July 26, 2025 • 16 mins
Get enthralled by the vivid and engaging account of a Sioux childs life during the last era of the tribes untamed existence in the 19th century, before the encroachment of civilization. Charles Eastman, born in 1858 in Minnesota, takes you through his exhilarating journey from the lush forests of the land of lakes to the boundless prairies of the Dakota territory. Experience his extensive training in woodcraft, horsemanship, and hunting, and delve into the captivating stories passed down from his elders that formed the core of his tribes oral traditions. Eastman paints an honest picture of the dangers that were part and parcel of such a lifestyle, but also conveys the sheer joy and thrill of the adventures. As you listen, you may find yourself yearning for the freedom to ride across the wild prairie just like young Ohiyesa.
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Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Part ten, Chapter one of Indian Boyhood by Charles Eastman.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Part ten
Indian Life and Adventure, Chapter one, Life in the Woods.
The month of September recalls to every Indian's mind the
season of the fall hunt. I remember one such expedition,
(00:23):
which is typical of many. Our party appeared on the
northwestern side of Turtle Mountain, for we had been hunting
buffaloes all summer in the region of the Mouse River
between that mountain and the Upper Missouri. As our cone
shaped teepees rose in clusters along the outskirts of the
heavy forest that clothes the sloping side of the mountain,
(00:46):
the scene below was gratifying to a savage eye. The
rolling yellow plains were checkered with herds of buffaloes. Along
the banks of the streams that ran down from the
mountains were also many elk, which usually appear at more
morning and evening and disappear into the forest during the
warmer part of the day. Deer, too, were plenty, and
(01:07):
the brooks were alive with trout here and there. The
streams were dammed by the industrious beaver. In the interior
of the forest. There were lakes with many islands, where moose, elk, deer,
and bears were abundant. The waterfowl were wont to gather
here in great numbers, among them the crane, the swan,
the loon, and many of the smaller birds. The forest
(01:29):
also was filled with a great variety of birds. Here
the partridge drummed his loudest, while the whipper wills sang
with spirit, and the hooting owl reigned in the night.
To me, as a boy, this wilderness was a paradise.
It was a land of plenty. To be sure, we
did not have any of the luxuries of civilization, but
(01:51):
we had every convenience and opportunity and luxury of nature.
We had also the gift of enjoying our good fortune,
whatever dangers might lurk about us. And the truth is
that we lived in blessed ignorance of any life that
was better than our own. As soon as hunting in
the woods began, the customs regulating it were established. The
(02:14):
Council Teepee no longer existed. A hunting bonfire was kindled
every morning at daybreak, at which each brave must appear
and report the man who failed to do this before
the party set out on the day's hunt, was harassed
by ridicule. As a rule, the hunters started before sunrise,
and the brave who was announced throughout the camp as
(02:36):
the first one to return with a deer on his back,
was a man to be envied. The legend teller Old
Smoky Day was chosen herald of the camp, and it
was he who made the announcements. After supper was ended,
we heard his powerful voice resound among the teepees in
the forest. He would then name a man to kindle
(02:58):
the bonfire the next morning. His suit of fringed buckskin
set off his splendid physique to advantage. Scarcely had the
men disappeared in the woods each morning than all the
boys sallied forth, apparently engrossed in their games and sports,
but in reality competing actively with one another in quickness
of observation. As the day advanced, they all kept the
(03:20):
sharpest possible look out. Suddenly there would come the shrill
oo coo hoo at the top of a boy's voice,
announcing the bringing in of a deer. Immediately, all the
other boys took up the cry, each one bent on
getting ahead of the rest. Now we all saw the
brave Wakoota, fairly bent over by his burden, a large deer,
(03:43):
which he carried on his shoulders. His fringed buckskin shirt
was besprinkled with blood. He threw down the deer at
the door of his wife's mother's home, according to custom,
and then walked proudly to his own. At the door
of his father's teepee, he stood for a moment straight
as a pine tree, and then entered. When a bear
(04:04):
was brought in, a hundred or more of these urchins
were wont to make the woods resound with their voices
Wha whaa wah, whoa whoa whah, the brave white rabbit
brings a bear. Whoa whoa whoah. All day, these sing
song cheers were kept up as the game was brought in.
