The Clallam Indians seldom have celebrations of their own. They usually attend those of the whites near them, often being invited to take part in canoe-races. There has always been much drunkenness among the whites at these times; the Indians have often been sorely tempted to do the same, and many of them have fallen then who seldom have done so at other times.

The Fourth of July, 1884, in many respects has the best record at the reservation. It was indeed not the greatest, most expensive, or most numerously attended. As the leading ones had decided not to have any horse-racing or betting, the younger ones thought that they could have no celebration, and it was only the day before that they decided to have one. It consisted of a feast, after which they went to the race-track. I felt fearful that some professing Christians would fall, but thought it not best for me to go near that place, but leave them and await the result. When the report came, it was that, while they had some fun with their horses, hardly any of which was regular racing, not a cent had been bet by any one.

XIV.

CHRISTMAS.

Usually there have been some speeches made, and presents from the government, school-supplies to the Indian school-children. Private presents have been made among the whites, but it has only been during the last two or three years that the outside Indians have taken much interest in this custom of ours. Indeed, during the first few years generally but few of them were present. It was far from their homes, the nights were dark, the roads muddy, so that they did not take much interest in it, but as the first school-children have grown up they have kept up the idea they received in school, and imparted it to others, and of late years a good share of them have been present. On Christmas 1882 and 1883 they made quite a number of private presents; more on the last one than ever before. Usually nuts and candy have been provided from contributions by the whites, and apples which are raised at the agency for the older Indians. A Santa Claus Christmas-tree, or something of the kind, has been the usual way for distributing the presents. The report of the Sabbath-school for the year has been a central item in the exercises, showing the attendance, the number of times each has been on the roll of honor, with the distribution of some extra present to those who have been highest on this roll.

In 1878 quite an exhibition was made by the school, consisting of pieces spoken, dialogues, compositions, tableaux, and the like. In 1879 I arranged so that about twenty of the aged Indians, who had neither land nor good houses, came to the agency and had a dinner of rice, beans, bread, and tea. This was new to them, they generally being the neglected ones, but I thought it to be according to the principles of the New Testament.

The celebration for 1883 suited me better than any previous one in many respects. The first part of the exercises were more of a religious service than usual—more of a celebration of Christ’s birth. This idea suited also the minds of the Indians better than to have it mainly consist of sport. The Indian girls did nearly all the singing and playing, six of them playing each one piece on the organ. The year before three of them had done so, but this year it was still better. Then five of the older Indians made speeches, including two of the chiefs and two of the young men who had been in school. This was new for them on this day. More of the Indians also made private presents than ever before. Thus they took up the work, as the whites who previously had done it had been discharged, and it is better for them to do so.

The people at Jamestown for several years have had a celebration of their own, consisting often of a Christmas-tree, and they have borne the whole expense. I have never been present, but they have always been spoken of as enjoyable affairs, a good number of the surrounding whites feeling that it was a pleasant place for them to spend the evening.

XV.

VARIETY.

On one tour among the Clallams, I find the following: When three miles from home, the first duty was to stop and attend the funeral of a white man. Forty-five miles on, the evening of the next day until late at night, was spent in assisting one of the government employees in holding court over four Indians, who had been drunk; a fifth had escaped to British Columbia and was safe from trial. This kind of business occasionally comes in as an aid to the agent. I seldom have any thing to do with it on the reservation, as the agent can attend to it; but when off from the reservation, where neither of us can be more than once in six months or thereabouts it sometimes saves him much trouble and expense, and seems to do as much good as a sermon. It is of but little use to preach to drunken Indians, and a little law sometimes helps the gospel. The agent reciprocates by talking gospel to them on the Sabbath on his trips.

On reaching Jamestown, the afternoon was spent in introducing an Indian from British Columbia, who had taken me there in his canoe, to the Clallam Indians and the school; and in comforting two parents, Christian Indians, whose youngest child lay at the point of death. The next day she died, and, as no minister had ever been among these Indians at any previous funeral, they needed some instruction. So it was my duty to assist in digging the grave and making the coffin, comfort them, and attend the funeral in a snow-storm.

The Sabbath was spent in holding two services with them, one of them being mainly a service of song; and, as there was a part of the day unoccupied, at the request of the whites near by I gave them a sermon. The next day I found that “Blue Monday” must be adjourned. Years ago the Indians purchased their land, but owing to a mistake of the surveyor, it was necessary that the deeds should be made out again. So, in order to get all the Indians together who were needed, with the proper officer, I walked fourteen miles, rode six in a canoe, and then, after half-past three o’clock, saw that nineteen deeds were properly signed, which required sixty-two signatures, besides the witnessing, acknowledging, and filing of them, which required seventy-six more signatures. The plat of their town—Jamestown—was also filed and recorded. When this was done, I assisted the Indians to obtain two marriage-licenses, after which we went to the church, where I addressed them on two different subjects, and then the two weddings took place, and by nine o’clock we were done.

The monotony of the next day was varied by a visit to the school; helping the chief to select a burying-ground (for their dead had been buried in various places); a walk of ten miles and a wedding of a white couple, who have been very kind to me in my work there, one of them being a member of the Jamestown church.

On my way home, while waiting for the steamers to connect at Port Gamble, I took a trip of about fifty miles, to Port Madison and back, to help in finishing the Indian census of 1880 for General F. A. Walker and Major J. W. Powell; and then on my way home, by the kindness of the captain of the steamer, who waited half an hour for me, I was able to assist the chief in capturing and taking to the reservation the fifth Indian at Port Gamble who had been drunk, and had, by that time, returned from the British side.

