CXXXII. THE TRIBES OF GUIANA--Continued…

CXXXII. THE TRIBES OF GUIANA--Continued

ARCHITECTURE AND SOCIAL CUSTOMS.

ARCHITECTURE -- THE ORDINARY GUIANAN HOUSE -- THE MACOUSHIE AND INLAND HUTS -- CHOICE OF THE SITE -- MATRIMONIAL ARRANGEMENTS -- POLYGAMY AND ITS RESULTS -- A BREACH OF PROMISE CASE -- JEALOUSY AND ITS RESULTS -- FORBIDDEN DEGREES AMONG THE ARAWÂKS -- THE GUIANAN MOTHER AND CHILD -- A SINGULAR CUSTOM -- POLYANDRY -- MAKING CASSAVA -- THE MANIOC TREE AND ITS ALLIES -- THE GRATER, THE BOWL, AND THE COLANDER -- THE PRESS, OR TIPITI -- USE MADE OF THE POISONOUS JUICE -- MAKING SUGAR -- PIWARRI DRINKING -- THE MAQUARRI DANCE -- CONSTRUCTION OF THE WHIPS -- ENDURANCE OF PAIN.

We will now examine the domestic life of the Guianan natives.

Their architecture differs considerably according to the district. As a rule, the climate is so warm that houses are but little needed, all that is required being a simple roof above the head. The ordinary kind of hut is nothing more than a mere shed, a sort of barn without the walls, supported on posts and thatched with leaves. From the posts and rafters are hung the personal goods of the natives, such as fans, paddles, clubs, blow guns, bows and arrows, and similar articles, while from one or two of the cross-beams is sure to be hanging the singular cassava press, which will be presently described. Such a house is represented on the preceding page.

Between the upright posts, and sometimes from the transverse beams, are suspended the hammocks, some of which are almost invariably occupied, as the master has a natural genius for lying in his hammock when he is not absolutely obliged to be on his feet. The number of hammocks under a single roof is almost incredible. They are hung in tiers, one above another, like the berths on board a passenger ship, and when thirty or forty of them are occupied at once, it seems rather wonderful that the building should be able to withstand such a strain.

As the inhabitants move about, or get into and out of their hammocks while replenishing the nightly fires, whose smoke is the only defence against the mosquitoes and other winged pests, the whole building rocks, the joints creak, and the house seems on the point of coming down. But the junctions of the beams and posts are so firmly tied that they are far stronger than they look, and however fragile the shed may seem, it is quite equal to any strain they may have to endure.

In the interior, however, the huts are more of a complicated character, and have walls as well as a roof. Their form is invariably round, and their roofs pointed in the centre. Some are shaped almost exactly like single-poled tents, having a circular upright wall, some five or six feet in height, and from that wall a tolerably high conical roof ending in a sharp point. Their general shape much resembles that of the Makololo house, seen on page 329. The roof, however, is neater, and the central pole, by which it is supported, rises to some height above the top, looking like the ornamental spikes with which English builders are fond of decorating some of their villas.

Other houses, though built on the same principle, are not quite conical. They have no distinction between the wall and roof, and, instead of being circular, are octagonal. They may be very well imitated by cutting out eight isosceles triangles from cardboard, the larger sides being about four times the length of the shortest, and sewing them together. A knitting needle through the centre will act as a support, and look very much like the centre pole of the edifice.

These huts are used by the Macoushies, the makers of the very long blow guns which have already been described, and from projections in the upright poles the weapons are suspended when not in use. It need scarcely be said that the task of house building belongs to the women, inasmuch as it pertains to the category of heavy work, which is beneath the character of a man to undertake. Indeed, with these people, as with many other uncivilized nations, the rooted disinclination of the men to labor, and the consequent falling of all the work upon the women, is one of the most serious obstacles to their progress in civilization; and even polygamy is not so much a drawback as the inferior condition of the women.

Treating of the native houses, Mr. Brett remarks that the builders, simple as may be the house itself, carefully select a site which must combine several requirements. In the first place, it must be near a stream, so that the women may not have more trouble than needful in fetching water for the use of the household, and that the canoe may be within easy reach of the house when the owner wishes to set out upon one of the frequent migrations which take place among these tribes.

It must be a spot which is rather out of the way. The native Guianan likes peace and quietness, and has a strong objection to being disturbed, the apathy of his nature being supplemented by an inveterate shyness, which makes him keep aloof from strangers. It must also be a spot where the ground is light and sandy, and where the very slight cultivation needed in this land can be easily carried on.

The house being built, the next business is to prepare a field for the cultivation of yams and cassava, and this is the only hard work which the men will condescend to do. The ground is already occupied by trees, but this is of no consequence to the native agriculturist. Having selected a convenient spot, he cuts down the trees, ingeniously contriving that the fall of one shall bring down several others. This is done at the beginning of the hot season, i. e. somewhere in August. The tropical sun soon dries the fallen trees, and when they are sufficiently parched for the purpose, the Indian sets them on fire, a process which rapidly consumes all but the trunks and the largest branches. He has now done his share of the work, and leaves the rest to the women, who have to clear away the débris as far as they can, and to do all the digging, planting, and weeding that is needed.

Among these people polygamy, though not always the rule, is often the case, and a man’s greatness is partly estimated by the number of his wives. It is not, however, carried out to such an excess as is the case with many other peoples, inasmuch as one chief was looked upon with the greatest respect because he had the unusual number of nine wives. This chief, a Warau, was very jealous of his establishment, and was said to have shot one of his wives, and severely wounded another with his cutlass. As a rule, however, a man has one wife only, the exceptions being rarer in proportion to the number of wives.

The Caribs appear to carry out the principle of proprietorship in their women to the fullest degree, as is exemplified by an amusing anecdote related by Mr. Brett. It must be premised that, as is usual among nearly all uncivilized natives, the wife is purchased from her father or oldest male relative, who has absolute power over and can sell her as he would sell his bow, and with as much regard for the feelings of one article of property as the other.

“A high-spirited Caribi girl, indignant at being given in marriage to an elderly man, who had already other wives (one being her own sister), ran away from him, and bestowed her hand on one of the Essequibo Caribs, a younger man whom she liked better. After a while, the old man visited that quarter--not, however, to exercise his undoubted right to bring her back and beat her, but to claim compensation for her services. It was willingly allowed, and for a gun, a barrel of salt, or some article of like value, the woman was left with the man of her choice, who perhaps thought himself secure, and the business ended.

“But the next year the old man, who well knew what he was doing, paid them another visit, still, as he said, in quest of compensation. On being reminded by the husband that he had already been paid for the woman, he replied, ‘Yes--for the woman; but she has since borne you a child--you must now pay me for that.’ The unwritten law of Caribi usage was decidedly in the old man’s favor, and he received compensation for that child. For each succeeding birth he could, if he chose, reappear, like an unquiet spirit, make a similar demand, and be supported therein by the custom of his nation.”

Sometimes the second wife is purchased while still a child, and brought up together with the family of the first wife, and a prudent chief will thus provide himself with a succession of wives, each attaining marriageable years as her predecessors become too old to suit the taste of their proprietor. Now and then, the first wife successfully resists the introduction of a sharer of her household. In one such case, the first wife, after trying to commit suicide, and being prevented, took a more sensible course. She was an Arawâk, one of three sisters, all living with their respective husbands at one settlement. One day, the husband of the eldest sister, having been on a visit to some friends, brought home another wife, a full-grown young woman. The first wife, after her unavailing attempt at suicide, made an onslaught upon the intruder, aided by her two sisters, whose husbands stood quietly looking on. The end of the business was, that the woman was sent back to her friends, and the first wife was left in the undisturbed rule of her household.

The Arawâks have a curious and praiseworthy regulation concerning marriage. Their tribe is divided into a number of families, each descending in the female line, and being known by its own name. No one is allowed to marry into the family bearing the same name as himself or herself, and this principle is carried out in a rather curious manner.

As the succession falls in the woman’s line, her sons and daughters, and the children of her daughters, bear the same name as herself, but not so the children of her sons, who will take the names of their respective mothers. The Arawâks are very tenacious of this rule, and think an infraction of it to be a great crime.

As is the case with most uncivilized nations, the Guianan mothers think but little of the event which lays a civilized European woman on the bed of sickness for weeks. Mr. Brett saw one Warau woman, only two hours after the birth of her child, tie up her hammock, and carry it, together with her newly born infant, from one house to another. When the child is very young, it is laid in a small hammock, but when it gains a little strength, a rather curious cradle is provided for it.

The body of the cradle is made of the ever-useful itirritti reed, which is split into slips about the tenth of an inch in width, and then woven so as to make a kind of basket, open at one end and down one side. The edges are strengthened by a rod of flexible wood lashed firmly to them, and the cradle is brought into shape by means of a framework consisting of tolerably strong sticks. The opening in front is much narrower than the body of the cradle, so that the child can be easily secured in it. The length of my specimen, drawn on page 1238, is exactly twenty inches, and width at the back thirteen inches, while that of the opening is only seven inches. This cradle is very strong, very elastic, and very light--three great requisites in such an article. When the mother wishes to carry her child, she only takes a broad plaited belt, the two ends of which are united, passes it over the crossbars at the top of the cradle, and then brings the belt across her forehead.

The parents are very kind to their children, and can seldom bring themselves to chastise them, except in a sudden fit of anger. The natural consequence of this treatment is, that they have scarcely any control over the children, though, when they grow up, the respect shown by sons and daughters to their parents of either sex is worthy of all praise.

Connected with this subject, the Guianan natives have a very singular custom, which, according to our ideas at the present day, entirely reverses the order of things. With us, when a wife expects to be a mother, she often thinks it necessary to abstain from certain articles of food, and from too much exertion. With the Guianan Indians, the wife eats exactly what she chooses, and works as hard as ever, while the husband thinks himself bound to abstain and to rest. For example, the Acawaios and Caribs will not eat the flesh of the agouti, lest the future offspring should be thin and meagre; the haimara fish, lest it should be dim-sighted; or the maroudi, lest it should be still-born, the cry of this bird being held as an omen of death. The reader may remember that a Macoushie excused himself from making wourali by reference to this custom. This custom does not stop with the child’s birth, but extends to several weeks afterward.

As soon as her child is born, the Indian wife washes the baby, rolls it in the cradle hammock, and goes about her business as usual. But the Indian husband is pleased to consider himself very ill, and straightway takes to his hammock, where he is waited upon by the women with the most solicitous attention. In some districts the sick husband has not a very pleasant part to play, being obliged to take nauseous drinks, and to go through a course of very unpleasant medicine. Generally, however, he does nothing but lie in his hammock for a week or two, during which time he is kept amply supplied with the daintiest food, and petted as if he were recovering from a dangerous sickness.

This custom has gradually expired in the vicinity of the mission stations, but it occasionally revives. Mr. Brett mentions an instance where a large influx of strangers reintroduced it into the station. It so happened that a young Christian Indian had become a father, and was violently importuned by his female relatives to take to his hammock according to ancient custom. He resisted for some time, but was so persecuted that he fairly ran away, and went to work at a distance for three weeks, at the expiration of which time he thought he might be considered as convalescent. Strange as this custom may seem to be, it is one which has prevailed through a very considerable portion of the globe, and even in Europe has not been extinct until comparatively late years.

Not only is polygamy practised among these tribes, but the strange custom of polyandry exists. On one occasion, when a missionary was arguing with a native against the practice of polygamy, he used an argumentum ad hominem, and with the bad results that usually follow such an argument. Finding that he could not prove to his interlocutor that a man ought not to have two wives, the missionary asked how it would be liked by the men if one wife were to have two husbands. To his astonishment, the man replied that the plan answered very well, and that he knew a woman who at that time had three husbands.

* * * * *

It has been already mentioned that the natives of Guiana depend chiefly for their food upon the beasts, birds, and fishes which they capture. Vegetable food is not so important to them as it is generally to inhabitants of warmer climates, probably because the almost perpetual moisture of the country forces the inhabitants to partake of a comparatively generous diet.

The staple vegetable food is the cassava, which is prepared in rather a curious manner. Strange to say, it is obtained from a plant belonging to the natural order Euphorbiaceæ, plants which are celebrated for containing most poisonous juices.

Some of them are trees of the largest size, while others are little herbs that only exist for a few weeks. All of them, however, secrete an acrid juice, more or less poisonous. A familiar example of these plants may be found in the common spurge, or wart-wort of our gardens (Euphorbia helioscopa), the white, acrid, milky juice of which is employed in destroying warts. Several of these Euphorbiaceæ produce, beside the poisonous juice, a farinaceous substance, from which the poison can be separated, and which is then useful as human food.

The chief plant which produces the cassava is the Jatropha manihot, though there are others from which the farina can be obtained. The juice of this plant is so poisonous that a very small dose will produce death. Fortunately, the venomous principle is exceedingly volatile, and can be driven off by heat, so that the very substance which in its raw state is a deadly poison becomes, when cooked, a wholesome article of food.

The mode of preparing the cassava is as follows: Taking on her back the quake, which has already been described, the Guianan woman digs up a quantity of the cassava root, puts it into the quake, and brings it to her hut. She next peels it by tearing off the outer covering with her teeth, and then proceeds to scrape it into very fine shavings. This is done by means of the native grater, which, rude as it looks, is a very effective machine. It consists of a thick board about a yard in length and half as much in width. Into the upper surface of this board are driven in regular rows a number of fragments of sharp stones, which are further secured in their places by a sort of vegetable glue obtained from the juice of a tree.

By being drawn over this surface, the cassava roots are soon reduced to thin shavings, much like those of the horse radish, which are collected into a basket. One of these baskets is shown in fig. 2, on page 1231. It is made much like the cradle already mentioned, but is of closer texture, and the strips of cane are wider. It is about two feet in diameter, and is capable of containing a considerable quantity of the grated root.

When the native cassava maker does not possess one of these graters, she uses as a substitute the acrid root of a species of Ireartia palm, which is covered with hard protuberances, and answers the purpose tolerably well, though it does not work so smoothly or neatly as the regular grater.

Sometimes a further process of grinding is employed, though not always. In such cases, the grated root is placed on a flat, sloping stone, and rubbed with another, just as is done by the Araucanians. See page 1203.

The next process is to rid it of its poisonous juices, and in this part of the operation there is also considerable variation. Among some tribes, the scraped cassava is taken out of the dish and pressed tightly into a sieve or colander. This instrument is very ingeniously made. It is of basket work, but instead of being made of flat strips of cane or reed, round twigs are used, about as thick as ordinary drawing pencils. The natives have an ingenious mode in which the shape of the vessel is preserved while the interstices are not allowed to diminish or increase in size. This is done by beginning with a comparatively few twigs at the apex of the colander, and inserting fresh twigs at regular intervals as the vessel increases in size.

Into this colander the cassava is pressed and kneaded with water, until a considerable amount of the juice is expressed. It is then left in the sieve to undergo a partial drying, and is soon ready for another process, that of the press; and it is remarkable that, though presses of various descriptions have been sent from Europe, none of them seem to answer so well as the native Guianan press called the “tipiti.” This press is a long, cylindrical basket, from six to seven feet in length, and about four inches in diameter, made of the bark of the Jacitara palm, a species of Desmoncus. The lower part of the tipiti is closed, and brought nearly to a point, while the upper part is left open, each end terminating in a very strong loop. Owing to the mode in which the tipiti is made, the central portion is highly elastic, while the mouth and tip are comparatively stiff. One of these is represented on the following page.

Several of these tipities generally hang to the roof or the cross-beam of the hut, so as to be ready for use when wanted. One of them is then filled with grated cassava, which is thrust into the elastic tube as tightly as possible, so as to cause it to become very much shorter, and very much thicker in the middle. Underneath the tipiti is placed an earthenware bowl to receive the juice. Vessels such as these are made by the natives, and although they are very fragile, as the clay is never thoroughly kneaded, and the baking is insufficient, they can endure the fire well enough for cooking purposes. The vessel which is represented in the illustration is of a deep brown color, striped and spotted with black.

Besides these soft and fragile bowls, the natives make bottles for the purpose of carrying water. Some of these clay bottles are really elegant in form, and show evidences of artistic feeling on the part of the potter. A figure of a double water bottle, with its earthenware stoppers, is given on page 1249.

A heavy weight is then fastened to the bottom of the tipiti, which is consequently elongated and narrowed, so as to compress the contents forcibly, and squeeze out the juice that remains in the cassava. After a while a still stronger pressure is obtained by means of the lever. A pole is passed through the loop at the bottom of the tipiti, and the shorter end of it is lashed to one of the upright posts of the house. The heavy weight--usually a large stone--is then hung to the longer end of the pole, so as to produce a powerful leverage on the tipiti, and compress the cassava still further.

When the process has arrived at this state, the cassava maker often adds her own weight to that of the stone, by sitting on the end of the lever, and with her baby slung in its cradle on her back, occupies herself in some of the lighter feminine occupations.

The cassava is now fit for baking, for which purpose it is placed on circular iron plates, which are laid over the fire like the “girdles” on which oat cakes are baked. Although little known in this country under its proper name, cassava is largely used under the name of semolina, which is nothing more than the cassava roughly ground to a coarse sort of grain.

Nothing of this useful plant is thrown away. We have seen that the farinaceous matter can be rendered wholesome by being deprived of its poisonous juice, and we shall now see that even this juice itself can be rendered useful. If man or beast were to drink it as it pours from between the interstices of the tipiti, they would swell, and die in great agony. But by means of boiling the poisonous principle is driven off and the juice changes to a deep brown liquid, which is well known under the name of cassareep, and extensively used as a sauce. It is the foundation of the “pepper-pot” of the West Indies, and when used by natives is so highly impregnated with red pepper, that when they hospitably serve a white stranger with cassava bread and cassareep sauce, the mouth of the stranger is excoriated by the quantity of capsicum.

If the reader will refer to the illustration representing a Warau house, on page 1244. he will see the various processes of cassava-making. On the right hand is seen a woman kneeling before the grater, and scraping the cassava into the dish or basket. Hanging to the cross-beams of the hut are two of the tipiti presses, one filled ready for the weight and the lever, and the other stretched nearly to its full extent. A woman is sitting on the lever, and so expressing the last drops from the cassava into the bowl. The baking of the cassava cake is shown in the background on the right hand.

A few little episodes of Guianan life are shown in the same illustration. On the left hand is seen a man armed with his bow and long arrows, and having slung on his shoulders the little bag which serves as a pocket. Another man is lying asleep in his hammock, and nearly in the middle is shown a mother with her two children, one of them dragging a huge spider tied to a string. The spiders of this country are sometimes as large as a man’s outspread hand, and, unpleasant playfellows as they appear to us, they are used in this light by the children, as was seen by Mr. Bates.

The natives can also make sugar, though of a rather coarse character. Some of the tribes employ a machine with small wooden rollers, for the purpose of crushing the sugar-cane and expressing the juice, but the plan followed by the Caribs is the most simple, and at the same time the most remarkable. They carve the upper part of a stout post into the rude semblance of a human bust, the post being as nearly as possible as large as a man. The part that answers to the collar-bone projects considerably, and a hole is bored through the middle of the neck under the chin.

When the Caribs wish to make their sugar, they put one end of a long and stout lever, into the hole in the neck, and lay the cane horizontally upon the collar-bones. One man then takes the end of the lever, and by pressing it down crushes the cane so that the juice flows down the breast of the image into the vessel, while another man shifts the cane so as to bring every portion successively under the lever.

