All tribes in America practise the same mode of carrying their infant children for several months from their birth upon a flat board resting upon the mother’s back, as she walks or rides, suspended by a broad strap passing over her forehead, or across her breast. By this mode of carrying their children, the mothers, who have to perform all the slavish duties of the camp, having the free use of their hands and arms, are enabled to work most of the time, and, in fact, exercise and labour nearly as well as if their children were not attached to their persons. These cradles are often, as in the present instance, most elaborately embroidered with porcupine quills, and loaded with little trinkets hanging within the child’s reach, that it may amuse itself with them as it rides, with its face looking from that of its mother, while she is at work, so as not to draw upon her valuable time.
This rigid, and seemingly cruel mode of binding the child with its back to a straight board, seems to be one peculiarly adapted to Indian life, and, I believe, promotes straight limbs, sound lungs, and long life.
I having thus introduced the party to their first audience in England, and left other remarks upon them for their proper place, the Indians laid by their pipe, and commenced their evening’s amusements by giving first their favourite, the Eagle-Dance. The Drum (and their “Eagle-Whistles,” with which they imitate the chattering of the soaring eagle), with their voices, formed the music for this truly picturesque and exciting dance. At their first pause in the dance, the audience, who had witnessed nothing of this description in the amusements of the Ojibbeways, being excited to the highest degree, encouraged the strangers with rounds of applause. The song in this dance is addressed to their favourite bird the war-eagle, and each dancer carries a fan made of the eagle’s tail, in his left hand, as he dances, and by his attitudes endeavours to imitate the motions of the soaring eagle. This, being a part of the war-dance, is a boasting dance; and at the end of each strain in the song some one of the warriors steps forth and, in an excited speech, describes the time and the manner in which he has slain his enemy in battle, or captured his horses, or performed some other achievement in war. After this the dance proceeds with increased spirit; and several in succession having thus excited their fellow-dancers, an indescribable thrill and effect are often produced before they get through.
In the midst of the noise and excitement of this dance the Doctor (or mystery-man) jumped forward to the edge of the platform, and making the most tremendous flourish of his spear which he held in his right hand, and his shield extended upon his left arm, recited the military deeds of his life—how he had slain his enemies in battle and taken their scalps; and with singular effect fitting the action to the word, acting them out as he described.
The thrilling effect produced by the Doctor’s boast brought him showers of applause, which touched his vanity, and at the close of the dance he imagined all eyes in admiration fixed upon him, and no doubt felt himself called upon for the following brief but significant speech which he delivered, waving his right hand over the heads of the audience from the front of the platform where he stood, and from which he dropped his most humble and obsequious smiles upon the groups of ladies who were near him, and applauding at the end of every sentence:—
“My Friends,—It makes me very happy to see so many smiling faces about me, for when people smile and laugh, I know they are not angry—”
Jeffrey, the Interpreter, now made his début; the Doctor had beckoned him up by his side to interpret his speech to the audience, and when he explained the above sentence, the “Doctor” received a round of applause, and particularly from the ladies, who could not but be pleased with the simple vanity of the speaker and the self-complacent smiles which he always lavished upon the fair sex who were around him. The Doctor, though advanced to the sound and efficient age of 45, had never taken to him a wife; and, like too many of his fraternity, had always lived upon the excessive vanity of believing that he was the beau idéal of his tribe, and admired too much by all to be a legitimate subject of exclusive appropriation to any particular one. And more than this (which may not have quite fallen to the happy lot of any of his brother bachelors in the polished world), from the sort of charitable habit he had of spreading his glowing smiles upon the crowds about him, one would almost be of opinion that, in his own community, under the aids and charms of his profession, he in a measure had existed upon the belief that his smiles were food and clothing for the crowds upon whom they were bestowed.
The Doctor yet stood, the concentration of smiles and anxious looks from every part of the room, and at length proceeded ([Plate No. 10]):—
“My Friends,—I see the ladies are pleased, and this pleases me—because I know, that if they are pleased, they will please the men.”
It was quite impossible for the Doctor to proceed further until he had bowed to the burst of laughter and applause from all parts of the room, and particularly from the ladies. This several times ceased, but suddenly burst out again, and too quick for him to resume. He had evidently made a “hit” with the ladies, and he was braced strong in courage to make the best use of it, although the rest of his comrades, who were seated and passing the pipe around, were laughing at him and endeavouring to embarrass him. One of the party, by the name of Wash-ka-mon-ya, and a good deal of the braggart, had the cruelty to say to him, “You old fool, you had better sit down, the white squaws are all laughing at you.” To which the Doctor, deliberately turning round, sarcastically replied, “You badger, go into your burrow backwards: I have said more in two sentences than you ever said in your life.” He then turned round, and calling Jeffrey nearer to his side, proceeded—