The variety of another trip in 1878 is thus recorded: As to food, I have done my own cooking, eaten dry crackers only for meals, been boarded several days for nothing, and bought meals. As to sleeping, I have stayed in as good a bed as could be given me for nothing, and slept in my own blankets in an Indian canoe, because the houses of the whites were too far away and the fleas were too thick in the Indian houses. They were bad enough in the canoe, but the Indians would not allow me to go farther away, for fear that the panthers would catch me. As to work, I have preached, held prayer-meetings, done pastoral work, helped clean up the streets of Jamestown, been carpenter and painter, dedicated a church, performing all the parts, been church organist, studied science, acted for the agent, and taken hold of law in a case where whiskey had been sold to an Indian, and also in making a will. As to traveling, I have been carried ninety miles in a canoe by Indians, free, paid an Indian four dollars for carrying me twenty miles, have been carried twenty more by a steamer at half-fare, and twenty more on another for nothing, have rode on horseback, walked fifty miles, and “paddled my own canoe” for forty-five more.

I have never had a vacation since I have been here, unless such things as these may be called vacation. They are recreation, work, and vacation, all at once. They are variety, and that is rest, the vacation a person needs, with the satisfaction that a person is doing something at the same time.

XVI.

MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.

Such ideas naturally did not suit the government, the agent, or the Bible. The agent has had about all the children of school age in school, and thus had control of them, so that they could not get married as young as formerly. In 1883 the government sent word to prevent the purchase of any more wives, and this has been generally acquiesced in by the Skokomish Indians. Some of the Clallam Indians, however, are so far from the agent, and are so backward in civilization, that it has not been possible to enforce these two points among them as thoroughly as among the Twanas.

The Commissioner of Indian Affairs, in his report for 1878, recommended the passage of a law compelling all Indians who were living together as man and wife to be married. The law has not been made, but the agent worked on the same principles long before 1878—indeed ever after he first took charge in 1871. He urged them to be married, making for a time special presents from government annuities to those who should consent, as a shawl or ladies’ hat, and some consented. Only two couples had been thus married when I went there. It seemed rather comical on the Fourth of July, 1874, when I had been on the reservation only about two weeks, to be asked to join in marriage seven couples, some of whom had children. One Sabbath in 1883 a couple stood up to be married, the bride having a baby in her arms, and she would probably have held it during the ceremony had not my wife whispered to a sister of the bride to go and get it. During the ten years I have married twenty-six couples among the Twanas, and twenty-nine couples among the Clallams, and a number of other Clallams have been married by other persons. Some very comical incidents have occurred in connection with some of these ceremonies. In 1876 I was called upon to marry eleven couples at Jamestown. All went well with the first ten, the head chief being married first, so that the others might see how it was done, and then nine couples stood up and were married with the same set of words. But the wife of the other man was sick with the measles. She had taken cold and they had been driven in, but had come out again, so that she was as red as a beet. Still they were afraid that she would die, and as I was not to be there again for several months they were very anxious to be married so as to legalize the children. She was so near death that they had moved her from their good house to a mat-house, which was filled with smoke. The fire was thrown out, and soon it became less smoky. She was too sick to stand, and only barely able to sit up. This, however, she managed to do in her bed, which was on the ground. Her husband sat beside her and took her hand, and I married them, measles and all. She afterward recovered.

At another time I married a couple who had homesteaded some land, and who had been married in Indian style long before. As they had never seen such a ceremony I took the man aside and explained it to him as well as I was able. After I had begun the ceremony proper, and had said the words: “You promise to take this woman to be your wife,” and was ready to say: “You promise to love and take care of her,” he broke out, saying, “Of course I do! You do not suppose that I have been living with her for the last fifteen years and am going to put her away now, do you? See, there is my boy, fourteen years old. Of course I do!” As it was no use to try to stop him, I did not try, but waited until he was through, when I said: “All right,” and went on with the ceremony, but laughed very hard in my sleeve all the time.

A girl in the boarding-school was to be married, and her schoolmates thought that it ought to be done in extra style. Thanks to the teacher and matron, the supper and their share of the duties passed off in an excellent manner. But five of the girls thought that they would act as bridesmaids, and they were left to manage that part among themselves. Each one chose a young man who had previously been in school to act as her escort. Thinking that they would hardly know how to act with so much ceremony, I invited them to my house fifteen minutes before the marriage was to take place in church, so that I could instruct them. They came on time, but what was my surprise to see the bride and groom and the five girls march into my house, but not a single groomsman, and they thought that it was all right, even if their partners did not come. Those whom they had expected were off in the woods, or at home, or if near by, were far from being dressed for the occasion, while the bridesmaids had spent a long time in getting themselves ready, and were in full dress. What a time I had hunting up partners for them! I had to borrow clothes for those who were on the ground, others whom I wished felt that they had been slighted so long that they did not care to step into such a place then, and the ceremony was delayed some before it could all be arranged. But how I was surprised to see five bridesmaids march in without a single partner!

At another time, as a sub-chief, well dressed, came forward to be married, he began to pull off his coat as if ready for a fight, although his intentions were most peaceable. I told him that it was just as well to let his coat remain on, and he obeyed.

