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Show Wie Indians' E 7) ' x - r V) t By EDITHA L. WATSON IK little town of Ignnclo, on the Ute reservation In y southern Colorado, Is astir. It Is May 2-1, the annlver-i annlver-i sary of the burial of Ou- r"y- Beneath a simple r-j-jfcjf cement headstone, made y the hands of the In-"Ns In-"Ns dlnns themselves, lies their last great chief. Kver since his body was removed to this grave In 1025, Utes from all the bands In Colorado and Utah have gathered gath-ered yearly to honor him with memorial memo-rial rites. It Is hard to tell whether this Is a custom patterned after the white man's Memorial day or not. It is true that only six days later, we who read these lines will pay tribute to our dead. There will be parades and speeches, and flowers and (lugs will deck the resting places of our soldier and sailor departed, while elsewhere In the cemeteries wreaths and bouquets bou-quets will symbolize our tender recollections recol-lections of klnfolk and close friends. There are few communities In our country which have no sort of serv-lvcs. serv-lvcs. On this day, from coast to coast, the American people give special thought to those who have entered upon the Great Adventure. But If the ghosts of those other folk who lived here before us look back and see us, they understand what we are doing, for once, long ago, the red-skinned people held their day of remembrance, too. It was not always on the same date, across all the country. Some times it was twice a year; sometimes many years elapsed between the days get apart for the dead, according to the tribes which observed the custom. But none the less the Indians before us, In their own way, which was sometimes some-times very much like ours, honored their beloved dead. The Tueblos call them "Those-who-have-gone-before." To their minds the next world Is very much like this, but the depnrted are closer to Those Above, and may Intercede for the living. liv-ing. They come back, also, not in the luminous robes and with the trumpets and slates of seance-spirits, but in the persons of certain living tribesmen who, when they have donned the gro-tesqse gro-tesqse masks of their ancertor-worship rites, seem to acquire something of the power of those whom they are representing. They come back, also. In the quiet hours when their children are immersed in thought, and give advice and counsel. It Is only fitting, then, that the Hopl should hold ceremonies In their honor, when their representations walk through the villages and hear the supplications sup-plications of their living children. It is a queer sort of Memorial day, true, but it is conducted with real reverence and love, and who can ask more? What a beautiful faith this is, which does not admit of death separating the living and the dead, and which holds these symbolic "family reunions" in token of that faith. Even with this belief, however, it Js Impossible for loving hearts not to grieve at the loss of dear ones. Thus we hear Hopl wailing on the anniversary of a death, and if there has been an epidemic which took a number of the tribe, an official anniversary anni-versary is fixed, and observed with Borrow year after year. So, too, the New Fire ceremony sees the Zuni matron, dressed as if to meet beloved friends, weeping softly to her-aelf her-aelf as she casts food into the fire on her hearth. This food Is for the ancestors and for those who died In the past year, but If we could see into her heart we would surely find some beloved one enshrined there, of whom she thinks especially as she makes her offering. The first anniversary of a death was the one most widely observed. Then the widow could put off her mourning, and the bereaved family could take np every-day life again. The official time of sorrow was passed at the end of this year. Bnt who, be he Indian or white, can say to the mourner, "Do not weep longer ; do not grieve further"? fur-ther"? The sorrow of death makes a lasting impression on the heart, which cannot be erased at the end of a year. Anniversaries come as naturally as the seasons themselves. Fall comes, and those who nre left behind remember remem-ber that at the Green Corn feasts their loved ones were merry. Thus, the After Painting by Capt. J. fygtsnanj Tunica guardians of the cemeteries reminded those who had corn and beans that the time had come to offer them, and the people gladly gathered parts of their harvest and placed them on the graves. If, as the Indians believed, the next world Is so much like this, why should not the departed spirits return on these anniversaries to partake of the spiritual essence of the food and mingle min-gle a little while with those beloved ones who had not yet joined them? Tere Sebastien Kasles, who wrote an account of the Illinois tribe long ago, spoke of their holding dances that were "a token of their sadness at the death of the most important men of their tribe. It is by these dances that they profess to honor the deceased, and to wipe away the tears of his relatives." During these dances, it was thought, the spirits of the departed de-parted ones came and danced also, enjoying themselves as they had once done in the flesh. Here we find again the great un-likeness un-likeness of thought between white man and Indian. Standing between the graves, placing flowers on them, listening listen-ing to the prayers and speeches which seek to recall the dead to us, we would shudder at the idea that they stood by us, admiring the flowers and hearing with appreciation their eulogies ! Yet the Illiniwak found only pleasure in this thought, as if some dearly-loved ones had returned from a journey to be among them, and the fact that they were invisible did not make them fearsome