At last, toward the close of the afternoon, all the
(04:26):
hunters had returned, and happiness and contentment reigned absolute, in
a fashion which I have never observed among the white people,
even in the best of circumstances. The men were lounging
and smoking, the women actively engaged in the preparation of
the evening meal and the care of the meat. The
(04:47):
choicest of the game was cooked and offered to the
Great Mystery, with all the accompanying ceremonies. This we called
the medicine feast. Even the women, as they lowered the
boiling pot or the fragrant rose most of venison ready
to serve, would first whisper, Great Mystery, Do thou partake
of this venison and still be gracious? This was the
(05:10):
commonly said grace. Everything went smoothly with us on this occasion.
When we first entered the woods, nothing was wanting to
our old way of living. The killing of deer and
elk and moose had to be stopped for a time,
since meat was so abundant that we had no use
for them any longer. Only the hunting for pelts, such
(05:32):
as those of the bear, beaver, Martin and otter was continued.
But whenever we lived in blessed abundance, our braves were
wont to turn their thoughts to other occupations, especially the
hot blooded youths, whose ambition it was to do something
noteworthy at just such moments as this. There are always
(05:52):
a number of priests in readiness whose vocation it is
to see into the future, and each of whom consults
his particular interpreter of the great mystery. This ceremony is
called by the white people making medicine to the priests.
The youthful braves hint their impatience for the war path.
Soon comes the desired dream or prophecy or vision to
(06:15):
favor their departure. Our young men presently received their sign,
and for a few days all was hurry and excitement.
On the appointed morning, we heard the songs of the
warriors and the wailing of the women, by which they
bade adieu to each other, and the eligible braves, headed
by an experienced man old hotanka or loud voiced raven,
(06:39):
set out for the Grosvant country. Our older heads, to
be sure, had expressed some disapproval of the undertaking, for
the country in which we were roaming was not our own,
and we were likely at any time to be taken
to task by its rifle owners. The plain truth of
the matter was that we were intruders. Hence, the more
(07:00):
thoughtful among us preferred to be at home and to
achieve what renowned they could get by defending their homes
and families. The young men, however, were so eager for
action and excitement that they must needs go off in
search of it. From the early morning when these braves
left us, Led by the old war priest, loud voiced raven,
(07:22):
the anxious mothers, sisters and sweethearts counted the days. Old
Smoky Day would occasionally get up early in the morning
and sing a strong heart song for his absent grandson.
I still seemed to hear the hoarse, cracked voice of
the ancient singer as it resounded among the woods. For
(07:43):
a long time, our roving community enjoyed unbroken peace, and
we were spared any trouble or disturbance. Our hunters often
brought in a deer or elk or bear for fresh meat.
The beautiful lakes furnished us with fish and wild fowl
for variety. Their placid waters as the autumn advanced, reflected
the variegated colors of the changing foliage. It is my
(08:07):
recollection that we were at this time encamped in the
vicinity of the Turtle Mountain's heart. It is to the
highest cone shaped peak that the Indians aptly give this appellation.
Our camping ground for two months was within a short
distance of the peak, and the men made it a
point to often send one of their number to the top.
(08:27):
It was understood between them and the war party that
we were to remain near this spot, and on their
return trip, the latter were to give the smoke sign,
which would answer from the top of the hill. One day,
as we were camping on the shore of a large
lake with several islands, signs of moose were discovered, and
the men went off to them on rafts, carrying their
(08:49):
flintlock guns in anticipation of finding two or three of
the animals. We little fellows, as usual, were playing down
by the sandy shore when we spied what seas seemed
like the root of a great tree floating towards us.
But on a closer scrutiny, we discovered our error. It
was the head of a huge moose swimming for his life.
(09:12):
Fortunately for him, none of the men had remained at home.
According to our habit, we little urchins disappeared in an instant,
like young prairie chickens in a long grass. I was
not more than eight years old, yet I tested the
strength of my bowstring and adjusted my sharpest and best
arrow for immediate service. My heart leaped violently as the
(09:36):
homely but imposing animal neared the shore. I was undecided
for a moment whether I should not leave my hiding
place and give a war whoop as soon as he
touched the sand. Then I thought I would keep still
and let him have my boy weapon. And the only
regret that I had was that he would, in all
probability take it with him, and I should be minus
(09:58):
one good arrow. Still, I thought, I shall claim to
be the smallest boy whose arrow was ever carried away
by a moose. That was enough. I gathered myself into
a bunch, all ready to spring. As the long legged
beast pulled himself dripping out of the water and shook
off the drops from his long hair, I sprang to
(10:21):
my feet. I felt some of the water in my face.