The following is from The Port Townsend Argus of December 2, 1881:—

“Married.—Clallam Bay is alive! One of the sensations of the season occurred at that place on the sixteenth of November, and is news, though not published till this late day. Five of the citizens having complied with the laws of the Territory in regard to licenses were married by Rev. M. Eells to their respective partners. Nearly all the inhabitants of the place assembled, without regard to race or color, some of whom had come from miles distant. First came a short address by Mr. Eells on the history of marriage, beginning with the days of Adam and Eve, and setting forth some of the reasons against polygamy and divorce, after which Mr. Charles Hock-a-too and Mrs. Tau-a-yi stood up. Mr. H. has been the only Mormon of the place, having had two whom he called wives, but being more progressive than the Mormons, he boldly resolved to choose only one of them, and cleave only to her so long as they both should live. When the marriage ceremony was over, and he was asked if thus he promised to do, he replied in a neat little speech, fully as long as the marriage ceremony, very different from the consent of some persons whom the public presume to have said yes, simply because silence gives consent. It is impossible to reproduce the speech. It will live in the memories of those who heard it, however, as coming from an earnest heart and being all that could be desired. The bride did not blush or faint, but also made her speech, showing that she knew what was said to her. After this the four other couples stood up, Mr. Long John Smittain and Kwash-tun, alias E-ni-so-ut; Mr. Tom Jim-myak and Wal-lis-mo; Captain Jack Chats-oo-uk and Nancy Hwa-tsoo-ut; also Mr. Old Jack Klo-tasy, father of the Captain, and Mary Cheenith. In regard to the ages of the last two, from what we learn, the familiar lines would apply:—

While she probably is not eighty-five, yet she was old enough to obtain a license and leave her mother. He was about seventy years old. These were all married with one set of words, when congratulations followed—regular hand-shaking, none of those present so far forgetting themselves as to indulge in the (im)propriety of kissing the brides. The ceremony having been concluded, a part of those present, the invited guests (but here there was a distinction as to race and color) sat down to the marriage-feast. It was none of your light, frosted, airy cake (in fact, there was not any cake in sight), but substantial solid bread and the like. [Here the line went down, and the meager accounts we could gather about the elegant and varied costumes worn by the charming brides, the number and appearance of the bridesmaids, etc., had better be supplied from the vivid imaginations of the readers.] All of the high contracting parties, we may say, however, are tax-payers of Clallam County and land-owners. Kloshe hahkwa (“good so”).

Not much of a direct war was waged on plural marriages. They were simply fenced in and allowed to die out. In 1874 there were only five Twana men who had more than one wife, and there were about as many more among the Clallams. Those who had one wife were never allowed to obtain another as long as they were living with the first. When one of the wives died of those who had more than one, or was willingly put away, they were not allowed to take another in her place. On some reservations where plural marriages have been numerous, the plan has been adopted of having the man choose one of his wives as the one to whom he should be legally married; and then, in order to save the others and their children from suffering, they have been told to provide for them until the women should be married to some other man. Among these Indians it has now come to be practically the same. One is the real wife, and the others are so old that they are simply taken care of by their husbands, except when they take care of themselves, until they shall get married again; only they do not get married to any one else, being willing to be thus cared for.

They soon learned that a legal marriage meant more than an old-fashioned Indian one and that a divorce was difficult to obtain. The agent took the position that he had no legal right to grant a divorce even on the reservation, and that if the parties obtained one they must apply to the courts. This involved too much expense, and so not a divorce has been obtained by those legally married. But it has taken a long, strong, firm hand to compel some of the parties to live together, and this made others of them somewhat slow to be legally married. One day I asked a man who had then recently obtained a wife, Indian fashion, if he wished to be married in white style. “I am a little afraid,” he said, “that we shall not get along well together. I think we will live together six months; and then, if we like each other well enough, we will have you perform the ceremony.” It was never done, for they soon separated.

The most severe contest the agent ever had with the Indians on the reservation was to prevent divorce. In 1876 one man, whose name was Billy Clams, had considerable trouble with his wife and wanted a divorce, but the agent would not allow it. He tried every plan he could think of to make them live peaceably together, and consulted with the chiefs and the relations of the parties; but they would still quarrel. At one time he put him in charge of his brother-in-law, a policeman, with handcuffs on; but with a stone he knocked them off and went to the house of his uncle, a quarter of a mile from the agency. To this place the agent went with two Indians and told him to go with him. With an oath Billy Clams said he would not. The agent then struck him with a stick quite severely. Billy got a larger stick, which the agent wrenched from him. Then Billy grabbed the agent around the waist, and, with the help of his uncle, threw him down. The other Indians who went with the agent took them off. Then the agent locked the door and sent the friendly Indians to the agency for two white men, the carpenter and the blacksmith, for help. Twice Billy and his uncle tried to take the key away from the agent, but failed; three times Billy tried to get out of the window, but the agent stopped him. Then they made an excuse that a very old man must go out; and while the agent was letting him go, Billy ran across the room, struck the middle of the window with his head, and went through it; and the agent went so quickly out in the same way, that he lit on Billy’s neck with one foot, after which the window fell on him, and, as he was knocking that off, Billy got away and ran through the woods. Being swift of foot, he escaped; but there had been a fresh fall of snow, and the agent and two white men, with a number of Indians, followed him all day. They, however, could not take him. The agent at night offered a reward of thirty dollars if any of the Indians would bring him in; but their sympathies were too much with him, and at night one sub-chief and his son, with a cousin of Billy Clams, helped him off, and he went to some relations of his at Port Madison, sixty or seventy miles away. The next day Billy’s uncle was put in irons in the jail, and not long after those who had furnished Billy with a canoe, blankets, and provisions also went into the jail, while the sub-chief was deposed. The Indians worked in every way possible to have them released, but the agent said that he would only do so on condition that Billy Clams should be brought in. They had said that they did not know where he was; but in a short time after the agent said this, he came in and delivered himself up and was confined in the jail for six months. But a number of the Indians, including the head chief and a sub-chief, encouraged by some white men near by, had been to a justice of the peace and made out several charges against the agent for various things done during all his residence among them, and had them sent to the Commissioner of Indian Affairs at Washington. The principal charges were for shooting at an Indian (or ordering an employee to do so), burning ten Indian houses, selling annuity goods, collecting large fines for small offences, and having the employees work for him. The real cause of their sending these was the trouble with Billy Clams and his friends. The commissioner sent to General O. O. Howard, in charge of the military department of the Columbia, and requested him to investigate the charges. The commissioner said that on the face of the letter, it bore evidence of being untrue; but still he desired General Howard’s opinion. Accordingly Major W. H. Boyle was detailed for this purpose. He examined six Indians and three white men, as witnesses against the agent, and one white employee in his favor,—giving the agent an opportunity to defend himself,—and found that the charges amounted to so nearly nothing that he went no further.