As for drink, the Guianan natives have from time immemorial made an intoxicating liquor called piwarri, which is almost exactly like the mudai of the Araucanians. A number of cakes of cassava bread are toasted brown, thrown into a large vessel, and boiling water poured over them. The remainder of the cakes are masticated and mixed with the others in the vessel. Fermentation then takes place very rapidly, and in a short time the liquor is fit to drink. The natives are immoderately fond of this disgusting preparation, and often brew and drink great quantities at a time. A canoe is no uncommon vessel to be filled with piwarri, and every one who joins in the revel is presumed to become intoxicated as soon as possible. Mr. Brett mentions an amusing instance of native feeling on this subject.

The Arawâks of the Mahaiconi district having begged that a missionary might be sent to them, the bishop determined on visiting them personally. In honor of his arrival, the Arawâks had got up a great festival, including a canoe full of piwarri, and the curious Maquarri dance, of which we shall presently learn. Most of them were intoxicated, but they apologized to the bishop for their shortcomings in politeness, and said that if they had known sooner of his visit, they would have had two canoes full of piwarri instead of one.

Piwarri feasts vary in detail according to the tribe which holds them. They are, however, always accompanied by a dance, and by some ceremonies practised by the piaman or conjurer. An interesting account of a piwarri feast is given by Messrs. Spix and Martius, in their “Travels in Brazil:”--

“By degrees, those residing at a greater distance arrived in single troops, each with his whole family, and with bag and baggage, as if they were going to migrate; the men who had not yet secreted their bows and arrows in the neighboring woods hid them here; the women put down their baskets, took the children on their shoulders, and looked for the drinking-cup (cuja). Without conversing with each other, each member of the family examined the surrounding company with an unsteady look; the men approached each other, and saluted their neighbors, at most, by pouting out their lips, and a scarcely audible nasal tone.

“In the middle of the assembly, and nearest to the pot, stood the chief, who, by his strength, cunning, and courage, had obtained some command over them, and had received the title of captain. In his right hand he held the maracá, the above-mentioned castanet, which they call gringcrina, and rattled with it, beating time with his right foot. We did not find any traces among the Indians of the oracles of the maracá, mentioned in the accounts of earlier travellers. Rather walking than dancing, he advanced slowly, with his body bent forward, round the pot, toward which his eyes were constantly turned. The dance, the measure of which was in triple time, was accompanied by him with a low monotonous singing, which was more strongly marked when he stamped with his foot. The oftener the song was repeated, the more solemn and animated was the expression of his voice and features. All the rest stood motionless round the pot, stared at him without speaking, and only now and then, when the words of the dancer, which seemed to be extempore, moved them, they broke out into immoderate cries.

“After this measured circular dance, by which, probably, it was intended to conjure and keep off evil spirits, the leader approached the pot, took from the hand of his neighbor the drinking-vessel which he held ready, gravely dipped it into the pot, and took a sip. The rattling of the gringerina and the monotonous music became general, and more and more noisy the longer the cup went round. We, too, had a full cuja presented to us, and though filled with disgust, we were obliged to follow the advice of our guide to empty it, in order not to give the Indians any reasons for distrust.

“The beverage resembles in taste our malt liquor, and when taken in a large quantity is intoxicating, an effect which was but too manifest toward the end of the feast, by their leaping and noisy singing of, ‘Hi! ha! ha!’ Hopes had been given us that we should see on this occasion the dances of the Coroados; but toward evening, after their stomachs and heads were full, one party slipped away after the other, as if by previous agreement.”

The same authors give an account of a melancholy sort of dance performed by another tribe of natives, the Puris:--

“When they had been made familiar, and treated with plentiful draughts of brandy, of which, like all Indians, they are passionately fond, they began their dance by night, on an open spot not far from the fazenda of Guidowald. If the compact low stature, the brown-red color, the jet-black hair hanging down in disorder, the disagreeable form of their broad angular countenances, the small, oblique, unsteady, blinking eyes, and, lastly, the tripping, short, light step of these savages had excited in us the most sorrowful feelings at the debasement of humanity in them, these were further increased by the melancholy expression of their festivity in the darkness of the night. The men placed themselves close together in a line, and behind them the women, also in a line. The male children, sometimes two or three, took hold of each other and of the fathers round the waist, as the female children did their mothers. In this position they begin their melancholy ‘Háu--jo--há--ha--há.’ It is remarkable that the melodies which Lery noted above two hundred years ago among the Indians in the neighborhood of Rio Janeiro very much resemble those observed by us.

“The song and the dance were repeated several times, and the two rows moved slowly forward in a measured triple time. In the first three steps they put the left foot forward, and bent the left side; at the first and third step they stamped with the left foot, and at the second with the right; in the following three steps they advanced the right foot at the first and last, bending on the right side. In this manner they advanced a little alternately, in short steps. As soon as the song was concluded, they ran back in disorder, as if in flight--first the women with their daughters, and then the men with their sons. After this they placed themselves in the same order as before, and the scene was repeated. A negro, who had lived a long time among the Puris, explained to us the words sung to this dance as a lamentation, the subject of which was, that they had attempted to pluck a flower from a tree, but had fallen down. Ho interpretation of this melancholy scene could have appeared to us more appropriate than that of the loss of Paradise.”

The most curious of all the Guianan dances is that which is called the Maquarri dance, from the implement which forms its principal element. The Maquarri is a whip, and the object of the dance is giving and receiving blows from the maquarri. The form of this whip varies in different districts. The form usually employed, is made of silk grass fibre, bound together so as to form a stiff and elastic whip. The handle is strengthened by being bound strongly with a strip of dark cane wound spirally around it, and is ornamented by a tuft of fibres, which hang from the butt. Several tufts of white cotton wool adorn the transition between the handle and the lash, the latter of which tapers gradually to a point. The whole whip including the lash, is nearly five feet in length, and is a most formidable instrument of torture, capable of cutting into the bare skin like a knife, and causing the blood to spirt from the wound which it makes. The other form is scarcely so terrible a whip to the eye, though it may inflict quite as much pain when skilfully handled. It is entirely covered with cane, and, as it is swung about, it gives a crackling sound with every curve. The length of this whip is three feet four inches.

The maquarri dance is conducted in the following manner. The young men and boys, decorated with all the fantastic feather work which native art can supply, range themselves in two rows opposite each other, the dancers being all armed with their maquarri whips, which they wave in the air, uttering at the same time cries which are intended to imitate the notes of birds.

Presently two of the dancers from opposite sides challenge each other, leave the ranks, and dance opposite each other in the open space between the ranks. After dancing for a while, one of them stops, and stands firmly on one leg, thrusting the other forward, and remaining perfectly firm and steady. See illustration on page 1260.

His opponent, or partner, whichever he may be called, stoops down, takes deliberate aim at some part of the projecting leg, and then leaping into the air, in order to give force to his stroke, delivers a blow with all his strength. A practised maquarri dancer is sure to cut deeply into the skin and to draw blood by the stroke; but the receiver does not shrink from the blow, gives no sign of pain, and only smiles contemptuously as he executes the dance. Presently his opponent holds out his leg in turn to be struck, and after a few lashes have been exchanged, they retire to the piwarri vessel, drink some of its contents, and return to their places in the ranks.

The greatest good humor prevails during this strange contest, though when a couple of powerful and experienced dancers have met, they have often scarcely been able to walk from the severity of the blows which they have received. Sometimes, after a hard day’s dancing and drinking, when their legs are stiff and sore from the blows which they have received, and their heads are aching from the liquid they have drunk, they declare that they will abandon the dance for ever. But, as soon as their legs get well and their heads are clear again, they forget all their promises, and join in the next maquarri dance with unabated zest.

During one of these dances, which was performed in Mr. Brett’s presence, a stout little Warau came to the encampment, when the dance was nearly over, evidently with the idea of getting some piwarri without undergoing the previous salutation of the maquarri whip. The young men at once divined his intention, and quietly passed the word among themselves to frustrate his design. Accordingly, he was challenged in rapid succession by the young men, and subjected to more than ordinary castigation before he obtained any piwarri. However, he bore his punishment manfully, and did his best to look pleasant, although he soon perceived the trap into which he had fallen.

On that occasion the dance was given in honor of a woman who had been buried in the house. A broad plank lay upon her grave, and on it, among other articles, was a bundle of silk grass being the remainder of the material from which the maquarri whips had been made, these articles having somewhat of the sacred character about them. After going through a few ceremonies, two or three men, armed with long knives, dashed in among the dancers, snatched the whips from them, cut off the lashes, and flung them into the grave. The owners of the whips pretended to be very savage at surrendering the whips, leaping, throwing somersaults, and going through all kinds of evolutions, so that it was great matter of surprise that any of them escaped injury.

On another occasion, when the maquarri dance had been got up in honor of the bishop, all the dancers, before they went into the large house, laid their whips on a board which had been placed there expressly for their reception.

With regard to this dance, Mr. Brett was much struck with the apparent indifference to pain manifested by the natives, and asked them how they could endure such tortures without seeming to feel them. The Indians replied that their insensibility to pain was partly produced by the piwarri, and was partly owing to the presence of the women, who would scoff at any one who showed the least symptom of suffering.

Giving both these reasons their full value, there are two others of much greater importance. One is the natural apathy of the native, who requires a very strong stimulus for exertion. This apathy extends to the nerves of sensation as well as to those of volition, and the real fact is, that a blow which would cause the most horrible agony to a white man is scarcely felt by the native Guianan. The other is the effect of exposure and perfect health of body. All those who have gone into training for any athletic contest will remember how different is the pain-bearing capacity of the trained and untrained man, the former scarcely seeming to be aware of an injury which would have prostrated him for weeks had he been untrained. Now these natives are always in the state of body to which the civilized athlete occasionally brings himself, and the result is, that external injuries have but little effect on them.

Another and a rather picturesque dance is described by Mr. Brett. This is an Arawâk dance, and is performed in the following manner:--Twelve young men step forward, and arrange themselves in parallel rows; but instead of carrying maquarri whips, they bear slender rods, about twelve feet in length, decorated with strips of silk grass stained red, and having at the tips little gourds with stones in them. They dance backward and forward, striking the ends of their rods against the ground, and keeping time with the measure. From time to time the young women go up to the dancers, seize their arms, and dance with them, and then, as the men clash the rattling ornaments of beetles’ wing cases with which their wrists and legs are decorated, the women loose their hold, and run back to their companions like frightened deer.

A Warau dance is described by the same missionary who witnessed the maquarri dance. “It was little more than a measured series of steps, accompanied with stamping, while the persons advanced or receded, sometimes in single rank, sometimes in two ranks facing each other, throwing their right arms over their right-hand neighbor’s shoulders, and their left arms round their left-hand neighbor’s waist, swaying their bodies to and fro. Occasionally the women would run, and, inserting themselves between the men, join in the dance.

“The effect was somewhat heightened by a monotonous chant sung in unison, and by the clatter of beads and anklets made of hard seeds and the wings of beetles. The dance was intended to represent the antics of a herd of kairounies, or bush hogs, and the chant was a succession of mocking or jeering expressions.”

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CXXXIII. THE TRIBES OF GUIANA--Continued

DRESS--AMUSEMENTS.

FEATHER HEADDRESSES AND THEIR STRUCTURE -- THE FEATHER APRON -- DRESS OF THE WOMEN -- THE KIMISA AND QUEYU -- MODE OF MANUFACTURE -- HARMONY OF COLOR -- MR. BAINES’ THEORY -- A SINGULAR PURCHASE -- THE SAPURU OR GARTER OF THE CARIBS -- PAINT AND TATTOO -- THE SPATHE CAP AND APRON -- PETS AMONG THE NATIVES -- SKILL IN FISHING AND CAYMAN CATCHING -- MR. WATERTON’S ADVENTURE -- THE INGENIOUS HOOK -- GAMES AND SPORTS -- SHIELD WRESTLING -- CANOE SLAKING -- NAVIGATING THE FALLS.

During their dances the natives display all their best feather ornaments. Two of their headdresses are shown on page 1238. The foundation of these is a circlet made of thin dark cane, cut into strips. One of them (fig. 2) is made of parrots’ feathers, beautifully shaded from dark blue to brilliant green, and being topped with three long straight scarlet feathers from the tail of the macaw. The general effect of this beautiful headdress is heightened by a row of white downy feathers by which it is surrounded. This specimen was made by the Macoushie tribe.

The other headdress (fig. 1) is called Arok, and, though very handsome in point of color, does not possess the beauty of form which characterizes the other. The greater part of the headdress is bright yellow, but just on either side of the top are two broad bands of scarlet. The feathers in this specimen are arranged four deep.

The reader may remember that, in many portions of the uncivilized world, aprons are made of thongs depending from the waist. This principle is carried out by many of the African tribes, who use thongs or strips of leather, as well as in several of the islands of Polynesia, where vegetable materials are used. We have at fig. 4, on page 1249, an example of the same principle carried out in Tropical America, feathers being employed instead of skin, grass, or bark. The length of this apron is one foot nine inches, and its depth one foot three inches. It is made of feathers, blue at the base and tip, and scarlet in the middle. As may be seen by the smaller figure at the side, the feathers are fastened on the string that binds the apron on the waist by doubling over the quill, and tying the doubled end over the string.

It is on such occasions as the Arawâk and Warau dances, of which a description was given in the last chapter, that the women produce their best apparel. Generally, as long as none but their own people are in sight, they are not particular about wearing clothes of any kind, but since they have mixed with the white people they have learned to be more fastidious. When a white stranger comes to a native settlement, the men and women are mostly independent of clothing, but the latter, as soon as they distinguish the color of their visitor, run off to their homes to put on their dresses.

Those settlements that are tolerably near civilization usually employ the “kimisa,” i. e. a sort of petticoat passing round the waist, and suspended by a string over one shoulder. These dresses are considered merely a concession to the peculiar notions of the white man, and, though worn while he is present, are taken off as soon as he departs, and carefully put away until the next white visitor comes.

The native dress of ceremony is, however, the little apron called the queyu, or keu. At the present time it is made of beads, but before beads were procurable it was simply of cotton, decorated with shells, beetles’ wings, and similar ornaments. Several of these odd little aprons are in my collection. The best and most elaborate of them is that which is represented at fig. 5, on page 1249, and was presented to me by H. Bernau, Esq.

This beautiful specimen of native art is eight inches in length and four in depth, including the large beads that serve as a fringe. It is made entirely of “seed” beads, threaded on silk grass in such a manner that the thread is scarcely visible. The principle on which the maker has gone is, that she has woven a sort of framework of perpendicular threads or strings, set exactly wide enough apart to allow two beads to be placed between them. By this plan she has regulated the arrangement of the beads requisite to form the pattern, while the beads themselves are strung upon fine silk-grass threads that run at right angles to the others.

The colors are blue, yellow, green, and carmine, in transparent beads, and chalk-white and vermilion in opaque beads, not counting the larger beads used to form the fringe. The principle of the pattern is that of the square standing on an angle, or the “diamond,” as it is more familiarly termed. First, three diamonds have been worked in yellow beads, a line of green beads running down the centre of the yellow, and a rather broad line of carmine beads passing along the inner and outer edge of each diamond.

The dark pattern in the centre of each diamond is made of blue beads, and the square patterns in each angle of the diamond are made of chalk-white beads with a centre of vermilion. The entire apron is edged with the chalk-white beads. The fringe at the bottom is made of a treble row of much larger beads, one of which is represented of the full size, and at either end of each bead is a small scarlet cylinder, like coral.

On looking at the form of the apron, the reader will notice that it is much wider at the bottom than at the top. This is intentional. The thick perpendicular strings only extend as far as the upper corners, the others being thin threads. The consequence of this structure is, that when the apron is held up by two loops, the middle of it is nearly flat, while the two ends fall into heavy folds.

There is a positively startling boldness about the coloring of this apron; such, for example, as the placing green beads next to the yellow. Still, the whole arrangement of the colors is so admirable, that in spite of the brilliant hues of the beads, which are of the brightest possible blue, yellow, carmine, and vermilion, they are so well harmonized, that in no case does one hue seem to predominate over another, or to interfere with another.

Some few years ago, I was discussing the coloring of this very apron with Mr. T. Baines, the celebrated traveller, and asking if he had any theory by which he could account for the artistic harmony of color which is invariably displayed in the aprons. He said that he had long thought that the natives unconsciously imitated the coloring on the wings of the gorgeous butterflies which are so plentiful in that land, and, from specimens in his collection, showed that the very collocation of hues which produced harmony of coloring in the bead apron was also to be found in the wings of Guianan butterflies. Perhaps the splendid plumage of many Guianan birds may also afford hints for the native artist.

Another queyu in my collection is made of similar materials, and on the same principle, but is of a totally different pattern. In this case, the maker has evidently possessed a preponderance of the chalk-white beads, and comparatively few of the red, blue, and yellow beads. She has accordingly made the body of the apron of the white beads, and enlivened it by two patterns, of red, blue, and yellow, formed much like those which occupy the centre of the diamond in the apron which has been just described. In shape the two aprons are identical, but the latter is very much smaller in size, being only four inches in length and two in depth.

The third specimen of the queyu in my collection is much larger, being made of large beads, and really may take rank as an article of dress and not a mere ornament. It is thirteen inches in length by nine in depth, and, though not possessing the brilliant colors of the two queyus which have been described, is yet a handsome article of costume. The white beads of which the groundwork of this apron is made are as large as ordinary peas, so that the whole work is of a much coarser character than that which distinguishes the two other aprons. Those which form the pattern are deep garnet color, so dark that except in particular lights it looks black. The woman who made this apron has ingeniously selected the beads of such a size that two of the garnet beads occupy exactly the same space as one white bead, and exactly fill the interval between the perpendicular strings of the framework.

The most remarkable point in this apron is the pattern, which is exactly like that which is found on old patterns, and which has come into modern use under the name of the Greek fret. I have seen several queyus of different sizes and colors made with this pattern. The lower edge of the apron is made of six rows of topaz colored beads, as large as the white beads, and it is further decorated with a fringe made of tufts of cotton strings, one such tuft being fixed to every alternate bead.

As may be imagined from the description, the beads employed in making the apron are very heavy, the whole article weighing nearly a pound and a half, so that in this case the owner has good reason for not wearing it except on occasions of ceremony. Owing to the material of which these aprons are made, none of them put forth their full beauties unless they are held between the spectator and the light.

One of these aprons was procured by a friend of mine in a manner which shows that they are considered rather as ornaments than dress. He happened to be in one of the civilized coast towns, and met a woman wearing a queyu of remarkable beauty. He stopped her and tried to induce her to sell the apron; but all his exertions were in vain, and for no amount of money could he purchase it. At last a brilliant thought struck him. He had in his pocket one of the common printed handkerchiefs containing the flags of all nations, and, as a last resource, he offered the kerchief in exchange for the queyu.

The woman could not withstand such a temptation. The gorgeous patterns on the handkerchief were far superior to the best examples of native art, and might afford new ideas for the future. Accordingly, she then and there took off the queyu, handed it to the purchaser, and received in exchange the kerchief, which she tied round her head, and then pursued her walk in all the dignity of the best-dressed woman in Guiana.

The strangest article of dress to be found in Guiana is undoubtedly the Carib sapuru, or garter, an ornament which can compete with the compressed foot of a Chinese beauty, or the wasp-like waist of an European belle, both for inconvenience and ugliness. While the Carib girl is young a band of rattan is bound tightly under the knee and another above the ankle. To give them an ornamental appearance they are stained with a red dye, but in fact they are instruments of torture, which entirely alter the form of the human limb and convert it into a mere spindle thicker in the middle than at each end.

