THE TERRIBLE ORDEAL OF THE MANDANS — LEGEND OF THE FLOOD — APPROACH OF THE FIRST MAN — THE GREAT MEDICINE LODGE, AND ITS CONTENTS — APPROACH OF THE CANDIDATES, AND DEPARTURE OF THE FIRST MAN — BUFFALO DANCE, AND THE BIG CANOE — APPROACH OF THE EVIL SPIRIT — POWER OF THE MEDICINE PIPE — COMMENCEMENT OF INITIATION — TRIAL BY SUSPENSION — SWOON AND RECOVERY — THE LAST RACE — TWO COURAGEOUS INITIATES — LOOKING AT THE SUN — RAIN MAKING — THE WHITE BUFFALO HAIR, AND HIS PROWESS — THE MEDICINE BAGS AND THE TOTEMS — THE MEDICINE MAN AT WORK — THE WOUNDED MAN AND SICK GIRL — INITIATION OF THE MIDÉ ORDER — THE PIPES OF PEACE AND WAR — SACRIFICES.

We now come to the religious ceremonies of these remarkable tribes, and will begin with the terrible ordeal through which the youths have to pass before they can be acknowledged as men. Among the Mandans, this ordeal, for length and for severity, throws into the shade all the various ordeals of which we have read. Even the terrible gloves of the Mundurucú are mild when compared with the horrors of the Mandan initiation.

Until late years this ceremony was quite unknown. Every one who knew the people was aware that the Mandan youths had to pass through some terrible scenes of torture before they could take their place, among the warriors, but the details of the whole ceremony were kept a profound secret, and were never betrayed until Mr. Catlin, in his character of medicine man (which he had gained by his skill in painting), was permitted to be present. It is most fortunate that he did so, for the Mandan tribe has utterly perished, and thus the records of a most extraordinary superstition would have vanished. The ceremony is a very long and complicated one, and the following is a condensed account of it.

The ceremony has a religious aspect, and is, in fact, performed for the sake of propitiating the Great Spirit in favor of the young men who undergo it, so that he may make them valiant warriors and successful hunters. It has also another important object. Being conducted in the presence of the great chief and medicine man, it enables the leader of the tribe to watch the behavior of the young men who pass through the ordeal, and to decide upon their ability to sustain the various privations of Indian warfare.

The reader must first be told that among the Mandans there survived the legend of a flood which covered the earth, and from which only one man escaped in a large canoe. In the centre of the village there is a large open space, in which is a conventional representation of the “big canoe,” in which the First or Only Man escaped. It is not the least like a canoe, and in fact is nothing more than a sort of tub standing on one end. It is bound with wooden hoops, and is religiously preserved from injury, not the least scratch being allowed to defile its smooth surface.

The ceremony only takes place once in the year, the time being designated by the full expansion of the willow leaves under the banks of the river. The Mandans possess the legend of the bird flying to the big canoe with a leaf in its mouth, only with them the leaf is that of the willow, and not of the olive. The bird itself is held sacred, and, as it may not be injured, it may often be seen feeding on the tops of the Mandan huts.

Early on the morning of the appointed day, a figure is seen on a distant bluff, approaching with slow and stately steps. As soon as he is seen, the whole village becomes a scene of confusion, as if the enemy were attacking it. The dogs are caught and muzzled, the horses that are feeding on the surrounding pastures are driven into the village, the warriors paint their faces for battle, seize their spears, string their bows, and prepare their arrows.

In the midst of the confusion the First Man, or Nu-mohk-muck-a-nah, as he is called in the Mandan tongue, stalks into the central space, where the chief and principal warriors receive him and shake hands. He is a strange object to the eye. His nearly naked body is painted white, a white wolf-skin mantle is thrown over his shoulders, his head is decorated with plumes of ravens’ feathers, and in his left hand he bears his mystery pipe, which he treats with the greatest veneration.

After greeting the chief, he proceeds to the great medicine lodge, which is kept closed during the year, and has it swept and the floor strewn with fresh green boughs and aromatic herbs. Several skulls of men and bisons are laid on the floor, a number of new ropes are thrown over the beams, a quantity of strong wooden skewers are placed under them, and in the centre is built a slight platform, on the top of which is laid the chief medicine or mystery of the tribe. This is so sacred that no one is allowed to approach it except the conductor of the ceremony, and none but he ever knows what it is.

He next goes to every hut in succession, stands before the gate, and weeps loudly. When the owner comes out, the First Man narrates the circumstances of the flood and of his own escape, and demands an axe or a knife as a sacrifice to the Great Spirit. Every hut furnishes an edged tool of some kind; and when the tale is completed, they are carried into the medicine lodge. There they rest until the last day of the ceremonies when they are thrown into a deep pool in the river. No one is allowed to touch them, and there they lie until at some future day they will be discovered, to the great bewilderment of antiquarians.

From the moment that the First Man enters the village a dead silence reigns, a circumstance quite in opposition to the usual noisy habits of a native village. Where he sleeps no one knows, but at dawn of the following morning he again enters the village, as he had done before, and walks to the medicine lodge, whither he is followed by the candidates for initiation walking in Indian file, and each painted fantastically, and carrying his bow and arrows, his shield, and “medicine bag.” Of this article we shall learn more in a future page. In silence they seat themselves round the lodge, each having his weapons hung over his head.