After Billy Clams had served out his term of six months in jail, he secretly abandoned his wife and took another, and then they ran away to Port Madison. The agent quietly bided his time, found out the whereabouts of the offending party, and, with a little help from the military, had him arrested and conveyed to Fort Townsend, where he worked six months more, with a soldier and musket to watch him. This showed the Indians that they could not easily run away from the agent, or break the laws against divorce, and greatly strengthened his authority among them.

XVII.

SICKNESS.

THE department of the physician has always been a discouraging one. The government, for twenty-five years, has furnished a physician free, and yet it is difficult to induce the Indians to rely on him. There are three reasons for this: (1) The natural superstition an Indian has about sickness. This has been quite fully discussed under the head of native religion. (2) The Indian doctor does not like to have his business interfered with by any one. It is a source of money and influence to him, and he often uses his influence, which is great among the Indians, to prevent the use of medical remedies. (3) If a medicine given by the physician does not cure in a few doses, or, at least, in two or three days, they think it is not strong, or it is good for nothing—so often when medicine is given, with directions how to use it, it is left untouched or thrown away. When using medicine they often employ an Indian doctor, and his practices often kill all the good effects of medicine, so that sometimes the physicians have felt that, when Indian doctors were employed, it was almost useless for them to do any thing.

At the same time there have been some things which have aided our methods very materially. Under the head of native religion, two cases have been given, where it seemed to the Indians as if their mode was true. This has occasionally been the effect with older people. But with young children, too young to go to school, the opposite has been true. Infants have continually died. Their mortality has been very great, when they lived at home, where they could have all the Indian doctors they wanted with no one to interfere. The medicine-men have been especially unfortunate in losing their own children. One Indian doctor has buried twelve and has only three left. Another has buried four and has one left. And others have lost theirs in like proportion. On the other hand, in the school, where we could have more control over them, both as to observing the laws of health and the use of medicine, when they were sick there have been very few deaths. Only five children in ten years have died in school, or been taken fatally sick while there, while the attendance has been from twenty-five to forty.

During November and December, 1881, we passed through a terrible sickness. It seemed to be a combination of scarlet fever, diphtheria, measles, and chicken-pox, about which the physician knew almost nothing. It was a new hybrid disease, as we afterward learned. The cases were mostly in the school and in the white families, there being comparatively few among the outside Indians. There were sixty cases in five weeks, an average of two new ones every day. At one time every responsible person in the school was down with it. A number of the children, while all the physician’s family, himself included, had it, and one of them lay dead. Five persons died with it, but not one of them was a scholar. There were then twenty-four scholars, and all but three had it. Nineteen outside Indians had it, of whom three died. The rest, who were sick and died, belonged to the white families and the Indian apprentices and employees. The favor which was shown to the school in saving their lives was of great value to it.

And now the older Indians are gaining more and more confidence in the physician, slowly but steadily, some within a year having said that they will never have an Indian doctor again. In the winter of 1883-84, four Indian children died, and not an Indian doctor was called. In one case the parents had just buried one, and another was fatally sick. The parents came to me and said: “If you can tell us what medicine will cure the child, we will go to Olympia and get it (thirty miles distant). We do not care for the expense, we do not care if it shall cost fifty dollars, if you will only tell us what will cure it.” The child died, but they had no Indian doctor, although its grandfather strongly urged the calling of one. After the death of these two children, the family went to live with an aunt of the mother’s, where they remained about five months. At that time a child of this aunt was sick, and an Indian doctor was called, whereupon the bereaved family left the house, because they did not wish to remain in a house where such practices were countenanced, even if those doing so were kind relations.

XVIII.

FUNERALS.

But one such burial has taken place within ten years, and that was the daughter of an old man. The next step toward civilization was to bury all the dead in one place, instead of leaving them scattered anywhere they might chance to die, make a long box instead of using a trunk and canoe, and elevate it on a frame made for the purpose only a few feet high, or, perhaps, simply lay it on the ground, erecting a small house over it. This was frequently done during the first few years after I was here.