There are now before me a number of photographic portraits of Carib women, and it is scarcely possible to imagine anything more hideously ludicrous than the effect of the sapuru. Deprived of its natural powers of extension, the limb has to expand itself as it can, and the consequence is, that it is obliged to develop itself in the comparatively narrow space between the two bandages.

If the reader should wish to obtain an accurate idea of a Carib belle’s leg from the ankle to the knee, he can easily do so. Let him take an ordinary broomstick, eighteen inches in length, and push it through the middle of a rather small Stilton cheese; then let him wrap the stick above and below the cheese with a red bandage, adorn the cheese with a number of blue spots, and he will have a very good idea of the extraordinary shape which is assumed by the leg of a Carib female.

The women are inordinately fond of the sapuru, and are as scornful respecting those of their own sex who do not wear it as are the Chinese women respecting those who do not wear the “golden lilies.”

These women have a variety of ornaments, but little clothes. Necklaces of various kinds are highly esteemed among them, especially when they are made of the teeth of the jaguar and alligator, inasmuch as such ornaments indicate the prowess of their admirers. The appearance of a Carib woman in full dress is not very attractive. These people are short, thick necked, and awkward looking, and in those respects the women are much worse than the men. Of the ten portraits there is not one that can bear comparison with the female inhabitants of Southern Africa, such as have been figured in the first part of this work. Their short necks are cumbered with row upon row of necklaces, their only dress is a narrow strip of blue cloth, and they have done their best to make themselves entirely hideous by the abominable sapuru.

Then, by way of adding to their attractions, they perforate the under lip, and wear in it one or several pins, the heads being within the mouth and the points projecting outward. Some of the women smear their whole bodies and limbs with the annatto dye, which gives them the appearance as if blood were exuding from every pore; and the reader may well imagine the appearance of such women, with pins sticking through their lips, their bosoms covered with row upon row of necklaces, their reddened limbs variegated with blue spots, and their legs swollen and distorted by the effects of the sapuru.

The Carib men wear an article of dress which is almost exactly like that which is worn by the inhabitants of the Nicobar Islands. It is a narrow but very long scarf, woven from cotton fibre. After passing round the waist and between the legs, it is tucked into the girdle, and then is so long that it can be hung over the shoulder like a Highlander’s plaid. The men are very proud of a good girdle, and adorn it plentifully with cotton tassels, beetles’ wings, and similar ornaments.

Of all the Guianan tribes, the Waraus are least careful respecting dress. Even the women wear nothing but a triangular piece of bark, or a similarly shaped article of apparel formed from the spathe of the young palm leaf. This spathe is also used for a head dress by several tribes. In order to understand the structure of this article the reader must remember that the palm tree is an endogenous plant, and that all the leaves spring from a central shoot. From this same spot there also starts a conical shoot, which contains the flowers. In its earlier stages of development this shoot is covered with a membranous envelope, called a spathe, which bursts in order to allow the enclosed flower-stalk to develop itself. Before it has attained its full development, the spathe is drawn off the flower-stalk and soaked in water for a time, until all the green substance becomes decomposed, and can be washed away from the fibrous framework. The well-known skeleton leaves are prepared in exactly the same manner.

When decomposition is complete, the spathe is carefully washed in running water, so that the whole of the green matter is removed and nothing is left but the tougher fibres. These are tangled together in a very remarkable manner, so as to be very elastic, and to allow the fabric to be stretched in different directions without causing any interstices to appear between them.

In this state the spathe is conical, of a yellow-brown color, and extraordinarily light. A specimen in my possession, though measuring twenty-seven inches in length, weighs barely half an ounce.

When the native wishes to convert the spathe into a cap, he doubles the open end twice, and then makes a deep fold within eight or nine inches of the tip, thus causing it to assume the shape which is seen in the illustration on page 1249. Slight as is the texture of this odd cap, it forms an excellent defence against the rays of the sun, which is the only object of the headdress in such a climate.

The reader will see that the shape, as well as the lightness of the spathe, conduces to its usefulness as an apron as well as a headdress. Such at all events is the only dress for which the Waraus care; and whether on account of the perpetual exposure of their skins, or whether from other causes, the short, stout, sturdy Waraus are much darker than the other tribes--so dark, indeed, that they have been said to approach the blackness of the negro. Mr. Brett thinks their want of cleanliness is one cause of this deeper hue. They are the best native laborers that can be found, and, when they can be induced to shake off their national apathy and fairly begin work, they will do more than any other tribe. Neither do they want so much wages as are required by the other natives, preferring liberal rations of rum to actual wages.

Living as do the Guianan natives in the forests, amid all the wealth of animal life which is found in them, and depending chiefly for their subsistence on their success in hunting, they attain an intimate knowledge of the habits of the various animals, and display considerable skill in taking them. They capture birds, monkeys, and other creatures, not for the sake of killing them, but of domesticating them as pets, and almost every hut has a parrot or two, a monkey, or some such pet attached to it.

The women are especially fond of the little monkeys, and generally carry them on their heads, so that at a little distance they look as if they were wearing a red or a black headdress, according to the species and color of the monkey. They carry their fondness for their animals to such an extent that they treat them in every respect as if they were their children, even allowing them to suck at their breasts in turn with their own offspring.

Dreading the venomous snakes most thoroughly, they have no fear of the non-poisonous kinds, and capture them without difficulty. Mr. Brett saw one of them catch a young coulacanara snake by dropping a noose over its head by means of a forked stick, and then hauling it out and allowing it to coil round his arm. Although a very young specimen, only five feet or so in length, the reptile was so strong that the man was soon obliged to ask some one to release his arm.

Sometimes this snake grows to a great length, and, as it is extremely thick-bodied, is a very dangerous reptile to deal with. Mr. Waterton succeeded in taking a coulacanara fourteen feet long, after a fierce struggle, which is amusingly told in his “Wanderings.” I have seen the skin of this snake in the collection which then adorned Walton Hall.

The skill of these natives is well shown by their success in capturing a cayman with a hook. Mr. Waterton had tried to catch the reptile with a shark hook, but his efforts were unavailing, the reptile declining to swallow the bait, and at last contriving to get it off the hook, though it was tied on with string. After more than one failure, he showed the hook to a native, who shook his head at it, and said that it would not answer the purpose, but that he would make a hook that would hold the cayman.

Accordingly, on the following day he returned with a very remarkable hook. It consisted of four pieces of hard wood about a foot in length, curved, and sharpened at the ends, which were slightly barbed. These barbs, if we may so call them, were tied back to back round the lower end of a rope, a knot in the rope preventing it from dropping through the barbs, which were forced to diverge from each other by four pegs driven between them and the rope. The so-called hook, indeed, was very like a four-pronged Fijian spear, supposing the shaft to be cut off below the prongs, a hole bored through the centre of the cut shaft, and a rope passed through the hole and knotted below the prongs. It is evident that if such an instrument as this were taken into a cayman’s throat, the diverging prongs would prevent it from coming out again, and as long as they remained unbroken, so long would the cayman be held.

This curious hook was then taken to the river side, and baited with an agouti. The end of the rope was made fast to a tree, and the barbed hook suspended about a foot from the water by means of a short stick driven into the bank. The native then took the empty shell of a tortoise, and struck it several blows with an axe, by way of telling the cayman that its meal was ready. The result of the operation justified the Indian’s promise. The cayman could not get at the bait without lifting itself well out of the water, and securing it by a sudden snap; while the resistance offered by the stick caused the projecting barbs to be driven into the reptile’s throat as it fell back into the water.

How the cayman was dragged out of the water, and how Mr. Waterton jumped upon its shoulders, and disabled it by seizing its fore-paws and twisting them on its back, is matter of history. The tale was generally disbelieved at the time, and gave rise to no small amount of banter; but it is a perfectly true one, and the objections to it have long died away. Indeed, one of Mr. Waterton’s men, who was then little more than a mere lad, was, as an old man, in the service of one of my friends, and corroborated every word of the story.

* * * * *

As might be inferred from the natural apathy and indolence of the natives, they have but few games. They only work by fits and starts, and spend a very large proportion of their time in their hammocks, caring little for those contests of skill and strength which are so absorbingly interesting to the inhabitants of cooler and more bracing climates. There is, however, one such game which is played by the Waraus, who have already been mentioned as the stoutest and strongest of the tribes. This game is well described by Mr. Brett:--

“There is also a kind of wrestling, or trial of strength, practised by the Waraus at their drinking-bouts, in which each of the antagonists is furnished with a sort of shield, (see illustration on page 1260), made of the light branches of the itá, cut into equal lengths, and firmly lashed across a frame three or four feet in height, somewhat less in width, and slightly bending outward.

“The front of each shield is painted in various colors, and with some peculiar device, according to the fancy of the owner. From its upper edge arise elastic stems, generally three in number, adorned with colored tassels, and surmounted with streamers made of the same material as the maquarri whips, and not much unlike them. It has altogether a picturesque appearance.

“Each champion grasps the edges of his shield firmly with both hands, and, after various feints and grimaces to throw his opponent off his guard, a clash is heard, as one springs forward, and his shield strikes that of his adversary. The contest is generally one of mere strength, the shield being pushed forward by the whole force of the body, and supported by one knee, while the other leg is extended behind. Sometimes one of the players is able to push the other off the ground, or, by a dexterous slip and thrust on the flank, to send him rolling on the ground. More frequently they remain pressing, panting, and struggling, till exhausted, when the contest ceases by mutual consent.

“It is then a point of Warau etiquette to shake the shields at each other in a jeering manner, with a tremulous motion of their elastic ornaments, and to utter a very peculiar and ridiculously defying sound, something like the whinnying of a young horse. This is generally followed by a hearty, good-humored laugh, in which the bystanders join. Another couple then step forward to engage.”

The itá palm, of which the Warau shields are made, will be briefly described when we come to that singular branch of the Warau tribe which lives in dwellings raised above the surface of the water. It has already been mentioned that the Waraus are celebrated for the excellence of their canoes. They are universally recognized as the chief canoe builders of the whole country, and to them the other tribes resort from considerable distances. Some of these canoes are large enough to hold fifty men, so that very considerable skill is needed in building them without the instruments and measures by which our own boat builders ensure the regularity of their craft.

There are several forms of these canoes. The most important is that which has just been mentioned. It is hollowed out of the trunk of a tree, and is forced into the proper shape partly by means of fire, and partly by wedges and cross planks. The largest of the canoes have the sides made higher by a narrow plank of soft wood, which is laced upon the gunwale, and the seam well caulked. The canoe is alike at both ends, the stem and stern being pointed, curved, and rising well out of the water. There is no keel, and it draws but a few inches of water. This formation would be very awkward in our own rivers; but in those of Guiana, such as the Essequibo, there are so many falls and rapids, that the canoe must be especially adapted for them. This kind of canoe is called a curial, or corial.

The perils of the rapids have been well told by Mr. Brett:--“Advantage is taken of the eddies which are found at the base of the huge rocks that interrupt the stream. The Indians pass from rock to rock by wading, leaping, or swimming, and by means of a hawser haul the boat through the rushing water from one resting point to another, the steersman meantime keeping his seat, and sometimes lashed to it, striving with his large paddle to guide in some degree her course. The waters dashing and foaming amidst the surrounding rocks render this operation as exciting as it is difficult. Still more exciting and dangerous is the task of descending these rapids. The safety of all then depends on the perfect steadiness of those in the canoe, and on the bowman and steersman acting in concert and with instant decision.

“The canoe is kept in the very centre of the current, one of her best hands kneeling, with quick eye and ready paddle, in the bow, and the rest of the men exerting their strength to give her headway. Darting swiftly along, she arrives at the edge of the fall, and, pointing downward, shoots into the surf below it, dashing it up on either side, and leaving her crew alone visible. If all be well, rising above the fall, she obeys the guiding paddles in stem and stern, and dances over the tumbling waves, while her excited crew with a triumphant cry exult at their success.”

Sometimes even the skill of the natives fails to overcome all the difficulties, and the canoe is upset, the crew barely escaping with their lives. It was in descending one of these falls that Mr. Waterton’s canoe was upset, and flung into the Essequibo the precious store of materials from which the wourali is made.

The simplest kind of boat, called by the colonists a “woodskin,” is nothing more than the flexible bark of the purple-heart trees stripped off in one piece, forced open in the middle, tied together at the ends, and so left until dry. In order to prevent these bark canoes from taking in water at the ends, a large lump of clay is pressed firmly into the end, so as to make a barrier against the water. This mode of caulking is necessarily but temporary, and the “back-dam,” as it is called by the colonists, is sure to be washed away sooner or later, according to the state of the river. The reader will remember that a similar appliance of clay is found among the Australian savages.

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CXXXIV. THE TRIBES OF GUIANA--Concluded

RELIGION--BURIAL.

BELIEF IN ONE CHIEF DEITY AND MANY DEMI-GODS -- THE SORCERER OR PIAI-MAN, AND HIS TRAINING -- THE SACRED RATTLE -- DUTIES AND PRIVILEGES OF THE PIAI-MAN -- CURING DISEASE AND DRIVING OUT THE EVIL SPIRIT -- MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS -- THE WATER-MAMMA -- THE ORIGIN OF THE CARIB RACE -- A WILD LEGEND -- DISPOSAL OF THE DEAD -- THE LAKE-DWELLING WARAUS -- THE ITÁ PALM AND ITS USES -- AN AËRIAL HOUSE -- THE LAKE-DWELLERS OF MARACAIBO.

We will conclude this history of the Guianan tribes with a few remarks on their religion.

As far as is known of their religious ideas as they were before they became intermixed with those taught to them by the white man, the Guianan natives believe in one supreme Deity, and a vast number of inferior divinities, mostly of the evil kind. All pain is said to be caused by an evil spirit called Yauhahu, and is said to be the Yauhahu’s arrow.

As it is necessary that these evil beings should be propitiated when any calamity is feared, a body of sorcerers, called piai men, are set apart in order to communicate between their fellow men and the unseen world. In order to qualify themselves for the task, the piai men are obliged to go through sundry strange ceremonies, under the charge of some venerable professor of the art. The neophyte is taken to a solitary hut, and there compelled to fast for several days before his spirit is fit to leave his body and receive the commands of the Yauhahu.

For this purpose a quantity of tobacco is boiled, and the infusion drunk by the aspirant to priestly honors. The natural effect of this dose is to exhaust the already weakened body, and to throw the recipient into a state of fainting, during which his spirit is supposed to leave his body, and receive a commission from the Yauhahu. Indeed, he undergoes a civil death, he is proclaimed as dead, and his corpse is exposed to public view.

He recovers very slowly from the terrible state of prostration into which he has been thrown, and when at last he leaves his hut, he is worn almost to a skeleton. As a mark of office, he is solemnly presented with the marakka, or sacred rattle. This is nothing more than a hollow calabash, some eight inches in diameter, having a stick run through it, and a few white stones within it, so as to make a rattling sound when shaken. The calabash is painted red, and a few feathers are generally hung to the sticks. It is two feet in length, and adorned with scarlet and blue feathers. These rattles are held in the greatest veneration by the uninitiated, who will not venture to touch them, and are chary even of entering a house in which a marakka is hung. In consequence of the value set upon these instruments, the natives can scarcely be induced to part with them, and the few which have been sent to England have in nearly every case been procured from sorcerers who have been converted to Christianity, and, as a proof of their sincerity, have given up the emblems of their order.

The piai man is called in on almost every occasion of life, so that his magic rattle has but little rest. He is present at every piwarri feast, when he decorates himself with feather plumes, the skins of snakes, and similar ornaments, and shakes his rattle over the bowl before the contents are drunk.

Chiefly is he needed in times of sickness, when, by virtue of his rattle, he is supposed to be capable of driving away the evil spirit whose curse has caused the malady. When a piai man is called to a case of sickness, he sends all the women away, and even keeps the men at a respectful distance. His exercises then begin, and are continued for hours, chants to the evil spirit being accompanied with sundry rattlings, until in the depth of night the Yauhahu manifests himself to the sorcerer, and tells him how to extract the “arrow” which he has aimed at the sick man. Of course it is incumbent on the sorcerer to produce the arrow in question, which is done by sucking the affected part, and producing from the mouth a little pebble, a bird’s claw, a snake’s fang, or something of the kind.

If the reader will refer to illustration No. 5, on page 1265, he will see a very complicated and rather elegantly formed rattle. The hollow gourd forms part of the rattle, but it is very small, and depends from a series of three hoops, which are strung with beetle wings. The noise which this simple instrument makes is really wonderful, and the slightest movement of the string by which it is held sets all the wings clattering against each other. This interesting object was brought from Guiana by H. Bernau, Esq.

Even accepting the marakka and the beetle wing rattle as musical instruments, we find that the Guiana natives have but little variety in music. The only instruments which are really worthy of the name are pipes or flutes made of different materials. One of these instruments is in my collection. It is made of the ever-useful bamboo, and includes one internode, i. e. the space between two knots.

The mouthpiece is narrow and oblong, and the maker has possessed sufficient knowledge of sound to cut out a large scooped piece from the middle of the instrument. The owner seems to have prized this flute exceedingly, as he has covered it with elaborate patterns. It is blown like our own flute, and the sound which it produces is loud, full, but, if musical, is melancholy also, and much resembles the wailing sound produced by blowing into the mouth of a soda-water bottle. The length of this flute is fourteen inches.

The natives also make a flute of the leg bone of the jaguar, which is very much prized, the spoils of the jaguar having a very high value among them. One of these is shown on the next page. The Caribs once used human bones for this purpose, but at the present time are content with jaguar bones, as equally indicative of courage and skill.

To return to the superstition of the Guianan natives. One of the beings which they most dread is the water mamma, or Orehu. This is an unfortunate being who inhabits the water, and occasionally shows herself, though in different forms, sometimes even assuming that of the horse, but often taking that of the manati. The Orehu is a female spirit, and is generally, though not always, malicious, and, when she is in a bad temper, is apt to rise close to the canoes, and drag them and their crews under water.

The legends told by the various tribes respecting their origin are very curious, as showing a great similarity with those of other parts of the world with whom there could have been no geographical connexion. For example, the legend of the earth submerged under water, through the disobedience of some of its inhabitants, and repeopled by a few who were placed in a safe spot until the waters subsided.

One of the strangest of their legends is told by Mr. Brett. It concerns the origin of the Warau and Carib tribes.

Originally the Waraus lived in a country above the sky, where they had all they could desire. One day a young hunter shot an arrow into the air, and when he came to search for it, found a deep hole through which it had fallen. Looking down through the aperture, he saw another world opened out beneath him, and was seized with curiosity to visit it. Accordingly, he made himself a sort of ladder of rattan, which grows abundantly in the upper world where he lived, and descended to the world below.

Here he remained for some time, revelling on the flesh of animals hitherto unknown to him. After a while, he climbed up the ladder with great trouble, and told his friends the wonders which he had seen. Struck with surprise at his narrative, and eager to partake of the luxuries which he described, the whole of his friends determined on paying a visit to these wondrous regions. Accordingly, they descended the ladder in safety, except the last of their number, a very fat man, who, in trying to squeeze himself through the aperture, became fixed in it, and could not escape, thus shutting off all communication between the two worlds.

Nothing was left for them but to make the best of a bad business, and first of all to beseech the Great Spirit to send them some water. He listened to their entreaties, created the Essequibo, the Demerara, and other rivers, and made for the special use of the Waraus a small lake of the purest water, of which they were to drink, but in which they were forbidden to bathe.