I gave him my sharpest arrow with all the force
I could master, right among the floating ribs. Then I
uttered my war whoop. The moose did not seem to
mind the miniature weapon, but he was very much frightened
by our shrill yelling. He took to his long legs
(10:44):
and in a minute was out of sight. The leaves
had now begun to fall, and the heavy frosts made
the nights very cold. We were forced to realize that
the short summer of that region had said adieu. Still
we were gay and light hearted, for we had plenty
of provisions, and no misfortunes had yet overtaken us in
our wanderings over the country. For nearly three months. One day,
(11:08):
Old Smoky Day returned from the daily hunt with an alarm.
He had seen a sign, a smoke sign. This had
not appeared in the quarter that they were anxiously watching.
It came from the east. After a long consultation among
the men, it was concluded from the nature and duration
of the smoke that it proceeded from an accidental fire.
(11:30):
It was further surmised that the fire was not made
by Sue, since it was out of their country, but
by a war party of Ojibways, who were accustomed to
use matches when lighting their pipes and to throw them
carelessly away. It was thought that a little time had
been spent in an attempt to put it out. The
council decreed that a strict lookout should be established in
(11:53):
behalf of our party. Every day a scout was appointed
to reconnoiter in the direction of the smoke. It was
agreed that no gun should be fired for twelve days
all our signals were freshly rehearsed among the men, the women,
and the old men went so far as to dig
little convenient holes around their lodges for defense in case
(12:14):
of a sudden attack. And yet an Ojibway scout would
not have suspected from the ordinary appearance of the camp
that the Sioux had become aware of their neighborhood. Scouts
were stationed just outside of the village at night. They
had been so trained as to rival an owl or
a cat in their ability to see in the dark.
(12:36):
The twelve days passed by, however, without bringing any evidence
of the nearness of the supposed Ojibway war party, and
the lookout established for purposes of protection was abandoned. Soon
after this. One morning, at dawn, we were aroused by
the sound of the unwelcome war whoop. Although only a child,
I sprang up and was about to rush out, as
(12:58):
I had been taught to do. But my good grandmother
pulled me down and gave me a sign to lay
flat on the ground. I sharpened my ears and lay still.
All was quiet in camp, but at some little distance
from us there was a lively encounter. I could distinctly
hear the Old Herald shouting and yelling in exasperation. Ooo
(13:20):
Ooo was the signal of distress, and I could almost
hear the pulse of my own blood vessels. Closer and
closer the struggle came, and still the women appeared to
grow more and more calm. At last, a tremendous charge
by the Sioux put the enemy to flight. There was
(13:40):
a burst of yelling alas my friend and teacher, Old
Smoky Day was silent. He had been pierced to the
heart by an arrow from the Ojibways. Although successful, we
had lost two of our men, Smoky Day and White Crane,
and this incident, although hardly unexpected, darkened our peaceful sky.
(14:06):
The camp was filled with songs of victory, mingled with
the wailing of the relatives of the slain. The mothers
of the youths, who were absent on the war path,
could no longer conceal their anxiety. One frosty morning, for
it was then near the end of October, the weird
song of a solitary brave was heard. In an instant,
(14:29):
the camp was thrown into indescribable confusion. The meaning of
this was clear as day to everybody, all of our
war party were killed, save the one whose mournful song
announced the fate of his companions. The lonely warrior was
bald Eagle. The village was convulsed with grief, for in
(14:51):
sorrow as enjoy every Indian shares with all the others.
The old women stood still wherever they might be, and
wailed dismally, at intervals, chanting the praises of the departed warriors.
The wives went a little way from their teepees and
there audibly mourned, but the young maidens wandered further away
(15:15):
from the camp, where no one could witness their grief.
The old man joined in the crying and singing. To
all appearances, the most unmoved of all were the warriors,
whose tears must be poured forth in the country of
the enemy to embitter their vengeance. These sat silently within
their lodges and strove to conceal their feelings behind a
(15:38):
stoical countenance. But they would probably have failed had not
the soothing weed come to their relief. The first sad
shock over then came the change of habiliments. In savage usage,
the outward expression of mourning surpasses that of civilization. The
Indian mourner gives up all his goods clothing, and contents
(16:01):
himself with scanty and miserable garments. The blankets are cut
in two, and the hair is cropped short. Often a
devoted mother would scarify her arms or legs. A sister
or a young wife would cut off all her beautiful
hair and disfigure herself. By undergoing hardships, fathers and brothers
(16:23):
blacken their faces and wore only the shabbiest garments. Such
was the spectacle that our people presented, when the bright
autumn was gone, and the cold shadow of winter and
misfortune had fallen upon us. We must suffer, said they.
