readers." — Eclectic Review. THE RECTORY OF VALEHEA.D. By the Rev. Robert Wilson Evans. Fourteenth Edition, 3;. cloth. " Universally and cordially do we recommend this delightful volume. We believe no person could read this work and not be the better for its pious and touching lestons"— -Literary Gazette. 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