Now it happened that there was a Warau family of four brothers and two sisters, the latter beautiful, but wilful maidens. They rebelled against the prohibition, plunged into the lake, swam to a pole that was planted in its midst, and shook it. The presiding genius of the lake was a male spirit, who was kept prisoner as long as the pole was untouched, but as soon as it was shaken the spell was broken, and the spirit of the lake pounced on the offending maiden and carried her off. After a while he allowed her to rejoin her friends, but the indignation of her brothers was very great when they found that their sister was about to become a mother, and they determined to kill the child when it was born. However, it was exactly like any other Warau child, and so they allowed it to live.

Though living among her own friends, the girl could not forget her strange lover, and went off again to him. A second child was born, but this time the upper parts of the body were those of a child, and the lower parts were developed into a water snake. The mother, though terrified at the appearance of her offspring, carried it off into the woods and cherished it, but it was discovered by her brothers, who pierced it with their arrows, and left it for dead. Her attention, however, restored it to life, and it grew to a formidable size. The brothers held a consultation, and at last surrounded it, transfixed it with showers of arrows, and, to make sure of its death cut it to pieces.

“The unhappy Korobona carefully collected the remains into a heap, which she kept continually covered with fresh leaves, and guarded with tender assiduity. After long watching, her patience was rewarded. The vegetable covering began to heave and show signs of life. From it there slowly arose an Indian warrior of majestic and terrible appearance. His color was of a brilliant red, he held bow and arrows in his hand, and was otherwise equipped for instant battle.

“That warrior was the first CARIB, the great father of a powerful race. He forthwith commenced the task of revenge for the wrongs suffered in his former existence. Neither his uncles, nor the whole Warau race whom they summoned, could stand before him. He drove them hither and thither like deer, took possession of such of their women as pleased him, and by them became the father of brave and terrible warriors like himself. From their presence the unhappy Waraus retired, till they reached the swampy shores of the Atlantic, forsaking those pleasant hunting grounds which they had occupied on their first descent from heaven.”

The Waraus are wonderfully inventive with regard to legends; and have one which is worthy of notice, if only for the fact that it attributes all the learning of the white men to a Warau origin. This is the legend of Aboré. “Once upon a time,” there was a very ill-conditioned female spirit, named Wowtá, who usually preferred the form of a frog, but who changed herself into a woman for the purpose of stealing a very beautiful little boy called Aboré. In the form of a woman she obtained access to the house of Aboré’s mother, whom she induced to leave the child under her care. No sooner was she alone with Aboré than she pulled and stretched him to such a degree that in a few hours he grew as much as he would have done in several years, so that his mother repudiated him on her return.

As he grew to manhood, Aboré became the slave of his captor, whom he thought to be his mother, until he was undeceived by a friendly spirit who met him in the forest. After trying several plans for escape, and failing in them all, he hit upon the design of making a canoe of wax. He was aided in this task by the fondness of Wowtá for honey, in search of which the unfortunate Aboré passed nearly the whole of his time. Wowtá received the combs with croaks of delight, and as she threw them away after eating the honey, Aboré laid the wax aside, until he had enough for a canoe.

As soon as he had collected a sufficiency of wax, Aboré called his mistress to look at a hollow tree filled with bee-comb. She crept into the tree to regale herself on the honey, and was imprisoned by the crafty Aboré, who fastened up the aperture so that the sorceress could not escape, loaded his canoe with provisions, and set off for a land of refuge. He sailed far away until he came to a strange country where the people were white, naked, uneducated, and utterly barbarous. He taught them the elements of civilization, showed them how to forge iron, and initiated them into the arts and sciences, for which the white man was now so distinguished.

In that far land he still lives, and, remembering the wants of his fellow countrymen, he continually sends them shiploads of the things which they most need. But in consequence of the bad faith of those to whom they are delivered, the poor Waraus are obliged to pay for everything that he sends. The moral which is derived from this legend is, that all the white men who visit the Waraus ought to make up for the dishonesty of their countrymen, and give them as many beads, knives, and guns as they can procure.

When Mr. Brett first heard this tale, he thought that it was simply an ingenious invention framed for the purpose of unlimited begging, especially as the narrator asked for a shirt as soon as he had finished the story, and then proceeded to request a whole series of other articles. He found, however, by questioning different natives, that the legend was really a national one, and not a mere invention of an ingenious native.

There is evidently a distinction to be drawn between the two portions of the legend. The first part, containing the adventures of Aboré, is evidently ancient, while the second part is as evidently modern, and has been introduced since the coming of white men into Guiana.

In the disposal of the dead there is some little variation. The mode which was most prevalent before the missionaries introduced Christian burial among them was as follows: The body was placed in a net and sunk in the river, where the whole of the flesh was quickly eaten from the bones by the pirai and other voracious fish. If the dead man were a person of distinction, the skeleton was then removed from the water, dried, painted red, and suspended under the roof of the house.

* * * * *

In the fifth book of Herodotus, chap, xv., occurs the following passage, which was long thought to be a mere invention on the part of the historian. After enumeration of the various nations that Megabazes subdued, he mentions that the Persian monarch also endeavored to conquer “those who live upon the Lake Prasias in dwellings contrived after this manner.

“Planks fitted on lofty piles are placed in the middle of the lake, with a narrow entrance from the mainland by a single bridge. These piles that support the planks all the citizens anciently placed there at the common charge; but afterward they established a law to the following effect: ‘Whenever a man marries, for each wife he sinks three piles, bringing wood from a mountain called Orbelus,’ but every man has several wives.

“They live in the following manner. Every man has a hut on the planks, in which he dwells, with a trap-door closely fitted in the planks, and leading down to the lake. They tie the young children with a cord round the feet, fearing lest they should fall into the lake beneath. To their horses and beasts of burden they give fish for fodder, of which there is such abundance, that when a man has opened his trap-door, he lets down an empty basket by a cord into the lake, and, after waiting a short time, draws it up full of fish.”

In these words the old historian describes with curious exactitude the mode of life adopted by some branches of the Waraus and Caribs. These have been described at some length by Humboldt, in his “Personal Narrative.” The large tract of land which forms the delta of the Orinoco possesses some very remarkable characteristics. It is always wet, but during several months in the year it is completely inundated, the river rising to an astonishing height, and covering with water a tract nearly half as large as England. This seems to be as unpropitious a spot as could be adopted for human habitations, and yet the Waraus (or Guarános, as Humboldt spells the word) have established themselves there, and prefer it to any other locality, probably because their strange mode of life enables them to pass an existence of freedom.

Varying much in the height to which it rises, in some places exceeding fifty feet, the Orinoco has the quality of rising year after year to the same height in the same place, so that when a mark is made to designate the height to which the water rose in one year, the same mark will answer year after year with scarcely the slightest deviation. It is evident that in such a spot, where the soil is in the dry season nothing but mud, and in the wet season is forty or fifty feet under water, only a very peculiar vegetation can live. This is the Itá (pronounced Eetáh) palm, belonging to the genus Mauritia, a plant which, like the mangrove of Africa, requires plenty of heat and moisture to enable it to develop itself fully. The native name for this tree is Murichi.

A brief description of the itá palm must be given before we proceed further, or the reader will not understand the peculiar conditions under which these water dwellers live. When full grown, it resembles a tall, cylindrical pillar, with a fan of ten or twelve vast leaves spreading from its extreme top. Each leaf is some ten feet in width, and is supported upon a huge stem about twelve feet in length, looking more like a branch than a leaf-stem. Indeed, a complete leaf is a heavy load for a man. At regular intervals the whole fan of leaves falls off, and is replaced by another, the tree adding to its height at every change of leaf, until the stem is nearly a hundred feet high, and fifteen in circumference.

Myriads upon myriads of these marvellous trees rise amid the waters of the Orinoco delta, sometimes clustered into solid masses of vegetation, sometimes scattered, and sometimes drawn up in devious avenues, according to the windings of the muddy channels that even in the dry seasons traverse the country. Whether grouped or scattered, the itá flourishes in this delta to such an extent that only the experienced canoe men of the place can navigate their barks among the tall stems, the narrow and winding channels which form the natural paths being completely obliterated by the waste of water. Any stranger who tried to thread this aquatic forest without the aid of a native guide would soon lose himself among the armies of itá palm, and perish miserably of hunger. Yet this very tree supplies to the Waraus of the Orinoco not only all the necessaries, but the luxuries of life, and were the whole tribe to be cut off from the mainland, they could support themselves without the least difficulty, the itá palm supplying house, food, drink, clothing, and furniture.

First, as to the house. The Warau requires for a house nothing but a floor and a roof. In the example seen on page 1244, the floor is supplied by the earth, but it is evident that in a house built in a locality where the ground is for many months together thirty or forty feet beneath the surface of the water, an artificial flooring is needed. The Warau architect, therefore, proceeds to construct his house in the following manner.

Selecting four itá trees that grow near each other in the form of a square, and, cutting away any of the intervening trees, he makes use of these four as the corner posts of his house. He knows by marks left on the trunks the precise height to which the water will rise, and some three feet or so above this mark he builds his floor, cutting deep notches in the trunk. In these notches are laid beams made from the stems of the felled itá palms, and lashed tightly in their places by ropes made of itá fibre.

On these beams are laid a number of cross-pieces, sometimes made from the split trunks, but usually being nothing more than the gigantic leaf-stems which have been already mentioned, and which are when dry very light, very tough, and very elastic. These cross-pieces are tied firmly together, and constitute the essential part of the floor. On them is placed a layer of palm leaves, and upon the leaves is a thick coating of mud, which soon dries under the tropical sun, and forms a smooth, hard, and firm flooring, which will bear a fire without risk of damage to the wooden structure below. Ten or twelve feet above the floor the Warau constructs a roof of palm leaves, the corners of which are supported by the same trees which uphold the house, and then the chief labors of the native architect are over. An illustration on page 1244 shows the scenery of the Orinoco delta and the architecture of these lake dwellers. So much for the house furnished by the itá palm.

Food is supplied by it in various forms. First, there is the fruit, which, when ripe, is as large as an ordinary apple, many hundreds of which are developed on the single branch produced by this tree. Next, there is the trunk of the tree and its contents. If it be split longitudinally at the time when the flower branch is just about to burst from the enveloping spathe, a large quantity of soft, pith-like substance is found within it. This is treated like the cassava, and furnishes a sort of bread called yuruma.

Drink is also obtained from the itá palm. From the trunk is drawn a sap, which, like that of the maguey or great American aloe, can be fermented, and then it becomes intoxicating in quality. Another kind of drink is procured from the fruit of the itá, which is bruised, thrown into water, and allowed to ferment for a while. When fermentation has proceeded to a sufficient extent, the liquor is strained through a sieve made of itá fibre, and is thus ready for consumption.

The small amount of clothing required by the Warau is also obtained from the itá, the membrane of the young leaf being stripped off and woven into a simple fabric.

From the same tree the Warau obtains all his furniture. Bows, arrows, and spears are made from its leaf-stems, the canoe in which he goes fishing is made from a hollow itá trunk, and the lines and nets are both furnished from the same tree, as is also the string of which his hammock is made. That the one single tree should be able to supply all the wants of an entire population is the more extraordinary, because in former days the Warau had no iron tools, and it is not easy to find a tree that will at the same time furnish all the necessaries of his life, and be of such a character that it can be worked by the rude stone implements which the Warau had to use before he obtained iron from the white men.

It may readily be imagined that the Waraus who inhabit this strange region are lower in the scale of civilization than those who live on dry land, and, to use the words of Humboldt, “in the lowest grades of man’s development we find the existence of an entire race dependent upon almost a single tree, like certain insects which are confined to particular portions of a flower.”

* * * * *

The Waraus are not the only lake dwellers of Southern America. At the extreme north of this half of the continent there is a province which derives its name from the mode of life adopted by the savage tribe which dwells upon the waters of a lake. On the north-western coast of Venezuela there is a large gulf, called the Gulf of Maracaibo, the name having been given to it by the Spanish discoverers in honor of a native chief whom they met on its shores. Close to the gulf, and only separated from it by a narrow, is a vast fresh-water lake, fed by the streams that pour from the mountains which surround it. The shape of this lake has been well compared to that of a jews-harp, with a rather elongated neck, and the depth of its water varies in a most remarkable manner.

From the sides the bottom of the lake shelves almost imperceptibly for a great distance, so that at a distance of two or three miles from the shore, a man would be able to walk with his head above the surface. Suddenly, and without the least warning, the bed of the lake dips into almost unfathomable depths, so that, though a man might be barely submerged above his waist, a single step will plunge him into water so deep that the tallest spire ever built would be plunged far below the surface.

Over the surface of this lake dwell numerous human beings, and, even at the present day, when the number of the inhabitants has been much decreased, upon its waters are no less than four large villages, beside numerous detached dwellings formed in the various bays which indent its shores.

The reason for thus abandoning the dry land and taking to the water is a very curious one, and may be summed up in a single word--mosquitoes. These tiny but most annoying insects are found in clouds around the edge of the lake, some species flying by night and others by day, so that at no hour is there the least respite from their attacks. Fortunately, they need the protection of the luxuriant vegetation that fringes the shore of the lake, and not being very enduring of wing, are obliged to rest at intervals in their flight. They therefore keep to the shore, and do not venture to any great distance over the water. Knowing this characteristic of the insect, the natives manage to evade them by making their dwellings behind the range of the mosquito’s flight.

In building these curious habitations, the lake dweller of Maracaibo is forced to employ a greater skill in architecture than is needed by the Waraus of the Orinoco delta. In that muddy delta, formed by the alluvium washed down by the river, the itá palm abounds, and forms natural pillars for the house; but the Lake Maracaibo furnishes no such assistance, and the native architect is therefore obliged to drive piles into the bed of the lake in order to raise his floor above the level of the water.

It is evidently needful that these piles should be made of wood which will not perish by the action of the water, and upon the shores of the lake grows a tree which supplies precisely the kind of timber that is required. It is one of the numerous iron-wood trees, and its scientific name is Guiacum arboreum. It is a splendid tree, rising to the height of a hundred feet or so, and having wood so hard that it will turn the edge of an axe. The natives, however, manage to fell these trees, to cut them into proper lengths, and to drive them firmly into the bed of the lake, where they become even stronger by submersion, being covered in course of years with an incrustation of lime, which makes them look as if they had been actually converted into stone.

On these piles are laid cross-beams and planks of lighter wood, and when a strong roof and light walls have been added, the house is complete. All the parts of the house are lashed together with green sipo, which contracts when dry, and binds the various portions as with bands of iron.

As has been already mentioned, numbers of these houses are gathered together into villages. When the Spaniards first entered the Gulf of Maracaibo, and came within view of the lake, they were struck with amazement, at these habitations, and called the place Venezuela--i. e. Little Venice--a name which has since been extended to the whole of the large province which is now known by that title.

It is on this lake that the gourd system of duck catching is carried to the greatest perfection. Great quantities of ducks frequent its waters, but they are shy of man, and will not allow him to come near them. The natives, however, manage to catch them by hand, without even employing a snare. They take a number of large gourds, scrape out the inside, and set them floating on the lake. At first the timid birds are afraid of the gourds and avoid them, but after a while they become accustomed to them, and allow them to float freely among their ranks.

The Indian then takes a similar gourd and puts it over his head, having previously cut a couple of holes through which he can see. He slips quietly into the water, and makes his way toward the duck, taking care to keep the whole of his body submerged. As soon as he gets among them, he grasps the nearest duck by the legs, jerks it under water, and ties it to his girdle, where it is soon drowned. He then makes his way to another duck, and, if an experienced hand, will capture as many as he can carry, and yet not alarm the survivors.

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CXXXV. MEXICO

HISTORY--RELIGION--ART.

MEXICO AS IT IS, AND WAS BEFORE THE SPANISH CONQUEST -- WHY THE EMPIRE FAILED -- CONTRADICTORY ACCOUNTS OF THE ANCIENT MEXICANS -- THE RUINS OF THEIR BUILDINGS -- HUMAN SACRIFICES -- THE SACRIFICIAL KNIFE -- MEXICAN ART -- MOSAIC WORK AND FEATHER PICTURES -- CAPABILITIES OF THE COUNTRY.

Before passing to the North American tribes, a brief notice must be taken of MEXICO.

At the present day this land is possessed of a sort of civilization which presents no features of interest. It is inhabited chiefly by a mixed people, the descendants of the Spanish conquerors having contracted alliances with the natives, and so produced a hybrid race, which is continually retrograding from the white parentage, and assuming more of the aboriginal type.

The failure in establishing a Mexican empire was entirely due to the question of race. Those inhabitants who were either pure whites, or in whom the white blood predominated, were naturally desirous to have a ruler of their own kind, thinking that an empire was the only mode of civilizing the land, and of putting an end to the constant civil wars and repeated changes of dynasty which kept back their most prolific and fertile land from developing its full capabilities. But in the great bulk of the people the Indian blood predominated, and in consequence an empire founded on the principles of European civilization was as irreconcilable to them as would be the rule of an Indian cacique in Europe. Such an empire could only be held by force of arms, and as soon as the bayonet was withdrawn the empire fell. We must, however, confine ourselves to Mexico as it was before the Spaniard crushed out her civilization and destroyed her history.

* * * * *

The accounts of ancient Mexico are most perplexing. If the narratives of the Spanish conquerors could be implicitly trusted, nothing would be simpler than to condense them into a consecutive history. But it is quite certain that these accounts were very much exaggerated, and that the reality fell very far short of the romantic tales of the Spanish conquerors.

The following is an abstract of the narratives put forth by the Spaniards. The capital was situated on an island in the midst of a large lake. It contained twenty thousand houses, which were of great magnificence. In the midst was the emperor’s palace, built of marble and jasper, and of prodigious extent. It was adorned with fountains, baths, and statues, and the walls were covered with pictures made of feathers. Not only the palace, but the houses of the caciques, possessed menageries filled with all the animals of the country, together with museums of various natural curiosities.

One of the greatest beauties of Mexico was a large square, daily filled with merchants, who came to buy and sell the various works of art in gold, silver, and feathers for which the Mexicans were famous. Between the city and the borders of the lake a hundred thousand canoes were continually passing; besides which mode of transit three vast causeways were built on the lake. The capital was not the only city of the waters, for more than fifty large cities and a multitude of villages were built on the same lake.

The dress of the nobles was most gorgeous, and their persons were adorned with gold and jewels in profusion. Their treasuries were filled with the precious metals, and gold was as plentiful in Mexico as copper in Europe.

That these statements were much exaggerated is not to be doubted, but they were not pure inventions, and had all some foundation in fact. For example, the architecture of the ancient Mexicans was of a Cyclopean vastness, as is proved by the ruins which are now almost the sole memorials of a vanished system of civilization. There is a strong resemblance between the architecture of Mexico and that of Egypt, not only in its massiveness, but in the frequent use of the pyramid.

One of these pyramids has the sides exactly twice as long as those of the large pyramid of Egypt. This is the great pyramid tower of Cholula, which had eight stories, each forming a platform on which rested the one above it, so that it closely resembled the Temple of Belus as described by Herodotus. The interior of these pyramidal structures was pierced with chambers, galleries, and flights of stairs, probably the habitations of the priests who served the temples and performed those terrible human sacrifices which formed an important part of their religious system. Viaducts which crossed deep valleys, bridges, and roads, remains of which are still in existence, testify to the vanished civilization of the Mexicans, or, as some ethnologists think, of a race that preceded them.

Specimens of the artistic skill of the ancient Mexicans may be seen in the magnificent Christy Collection. There is, for example, one of the sacrificial knives with which the priests laid open the breast of the human victim in order to tear out the heart and offer it to the blood-loving deity of the temple. The blade of this instrument is obsidian, and its handle is a marvellous piece of mosaic work, made of lapis lazuli, ruby, and other precious stones. Then there are masks made of similar materials, one being a most ghastly imitation of a human skull.