The great mystery is offended. End of Part ten, Chapter one,
Part ten, Chapter one of Indian Boyhood by Charles Eastman.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Part ten
Indian Life and Adventure, Chapter one, Life in the Woods.
The month of September recalls to every Indian's mind the
season of the fall hunt. I remember one such expedition,
(00:23):
which is typical of many. Our party appeared on the
northwestern side of Turtle Mountain, for we had been hunting
buffaloes all summer in the region of the Mouse River
between that mountain and the Upper Missouri. As our cone
shaped teepees rose in clusters along the outskirts of the
heavy forest that clothes the sloping side of the mountain,
(00:46):
the scene below was gratifying to a savage eye. The
rolling yellow plains were checkered with herds of buffaloes. Along
the banks of the streams that ran down from the
mountains were also many elk, which usually appear at more
morning and evening and disappear into the forest during the
warmer part of the day. Deer, too, were plenty, and
(01:07):
the brooks were alive with trout here and there. The
streams were dammed by the industrious beaver. In the interior
of the forest. There were lakes with many islands, where moose, elk, deer,
and bears were abundant. The waterfowl were wont to gather
here in great numbers, among them the crane, the swan,
the loon, and many of the smaller birds. The forest
(01:29):
also was filled with a great variety of birds. Here
the partridge drummed his loudest, while the whipper wills sang
with spirit, and the hooting owl reigned in the night.
To me, as a boy, this wilderness was a paradise.
It was a land of plenty. To be sure, we
did not have any of the luxuries of civilization, but
(01:51):
we had every convenience and opportunity and luxury of nature.
We had also the gift of enjoying our good fortune,
whatever dangers might lurk about us. And the truth is
that we lived in blessed ignorance of any life that
was better than our own. As soon as hunting in
the woods began, the customs regulating it were established. The
(02:14):
Council Teepee no longer existed. A hunting bonfire was kindled
every morning at daybreak, at which each brave must appear
and report the man who failed to do this before
the party set out on the day's hunt, was harassed
by ridicule. As a rule, the hunters started before sunrise,
and the brave who was announced throughout the camp as
(02:36):
the first one to return with a deer on his back,
was a man to be envied. The legend teller Old
Smoky Day was chosen herald of the camp, and it
was he who made the announcements. After supper was ended,
we heard his powerful voice resound among the teepees in
the forest. He would then name a man to kindle
(02:58):
the bonfire the next morning. His suit of fringed buckskin
set off his splendid physique to advantage. Scarcely had the
men disappeared in the woods each morning than all the
boys sallied forth, apparently engrossed in their games and sports,
but in reality competing actively with one another in quickness
of observation. As the day advanced, they all kept the
(03:20):
sharpest possible look out. Suddenly there would come the shrill
oo coo hoo at the top of a boy's voice,
announcing the bringing in of a deer. Immediately, all the
other boys took up the cry, each one bent on
getting ahead of the rest. Now we all saw the
brave Wakoota, fairly bent over by his burden, a large deer,
(03:43):
which he carried on his shoulders. His fringed buckskin shirt
was besprinkled with blood. He threw down the deer at
the door of his wife's mother's home, according to custom,
and then walked proudly to his own. At the door
of his father's teepee, he stood for a moment straight
as a pine tree, and then entered. When a bear
(04:04):
was brought in, a hundred or more of these urchins
were wont to make the woods resound with their voices
Wha whaa wah, whoa whoa whah, the brave white rabbit
brings a bear. Whoa whoa whoah. All day, these sing
song cheers were kept up as the game was brought in.
At last, toward the close of the afternoon, all the
(04:26):
hunters had returned, and happiness and contentment reigned absolute, in
a fashion which I have never observed among the white people,
even in the best of circumstances. The men were lounging
and smoking, the women actively engaged in the preparation of
the evening meal and the care of the meat. The
(04:47):
choicest of the game was cooked and offered to the
Great Mystery, with all the accompanying ceremonies. This we called
the medicine feast. Even the women, as they lowered the
boiling pot or the fragrant rose most of venison ready
to serve, would first whisper, Great Mystery, Do thou partake
of this venison and still be gracious? This was the
(05:10):
commonly said grace. Everything went smoothly with us on this occasion.