On the opening of a new burying-ground, in August, 1878, the head chief of the Twanas said to me: “To-day we become white people. At this burying-ground all will be buried in the ground, and no cloth or other articles will be left around, at least, above ground.” At that place this promise has been faithfully kept, as far as I know, though since that time, at other places, they have left some cloth above ground. They often yet fill the coffin, now generally made like those of white people, with much cloth and some other things. A grave-stone, which cost thirty dollars, marks the last resting-place of one man, put there by his wife.

Most of them had a superstitious fear of going near a dead body, for they were afraid that the evil spirit, which killed the deceased was still around and would kill others who might be near. This, together with the fact that they cared but little for Christianity, made them have no desire to have Christian services at their funerals at first. Before I came, only one such service had been held. And, for the first few years after I came, notwithstanding the efforts of both agent and missionary, there were but few such services. Sometimes they would hurry off a deceased person to the grave, and I would not hear of the death until after the burial, much less have a chance to ask whether they wished for such services.

But steady effort, together with the example of the surrounding whites, who, previous to my arrival, had had no minister to hold such services, in time produced a change, so that they wished for them at the funerals of all persons whom they considered of much importance. At the funeral of one poor vagabond, who had almost no friends, I had my own way, and many thought it very strange that I should hold such a service. It was well enough, they said, with persons of consequence, but with such a person they thought it useless.

Not long after they opened their new burying-ground, already spoken of, I was absent from home when one person died. When I returned, a sub-chief said to me: “We felt badly when we buried a person and no white man was present to say a Christian word. We wish that when you are away, you would make arrangements with some of the whites at the agency to attend our funerals, for we want such services.” Since then, I have almost constantly held them, except when they preferred to have the Indian Catholic priest to attend them.

But now a new error arose at the other extreme. This was that such services helped the soul of the deceased to reach heaven. It came from Catholic teaching. I have had to combat it constantly, but some believe it still.

Most of the Clallams now put their dead in the ground. Those who are Catholics have a funeral service by their own priest. In February, 1881, I was at Jamestown, when a child of Cook House Billy died. I went through with the services—the first Christian ones that had ever been held there. They soon asked how they should do if I were absent, and I instructed them as best I could. Since then the Christian part of the community have obtained a minister of any Protestant denomination, if there was one to be obtained, to hold services at their funerals.

THE DEATH OF SKAGIT BILL.

Skagit Bill was in early days an Indian Catholic priest, but afterward went back to his gambling, drinking, and tamahnous. He died in August, 1875, of consumption. When he was sick, he came to the agency, where he remained for five weeks for Christian instruction. He seemed to think the old Indian religion of no value, and wished for something better. Sometimes I thought that he leaned on his Catholic baptism for salvation, and sometimes I thought not. His dying request was for a Christian funeral and burial, with nothing but a plain fence around his grave. The following, from the pen of Mrs. J. M. Walker, and taken from the Pacific Christian Advocate, gives the opinions of one other than myself:—

“Yesterday came to us fraught with solemn interest. Our flag hung at half-mast, reminding us that death had been in our midst and chosen another victim. This time he has not selected one rich in the treasures of this world, of high birth or noble blood, or boasting much culture or refinement. The lowly mien and dusky complexion of the deceased might not have attracted much attention from me or you, kind reader. But such are they whom our blessed Lord delights to honor; and, while we turn wearily from one to another, looking vainly for suitable soil in which to plant the seeds of true righteousness and true holiness, the Holy Spirit descends on some lonely, barren spot, and lo! before our astonished gaze springs into luxuriant growth a plant of rare holiness, meet even to be transplanted into the garden of paradise.

“I think it is not a common thing for a dying Indian to request a strictly Christian burial;[2] brought up as they are in the midst of superstition, with no religion but misty traditions and mysterious necromancy, the very fabulousness of which seems strangely adapted to their nomadic existence—surely no influence less potent than that of God’s Holy Spirit could induce one of them, while surrounded by friends who cling tenaciously to their heathenism and bitterly resent any innovations of Christian faith, to renounce the whole system with its weird ceremonies, and demand for himself the simple burial service used ordinarily by Christians.

“At eleven o’clock A.M. the coffin was brought into the church, and the funeral discourse preached; and we all felt that the occasion was one of deep solemnity. Probably every one present had seen dear friends lying, as this man now lay, in the icy embrace of death, and the keen pain in our own hearts, at the remembrance of our unhealed wounds, made us sympathize deeply with the afflicted mourners in their present bereavement. What is so potent to bind human hearts together in purest sympathy and kindest charity as common woe!

“A beautiful wreath lay upon the coffin, formed and given, I suspect, by the agent’s wife, a lady possessing rare nobility of mind and heart, and eminently fitted for the position she occupies. This delicate token I deemed emblematic; for as each bud, blossom, and sprig fitted its respective place, giving beauty and symmetry to the whole, so all of God’s creatures fit their respective places, and the absence of one would leave a void: and so also in heaven’s economy the diadem of the Prince of Light is set with redeemed souls of nationalities varied and diverse, each so essential to its perfection, that the highest ransom of which even Omniscience could conceive has been paid for it.

“Quite a number of Indians were present, and as the deceased had been with them and they had seen him die happy in his faith in Christ and his atonement, a rare opportunity offered for bringing the truth home to their hearts.