Here they have to sit for four days, during which time they may not communicate with those on the outside of the hut, and are not allowed to eat, drink, or sleep. When they have taken their places, the First Man lights his pipe from the fire that is kept burning in the centre of the lodge, and makes an oration to the candidates, exhorting them to be courageous and enduring, and praying that the Great Spirit may give them strength to pass satisfactorily through the ordeal.

He then calls to him an old medicine man, and appoints him to be master of the ceremonies, handing him the mystery pipe as a symbol of office. Addressing the assembled company, he takes leave of the chiefs, saying that he will return in another year to re-open the lodge, and stalks slowly out of the village, disappearing over the bluffs whence he came. The master of the ceremonies then takes his place in the centre of the lodge, and relights the pipe, uttering with every whiff of smoke a petition to the Great Spirit in behalf of the candidates. For three full days they sit silently round the lodge, but outside it a strange series of ceremonies takes place.

Chief among them is the buffalo dance, in which the eight actors wear the entire skins of bisons, and carry on their backs a large bundle of slight twigs. They also carry a mystery rattle in one hand, and a slender staff in the other. They arrange themselves in four pairs round the Big Canoe, each pair corresponding with one of the cardinal points of the compass. Between each group dances a young man, two of them painted black and covered with white stars, so as to represent the night, and the other two painted red, to represent the day.

Beside the Big Canoe sit two medicine men, wearing the skins of grizzly bears, and threatening to devour the whole village. In order to appease their hunger, the women bring continual relays of meat in dishes, which are at once carried off to the prairie by men painted entirely black, except their heads, which are white. They are thus colored in imitation of the bald-headed eagle. As they run to the prairie they are pursued by a host of little boys painted yellow, with white heads, and called antelopes. After a severe chase they catch the eagle-men, seize the food, and devour it.

These dances occur several times daily, the performers being summoned by the master of the ceremonies, who comes out of the medicine lodge, followed by his immediate assistants, and proceeds to the Big Canoe, against which he leans, and weeps aloud as if in dire distress. The dance takes place four times on the first day, eight times on the second, twelve times on the third, and sixteen times on the fourth; the sound of the old man’s wailing cry being the signal for the dancers to issue from the hut in which they dress.

During each performance, the old medicine men who are beating their drums address the bystanders, telling them that the Great Spirit is pleased with their invocations, and that he has given them peace; that even their women and children can hold the mouths of grizzly bears; and that the evil spirit who is challenged by these rites has not dared to make his appearance. Thirty-two times during the four days this vaunt is made, and no evil spirit appears; but after the last day he comes, and a horrible-looking object he is.

On a distant bluff the evil spirit makes his appearance, rushing toward the village in a wild and devious course. Presently he enters the circle, perfectly naked, with his body painted black and covered with white rings, his mouth decorated with white indentations like great teeth, and holding in his hand a long magic staff tipped with a red ball. As he runs along, he slides this ball before him on the ground, and suddenly makes a rush at the groups of women who are witnessing the ceremony.

They fall back on each other in terror, and shriek for aid, which is given by the master of the ceremonies. As soon as he hears their cries, he runs from the Big Canoe, where he has been weeping, and holds his magic pipe in front of the intruder. The demon is instantly checked by its wondrous influence, and he stands as if petrified, each limb remaining in the attitude which it had taken when the pipe was held before him.

“This check gave the females an opportunity to get out of reach, and when they were free from their danger, though all hearts beat yet with the intensest excitement, their alarm was cooled down into the most exorbitant laughter and shouts of applause at his sudden defeat, and the awkward and ridiculous posture in which he was stopped and held. The old man was braced stiff by his side, with his eyeballs glaring him in the face, whilst the medicine pipe held in its mystic chain his satanic majesty, annulling all the powers of his magical wand, and also depriving him of the power of locomotion.

“Surely, no two human beings ever presented a more striking group than these two individuals did for a few moments, with their eyeballs set in direst mutual hatred upon each other; both struggling for the supremacy, relying on the potency of their medicine or mystery; the one held in check, with his body painted black, representing, or rather assuming to be, O-kee-hee-de (the Evil Spirit), frowning everlasting vengeance on the other, who sternly gazed him back with a look of exultation and contempt, as he held him in check and disarmed under the charm of his sacred mystery-pipe.”

This scene is repeatedly enacted, until the powers of the magic pipe are proved against the assaults of the evil one, and the people have gained confidence in its protection. The women then begin in their turn to assail their persecutor with jeers and laughter, until at last one of them snatches up a handful of mud and dashes it in his face. He is at once vanquished by this attack, and begins to weep piteously. Emboldened by this confession of weakness, another woman snatches away his magic staff, and breaks it across her knee. The fragments are seized by the surrounding women, who break them to pieces and fling them at the head of the demon. Being now deprived of all his power, he runs off across the prairie, followed for half a mile or so by the women, who pelt him with sticks, stones, and mud, until at last he effects his escape, and the village is rid of the evil spirit for another year.