The skill in feather working still survives, and even at the present day pictures are made so exquisitely from humming-birds’ feathers that they seem, at a little distance, to be admirable specimens of enamel.

The courage of the ancient Mexicans was very great. They opposed their naked breasts to the mail-clad invaders, and their comparatively feeble weapons to the dreaded fire-arms. Even the horse, which at first struck terror into them as a supernatural being, soon ceased to be an object of dread, and there is a story that they captured a horse in battle, stabled it in a temple, and treated it as a god, feeding it with daintily dressed chickens and similar dishes, until the poor beast was starved in the midst of plenty.

The conduct of the Aztecs in destroying their once venerated Emperor Montezuma, because he yielded to the Spaniards, and the calm endurance of his warlike successor Guatemozin, when stretched on the fiery rack, are sufficient instances of the courage possessed by the Mexicans when Cortez came into the country.

The real prosperity of Mexico is to come. There is every capability in the country, which is fertile in many valuable productions,--cattle and horses, for example, both of which, importations from Europe, have multiplied in an astonishing manner, and may at some time supply half Europe with cheap food, hides, and beasts of burden.

Insect life is almost as valuable as that of the higher and larger animals. The cochineal insect reproduces itself in vast numbers, and, large as is the trade in this valuable insect, it could be extended almost indefinitely. There is no trouble in breeding the insect, no risk, and scarcely any capital required. It feeds upon the prickly pear, a plant which springs up luxuriantly if but a leaf be stuck in the ground.

It is indeed so luxuriant, that riders are forced to employ a peculiar kind of stirrup, in order to prevent their feet from being riddled with the needle-like thorns with which the plant, the leaf, and fruit are covered. One of these curious stirrups is shown in illustration, No. 1, page 1265, drawn from my own specimens, which was brought from Mexico by Sir F. Wetherell.

It is cut from a solid block of wood, and is therefore exceedingly heavy. A hole is cut in the back of the stirrup, into which the foot can be thrust nearly half way. Owing to the size and weight of this curious implement, the prickly pears are pushed aside as the rider passes among them, and thus the foot and ankle are protected from the slender but formidable thorns with which they are armed. The stirrup is sometimes put to another use, and employed as a rough and ready drinking cup. The front of the implement is covered with bold and graceful patterns, the effect of which is often heightened by means of color. In my own specimen they are colored with blue, scarlet, and black.

As to the vegetable products of Mexico, they are too numerous to mention, but the principal are the indigo, the chocolate, and the vanilla.

Then it is as prolific in mineral as in animal wealth, and in the hands of an energetic and industrious people, the yield of copper, iron, gold, silver, and other metals might be almost indefinitely extended. In all these productions comparatively little labor is required. Nature gives almost gratuitously those privileges which in other lands cannot be obtained without the expenditure of time, labor, and money.

The past civilization of Mexico has vanished never to return. Its present is a comparative failure. The future is yet to be seen, but it may even eclipse the vanished glories of the past if guided by those who understand the epoch, the country, and the race.

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CXXXVI. THE NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS

GOVERNMENT--CUSTOMS.

GENERAL NOTICE OF THE TRIBES -- THEIR COLOR AND FEATURES -- CATLIN’S DESCRIPTION OF A CROW CHIEF -- LONG HAIR OF THE MEN -- SILVER HAIR OF THE MANDAN TRIBE -- GOVERNMENT OF THE TRIBES -- THE HEREDITARY AND ELECTED CHIEFS -- THEIR LIMITED POWERS -- THEIR DISTINCTIVE DRESS -- COSTUME THE RECORD OF DEEDS -- THE SCALP-LOCKS, PAINTED ROBES, AND CLAW COLLAR -- PRESERVATION OF SKINS -- THE FEATHER PLUMES -- THE HORNS, AND THEIR SIGNIFICATION -- INDIAN DANDIES -- ESTIMATION IN WHICH THEY ARE HELD -- THE PORTRAIT PAINTER BAFFLED -- DRESS OF THE WOMEN -- BISON SKIN ROBES -- WAMPUM, AND ITS SIGNIFICATION.

It has already been mentioned that, with the exception of the shore districts, America is inhabited from the extreme south to extreme north by the same race.

The various tribes into which that race is divided are naturally varied according to the locality and climate of the spot which they inhabit. Those, for example, who live in the perpetual snow and ice of either the extreme north or south are naturally different in manners and customs from those who inhabit the tropical centre of America. Then, even in similar climate, there is very definite modification according to locality. The inhabitants of the mountains, for example, differ materially from the dwellers of the plain, while those tribes who live in the forests differ from both.

Yet they are all members of one and the same great race, and whether in the Esquimaux of the north, the Amazonian of the tropics, or the Patagonian of the extreme south, all display the same race characteristics.

The color of the skin is deep copper red, the cheek-bones are prominent, the nose mostly aquiline, the forehead rather receding, and the eyes apparently small, this latter characteristic being due to the continual exposure to the sun, and to the smoky atmosphere of the huts. The beard is very deficient, and even those few hairs that make their appearance are carefully eradicated with tweezers. Sometimes an old man who is careless about his personal appearance allows his beard to grow, but in that case it is very scanty, thin, and never reaches any great length.

The hair of the head contrasts strongly with that of the face, being very long and fine, in some of the tribes attaining an almost incredible length. The Crow tribe are remarkable for the extraordinary development of their hair, which in some of the warriors actually trails on the ground as they walk. They pride themselves so much on this peculiarity, that in 1833 their chief received both his name of Longhair and his office from his wonderful tresses. The hair of this man was carefully measured by some white travellers, who had lived in his lodge for months together, and was found to be ten feet seven inches in length.

He did not allow it to hang at its full length except on occasions of ceremony, but kept it carefully wound with a broad leather strap, and made up into a bundle weighing several pounds. Usually this bundle was carried under his arm or in the bosom of his robe, but on great occasions the hair was let down to its full length, and carefully smoothed with bear’s grease, and allowed to trail on the ground several feet behind the owner as he proudly stalked along.

Several other tribes, such as the Blackfeet (so called from the dark moccasins which they wear), have very long hair, of which they are exceedingly proud, and those individuals whose locks do not reach the standard of beauty are in the habit of splicing false hair to their own tresses.

The Mandans, of whom we shall hear much in the course of this narrative, the Sioux, and the Minatarees, are all distinguished by this peculiarity, though none of them possess it so abundantly as the Crows. When Mr. Catlin was staying among the Minatarees, a party of Crows came to visit them, and excited the admiration of their hosts by their magnificent hair. One of them possessed so picturesque an appearance that the artist traveller transferred him at once to canvas, and the engraver has reproduced the sketch for the reader on the 1284th page. The following is Mr. Catlin’s account of this splendid specimen of the North American Indian:--

“I think I have said that no part of the human race could present a more picturesque and thrilling appearance on horseback than a party of Crows rigged out in all their plumes and trappings--galloping about and yelling in what they call a war parade, i. e. in a sort of tournament or sham fight, passing rapidly through the evolutions of battle, and vaunting forth the wonderful character of their military exploits. This is an amusement of which they are excessively fond; and great preparations are invariably made for these occasional shows.

“No tribe of Indians on the continent are better able to produce a pleasing and thrilling effect in these scenes, not any more vain, and consequently better prepared to draw pleasure and satisfaction from them, than the Crows. They may be justly said to be the most beautifully clad of all the Indians in these regions, and, bringing from the base of the Rocky Mountains a fine and spirited breed of the wild horses, have been able to create a great sensation among the Minatarees, who have been paying them all attention and all honors for some days past.

“From amongst these showy fellows who have been entertaining us, and pleasing themselves with their extraordinary feats of horsemanship, I have selected one of the most conspicuous, and transferred him and his horse, with arms and trappings, as faithfully as I could to the canvas, for the information of the world, who will learn vastly more from lines and colors than they could from oral or written delineations.

“I have painted him as he sat for me, balanced on his leaping wild horse, with his shield and quiver slung on his back, and his long lance, decorated with the eagle’s quills, trained in his right hand. His shirt and his leggings, and moccasins were of the mountain-goat skins, beautifully dressed; and their seams everywhere fringed with a profusion of scalp-locks taken from the heads of his enemies slain in battle. His long hair, which reached almost to the ground while he was standing on his feet, was now lifted in the air, and floating in black waves over the hips of his leaping charger. On his head, and over his shining black locks, he wore a magnificent crest, or headdress, made of the quills of the war eagle and ermine skins, and on his horse’s head was another of equal beauty, and precisely the same in pattern and material.

“Added to these ornaments there were yet many others which contributed to his picturesque appearance, and amongst them a beautiful netting of various colors, that completely covered and almost obscured the horse’s head and neck, and extended over its back and its hips, terminating in a most extravagant and magnificent crupper, embossed and fringed with rows of beautiful shells and porcupine quills of various colors.

“With all these picturesque ornaments and trappings upon and about him, with a noble figure, and the bold stamp of a wild gentleman on his face, added to the rage and spirit of his wild horse, in time with whose leaps he issued his startling though smothered yelps, as he gracefully leaned to and fro, leaving his plume and his plumage, his long locks and his fringes, to float in the wind, he galloped about; and felt exceeding pleasure in displaying the extraordinary skill which a lifetime of practice and experiment had furnished him in the beautiful art of riding and managing his horse, as well as in displaying to advantage his weapons and ornaments of dress, by giving them the grace of motion, as they were brandished in the air and floating in the wind.”

Although the hair is generally black, it sometimes takes various colors, the Mandan tribe being the most remarkable for this peculiarity. Some of them, even though quite young, have the hair of a bright silver gray, or even white. The men dislike this kind of hair in their own sex, and when it occurs try to disguise it by a plentiful use of red or black earth mixed with glue. The women, on the contrary, are very proud of such hair, and take every opportunity of displaying its beauties. Generally a woman wears the hair in two plaits, which are allowed to fall down the back over on each side of the head; but when they wish to appear to the best advantage, they rapidly unplait it, pass their fingers through it in the manner of a comb, and spread it as widely as possible over the shoulders. They always part it in the middle and fill the line of parting with red paint.

The silver gray hair is remarkable for its coarseness, in which respect it seems like a horse’s mane, while the dark colored hair is quite soft. Among the Mandans almost every shade of hair is found between white, brown, and black, but there is never the least tinge of red in it.

The Mandan men have a curious habit of dividing their long hair into flat tresses, two inches or so in width, and filling each tress at intervals of an inch with vermilion and glue, so as to keep them separate. These patches of glue and earth become very hard, and are never removed. The hair thus treated is drawn tightly over the top of the head, and allowed to fall down the back in parallel tresses, which mostly reach to the knee, and in some cases to the ground.

* * * * *

The government of these tribes is of a similar character throughout. Each tribe has at its head a chief, whose office is usually, but not always, hereditary. Provided the eldest son of a chief be tolerably well qualified for the post, he is suffered to assume the leadership when his father dies, or becomes too old for work. Should the tribe be dissatisfied with him, they elect a leader from among the sub-chiefs. There is often a double system of government, two chiefs of equal power being appointed, one of whom manages all matters of war, and the other effects the administration of domestic policy.

It often happens that, although the head chief of the tribe is nominally the ruler, and holds the first place, the real power lies in the second or third chief, who pays to his superior every deference which is due to his position, but is practically the leader and commander of the tribe. This was the case among the Mandans when Mr. Catlin visited them. The head chief, though a man of abilities and courage, and therefore respected and feared by the people, was by no means loved by them, on account of his haughty and overbearing demeanor. The real leader of the tribe was the second chief, named Mah-to-toh-pa, i. e. the Four Bears, a name which he got from an exclamation of the enemy, who said that he came at them “like four bears.” Some of the adventures of this extraordinary man will be mentioned in the course of the following pages.

Great as is the power of the chief, it is much more limited than that which is enjoyed by the chiefs of the African tribes. The American chief has no control over life, or limb, or liberty. He takes the lead in council, and if an offender be cited before the councillors, his voice carries great weight with it, but nothing more. Should he be the war chief, he cannot compel a single man to follow him to battle, nor can he punish one of his followers for deserting him. Any of the warriors, even the very youngest, may follow or desert his chief as he pleases, the principal check against desertion being the contempt with which a warrior is sure to be regarded if he leaves a chief who is worthy of his office.

The chiefs have, as a rule, no advantage over the other members of the tribe in point of wealth. A chief would soon lose the popularity on which his influence depends if he were to amass wealth for himself. By virtue of his office, he has a larger house or tent than the rest of the tribe, and he generally possesses a few more wives. But he is often actually poorer than most of the warriors, thinking himself bound in honor to distribute among the tribe the spoils that he takes in war. Many chiefs even dress worse than the warriors under their command, so as not to excite envy, and only assume their splendid dress of office on great occasions.

The question of dress is really an important one. Varying as it does among the different tribes, there is a general character which runs through the whole.

Every man without distinction wears a scanty dress much like the “cheripa” which has already been described, but is very much smaller. In battle or hunting, and in all cases in which exertion is required, he contents himself with this single garment; but when he is enjoying himself at home, he assumes his full costume. He wears a pair of leggings reaching to the hips, and falling as low as the ankles, sometimes spreading well over them. These leggings are mostly adorned with little bells, bits of fur, or similar decorations; and if the wearer be a successful warrior, he fringes them along the sides with tufts of hair taken from the head of a slain enemy.

He has also a loose coat descending to the knees, and ornamented in a similar manner with feathers or scalp-locks, and, when the owner has performed any conspicuous feat of valor, he makes a rude painting of the event. This answers the same purpose as the Victoria Cross among ourselves. Although it is conferred by the man himself, it is equally valuable. No man would dare to depict on his robe any deed of valor which he had not performed, as he would be challenged by the other warriors to prove his right to the decoration, and, if he failed to do so, would be utterly scorned by them. The chief Mah-to-toh-pa represented on his robe a series of events in which he had killed no less than fourteen of the enemy with his own hand. Sometimes, when the tribe uses skin huts or wigwams, the warriors also paint their adventures upon the walls of their dwellings.

From a similar spirit the scars and wounds received in war are kept covered with scarlet paint, and when a man has succeeded in killing a grizzly bear he is entitled to wear its skin, claws, and teeth. The usual mode of so doing is to string the claws into necklaces and bracelets, and to make the skin into robes. Sometimes they dress the skin without removing the claws, and wear it in such a fashion that the claws are conspicuously seen. Owing to the extreme ferocity, strength, and cunning of the bear, to kill one of these animals is considered equivalent to killing a warrior, and the claw necklace is as honorable an ornament as the much prized scalp. Some of the most valiant hunters have killed several of these animals, and it is a point of honor with them to appear on great occasions with all their spoils, so that they have to exercise considerable ingenuity, and display some forty huge claws about their persons in a sufficiently conspicuous manner.

All the dress of a North American Indian is made of skin, mostly that of the deer, and in dressing it the natives are unrivalled, contriving to make a leather which is as soft as silk, is nearly white, and which may be wetted and dried any number of times without becoming harsh.

The skin is first washed in strong lye, made of wood-ashes and water, so as to loosen the hair, which is then scraped off. The hide is next stretched tightly upon the ground upon a frame, or by means of a number of wooden pegs driven firmly into the ground. In this position it remains for several days, the brains of the animal being spread thickly upon it, and rubbed into it. The next process is to scrape it carefully with a blunt knife made of the shoulder-blade of the bison, the native tanner pressing heavily upon it, and scraping every portion of the hide.

The process by which it is made capable of resisting the effects of water has yet to be undergone. A hole is made in the ground, and a quantity of rotten wood is piled in it, so that when lighted it will continue to smoulder for a long time, and produce smoke, but no flame. Around the hole are stuck a number of sticks, which are then tied together at the top, so as to make the framework of a sort of tent. The wood is then set on fire, the hides are placed within the tent, and over the sticks are wrapped other hides carefully fastened together, so as to prevent the smoke from escaping. For several days the hides are left in the smoke, and at the expiration of that time they have assumed the peculiar quality which has been described. The whole of the processes are conducted by women, manual labor being beneath the dignity of a man and a warrior.

The headdress of a North American Indian deserves some attention. Variable as are the modes of dressing the hair, no warrior ever wears his hair short. By so doing he would be taking an unfair advantage of an adversary. When a warrior is killed, or even totally disabled, the successful adversary has a right to take his scalp, in which he would be much impeded if the hair was short. Moreover, he would lose the honorable trophy with which he is entitled to fringe his garments. So for a warrior to wear his hair short would be a tacit acknowledgment that he was afraid of losing his scalp, and all the men therefore always leave at least one lock of hair attached to the crown of the head.

The process of scalping will be presently described, when we treat of war.

A great chief always wears, in addition to the ordinary headdress of the warrior, a plume of eagle feathers, by which he is made as conspicuous as possible, so that the enemy shall have no difficulty in recognising him. The form of plume varies according to the different tribes. That of the Crows may be seen in an illustration on page 1284. That of the Mandans is represented on the following page. It is made of a long strip of ermine, to which are fastened the quill feathers of the war eagle, so as to form a crest beginning at the back of the head and descending to the feet. These quills are so valuable that a perfect tail of the war eagle is considered to be worth a first-rate horse.

In the present instance two horns may be seen projecting from the headdress. This is a decoration very rarely seen, and only conferred by the chief and council upon the most distinguished warriors. Even the head chief will not be able to assume them unless by the general vote of the council, and in the case of the Mandans the second chief wore them, while the head chief was not privileged to do so.

Even a brave may wear them, though he be below the rank of chief.

They are made from the horns of the bison bull, divided longitudinally, scraped nearly as thin as paper, and highly polished. They are loosely attached at the base, so that they can be flung backward or forward by the movement of the head, and give a wonderful animation to the action of the wearer when he is speaking.

This elaborate headdress is very seldom worn, and is only assumed on occasions of special state, such as public festivals, war parades, or the visits of other chiefs. In battle the wearer always assumes the headdress by way of challenge to the enemy. There is good reason for not always wearing this dress. I have worn the dress formerly used by Mah-to-toh-pa, and found it to be hot, heavy, and inconvenient.

As a contrast to the dress of a noted warrior, we may take that of a mere dandy, a few of whom are sure to be found in every tribe. They are always remarkable for elegance of person and effeminacy of nature, having the greatest horror of exposing themselves to danger, and avoiding equally the bear, the bison, and the armed enemy. Consequently they may not deck themselves with the plumage of the war eagle, every feather of which signifies a warrior slain by the warrior’s own hand. Neither may they adorn their necks with the claws of the grizzly bear, their robes with scalp-locks and paintings, nor their bodies with the scarlet streaks that tell of honorable wounds received in battle.

Such ornaments would at once be torn from them by the indignant warriors of the tribe, and they are forced to content themselves with mountain goat, doe, and ermine skins, swans’ down, porcupine quills, and similar articles--all more beautiful than the sombre eagle quills, bears’ claws, and scalp-locks that mark the brave.

They spend their whole lives in idleness, and do not even join the athletic games of which the Americans are exceedingly fond, but devote their whole energies to the adornment of their persons. They will occupy four of five hours in making their toilets, being fastidious as to the arrangement of every hair of their eyebrows, and trying by the mirror the effect of various expressions of countenance.

Having spent the whole morning in this occupation, they sally out on their horses, seated on white and soft saddles, beautifully ornamented with porcupine quills and ermine, and lounge about the village for an hour or two, displaying their handsome persons to the best advantage. They then saunter, still on horseback, to the place where the young warriors are practising athletic exercises, and watch them for an hour or two, plying all the while their turkey-tail fans. Fatigued with the effort, they lounge home again, turn their horses loose, take some refreshment, smoke a pipe, and fan themselves to sleep.