fear-some or less welcome to the feast in their honor. Indian burial mounds were not forgotten for-gotten by their tribesmen, even though they moved far from the place where their people were interred. No less a person than Thomas Jefferson, speaking speak-ing of a mound near Montlcello, related re-lated that "a party passing, about thirty years ago, through the part of the country where this barrow is, went through the woods directly to it, without with-out any instructions or inquiry, and having staid about It some time, with expressions which were construed to be those of sorrow, they returned to the high road." The Oneida often visited a mound near Richfield Springs, N. Y., saying that it was the burial place of one of their chief men. The old chroniclers chron-iclers omitted to state whether these visits were performd with any memorial me-morial ceremonies, but judging from what we have learned of other tribes, we believe that there must have been something of the sort. A strange Sioux memorial custom was that of "keeping the ghost." A lock of hair from the head of the deceased de-ceased person was made into a roll with cloth and various articles of value. This was kept for a year or so, and other presents collected, when the friends of the dead person assembled assem-bled to hold ceremonies. At this time the gifts, together with small pieces of the lock of hair, were distributed. This ceremony was sometimes repeated. re-peated. Another memorial observance which corresponds slightly to our custom of erecting headstones over the dead, was that described by Adair as follows: fol-lows: "To perpetuate the memory of any remarkable warriors killed in the woods, I must here observe that every Indian traveler as he passes that way throws a stone on the place. . . . In the woods we often see innumerable heaps of small stones In those places, where, according to tradition, some of their disgruntled people were either killed or buried." Each heap is Increased, In-creased, he goes on to say, as a lasting last-ing monument in their honor. No discussion of Indian memorial observances would be complete without with-out a description of the strange cus toms of the Assiniboin, Mandan, and some other tribes: These people did not inter their dead, but placed them on scaffolds or In trees. In time the bones of the deceased were all that was left, and these, perhaps, fell on the ground as the scaffolds or platforms, weather-beaten weather-beaten and old, gave way. The relatives rela-tives gathered and buried the bones, all but the skulls, and these they placed "In a circle in the plain," says Father De Smet, speaking of the Assiniboin, As-siniboin, "with the faces turned toward the center. They preserve these with care. . . . The Indians call the cemetery the village of the dead. They visit it at certain seasons of the year, to converse affectionately with their deceased relatives anf friends." Many travelers of She early daj have observed and commented os these circles of skulls, and we are given pictures of them in many of the old volumes. It Is only natural that such a strange custom should be misunderstood. mis-understood. Some of those early observers ob-servers did not realize what real affection af-fection prompted the preservation of these relics of the dead, and hence we read the scornful note that "several "sev-eral skulls were kicking about on the ground." Catlln observed this same custom among the Mandan, and goes on to tell us that each skull was place? od a bunch of wild sage, which waf renewed re-newed as often as necessary. "There Is scarcely an hour In a pleasant day, but more or less of these women may be seen sitting or laying by the skull of their child or husband, talking talk-ing to it in the most pleasant and endearing en-dearing language that they can use (as they were wont to do In former days) and seemingly getting an answer an-swer back." This custom may seem a revolting one to us, but to the Indians it was a natural and common observance. Indeed, In-deed, to the white men who knew these people well, their strange ideas grew less fantastic, and Catlin remarked, re-marked, as he noted the Mandan women wom-en "visiting" with the skulls of their loved ones, "There is something exceedingly ex-ceedingly interesting and impressive In these scenes." Indeed, they recall to us the famous vault under the Capuchin convent, where the bones of monks who have died are used to make patterns on the walls, and the skulls stand In rows. Travelers have remarked that the monks who showed them these strange designs appeared to know many of the skulls, and could relate their names and something of their histories. It was noteworthy, also, that they had no horror of the grim vault, but looked forward serenely serene-ly to their own time of departing, when their skulls also would help to decorate the walls, and some later brother of the order would name them and tell their stories. So It is with the Indians. Not all of them, of course, regarded death without dread, but surely those of whom we have been reading did not recoil at the unavoidable step. True to their beliefs, they went out brnte-ly. brnte-ly. The "Happy Hunting Grounds" of the Plains people beckoned ; the Underworld Un-derworld of the Pueblos waited for their return. And they believed with firm conviction that they would know about the memorial ceremonies, and be able to share, with the beloved living, liv-ing, in the rites. Whether we agree with them or not, it was a pleasant sort of faith. And although our own beliefs have gone In a far different direction from theirs, sometimes, still we unite once a year to recall the virtues and to honor the memories of Those-who-have-gone-be-fore. m by Western Nwipcpor Vnlon.) |