When we first entered the woods, nothing was wanting to
our old way of living. The killing of deer and
elk and moose had to be stopped for a time,
since meat was so abundant that we had no use
for them any longer. Only the hunting for pelts, such
(05:32):
as those of the bear, beaver, Martin and otter was continued.
But whenever we lived in blessed abundance, our braves were
wont to turn their thoughts to other occupations, especially the
hot blooded youths, whose ambition it was to do something
noteworthy at just such moments as this. There are always
(05:52):
a number of priests in readiness whose vocation it is
to see into the future, and each of whom consults
his particular interpreter of the great mystery. This ceremony is
called by the white people making medicine to the priests.
The youthful braves hint their impatience for the war path.
Soon comes the desired dream or prophecy or vision to
(06:15):
favor their departure. Our young men presently received their sign,
and for a few days all was hurry and excitement.
On the appointed morning, we heard the songs of the
warriors and the wailing of the women, by which they
bade adieu to each other, and the eligible braves, headed
by an experienced man old hotanka or loud voiced raven,
(06:39):
set out for the Grosvant country. Our older heads, to
be sure, had expressed some disapproval of the undertaking, for
the country in which we were roaming was not our own,
and we were likely at any time to be taken
to task by its rifle owners. The plain truth of
the matter was that we were intruders. Hence, the more
(07:00):
thoughtful among us preferred to be at home and to
achieve what renowned they could get by defending their homes
and families. The young men, however, were so eager for
action and excitement that they must needs go off in
search of it. From the early morning when these braves
left us, Led by the old war priest, loud voiced raven,
(07:22):
the anxious mothers, sisters and sweethearts counted the days. Old
Smoky Day would occasionally get up early in the morning
and sing a strong heart song for his absent grandson.
I still seemed to hear the hoarse, cracked voice of
the ancient singer as it resounded among the woods. For
(07:43):
a long time, our roving community enjoyed unbroken peace, and
we were spared any trouble or disturbance. Our hunters often
brought in a deer or elk or bear for fresh meat.
The beautiful lakes furnished us with fish and wild fowl
for variety. Their placid waters as the autumn advanced, reflected
the variegated colors of the changing foliage. It is my
(08:07):
recollection that we were at this time encamped in the
vicinity of the Turtle Mountain's heart. It is to the
highest cone shaped peak that the Indians aptly give this appellation.
Our camping ground for two months was within a short
distance of the peak, and the men made it a
point to often send one of their number to the top.
(08:27):
It was understood between them and the war party that
we were to remain near this spot, and on their
return trip, the latter were to give the smoke sign,
which would answer from the top of the hill. One day,
as we were camping on the shore of a large
lake with several islands, signs of moose were discovered, and
the men went off to them on rafts, carrying their
(08:49):
flintlock guns in anticipation of finding two or three of
the animals. We little fellows, as usual, were playing down
by the sandy shore when we spied what seas seemed
like the root of a great tree floating towards us.
But on a closer scrutiny, we discovered our error. It
was the head of a huge moose swimming for his life.
(09:12):
Fortunately for him, none of the men had remained at home.
According to our habit, we little urchins disappeared in an instant,
like young prairie chickens in a long grass. I was
not more than eight years old, yet I tested the
strength of my bowstring and adjusted my sharpest and best
arrow for immediate service. My heart leaped violently as the
(09:36):
homely but imposing animal neared the shore. I was undecided
for a moment whether I should not leave my hiding
place and give a war whoop as soon as he
touched the sand. Then I thought I would keep still
and let him have my boy weapon. And the only
regret that I had was that he would, in all
probability take it with him, and I should be minus
(09:58):
one good arrow. Still, I thought, I shall claim to
be the smallest boy whose arrow was ever carried away
by a moose. That was enough. I gathered myself into
a bunch, all ready to spring. As the long legged
beast pulled himself dripping out of the water and shook
off the drops from his long hair, I sprang to
(10:21):
my feet. I felt some of the water in my face.
I gave him my sharpest arrow with all the force
I could master, right among the floating ribs. Then I
uttered my war whoop. The moose did not seem to
mind the miniature weapon, but he was very much frightened
by our shrill yelling. He took to his long legs
(10:44):
and in a minute was out of sight. The leaves
had now begun to fall, and the heavy frosts made
the nights very cold. We were forced to realize that
the short summer of that region had said adieu. Still
we were gay and light hearted, for we had plenty
of provisions, and no misfortunes had yet overtaken us in
our wanderings over the country. For nearly three months. One day,
(11:08):
Old Smoky Day returned from the daily hunt with an alarm.