These men are utterly despised by the warriors, as Mr. Catlin found. He was anxious to procure a portrait of one of these men:--

“Whilst I have been painting, day by day, there have been two or three of these fops continually strutting and taking their attitudes in front of my door, decked out in all their finery, without receiving other information than such as they could discover through the seams and cracks of my cabin. The chiefs, I observed, passed them without notice, and, of course, without inviting them in; and they seemed to figure about my door from day to day in their best dresses and best attitudes, as if in hopes that I would select them as models for my canvas. It was natural that I should do so, for their costume and personal appearance were entirely more beautiful than anything else to be seen in the village.

“My plans were laid, and one day, when I had got through with all of the head men who were willing to sit to be painted, and there were two or three of the chiefs lounging in my room, I stepped to the door, and tapped one of these fellows on the shoulder, who took the hint, evidently well pleased and delighted with the signal and honorable notice I had at length taken of him and his beautiful dress. Readers, you cannot imagine what was the expression of gratitude which beamed forth in this poor fellow’s face, and how high his heart beat with joy and pride at the idea of my selecting him to be immortal alongside of the chiefs and worthies whose portraits he saw ranged around the room; and by which honor he undoubtedly considered himself well paid for two or three weeks of regular painting, and greasing, and dressing, and standing alternately on one leg and the other at the door of my premises.

“Well, I placed him before me, and a canvas on my easel, and chalked him out at full length. He was truly a beautiful subject for the brush, and I was filled with enthusiasm.

“His dress from head to foot was made of the skins of the mountain goat, dressed so neatly that they were almost as soft and white as Canton crape. Around the bottom and the sides it was trimmed with ermine, and porcupine quills of beautiful dyes garnished it in a hundred parts. His hair, which was long and spread over his back and shoulders, extending nearly to the ground, was all combed back, and parted on his forehead like that of a woman. He was a tall and fine figure, with ease and grace in his movements that were worthy of better caste. In his left hand he held a beautiful pipe, in his right hand he plied his fan, and on his wrist was attached his whip of elk-horn and his fly-brush, made of the buffalo’s tail. There was nought about him of the terrible, and nought to shock the finest and chastest intellect.”

Unfortunately, the portrait was never taken, for the chiefs were so exceedingly offended that so contemptible a being should be put on the same level as themselves by being painted, that they left the hut in angry silence, and sent a message to the effect that, if Mr. Catlin painted the portrait of so worthless a man, he must destroy all the portraits of the chiefs and warriors. The message was also given to the obnoxious individual, who at once yielded the point, walked consequentially out of the hut, and took up his old station at the door as if nothing had happened to disturb his equanimity.

On their feet the American Indians wear moccasins, i. e. shoes made of soft leather, the sole of which is no thicker than the upper part. To an European walking in moccasins is at first very fatiguing, on account of the habit of turning out the toes. When, however, the white man learns to walk as the natives do, with his toes rather turned in, he soon finds that the moccasin is a better preservative of the feet than the European shoe, with its thick and almost inflexible sole.

The dress of the women is made of the same materials as that of the men, and differs chiefly in its greater length, reaching nearly to the ankle. It is generally embroidered in various patterns with colored porcupine quills, as are the leggings and moccasins. The women are fond of tattooing themselves, and produce blue and red patterns by the use of charcoal and vermilion rubbed into the punctures. Both sexes are furnished with large robes made of bison skins, and the inner side of these robes is often painted in curious patterns. One of these robes in Mr. Catlin’s collection, had a most elaborate figure of the sun in the centre, around which were figures of men and animals, showing the prowess of the owner both in war and hunting.

Beads and such like ornaments, obtained from the white men, are much in fashion; but, long before a glass or porcelain bead was introduced into America, the natives had an ornament of their own manufacture. This is the celebrated wampum, an article which is now almost extinct. It is made of fresh water shells, which are found on the borders of the lakes and streams. The thick part of the shell is cut into cylinders an inch or so in length, and then bored longitudinally, like the “bugles” that are worn by European ladies. Indeed, when the shell is, as is mostly the case, a white one, the piece of wampum looks almost exactly like a fragment of clay tobacco-pipe stem.

The wampum is either strung like beads and worn round the neck, or is formed into war belts for the waist. It answers several purposes. In the first place, it acts, like the cowries of Africa, as a substitute for money, a certain number of hand breadths being the fixed value of a horse, a gun, or a robe. It is also the emblem of peace when presented by one chief to another, and, when war has ceased between two hostile tribes, a wampum belt is presented as a token that the two tribes are at peace.

There is no particular beauty about the wampum. If the reader will break a tobacco-pipe stem into pieces an inch in length and string them on a thread, he will produce a very good imitation of a wampum necklace. Its only value lies in the labor represented by it; and, as the white men have introduced tons of imitation wampum made of porcelain, which looks rather better than the real article, and is scarcely one-hundredth part of the value, the veritable wampum is so completely extinct among many of the tribes that, if one of the natives should wish to see a string of wampum, he must go to a museum for that purpose.

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CXXXVII. THE NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS--Continued

WAR--WEAPONS.

MARTIAL CHARACTER OF THE TRIBES -- THEIR MODE OF FIGHTING -- DECLARATION OF WAR, AND APPLICATION FOR VOLUNTEERS -- WEAPONS -- THE PLAIN AND THE SPIKED CLUB -- THE SHIELD, AND THE INGENIOUS MODE OF MAKING IT -- THE LONG SPEAR -- THE BOW AND ITS CONSTRUCTION -- MODE OF SHOOTING -- THE STONE AND IRON TOMAHAWKS -- THE SCALPING-KNIFE -- MODE OF SCALPING -- USE MADE OF THE LOCKS -- THE SCALP DANCE -- THE EXPLOITS OF MAH-TO-TOH-PA -- SHAM BATTLES OF THE BOYS -- THE TORTURE OF PRISONERS -- TWO WONDERFUL ESCAPES -- HOW THE CAMANCHEES FIGHT -- SMOKING HORSES.

The North American Indians are essentially a warlike people, measuring their respect for a man almost entirely by his conduct in battle and the number of enemies which he has slain.

The very constitution of the tribes, which prevents any leader from enforcing obedience upon his followers, as is done with civilized armies, entirely precludes the possibility of such military manœuvres as those which are employed in civilized countries, where bodies of men are wielded by the order of one individual. The leader can only give general orders, and leave his followers to carry them out in the way that best suits each individual. Consequently, war among these tribes is much of the guerilla kind, where each combatant fights almost independently of the other, and the moral effect of mutual defence and support is therefore wanting.

A few very simple manœuvres are known to them, and practised by them from infancy, but they lead to nothing more than skirmishing, the chief being merely the leader of his men, and expected to be in the post of danger. The idea of a general directing the battle from a place of comparative safety is unknown to them.

Declaration of war is made in the full council of chiefs and doctors, the majority deciding the question. The chief who is to lead the expedition then asks for volunteers by sending his reddened war pipe through the tribe by means of his messengers, and each warrior who draws a puff of smoke through its stem by that act enlists himself.

After the pipe has gone its round and a sufficient number of men have volunteered, a grand war dance is got up in front of the chief’s house, where has been set up a post covered with red paint, the sign of war. The newly enlisted warriors make their appearance with all their weapons, and execute a solemn dance, each man in succession dancing up to the reddened post and striking his axe into it as a public ratification of his promise. As has been mentioned, the leader always wears every decoration to which he is entitled, so as to make himself as conspicuous a mark as possible, while the braves and warriors wear scarcely any clothing, and have their faces so disguised with black and red paint that even their most intimate friends can scarcely recognize them.

As among us, white and red are the signs of peace and war, and each leader carries with him two small flags, one of white bison’s hide, and the other of reddened leather. These are kept rolled round the staff like a railway flag-signal, and only produced when required.

At the present day fire-arms have superseded the original weapons of the American Indians, and much changed the mode of warfare. We will, however, contemplate the warfare of these tribes as it was conducted before the introduction of these weapons, when the bow, the club, the axe, the spear, and in some districts the lasso, were the only weapons employed.

In illustration No. 4, on page 1265, are seen examples of the clubs and shield, drawn from specimens in the Christy Collection. The clubs are short, seldom exceeding a yard in length, and mostly eight or nine inches shorter. They are almost invariably made upon one or other of two models, examples of which are seen in the illustration. The primitive idea of a club is evidently derived from a stick with a knob at the end, and that is the form which is most in vogue. In the common kind of club the whole of the weapon is quite plain, but in many specimens the native has imbedded a piece of bone or spike of iron in the ball or bulb at the end of the club, and has decorated the handle with feathers, bits of cloth, scalps, and similar ornaments.

The second kind of club is shaped something like the stock of a gun, and has always a spike projecting from the angle. In most cases this spike is nothing more than a pointed piece of iron or the head of a spear, but in some highly valued weapons a very broad steel blade is employed, its edges lying parallel with the length of the weapon. Such a club as this is often decorated with some hundreds of brass headed nails driven into it so as to form patterns, and is besides ornamented so profusely with strings and feathers, and long trailing scalp-locks five or six feet in length, that the efficacy of the weapon must be seriously impeded by them.

I have handled both kinds of clubs, and found this latter weapon to be most awkward and unwieldy, its thick, squared, sloping handle giving scarcely any power to the grasp, while the abundant ornaments are liable to entanglement in the other weapons that are carried about the person.

The shield is made by a very ingenious process from the thick hide which covers the shoulders of the bull bison. Making a shield is a very serious, not to say solemn, business, and is conducted after the following manner.

The warrior selects a piece of hide at least twice as large as the intended shield, and from the hoof and joints of the bison prepares a strong glue. He then digs in the ground a hole the exact size of the shield, and almost two feet in diameter, and makes in it a smouldering fire of decayed wood. These arrangements being completed, his particular friends assemble for the purpose of dancing, singing, and smoking round the shield maker, and invoking the Great Spirit to render the weapon proof against spears and arrows.

The fire being lighted and the glue heated, the skin is stretched above the hole by means of numerous pegs round the edge, which keep it a few inches above the ground. As soon as the skin is thoroughly heated, the glue is spread over it and rubbed carefully into the fibres. This operation causes the skin to contract forcibly, and at the same time to become thicker. As it contracts, the family of the shield maker busy themselves in loosening the pegs, and shifting them inward, so as to yield with the contraction of the skin, and at the same time to keep it on the full stretch. This goes on until the skin has absorbed all the glue which it is capable of receiving, and has contracted to the very utmost. By this time it is only half as wide, though twice as thick, as it was when first placed on the fire, and is allowed to cool slowly, after which it is carefully trimmed into shape, furnished with a strap, painted with the “totem” or symbol of the owner, and decorated with the usual ornaments.

The completed shield is rather flexible, but is so strong that it will resist the direct blow of a spear or arrow, and if turned a little obliquely will throw off even a pistol bullet. The specimen shown in the illustration is painted light green with a white pattern. Above it is a cover made of very thin and soft leather, which is thrown over it in case of rain. The long strap is for the purpose of throwing the shield when not in use over the shoulders, where it hangs, together with the bow and quiver.

The spear presents nothing especially worthy of remark, except that the blade is leaf-shaped, long, and narrow, and the shaft is often so covered with feathers and scalp-locks that there is barely enough space for the hand of the wielder. It sometimes measures fourteen or fifteen feet in length.

Next come the bows and arrows. The bow is always a very short and apparently insignificant weapon, being mostly used on horseback. It scarcely ever exceeds three feet in length, and is mostly six inches shorter, so that it looks more like a child’s toy than a weapon fit for a warrior’s hand. Yet, with this apparently feeble bow, the American Indian can drive an arrow completely through a man, and some of their best hunters are known to have sent their arrows fairly through the body of a bison, so that the missile fell on the ground after passing through the huge animal.

These bows are made of wood, horn, or bone. Ash is considered the best wood for bows, and it is strengthened enormously by having the wet sinews of the bison or deer fastened along the back, and so worked and kneaded into it that they appear to be of one substance with the wood. Several layers of sinews are often used, so that, in spite of its small size, the bow is a very powerful one. Some of them are made of the horn of the mountain or big horn sheep, and a few which are the most valuable are made of bone, probably obtained on the Pacific coast from the spermaceti whale, and sent inland by the traders. The owners of these bows do not like to have the material questioned, and check the interrogation with a remark of “Hush! that is medicine.” One of these bows is in the Christy Collection. I have tried several of the bows in Mr. Catlin’s collection, and found them to be very elastic, and, in spite of their small size, very stiff.

The arrow is headed with flint or bone, and when used against the enemy is usually poisoned. The feathers are taken from the wing of the wild turkey. (See page 1290.) When a warrior is fully armed, he has a hundred or so of these arrows in a neat quiver made of deer or cougar skin, and tastefully decorated with patterns woven in stained porcupine quills.

In an illustration on page 1318, the reader may see the usual costume of the Indian when equipped for battle. The portrait is that of Ee-a-chin-che-a (the red thunder) son of Black Moccasin of the Minatarees. He was at this time one of the bravest and most desperate warriors of this tribe. He has on his war-dress, with quiver slung, and shield upon his arm. “In this plight,” says Mr. Catlin, “sans headdress, sans robe, and sans everything that might be a useless encumbrance,--with the body chiefly naked, and profusely bedaubed with red and black paint, so as to form an almost perfect disguise, the Indian warriors sally forth to war.” The chief only plumes himself, and loaded with his ornaments and trophies renders himself a conspicuous target for the enemy.

The Indians are not celebrated for their skill in marksmanship, which indeed is scarcely required, as they never shoot at long ranges, like the old English bowmen. But they are wonderfully skilled in discharging a number of arrows in rapid succession, a practised archer being able to throw twenty or more in a minute while galloping at full speed.

There is a game much practised by the various tribes, by means of which this peculiar modification of skill in archery is kept at the highest pitch. The young men assemble with their bows and arrows, and each brings several articles of property which he is willing to stake on his skill, and throws one of them on the ground. When every one has thrown down his stake, the first archer advances with his bow and ten arrows clenched in his left hand. He then draws the arrows and shoots them upward as rapidly as he can, the object being to throw as many arrows as possible into the air before the first arrow has reached the ground. He who gets the greatest number simultaneously in the air wins the stakes. Some archers are so skilful that they will discharge the eighth arrow before the first has touched the ground.

We now come to the axe or tomahawk. The two figures in illustration No. 2, page 1265, afford excellent examples of the principal forms of this weapon; namely, that which is made entirely by themselves, and that which is partly made in Europe and finished by themselves. The most primitive tomahawk is that which is made of a stone fixed to a wooden handle. Fig. 2, on the above mentioned page, shows how the head is fixed to the handle, exactly as a blacksmith fixes his punches. The stone axe-heads which are found so abundantly as relics of a bygone age, were fastened on their handles in precisely the same manner. This kind of weapon is now so rare that it is scarcely possible to procure a specimen.

The steel-headed tomahawk has in most tribes superseded that which is made of stone. Vast numbers of these steel axe-heads are made in Birmingham, and sold at a very high price to the Indians.

The form which is most valued is that which is shown in fig. 1, page 1265. It is a “pipe-tomahawk,” the upper part of the head being formed into a pipe-bowl, and the smoke drawn through the handle, which is plentifully decorated with porcupine quills and feathers. This is specially valued by the American Indians, because it saves them the trouble of carrying a separate pipe, and is most formidable as a weapon, and in time of peace is an efficient axe for chopping firewood and similar purposes. The tomahawk is used both in close combat and as a missile, in which latter capacity it is hurled with wonderful force and accuracy of aim.

Beside these weapons, every warrior carries the scalping knife, which, with the poniard of early English times, is equally useful for war and domestic purposes. Almost without an exception every scalping knife used in North America is nothing more than a common butcher’s knife, made in Sheffield for sixpence, and sold to the Indians at the price of a horse. After all, it is perhaps the very best instrument that they could use. One of my friends, an experienced hunter, said that he discarded all his elaborate and costly hunting knives, and preferred the Sheffield butcher’s knife, which combines the advantages of strength, lightness, and the capability of taking an edge like a razor.

Every one has heard of the custom of scalping as practised by these tribes, a custom which takes the place of the preserved heads of the Dyak, and Mundurucú. When an American Indian slays an enemy, he removes the scalp as a proof of his victory. The scalp is a piece of skin, with the hair attached to it, taken from the very crown of the head, so as to exhibit that portion of the skin where the hair radiates from a centre. The size of the scalp is of no importance, provided that it only contain this indispensable mark.

Generally, the piece of skin secured is almost as large as the palm of the hand, and it is taken in the following manner. The enemy being fallen, the victor sits behind him on the ground, seizes the scalp-lock with his left hand, and with the knife makes two semicircular incisions in the skin, cutting it completely down to the bone. He then twists the scalp-lock round both his hands, puts his feet on the victim’s shoulders, and with a violent pull drags off the circular piece of skin with the hair adhering to it.

This whole scene (illustrated on page 1284) is enacted in much less time than it has taken to write, the Indians being well practised in their sham fights before they come to taking scalps in actual battle. Brandishing the scalp in one hand and the knife in the other, the exultant conqueror utters the terrible “scalping yell,” which even when given in a mock battle seems as if it were uttered by a demon rather than a man.

The scalped man is always supposed to be dead or dying, and, as the scalp is always accepted as a proof of death, the native warrior would never scalp a man whom he thought likely to recover. There have, however, been many instances, where in the heat of battle a man has been scalped while stunned, though without a mortal wound, and has afterward recovered and lived for many years.

When the battle is over and the warrior returns to his home, he dresses the scalp for preservation. This is usually done by stretching it in a sort of battledore, made by bending a flexible stick and lashing the ends together, and it is then solemnly “danced” before it takes its place with the other valuables of the owner. Some of the scalps are quite small, not larger than a penny, and are hung on the bridles of the horses, or the handles of clubs.

Generally, however, they are, when quite dry, painted on the inside so as to resemble a human face, and hung to the end of a long, slight pole. On a fine day, the head chief of an encampment mostly orders that the scalps should be hung out, and sets the example, by protruding from the top of his own hut the pole on which are hung the scalps which he has taken. All the warriors at once follow his example, so that by walking round the village and counting the scalps, a stranger can learn the standing of every warrior.

It has been mentioned that many of the scalps are very small. Their limited size is thus accounted for. If a warrior be hurried, as is mostly the case when scalping a fallen man in the heat of battle, he contents himself with the scalp alone. But, if he should have leisure, he removes the whole of the hair-bearing portion of the skin, and treats it as follows. He first cuts out a small circular piece containing the crown of the head, this being the actual scalp. The remainder of the hair he divides into little locks, and with them he fringes the seams of his leggings, the arms and edges of his coat, the shaft of his spear, the handle of his club, etc., etc. The whole of Mah-to-toh-pa’s dress was covered with fringes made from the hair of those whom he slew in battle.

A dress thus ornamented is valued beyond all price, and there is scarcely any price sufficiently high to tempt a warrior to part with these trophies of his valor.

The “scalp dance” is a ceremony quite in keeping with the custom of securing the trophy. A scalp dance of the Sioux is thus described by Mr. Catlin:--“Among this tribe, as I learned whilst residing with them, it is danced in the night by the light of their torches, just before going to bed. When a war party returns from a war excursion, bringing home with them the scalps of their enemies, they generally dance them for fifteen nights in succession, vaunting forth the most extravagant boasts of their wonderful prowess in war, whilst they brandish their war weapons in their hands.