“The Indians here are, for the most part, shrewd and intelligent, capable of reasoning on any subject, where their judgment is not darkened by superstition; but, alas! most of them are in the gall of bitterness and bond of iniquity.... The body was taken for interment to a grave-yard some three miles from here. Our esteemed pastor, Rev. M. Eells, preached the funeral discourse, and also officiated at the grave, aided on each occasion by the usual interpreter [Mr. John F. Palmer], a man of considerable intellectual culture, of gentlemanly bearing, and pleasant address. This man, though greatly superior to any of his race whom I have met, is yet humble and strives to do his fellows good in a quiet, unostentatious manner, worthy the true disciple of the meek and lowly Jesus, which can not fail of great results, whether he live to enjoy them or not.

“What is so refining in its influences as true religion? It expands the mind, ennobles the thought, corrects the taste, refines the manners by the application of the golden rule, and works marvelous transformations in character. May a glorious revival of this pure religion sweep over our land, carrying away the bulwarks of Satan and leaving in their stead the ‘peaceable fruits of righteousness,’ until every creature shall exclaim: ‘Behold, what hath God wrought! Sing, O ye heavens, for the Lord hath done it!’

A.”

XIX.

THE CENSUS OF 1880.

IN the fall of 1880 the government sent orders to the agent to take the census of all the Indians under him for the United States decennial census. To do so among the Clallams was the most difficult task, as they were scattered for a hundred and fifty miles, and the season of the year made it disagreeable, with a probability of its being dangerous on the waters of the lower sound in a canoe. I was then almost ready to start on a tour amongst a part of them and the agent offered to pay my expenses if I would combine this with my missionary work. He said that it was almost impossible for him to go; that none of the employees were acquainted either with the country or the large share of the Indians; that he should have to pay the expenses of some one; and that it would be a favor if I could do it. I consented, for it was a favor to me to have my expenses paid, while I should have an opportunity to visit all of the Indians; but it was December before I was fairly able to begin the work and it required four weeks.

In early life I had read a story about taking the census among some of the ignorant people of the Southern States and the superstitious fear that they had of it, and I thought that it would not be strange if the Indians should have the same fear. My previous acquaintance with them and especially the intimacy I had had with a few from nearly every settlement who had been brought to the reservation for drinking and had been with us some time and whose confidence I seemed to have gained, I found to be of great advantage in the work. Had it not been for these, I would have found it a very difficult task.

The questions to be asked were many—forty-eight in number, including their Indian as well as “Boston” names, the meaning of these, the age, and occupation; whether or not a full blood of the tribe; how long since they had habitually worn citizen’s dress; whether they had been vaccinated or not; whether or not they could read and write; the number of horses, cattle, sheep, swine, dogs, and fire-arms owned; the amount of land owned or occupied; the number of years they had been self-supporting, and the per cent. of support obtained from civilized industries and in other ways.

I began the work at Port Gamble one evening, and after much talk secured nineteen names, but the next forenoon I only obtained six. The men were at work in the mill, and the women, afraid, were not to be found. I then hired an interpreter, a boy who had been in school, and after talking a while had no more difficulty there. The best argument I could use why it was required was that some people said they were nothing but worthless Indians, and that it was useless to try to civilize them; that some of us thought differently and wished for facts to prove it, and when found, that they would be published to the world. And this I did in the Port Townsend Argus and American Antiquarian. One man refused to give me any information because that, years before, a census had been taken and soon after there had been much sickness, and he was afraid that if his name were written down he would die. But I easily obtained the information most needed from others. I was almost through, and was at Seabeck, the last town before reaching home, when I found the only one who was at all saucy. He gave me false names and false information generally, as I soon learned from another Indian present and it was afterward corrected. The ages of the older ones were all unknown, but the treaty with the tribe was made twenty-five years previous, and every man, woman, and child was present who possibly could be, and I could generally find out about how large they were then. When I asked the age of one man he said two years, but he said he had two hundred guns. He was about forty-three years old and had only one gun. To obtain the information about vaccination was the most difficult, as the instructions were that they should show me the scars on the arm if they had been vaccinated, and many of them were ashamed to do this. As far as I knew, none of them made a false statement. When about half-way through I met Mr. H. W. Henshaw, who had been sent from Washington to give general information about the work, and he absolved them from the requirement of showing the scar. He said that all that was needed was to satisfy myself on the point. On this coast, a dime is called a bit, although in reality a bit is half a quarter, and the Indians so understand it. In finding how nearly a pure Clallam one man was, I was informed that he was partly Clallam and partly of another tribe. But when I tried to find out how much of the other tribe I was told: “Not much; a bit, I guess.”

I was instructed to take the names of not only those who were at home, but of a number who were across the straits on the British side, whose residence might properly be said to be on this side. In asking about one man I was told that he had moved away a long time ago, very long, two thousand years, probably, and so was not a member of the tribe.

