Hunter. According to the custom of his tribe. Some Indians are buried under the sod; some are left in cots, or cradles, on the water; and others are placed on frames raised to support them. You remember that I told you of Blackbird’s grave.
Austin. Ay! he was buried on horseback, on the top of a high bluff, sitting on his horse. He was covered all over with sods.
Hunter. And I told you of the Chinock children floating on the solitary pool.
Basil. Yes, I remember them very well.
Hunter. Grown-up Chinocks are left floating in cradles, just in the same manner; though oftener they are tied up in skins, and laid in canoes, with paddles, pipes and provisions, and then hoisted up into a tree, and left there to decay. In the Mandan burial place, the dead were ranged in rows, on high slender frames, out of the way of the wolf, dressed in their best robes, and wrapped in a fresh buffalo skin, with all their arms, pipes, and every necessary provision and comfort to supply their wants in their journey to the hunting-grounds of their fathers. In our burial grounds, there are generally some monuments grander than the rest, to set forth the wealth, the station, or the talents of those who slumber below; and, as human nature is the same everywhere, so in the resting place of the Indians. Here and there are spread out a few yards of red or blue cloth, to signify that beneath it a chief, or a superior brave, is sleeping. The Mandan dead occupied a spot on the prairie. Here they mouldered, warrior lying by the side of warrior, till they fell to the ground from their frames, when the bones were buried, and the skulls ranged with great care, in round rings, on the prairie, with two buffalo skulls and a medicine pole in the centre.
Austin. Ay! it would be of no use for the wolf to come then, for there would be nothing for him. I should very much like to see an Indian burying-place.
Hunter. Were you to visit one, you would see that the heart and affections are at work under a red skin, as well as under a white one; for parents and children, husbands and wives, go there to lament for those who are dear to them, and to humble themselves before the Great Spirit, under whose care they believe their departed relatives to be. The skulls, too, are visited, and every one is placed carefully, from time to time, on a tuft of sweet-smelling herb or plant. Life is but a short season with both the white and the red man, and ought to be well spent. It is as a flower that flourishes: “For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more.” But I have now told you enough for the present. Come again, as soon as you will; I shall have some anecdotes of Indians ready for you.
Indian Cradle.