“A number of young women are selected to aid (though they do not actually join in) the dance, by stepping into the centre of the ring and holding up the scalps that have been recently taken, while the warriors dance, or rather jump, around in a circle, brandishing their weapons, and barking and yelping in the most frightful manner, all jumping on both feet at a time, with a simultaneous stamp, and blow, and thrust of their weapons, with which it would seem as if they were actually cutting and carving each other to pieces. During these frantic leaps and yells, every man distorts his face to the utmost power of his muscles, darting about his glaring eyeballs, and snapping his teeth as if he were in the heat--and actually breathing through his nostrils the very hissing death--of battle.

“No description that can be written could ever convey more than a feeble outline of the frightful effects of these scenes enacted in the dead and darkness of night, under the glaring light of their blazing flambeaux; nor could all the years allotted to mortal man in the least obliterate or deface the vivid impression that one scene of this kind would leave upon his memory.”

Mr. Catlin suggests, with much reason, that these dances are propitiatory of the spirits of the slain men, showing how highly their valor was prized by the conquerors, and the great respect and estimation in which they were held, though the fortune of war had gone against them.

A good example of the war career of an American Indian chief may be gained by the exploits of Mah-to-toh-pa, as displayed on his robe, and explained by him to Mr. Catlin. It was covered with twelve groups of figures, which will be briefly described.

His first exploit was killing a Sioux chief, who had already killed three Riccarees. This feat entitled him to wear eagles’ quills on his lance, and in the second group he is shown as killing with this lance a Shienne chief, who challenged him to single combat. The third scene represents a combat in which Mah-to-toh-pa was forsaken by his party, and yet, though badly wounded, killed a Shienne warrior in the presence of some thirty of his fellows.

The fourth scene shows a great chief of the Shiennes killed by this warrior, whose splendid headdress was assumed by his slayer. The fifth picture represents a strange episode in a battle. Mah-to-toh-pa was travelling with a party of Riccarees, when they were fired upon by a war party of Sioux. The Riccarees fled, leaving Mah-to-toh-pa, who sprang from his horse, faced the Sioux on foot, killed one of them, and secured his scalp.

The sixth drawing illustrates a most remarkable piece of personal history. A Riccaree brave, named Won-ga-tap, shot the brother of Mah-to-toh-pa with an arrow, drove his well-known spear into the body of the fallen man, and left it there, as a challenge to the surviving brother. The challenge was accepted. Mah-to-toh-pa found the body, recognized the spear, and vowed that he would slay the murderer of his brother with the same weapon. Four years passed without an opportunity to fulfil the vow, when he could no longer brook delay, but dashed out of his house with the fatal spear in his hand, and a small wallet of parched corn at his belt. He told the Mandans to mention his name no more unless he returned victorious with the scalp of Won-ga-tap.

Amid the awe-struck silence of his people he left the village, and disappeared over the grassy bluffs. For two hundred miles he travelled alone and by night, always concealing himself by day, until he reached the Riccaree village, which he boldly entered, mixing with the inhabitants as if he were a friendly stranger. He knew the position of Won-ga-tap’s hut, and after having seen that the intended victim and his wife had smoked the evening pipe and were in bed, he walked gently into the hut, sat down by the fire, took some meat out of the cooking-pot, and began to eat in order to strengthen himself for the fulfilment of his task. This was according to the hospitable custom of the American Indians. If a man be hungry, he need not ask for food, but has only to go to the nearest hut and help himself.

The repast being ended, Mah-to-toh-pa took the still warm pipe, filled it with tobacco, and began to smoke it, breathing, with every curl of smoke, a prayer for success in his undertaking. Once or twice the wife of Won-ga-tap asked her husband who was eating in their hut, but he replied that some one must be hungry, and was helping himself.

When the last smoke-wreath had ascended, Mah-to-toh-pa turned toward the bed, and with his foot pushed an ember on the fire, so as to make a blaze by which he might see the exact position of his victim. In an instant he leaped toward the bed, drove the spear through the heart of Won-ga-tap, tore off his scalp, snatched the spear from his heart, and darted out of the hut with the scalp of his victim in one hand, and in the other the fatal spear, with the blood of Won-ga-tap already drying over that of the man he had killed four years before. The whole village was in an uproar, but Mah-to-toh-pa succeeded in making his escape, and on the sixth day after leaving the Mandan village, he re-entered it with the scalp of his enemy. A portrait of this celebrated chief is given on the 1277th page.

Another of these pictures records a single combat fought with a Shienne chief in presence of both war parties. They fought on horseback, until Mah-to-toh-pa’s powder-horn was shattered by a bullet. The Shienne chief flung away his gun, horn, and bullet pouch, and challenged the foe with bow and arrow. Both parties were wounded in the limbs, but kept their bodies covered with their shields.

Presently Mah-to-toh-pa’s horse fell with an arrow in its heart. The Shienne chief immediately dismounted, and proceeded with the fight until he had exhausted his arrows, when he flung the empty quiver on the ground, challenging with his knife, the only weapon which he had left. The challenge was accepted, and they rushed on each other, but Mah-to-toh-pa had left his knife at home, and was unarmed. He closed with his antagonist, and a struggle ensued for the knife. Mah-to-toh-pa was dreadfully wounded in the hands, but at last wrested the knife from his adversary, drove it into his heart, and in silence claimed the scalp of his fallen foe.

On another occasion he alone faced sixty Assineboins, drove them back, and killed one of them. It was in this battle that he earned the name of “Four Bears,” by which must be understood the grizzly bear, the most terrible quadruped of North America. This is a sample of the mode in which warfare is conducted by the North American Indians--a strange mixture of lofty and chivalrous nobility with cunning and deceit. In fact, in contemplating these interesting tribes, we are thrown back to the time of Ulysses, whose great fame was equally derived from his prowess in battle and his skill in deceiving his foes, or, in other words, of being a most accomplished liar.

The men are taught the operations of war from a very early age. Every morning, all the lads who are above seven years old and upward, and have not been admitted among the men, are taken to some distance from the village, where they are divided into two opposing bodies, each under the command of an experienced warrior. They are armed with little bows, arrows made of grass stems, and wooden knives stuck in their belts. In their heads they slightly weave a plaited tuft of grass to represent the scalp-lock.

The two parties then join in sham combat, which is made to resemble a real fight as much as possible. When any of the combatants is struck in a vital part, he is obliged to fall as if dead, when his antagonist goes through the operation of scalping with his wooden knife, places the scalp in his belt, utters the wild yell, and again joins in the battle. As no one may fight without a scalp-lock, the fallen adversary is obliged to withdraw from the fight. This goes on for an hour or so, when the mock fight is stopped, and the lads are praised or rebuked according to the skill and courage which they have shown, the number of scalps at the belt being the surest criterion of merit.

It is well known that after a battle the American Indians torture their prisoners, and that they display the most diabolical ingenuity in devising the most excruciating torments. Still, there has been much exaggeration in the accounts of this custom. They do not torture all their prisoners, selecting only a few for this purpose, the others being absorbed into the tribe by marriage with the widows whose husbands have been killed in battle, and enjoying equal rights with the original members of the tribe.

Neither is the torture practised with the idea of revenge, though it is likely that vengeful feelings will arise when the victim is bound to the stake. Superstition seems to be at the root of the torture, which is intended to propitiate the spirit of those members of their own tribe who have suffered the like treatment at the hands of their adversaries. The doomed warrior accepts his fate with the imperturbable demeanor which is an essential part of a North American Indian’s character, and, for the honor of his tribe, matches his endurance against the pain which his enemies can inflict.

Tortures too terrible even to be mentioned are tried in succession; for when the victim is once bound to the stake, the Indian never has been known to relent in his purpose, which is to extort acknowledgments of suffering from the captured warrior, and thereby to disgrace not only himself but the tribe to which he belongs. He, in the meanwhile, prides himself on showing his enemies how a warrior can die. He chants the praises of his tribe and their deeds, boasts of all the harm that he has done to the tribe into whose power he has fallen, ridicules their best warriors, and endeavors to anger them to such an extent that they may dash out his brains, and so spare him further torture. He will even laugh at their attempts to extort cries of pain from a warrior, and tell them that they do not know how to torture.

One remarkable instance of endurance in a captured Creek warrior is told by Mr. Adair. The man had been captured by the Shawnees, and forced to run the gauntlet naked through all the tribe; he had been tied to the stake, and was horribly tortured with gun-barrels heated redhot. All the efforts of his enemies only drew from him taunts and jeers, to the effect that the Shawnees were so ignorant that they did not even know how to torture a bound prisoner. Great warrior though he was, he had fallen into their hands through some fault in addressing the Great Spirit, but that he had enough virtue left to show them the difference between a Creek and a Shawnee. Let them only unbind him, and allow him to take a redhot gun-barrel out of the fire, and he would show them a much better way of torturing than any which they knew.

His demeanor had excited the respect of the Shawnees, and they unbound him and took him to the fire, in which were lying the redhot tubes. Unhesitatingly, he picked up one of them with his bare hands, sprang at the surrounding crowd, striking right and left with this fearful weapon, cleared a passage through the astonished warriors, and leaped down a precipice into the river. He swam the river amid a shower of bullets, gained a little island in its midst, and, though instantly followed by numbers of his disconcerted enemies, actually succeeded in getting away. In spite of the injuries which he had suffered, and which would have killed an ordinary European, he recovered, and lived for many years, the implacable foe of the Shawnees.

A somewhat similar adventure occurred to a Katahba warrior, who was pursued by a band of Senecas, and at last captured, though not until he had contrived to kill seven of them. A warrior of such prowess was guarded with double vigilance, and he was brought to the Seneca village for the torture, after having been beaten at every encampment through which the party had passed.

As the torturers were taking him to the stake, he, like the Creek warrior, burst from his captors, and flung himself into the river, swimming across in safety. He paused for a moment on the opposite bank to express emphatically his contempt for the pursuers who were crowding down the bank and into the river, and then dashed forward so fast that he gained nearly a day’s journey upon the foremost of the pursuers.

Five of the enemy pressed upon him, and, though naked and unarmed, he deliberately waited for them. At night, when they were all asleep, not having thought a sentry needful, he crept up to the party, snatched one of their tomahawks, and killed them all before they could wake. He scalped them, clothed and armed himself, invigorated his wasted frame with food, and set off to the spot where he had slain the seven foes as he was first pursued. They had been buried for the sake of preserving their scalps, but he found the place of burial, scalped them all, and not until then did he make for his home, which he reached in safety.

When the rest of the pursuers came to the place where the five had been killed, they held a council, and determined that a man who could do such deeds unarmed must be a wizard whom they could not hope to resist, and that the best course that they could pursue was to go home again.

The reader will not fail to notice the great stress that is here laid on the possession of the scalp. A war party of Indians care comparatively little for the loss of one of their number, provided that they conceal his body so that the enemy shall not take his scalp. Here we have an instance of a man pursued by numbers of infuriated and relentless foes deliberately going back to the spot where he thought his slain enemies might be buried, and a second time risking his life in order to secure the trophies of victory. He knew that his intention would be foreseen, and yet the value set upon the scalp was so incalculable that even the risk of undergoing the torture was as nothing in comparison.

On more than one occasion, a warrior who has been struck down, and felt himself unable to rise, has saved his life by feigning death, and permitting his victorious foe to tear off his scalp without giving the least sign of suffering. He must lose his scalp at any rate, and he might possibly contrive to save his life.

Several of the tribes are remarkable for the use which they make of the horse in war, and their marvellous skill in riding. The most celebrated tribe in this respect are the Camanchees, the greater part of whose life is spent on horseback. As is often the case with those who spend much of their time on horseback, the Camanchees are but poor walkers, and have a slouching and awkward gait. No sooner, however, is a Camanchee on the back of a horse, than his whole demeanor alters, and he and the animal which he bestrides seem one and the same being, actuated with the same spirit. “A Camanchee on his feet,” writes Mr. Catlin, “is out of his element, and comparatively almost as awkward as a monkey on the ground without a limb or branch to cling to. But the moment he lays his hand upon his horse, his face becomes handsome, and he gracefully flies away like a different being.”

There is one feat in which all the Camanchee warriors are trained from their infancy. As the man is dashing along at full gallop, he will suddenly drop over the side of his horse, leaving no part of him visible except the sole of one foot, which is hitched over the horse’s back as a purchase by which he can pull himself to an upright position. In this attitude he can ride for any distance, and moreover can use with deadly effect either his bow or his fourteen-foot lance.

One of their favorite modes of attack is to gallop toward the enemy at full speed, and then, just before they come within range, they drop upon the opposite side of their horses, dash past the foe, and pour upon him a shower of arrows directed under their horses’ necks, and sometimes even thrown under their bellies. All the time it is nearly useless for the enemy to return the shots, as the whole body of the Camanchee is hidden behind the horse, and there is nothing to aim at save the foot just projecting over the animal’s back.

To enable them to perform this curious manœuvre, (illustrated on the 1291st page) the Camanchees plait a short and strong halter of horse hair. This halter is passed under the horse’s neck, and the ends are firmly plaited into the mane, just above the withers, so as to leave a loop hanging under the animal’s neck. Into this loop the warrior drops with accurate precision, sustaining the weight of his body on the upper part of the bent arm, and allowing the spear to fall into the bend of the elbow. Thus both his arms are at liberty to draw the bow or wield the spear; and as in such cases he always grasps a dozen arrows in his left hand, together with the bow, he can discharge them without having recourse to his quiver.

Sometimes the Camanchees try to steal upon their enemies by leaving their lances behind them, slinging themselves along the sides of their steeds, and approaching carelessly, as though they were nothing but a troop of wild horses without riders. A very quick eye is needed to detect this guise, which is generally betrayed by the fact that the horses always keep the same side toward the spectator, which would very seldom be the case were they wild and unrestrained in their movements.

Every Camanchee has one favorite horse, which he never mounts except for war or the chase, using an inferior animal on ordinary occasions. Swiftness is the chief quality for which the charger is selected, and for no price would the owner part with his steed. Like all uncivilized people, he treats his horse with a strange mixture of cruelty and kindness. While engaged in the chase, for example, he spurs and whips the animal most ruthlessly; but as soon as he returns, he carefully hands over his valued animal to his women, who are waiting to receive it, and who treat it as if it were a cherished member of the family.

It need scarcely be added that the Camanchees are most accomplished horse stealers, and that they seize every opportunity of robbing other tribes of their animals. When a band of Camanchees sets out on a horse stealing expedition, the warriors who compose it are bound in honor not to return until they have achieved their object. Sometimes they are absent for more than two years before they can succeed in surprising the settlement which contains the horses on which they have set their hearts, and they will lie in ambush for months, awaiting a favorable opportunity.

The value set upon horses by the equestrian tribes cannot be better illustrated than by the singular custom of “smoking horses,” which prevails in some parts of the country. The reader will find this illustrated on the following page.

When one of these tribes determine on making war, and find on mustering their forces that they have not sufficient horses, they send a messenger to a friendly tribe to say that on a certain day they will come to “smoke” a certain number of horses, and expect the animals to be ready for them. This is a challenge which is never refused, involving as it does the honor of the tribe.

On the appointed day, the young warriors who have no horses go to the friendly village, stripped and painted as if for war, and seat themselves in a circle, all facing inward. They light their pipes and smoke in silence, the people of the village forming a large circle around them, leaving a wide space between themselves and their visitors.

Presently in the distance there appears an equal number of young warriors on horseback, dashing along at full gallop, and in “Indian file,” according to their custom. They gallop round the ring, and the foremost rider, selecting one of the seated young men, stoops from his saddle as he passes, and delivers a terrible blow at his naked shoulders with his cruel whip. Each of his followers does the same, and they gallop round and round the smokers, at each circuit repeating the blow until the shoulders of the men are covered with blood. It is incumbent upon the sufferers to smoke on in perfect calmness, and not to give the slightest intimation that they are aware of the blows which are inflicted on them. When the requisite number of circuits have been made, the leader springs off his horse, and places the bridle and whip in the hands of the young man whom he has selected, saying at the same time, “You are a beggar; I present you with a horse: but you will always carry my mark on your back.” The rest follow his example.

Every one is pleased with this remarkable custom. The young men are pleased because they get a horse apiece; and as to the flogging, in the first place they really care very little for pain, and in the next place they have enjoyed an opportunity of showing publicly their capability of endurance.

Those who give the horses are pleased because they have been able to show their liberality, a trait which is held in great estimation by these people, and they have also the peculiar satisfaction of flogging a warrior with impunity. Both tribes are also pleased, the one because they have gained the horses without which they could not have made up their forces, and the other because they have shown themselves possessed of superior wealth.

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CXXXVII. THE NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS--Continued

HUNTING--AMUSEMENTS.

NORTH AMERICAN HUNTERS -- BISON OR BUFFALO HUNTING -- THE CHASE ON HORSEBACK -- USE OF THE GUN -- BISON DRIVING -- THE SNOW SHOE, AND ITS USE IN BISON HUNTING -- THE DISGUISE IN WOLF SKINS -- HORSE CATCHING -- MODES OF USING THE LASSO -- HOW HORSES ARE TAMED -- “CREASING” HORSES -- THE BUFFALO DANCE -- CREDIT OF THE BUFFALO DANCE RESTORED -- A SINGULAR MASK -- INVARIABLE SUCCESS OF THE DANCE -- HOW THE DANCERS ARE RELIEVED -- AN INGENIOUS DECEPTION.

As might be expected from a migratory people like the North American Indians, all the tribes excel in hunting, though some are notable above the others. Next to Africa, this country presents the finest hunting grounds in the world, the game varying according to the locality, and giving the hunter an almost unrivalled scope of action.

First and most important of the North American game is the bison, popularly but erroneously called the buffalo. This animal exists in countless myriads, and in spite of the continual persecutions to which it has been subjected, and the utterly reckless manner in which it has been destroyed, it still blackens the plains with its multitudes.

Before the horse came into use, the North American Indians were obliged to chase the bison on foot, and even at the present day there are many celebrated hunters who are able to run down a bison on foot and kill it with the lance. The mode, however, which is generally adopted is the chase by mounted hunters, a chase which offers the greatest results, and exhibits the wildest enthusiasm and excitement. Armed merely with his tiny bow and flint-headed arrows, the native hunter mounts his horse, and goes off in chase of the bison.

When he comes up with the animals, he selects one, usually a fat and well-conditioned cow, presses his horse to her and prepares his bow and arrow. The well-trained horse needs no guiding, but keeps close to the right shoulder of the bison, and a little behind it, so that it may not run upon the horns of the animal if it should happen to stop suddenly and turn its head. This plan, moreover, just brings the rider into the proper position to deliver his arrow in the most deadly manner, i. e. directing it just behind the shoulder. When an arrow is discharged by a practised hand, the bison falls mortally wounded, and, tenacious of life as the animal is, soon breathes its last. Leaving the arrow in the wound in order to mark the owner of the dead animal, the successful archer dashes on in pursuit of another animal, and does not cease until he has expended all his store of arrows. An illustration on page 1299 shows a herd of bisons, and the Indians on horseback engaged in the exciting sport.

It is the pride of the native hunter to kill a bison with every arrow, and not to shoot twice at the same animal. The younger hunters are fierce and anxious rivals in this sport, knowing that the result of the day’s hunt will be the talk of the whole village, and that on their success or failure will much depend the estimation in which they are held. So each successive hunt produces its eager competitors for honor, some being desirous of wiping off past disgrace by present success, and others equally anxious to maintain the reputation which they have gained on former occasions.