It struck me that some pictures of myself, with descriptions of them would have adorned Harper’s Monthly as well as any of Porte Crayon’s sketches. With an old Indian man and his wife I sat on the beach in Port Discovery Bay all day waiting for the wind to die down, because it was unsafe to proceed in a canoe with the snow coming down constantly on one of the coldest days of the year, with a mat up on one side to keep a little of the wind off, and a small fire on the other side; and, at last, we had to give up and return to Port Discovery, as the wind would not die. I waked up one morning on the steamer Dispatch to have a drop of water come directly into my eye, for there was a hard rain, and the steamer overhead (not underneath) was leaky. I got up to find my shirt so wet that I dared not put it on, while the water in the state-room above me was half an inch deep and was shoveled out with a dust-pan. I walked from the west to the east end of Clallam Bay, only two miles, but while trying to find a log across the Clallam River I wandered about a long time in the woods and brush, wet with a heavy rain, and when I did find it it reached just not across the river, but within a few feet of the bank, and I stood deliberating whether it was safe or not to make the jump; trying to jump and not quite daring to run the risk of falling into the river, sticking my toes and fingers into the bank, and the like, but at last made the crossing safely. It took half a day to travel those two miles. I ate a Sunday dinner at Elkwa, between church-services, of some crumbs of sweet cake out of a fifty-pound flour-sack, so fine that I had to squeeze them up in my hands in order to get them into my mouth. An apple and a little jelly finished the repast—the last food I had. At Port Angeles I rode along the beach on horseback at high tide, and at one time in trying to ford a slough I found we were swimming in the water. I partly dried out at an Indian house near by, taking the census at the same time. Again, the steamer Dispatch rolled in a gale, while the water came over the gunwales, the food and plates slid off the tables, the milk spilt into gum boots, the wash-dish of water upset into a bed, and ten minutes after I left her at Dunginess the wind blew her ashore, dragging her anchors. But there were also some special providences on the trip. “He who will notice providences will have providences to notice,” some one has said, and I was reminded of this several times. I came in a canoe from Clallam Bay to Elkwa, the most dangerous part of the route, with the water so smooth that a small skiff would have safely rode the whole distance, thirty-five miles, to have a heavy storm come the next day, and a heavy gale, when I again went on the water, but then a steamer was ready to carry me. The last week, on coming from Jamestown home, in a canoe, I had pleasant weather and a fair north wind to blow me home the whole time, only to have it begin to rain an hour after I reached home, the commencement of a storm which lasted a week. Strange that a week’s north wind should bring a week’s rain. I have never noticed the fact at any other time.

But the most noticeable providence of all was as follows: On my way down, the good, kind people of Seabeck, where I occasionally preached, made me a present of forty dollars, and it was very acceptable, for my finances were low. At Port Gamble I spent it all and more, too, for our winter supplies, as I did not wish to carry the money all around with me, and, also, so that I might get at Port Townsend those things which I could not find at Port Gamble. I often did so, and ordered them to be kept there until my return. About three days later I heard that the store at Port Gamble was burned with about every thing in it, the loss being estimated at seventy-five thousand dollars. The thought came into my mind, Why was that money given to me to be lost so quickly? On my return I went to Port Gamble to see about the things and to my great surprise I found that only about two wheelbarrow loads of goods had been saved, and that mine were among them. They had been packed and placed at the back door. The fire began in the front part, so they broke open the back door, and took the first things of which they could lay hold, and they were mine, and but little else was saved.

When I arrived at Seabeck the kind ladies of the place presented my wife with a box containing over thirty dollars’ worth of things as a Christmas present. Among these was a cloak. During my absence she had been trying to make herself one, supposing that she had cloth enough, but when she began to cut it out to her dismay she found that with all the twisting, turning, and piecing that she could do, there was not cloth enough, so she had given it up and made a cloak for our little boy out of it. She naturally felt badly, as she did not know how she should then get one. “All these things are against me,” said Jacob, but he found that they were all for him. Others besides Jacob have found the same to be true.

The statistical information obtained in this census is as follows:—

In the Clallam tribe there were then 158 men, 172 women, 86 boys, and 69 girls; a total of 485 persons. Six were on or near the reservation, 10 near Seabeck, 96 at Port Gamble, 6 at Port Ludlow, 22 at Port Discovery, 12 at Port Townsend, 18 at Sequim, 86 at Jamestown, 36 at or near Dunginess. (Those at Sequim and near Dunginess were all within six miles of Jamestown.) Fifty-seven at Port Angeles (but a large share of them were across the straits on the British side), 67 at Elkwa, 24 at Pyscht, and 49 at or near Clallam Bay. There were 290 full-blooded Clallams among them, and the rest were intermingled with 18 other tribes. Fifteen were part white. During the year previous to October 1, 1880, there had been 11 births and 9 deaths. Forty-one had been in school during the previous year, 49 could read and 42 write; 135 could talk English so as to be understood, of whom 69 were adults; 65 had no Indian name; 33 out of 123 couples had been legally married.

They owned 10 horses, 31 cattle, 5 sheep, 97 swine, 584 domestic fowls, and 137 guns and pistols, most of them being shot-guns. Thirty-four were laborers in saw-mills; 22 were farmers. There were 80 fishermen, 23 laborers, 17 sealers, 15 canoe-men, 6 canoe-makers, 6 hunters, 3 policemen, 11 medicine-men, 4 medicine-women, 1 carpenter, 2 wood-choppers, 1 blacksmith, and 40 of the women were mat and basket makers. Twenty-eight persons owned 576 acres of land with a patented title, four more owned 475 acres by homestead, and twenty-two persons, representing 104 persons in their families, cultivated 46 acres.

During the year they raised 2,036 bushels of potatoes, 14 tons of hay, 26 bushels of oats, 258 bushels of turnips, 148 bushels of wheat, 20 bushels of apples, 5 of plums, and 4 of small fruit. They had 113 frame-houses, valued by estimate at $5,650, four log-houses, worth $100, twenty-nine out-houses, as barns, chicken-houses, and canoe-houses, two jails, and two churches. They cut 250 cords of wood; received $1,994 for sealing, $646 for salmon, and $1,000 for work in the Port Discovery mill. I was not able to learn what they had earned at the Seabeck and Port Gamble saw-mills. Two hundred and eleven of them were out of the smoke when at home. I estimated that on an average they obtained seventy-two per cent. of their living from civilized food, the extremes being fifty and one hundred per cent.