He had seen a sign, a smoke sign. This had
not appeared in the quarter that they were anxiously watching.
It came from the east. After a long consultation among
the men, it was concluded from the nature and duration
of the smoke that it proceeded from an accidental fire.
(11:30):
It was further surmised that the fire was not made
by Sue, since it was out of their country, but
by a war party of Ojibways, who were accustomed to
use matches when lighting their pipes and to throw them
carelessly away. It was thought that a little time had
been spent in an attempt to put it out. The
council decreed that a strict lookout should be established in
(11:53):
behalf of our party. Every day a scout was appointed
to reconnoiter in the direction of the smoke. It was
agreed that no gun should be fired for twelve days
all our signals were freshly rehearsed among the men, the women,
and the old men went so far as to dig
little convenient holes around their lodges for defense in case
(12:14):
of a sudden attack. And yet an Ojibway scout would
not have suspected from the ordinary appearance of the camp
that the Sioux had become aware of their neighborhood. Scouts
were stationed just outside of the village at night. They
had been so trained as to rival an owl or
a cat in their ability to see in the dark.
(12:36):
The twelve days passed by, however, without bringing any evidence
of the nearness of the supposed Ojibway war party, and
the lookout established for purposes of protection was abandoned. Soon
after this. One morning, at dawn, we were aroused by
the sound of the unwelcome war whoop. Although only a child,
I sprang up and was about to rush out, as
(12:58):
I had been taught to do. But my good grandmother
pulled me down and gave me a sign to lay
flat on the ground. I sharpened my ears and lay still.
All was quiet in camp, but at some little distance
from us there was a lively encounter. I could distinctly
hear the Old Herald shouting and yelling in exasperation. Ooo
(13:20):
Ooo was the signal of distress, and I could almost
hear the pulse of my own blood vessels. Closer and
closer the struggle came, and still the women appeared to
grow more and more calm. At last, a tremendous charge
by the Sioux put the enemy to flight. There was
(13:40):
a burst of yelling alas my friend and teacher, Old
Smoky Day was silent. He had been pierced to the
heart by an arrow from the Ojibways. Although successful, we
had lost two of our men, Smoky Day and White Crane,
and this incident, although hardly unexpected, darkened our peaceful sky.
(14:06):
The camp was filled with songs of victory, mingled with
the wailing of the relatives of the slain. The mothers
of the youths, who were absent on the war path,
could no longer conceal their anxiety. One frosty morning, for
it was then near the end of October, the weird
song of a solitary brave was heard. In an instant,
(14:29):
the camp was thrown into indescribable confusion. The meaning of
this was clear as day to everybody, all of our
war party were killed, save the one whose mournful song
announced the fate of his companions. The lonely warrior was
bald Eagle. The village was convulsed with grief, for in
(14:51):
sorrow as enjoy every Indian shares with all the others.
The old women stood still wherever they might be, and
wailed dismally, at intervals, chanting the praises of the departed warriors.
The wives went a little way from their teepees and
there audibly mourned, but the young maidens wandered further away
(15:15):
from the camp, where no one could witness their grief.
The old man joined in the crying and singing. To
all appearances, the most unmoved of all were the warriors,
whose tears must be poured forth in the country of
the enemy to embitter their vengeance. These sat silently within
their lodges and strove to conceal their feelings behind a
(15:38):
stoical countenance. But they would probably have failed had not
the soothing weed come to their relief. The first sad
shock over then came the change of habiliments. In savage usage,
the outward expression of mourning surpasses that of civilization. The
Indian mourner gives up all his goods clothing, and contents
(16:01):
himself with scanty and miserable garments. The blankets are cut
in two, and the hair is cropped short. Often a
devoted mother would scarify her arms or legs. A sister
or a young wife would cut off all her beautiful
hair and disfigure herself. By undergoing hardships, fathers and brothers
(16:23):
blacken their faces and wore only the shabbiest garments. Such
was the spectacle that our people presented, when the bright
autumn was gone, and the cold shadow of winter and
misfortune had fallen upon us. We must suffer, said they.
The great mystery is offended. End of Part ten, Chapter one,
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