Even in those parts of the country where the bow has been almost entirely superseded by fire-arms, it is equally a point of honor to kill the bison with a single shot, and to claim a slain bison for every bullet. In such cases, the hunter takes little pains in loading his gun. He carries the powder loose in his pocket or bag, scoops hastily a random quantity into the gun, drops upon it, without any wadding, a bullet wetted in the mouth, and the loading is complete. The muzzle of the gun is kept uppermost until the moment for firing, when the gun is dropped, aimed, and fired simultaneously, without being brought to the shoulder.

The skill displayed in managing the horse is the more remarkable, as these Indians use no bit by which the animal can be guided. They have nothing but a slight hide halter tied round the lower jaw of the horse, the only use of which is to cause it to halt when required. This is popularly called the “lariat,” a corruption from the French word, l’arêt.

The excitement caused by this chase is indescribable, though Mr. Catlin gives a very graphic idea in a few words:--“I have always counted myself a prudent man, yet I have often waked, as it were, out of the delirium of the chase, into which I had fallen as into an agitated sleep, and through which I had passed as through a delightful dream--where to have died would have been to have remained, riding on, without a struggle or a pang.”

Sometimes the bison is destroyed in a much less sporting manner, the precipice and the pound being the two modes which are usually followed. The reader may probably be aware that, in those parts of North America inhabited by the bison, the surface of the plain is frequently interrupted by ravines with precipitous sides and of tremendous depth. When a hunting party see a herd of bisons within several miles of one of these ravines, they quietly separate, and steal round the herd, so as to place the bisons between themselves and the ravine.

They then gently move forward, and the bisons, retreating from them, draw nearer and nearer to the ravine, at the same time becoming packed closer and closer together. Suddenly the hunters raise a shout, and dash forward at the bisons. The affrighted animals take to flight at their best speed, and run on until they reach the edge of the ravine. Here the foremost bisons try to check themselves, but to no avail, as they are pressed forward by their companions behind, and thus almost the whole of the herd are forced over the precipice, and killed by the fall. Even those in the rear, which at last see their danger, and try to escape, have to run the gauntlet of their enemies, who allow but very few of them to escape.

A somewhat similar plan is adopted with the pound, into which the bisons are driven by the hunters. The pound is an enclosure made of felled trees and branches, with an opening which gradually widens. The bisons are driven toward the enclosure, a task which often occupies several weeks, and, when they arrive within the fatal arms of the entrance, are urged forward by means of little fires, which are lighted on either side. Instinct urges the animals to escape from an element which sweeps over vast districts of country, and kills every living thing in it, and in their haste they run toward the pound, in which they are at once shut up. It is fortunate for the hunters that the bisons do not know their own strength. They could easily break through the walls of the pound, but they mostly content themselves with turning round and round, and passively await the arrival of the destroyer. So foolish are they in this respect, and in such numbers are they killed, that pounds have been built of the bones of slaughtered bisons.

In the winter another plan of hunting the bison is followed. At this time of the year the fur or “pelt” of the bison is the thickest and warmest, and the skin is of the most value. It is from these skins that the “buffalo” rugs and robes are made, without which out-of-door life would be scarcely endurable in the more northern parts of this vast continent.

During the winter months the prairies assume a new aspect. They are not only covered with snow, so that the ordinary landmarks are obliterated, but the snow is blown by the wind into the most fantastic shapes, raised in some places into long and sharply scarped hills where no hills were, forming level plains where the ground is really cut up by hollows, and leaving only the tops of eminences bare, whence the snow is blown away by the tempestuous winds that sweep across the vast expanse. On these hills the bison congregate for the purpose of grazing, shovelling away with their broad noses the snow which still clings to the herbage.

The animals instinctively keep clear of the small but treacherous plains and valleys, knowing that the hidden crevices may at any time swallow them up. Into these valleys the hunters try to drive them, so that they may be helplessly entangled in the snow, and fall easy victims to the spear. Were it not for some invention whereby the hunters are enabled to skim over the surface of the snow, the bisons would be in perfect safety, but the snow shoe lays the poor animals at the mercy of their pursuers. It is necessary first to describe this ingenious implement.

The best form of snow shoe is seen on the next page. The shape is that of a fish, and its framework is made of ash-wood, kept in form by two cross-bars, one in front and one behind. It is slightly turned up in front. The whole of the space within the framework is filled in with a close and strongly made netting of hide thongs, much like those of a racquet--indeed, the French Canadians use the word “raquet” to represent the snow shoe. As the snow shoe is about five feet in length and eighteen inches or more in breadth, it is evident that the weight of the wearer is distributed over a large surface, and that a heavy man wearing these shoes can pass with impunity over snow in which a child would sink if only supported on its feet.

Just behind the opening is a triangular space crossed by parallel thongs. When the shoe is to be worn, the foot is placed on it so that the heel rests on the parallel thongs, and the centre of the foot is supported by the thick cross-thong, called the “bimikibison,” the toes passing into the square opening, which is called the eye of the shoe. In order to keep the foot in its place, two leathern loops (not shown in the figure) are attached to the bimikibison, one of which passes over the instep and the other comes round the heel.

As, therefore, the wearer moves along, the feet play freely on the bimikibison, the heels coming down at each step on the parallel thongs, while the toes move up and down through the “eye” of the shoe, which is dragged over the snow by the instep thong, the heel strap being only useful in keeping the foot from slipping out backward.

After some practice, the wearer is able to skim over the snow with astonishing speed, but to a novice the first attempt is not only awkward, but causes excruciating pain. The unaccustomed movement of the foot, together with the pressure of the instep strap, produces a pain peculiar to the snow shoe called by the Canadians “mal du raquet.” Not only does blood stain the snow as the excoriated foot drags the heavy shoe over the surface, but a pain pervades the whole foot, as if all the little bones were dislocated, and rubbing against each other. Perseverance is the only cure for the “mal du raquet,” and after a few days the wearer is able to proceed with perfect comfort.

The most ingenious part of the snow shoe is the mode by which it is fitted to the foot. It is evident that if it were fastened firmly to the foot, like the sole of a shoe, the wearer would be unable to stir a step. The movement of a snow-shoe wearer is somewhat analogous to that of a skater, the shoe being slid over the snow, and not raised and depressed like shoes in ordinary walking. If the reader will refer to the illustration, he will see that in the middle and toward the forepart of the shoe there is a square opening, edged by thongs, very much stronger than the others.

It often happens that heavy snow storms fall before the people are able to replace the shoes, which are generally damaged in the course of the summer months, and in this case they are obliged to extemporize snow shoes out of flat boards. These are shorter and wider than the regular snow shoes, but are used in much the same manner, the “eye” being cut out of the board, and the necessary thongs being fixed across the opening. These simple instruments are called by a name which signifies “bear’s-paw” shoes. Some of the prairie tribes use very long and comparatively narrow skates, turned up in front, and precisely resembling the “skidor” of Northern Europe.

Upborne on the snow shoe, the American Indian has the bison at his mercy. He drives the herd from the eminences into the valleys, and while the poor animals are floundering about in the deep snow, he deliberately selects those which have the largest and softest “robes,” and kills them with his spears. Thousands are annually slain in this manner, their skin removed, and with the exception of the tongue and the hump, which are the best parts of the bison, the whole of the carcass is left to the prairie wolves and birds of prey.

On these shoes the native hunters capture the huge moose. They select a time when there has been a partial thaw followed by a frost, so as to leave a thin crust of ice upon a substratum of soft snow. As the moose plunges through the snow, it breaks through this icy crust at every step, cutting its legs frightfully with the broken edges, and so falls an easy victim.

Another mode of bison hunting presents a curious analogy with the ingenious method of ostrich hunting which is practised by the Bosjesmans of Southern Africa.

Upon the vast plains of North America the so-called wolves prowl in numbers. They will follow the hunter for weeks together for the sake of the offal of the beasts which he kills. They will not venture to harm him, but follow him by day at a distance of half a mile or so, and at night, when he lies down to sleep, they will couch also at a respectful distance.

Should he wound a bison and not be able to secure it, the wolves are sure to have that animal sooner or later, and if they manage to detach a single bison from the herd, they will fairly persecute the wretched animal to death. But they will never venture to attack a herd of bisons, and, being instinctively aware of the protection afforded by mutual support, the bisons allow the wolves to approach quite close to them, and, indeed, to wander freely among the herd. Of this fact the hunters take advantage in the following manner. They remove the skin of a large wolf, and put it upon themselves, so that when they go on all fours the head of the wolf projects just above their own head, and their arms and legs are partly covered by the skin belonging to the corresponding members of the wolf.

Thus disguised, they creep slowly and cautiously toward the herd, bearing their bow and arrows in their left hands. The bisons, whose eyes are none of the best, being overshadowed by the masses of black hair that overlap them, think nothing of the supposed wolves, and allow them to come quite close. Even if an animal more wary than his comrades does suspect the ruse, the disguised hunter has merely to turn in another direction, as if the creature he represents has no business with the herd. By degrees, he contrives to creep close to the bison which he prefers, and drives the flint-headed arrow to its heart. No report attending the discharge of the arrow, the wounded bison runs for a few paces, and sinks on the ground, mostly without alarming any of its companions. The hunter leaves his dying prey, goes off after another victim, and slays it in a similar fashion. Thus a skilful hunter will manage to exhaust the whole of his stock of arrows, killing a bison with each arrow, and yet not alarm the rest of the herd.

Both in hunting and in warfare the equestrian warriors always carry the lasso attached to the saddles of their horses. It is not, however, kept coiled, as is the case in Mexico, but is allowed to trail on the ground behind their horse. The object of this custom is easily understood. It often happens that, whether in the hunt or warfare, the rider is thrown from his horse. In such a case, as soon as he touches the ground, he seizes the lasso, stops his well-trained horse with a jerk, leaps on its back, and is at once ready to renew the combat or the chase.

The mode in which the natives supply themselves with horses is worth a brief description. In various parts of the country the horses have completely acclimatized themselves, and have run free for many years, so that they have lost all traces of domestication, and have become as truly wild as the bison and the antelope, assembling in large herds, headed by the strongest and swiftest animals. It is from these herds that the natives supply themselves with the horses which of late years have become absolutely necessary to them; and in most cases the animals are captured in fair chase after the following manner:--

When an American Indian--say a Camanchee--wishes to catch a fresh horse, he mounts his best steed, and goes in search of the nearest herd. When he has come as near as he can without being discovered, he dashes at the herd at full speed, and, singling out one of the horses, as it gallops along, hampered by the multitude of its companions, flings his lasso over its neck.

As soon as the noose has firmly settled, the hunter leaps off his own steed (which is trained to remain standing on the same spot until it is wanted), and allows himself to be dragged along by the affrighted animal, which soon falls, in consequence of being choked by the leathern cord.

When the horse has fallen, the hunter comes cautiously up, keeping the lasso tight enough to prevent the animal from fairly recovering its breath, and loose enough to guard against its entire strangulation, and at last is able to place one hand over its eyes and the other on its nostrils.

The animal is now at his mercy. He breathes strongly into its nostrils, and from that moment the hitherto wild horse is his slave. In order to impress upon the animal the fact of his servitude, he hobbles together its fore-feet for a time, and casts a noose over its lower jaw; but within a wonderfully short period he is able to remove the hobbles, and to ride the conquered animal into camp. During the time occupied in taming the horse, it plunges and struggles in the wildest manner; but after this one struggle it yields the point, and becomes the willing slave of its conqueror. Those who have seen the late Mr. Rarey operate on a savage horse can easily imagine the scene that takes place on the prairie.

The rapidity with which this operation is completed is really wonderful. An experienced hunter is able to chase, capture, and break a wild horse within an hour, and to do his work so effectually that almost before its companions are out of sight the hitherto wild animal is being ridden as if it had been born in servitude.

The native hunter, cruel master though he generally is, takes special care not to damp the spirit of his horse, and prides himself on the bounds and curvets which the creature makes when it receives its master upon its back.

There is only one drawback to this mode of hunting. It is impossible to capture with the lasso the best and swiftest specimens. These animals always take command of the herd, and place themselves at its head. They seem to assume the responsibility as well as the position of leaders, and, as soon as they fear danger, dart off at full speed, knowing that the herd will follow them. Consequently, they are often half a mile or more in advance of their followers, so that the hunter has no chance of overtaking them on a horse impeded by the weight of a rider.

A rather strange method of horse taking has been invented since the introduction of fire-arms. This is technically named “creasing,” and is done in the following manner. Taking his rifle with him, the hunter creeps as near the herd as he can, and watches until he fixes on a horse that he thinks will suit him. Waiting till the animal is standing with its side toward him, he aims carefully at the top of the neck, and fires. If the aim be correct, the bullet just grazes the neck, and the horse falls as if dead, stunned for the moment by the shock. It recovers within a very short time; but before it has regained its feet the hunter is able to come up to the prostrate animal, place his hands over its eyes, breathe into its nostrils, and thus to subdue it.

This is a very effectual mode of horse catching; but it is not in favor with those who want horses for their own riding, because it always breaks the spirit of the animal, and deprives it of that fire and animation which the native warrior prizes so highly. Indeed, so careful is the Camanchee of his steed, that he will not mount his favorite war horse except in actual warfare, or in the hunt. When he is summoned by his chief, he attends muster, mounted on a second horse, or hack, and leading his war horse by the bridle.

The wild horses of North America are a small and neat-limbed, though powerful, breed of animal. Mr. Catlin says that their value has been much overrated, as even those which belong to the Camanchees, and are thought to be equal to the best Arab horses, are on the average worth some twenty pounds each. The chiefs have generally one or two horses of very superior quality; but as far as the average goes, the Camanchee horse is not worth more than the above mentioned sum.

The horses that are generally brought into the market are those that are obtained by “creasing.” Experienced purchasers, however, do not care much about such animals. Creasing is, moreover, liable to two disadvantages. The hunter is equally in danger of missing his mark altogether, in which case the whole herd dashes off, and gives no more chances to the hunter; or of striking too low, in which case the horse is killed on the spot.

In accordance with their usual custom, some of the tribes perform a sacred dance as a means of bringing the bison within their reach. The most characteristic of these performances is the Buffalo Dance as practised by the Mandans.

Sometimes it happens that the supplies of fresh meat fail. During the greater part of the year the bisons are scattered with tolerable evenness throughout the land, so that the hunters are able to find a sufficiency of game within a few miles of their village, to supply them with food. Indeed, large herds of bisons can often be seen from the village itself, their black masses being conspicuous against the verdure of the ground over which they range.

At certain seasons of the year, however, the animals are sure to withdraw themselves further and further from the villages, so that the hunters, in order to procure meat, are obliged to venture so far from their own ground that they are in danger of meeting with war parties of an inimical tribe. At last the hunters report to the council of chiefs and medicine men that they can no longer find game. A solemn conclave is at once held, and if, after a few days of patient waiting, during which every adult throughout the community is reduced to a state of semi-starvation, no bisons are found, the buffalo dance is ordered. This remarkable dance is a sort of homage to the Great Spirit, acknowledging that He can send the animals to them, and praying that He will do so; and, as we shall presently see, it is a remedy that never fails.

Among the Mandans every man is obliged by law to have a buffalo mask, i. e. the skin of the head, with the horns added to it. Usually to the head is added a strip of skin some four or five inches wide, extending along the whole length of the animal, and including the tail. When the wearer puts on his mask, the strip of skin extends down his back, and the tufted tail drags on the ground behind him.

I have worn one of these strange masks, and found it much less inconvenient than might have been supposed. It is not nearly so cumbrous as the chief’s dress of state, described on page 1276. The buffalo mask is kept by each man at the head of his bed, a circumstance which gives a strange wildness to the interior of the hut, or lodge, as it is called, especially if several young warriors sleep in the same lodge.

As soon as the mandate for the buffalo dance is given, the men repair to their lodges and bring out their masks, together with the weapons which they are accustomed to use in the hunt. Ten or fifteen of them arrange themselves in a circle, while the medicine men seat themselves on the ground, beating their sacred drums and shaking their rattles to a rhythmical sort of movement which guides the steps of the dancers.

These move continually in a circle, stamping, yelping, grunting, bellowing, and imitating in various ways the movements of the bison. The dance goes on day and night without cessation, and as it never ceases until bisons are seen, the reader will understand that it is absolutely effective in bringing them. A spirited sketch of such a dance is given on the following page.

The mode in which it is kept up is rather amusing. The medicine men who beat the drums and encourage the dancers are relieved from time to time by their companions. But for the dancers there is supposed to be no relief but death. This difficulty, however, is surmounted by a sort of legal fiction. When one of the performers has yelped, stamped, bellowed, and leaped until he can dance no longer, he stoops down and places his hands on the ground. Another dancer, who is armed with a very weak bow and arrows with large blunt heads, fits an arrow to his bow, and shoots him. The wounded dancer falls to the ground, and is seized by the bystanders, who drag him out of the ring, go through the movements of skinning him and cutting him up, when he is allowed to retire and rest from his labors. As soon as he is dragged out of the ring, another dancer leaps into his place, and in this way the dance may go on for weeks without cessation.

Meanwhile scouts are posted on all the hills within range, and as soon as one of them sees the bisons, he gives the signal by tossing his rope in the air in the direction of the game. Mr. Catlin relates a remarkable instance of the buffalo dance and its sequel.

Game had been scarce, the dance had been going on for days, and the village was in a state of increasing distress, when the welcome signal was seen from the hills. The dance ceased, the young men flew to their arms, sprang on their horses, and dashed off into the prairie toward the signal.

“In the village, where hunger reigned and starvation was almost ready to look them in the face, all was instantly turned to joy and gladness. The chief and doctors, who had been for seven days dealing out minimum rations to the community from the public crib, now spread before their subjects the contents of their own private caches (i. e. hidden stores), and the last of everything that could be mustered, that they might eat a thanksgiving to the Great Spirit for His goodness in sending them a supply of buffalo meat.

“A general carouse of banqueting ensued, which occupied the greater part of the day, and their hidden stores, which might have fed them on an emergency for several weeks, were pretty nearly used up on the occasion. Bones were half picked, dishes half emptied, and then handed to the dogs. I was not forgotten in the general surfeit. Several large and generous wooden bowls of pemmican and other palatable food were sent to my painting room, and I received them in this time of scarcity with great pleasure.”

When the feast was over, songs and dances set in, and the whole village was filled with sounds of revelry. Suddenly, in the midst of their mirth, two or three of the hunters dashed in among the feasters, one having in his hands a still bleeding scalp, another sitting wounded on his horse, whose white coat was crimsoned with the fast-flowing blood of the rider, while another was, though unwounded, totally unarmed, having flung away his weapons in the hurry of flight.

Their fatal story was soon told. The bisons, after whom the hunters had gone were nothing more than empty skins, within which a party of Sioux warriors had hidden themselves, and were imitating the action of the animals which they personated. Inveterate enemies of the Mandans, they had reconnoitred their village by night, and ascertained that they were executing the buffalo dance. Several of them procured bison skins, and enacted the part of the animals, while their comrades were concealed behind the bluffs.

Fortunately for the Mandans, their leader became suspicious of the supposed bisons, and halted his troop before they had quite fallen into the trap, and, when some eighty or ninety mounted Sioux dashed at them from behind the bluff, they were just starting homeward. As it was, however, eight of them fell, a loss which was but ill compensated by one or two Sioux scalps secured by the Mandans in the hurry of flight. Even under such untoward circumstances, the buffalo dance did not lose its reputation, for within two days a large herd of bisons passed near the village, and afforded an abundant supply of meat.

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