Twana Indians.—This census was taken by government employees mainly, and some of the estimates differed considerably from what I should have made. Probably hardly two persons could be found who would estimate alike on some points. They numbered 245 persons, of whom there were 70 men, 84 women, 41 boys, and 47 girls. The residence of 49 was in the region of Seabeck, and of the rest on the Skokomish Reservation. There were only 20 full-blooded Twanas, the rest being intermingled with 15 other tribes; 24 were partly white. During the year there were 8 births and 3 deaths. Twenty-nine had been in school during the previous year; 35 could read, and 30 could write; 68 could talk English; 37 had no Indian name. Out of 67 couples 23 had been legally married. They owned 80 horses, 88 cattle, 44 domestic fowls, and 36 guns. There were 42 farmers, 4 carpenters, 2 blacksmiths, 4 laborers, 7 hunters, 20 fishermen, 21 lumbermen and loggers, 1 interpreter, 1 policeman, 6 medicine-men, 7 washer-women, 6 mat and basket makers, and 1 assistant matron. Forty-seven of them, representing all except about 40 of the tribe, held 2,599 acres of unpatented land, all but 40 of which was on the reservation. They raised 80 tons of hay and 450 bushels of potatoes during the year. They owned 60 frame-houses valued at $3,000. All but 25 were off of the ground and out of the smoke. It was estimated that on an average they obtained 78 per cent. of their subsistence from civilized food, the extremes being 25 and 100 per cent., but these estimates were made by two different persons who differed widely in their calculations.

XX.

THE INFLUENCE OF THE WHITES.

SOME of this has been good and some very bad. Wherever there is whiskey a bad influence goes forth, and there is whiskey not far from nearly all the Indian settlements. Still it must be acknowledged that the influence of all classes of whites has been in favor of industry, Christian services at funerals, and the like, and against tamahnous and potlatches. Around Skokomish—with a few exceptions of those whose influence has been very good—there are not many who keep the Sabbath and do not swear, drink whiskey, and gamble; but this influence has been partially counteracted by the employees on the reservation. It has not been possible to secure Christian men who could fill the places, but moral men have at least generally been obtained. It has been one of the happy items of this missionary work, that a good share of those who have come to the reservation as government employees, who have not at the time of their coming been Christians, have joined the church on profession of their faith before they have left. The Christian atmosphere at the agency has been very different from that of a large share of the outside world. The church is within a few hundred yards of the houses of all the employees, and thus it is very convenient to attend church, prayer-meetings, and Sabbath-school. Thus those persons who were not Christians when they came, found themselves in a different place from what they had ever been. There are many persons who often think of the subject of religion; wish at heart that they were Christians, and intend at some time to become such, but the cares of this world, and the deceitfulness of riches, and the people with whom they associate, choke the good thoughts. But let such people be placed in a Christian community, where these influences are small, and breathe a Christian atmosphere, and the good seed comes up. So it has been among the happy incidents of these ten years to receive into the church some of these individuals.

Two brothers, neither of whom were Christians, but whose mother was one, were talking together on the subject of religion, at Seattle, when one of them said that he believed it to be the best way. Not long after that the other brother came to the reservation, where he became a Christian. He then wrote to his brother, saying, “I have now found by experience that it is the best way.”

Another man and his wife had for years been skeptical, but were like “the troubled sea which can not rest,” and were sincere inquirers after truth. In the course of time, after thorough investigation, they became satisfied of the truth of the Bible, as most people do who sincerely seek for light, and became Christians. A year afterward the gentleman said: “This has been by far the happiest year of my life;” and many times in prayer-meetings and conversation did they speak in pity of their old companions who were still in darkness and had not the means of obtaining the light which they had found.

Several of the children of the employees also came into the church; one of them, eleven years old, being the youngest person whom I ever received into church membership. Such events as these had a silent but strong influence upon the Indians, as strong I think as if these persons had been Christians before they came to the reservation. Thirteen white persons in all united with the Skokomish church, on profession of faith, and twenty-three by letter.

At Jamestown it was different. There was only a school-teacher as a government employee, and he was not sent there until 1878. There are only a few church privileges or Christians in the county, but fortunately a good share of the Christians have lived near to the Indian village, the Indians have worked largely for them, and I have sometimes thought that their influence has had as much to do in elevating the Jamestown people as that of the missionary and agent.

“Hungry for preaching” was the way I felt about one old lady in 1880, who was seventy-six years old. With her son she walked two and a half miles to Jamestown to church to the Indian service in the morning, then a mile further to a school-house where I preached to the whites in the afternoon, and then home again—seven miles in all; and she has done it several times since, although now nearly eighty. She often walks to the Indian services when there is no white person to take charge of it.

On one communion Sabbath a lady too weak from ill-health to walk the three quarters of a mile between her house and the Indian church was taken by her husband on a wheelbarrow a good share of the way. In 1883 an old gentleman seventy-three years of age stood up with four Indians to unite with the church—the oldest person I ever saw join a church on profession of faith. As we went home he said: “This is what I ought to have done forty years ago.” Such influences as these have done much to encourage these Indians.