Now the remainder of the initiation may proceed.

The little scaffold with its mystic burden is removed from the centre of the great medicine lodge, the hide ropes are passed through apertures in the roof to men who stand outside, and the master of the ceremonies, and his assistants, together with the chiefs and braves of the tribe, re-enter the lodge, and take up their positions.

The first candidate is now called, and, wasted by four days of abstinence from food, drink, or sleep, places himself in front of two of the operators. One of these, who is armed with a double edged knife, purposely blunted and notched, pinches up an inch or so of flesh of the shoulder or breast, and pushes the knife through it, between his finger and thumb and the body of the candidate. The knife is then withdrawn, and one of the wooden skewers forced through the aperture. This operation is repeated on the other shoulder or breast, on each arm just below the shoulder and below the elbow, upon each thigh, and upon each leg just below the knee.

While this operation is being performed, the candidates do not allow the slightest symptom of pain to escape them, and they even invite the spectators to watch their countenances, so as to ascertain that they betray no signs of suffering. They may well do so, for upon the verdict of these chiefs depends the consideration in which they will be held in after life, and no man has a chance of being appointed the leader of a war party if he has been seen to flinch during the ordeal.

As soon as these preparations are completed, two of the hide ropes are lowered from the roof, and hitched round the skewers on the breast or shoulders. To the others are hung the weapons of the candidate, while to those of the lower arm and leg are suspended the skulls of bisons. A signal is then given, and the poor wretch is hauled up into the air, when he swings suspended only by the two skewers, and sustaining not only his own weight but that of the heavy skulls, his feet being some six or eight feet from the ground. In this terrible position he has to remain until nature finally gives way, and he faints. The artist has represented this stage of the fearful ordeal on the following page.

“Surrounded,” writes Mr. Catlin, “by imps and demons, as they appear, a dozen or more, who seem to be concocting and devising means for his exquisite agony, gather around him, when one of the number advances toward him in a sneering manner, and commences turning him round with a pole which he brings in his hand for that purpose. This is done in a gentle manner at first, but gradually increased, until the poor fellow, whose proud spirit can control its agony no longer, bursts out in the most lamentable and heart-rending cries that the human voice is capable of producing, crying forth a prayer to the Great Spirit to support and protect him in this dreadful trial, and continually repeating his confidence in his protection.

“In this condition he is continued to be turned faster and faster, and there is no hope of escape for him, nor the chance for the slightest relief, until, by fainting, his voice falters, and his strugglings cease, and he hangs a still and apparently lifeless corpse. When he is by turning gradually brought to this condition, which is generally done within ten or fifteen minutes, there is a close scrutiny passed upon him among his tormentors, who are checking and holding each other back as long as the least struggling or tremor can be discovered; lest he should be removed before he is, as they term it, entirely dead.”

When they are satisfied, a signal is given to the rope-holders, and the senseless man is lowered to the ground, the skewers which passed through his breast are removed, and the ropes attached to another candidate. Just as he falls, he is allowed to lie, no one daring to touch him, for he has put himself under the protection of the Great Spirit, and to help him would be a sacrilege.

When he recovers a little strength, he crawls to another part of the lodge, where sits a medicine man with a bison skull before him, and an axe in his hand. Holding up the little finger of his left hand as a sacrifice to the Great Spirit, the initiate lays it upon the skull, when it is severed by a blow from the axe. Sometimes the fore-finger of the same hand is also offered, so that there are only left the thumb and the two middle fingers, which are all that are needed to hold the bow.

It is a point of honor with the initiates to recover as quickly as possible from their swoon, and the chief warriors all watch them narrowly on this point, inasmuch as rapidity of recovery is a proof that the individual is strong, and capable of enduring the hardships which every war party is nearly certain to undergo before their return.

The final scene of the initiation is called the Last Race, and is, if possible, even a more dreadful trial than any which the candidates have yet undergone. An illustration of it is also given the reader on the next page.

The reader will remember that, although the skewers by which the young men were suspended are removed as soon as they are lowered to the ground, there yet remain eight more, two in each arm, and two in each leg. To each of these is attached a heavy weight, such as the bison skull, and none of them may be drawn out. They must absolutely be torn out through the flesh by main force, and that this object may be accomplished the Last Race is run. Hitherto the ordeal has been confined to the interior of the medicine lodge, but the Last Race is run in the open air, and the whole of the inhabitants are spectators.

The master of the ceremonies leaves the medicine lodge, goes to the Big Canoe, leans his head against it, and sets up his wailing cry. At the sound of his voice twenty young men issue from the dressing hut, all of the same height, and all wearing beautiful war dresses of eagle quills. Each carries in one hand a wreath of willow boughs, and on reaching the Big Canoe they arrange themselves round it in a circle, holding the wreaths as connecting links. They then run round the canoe, from left to right, screaming and yelping at the top of their voices, and going as fast as their legs can carry them.

The candidates are now brought out of the medicine lodge, each trailing the heavy weights attached to his limbs, and are placed at equal intervals outside the ring of runners. As each takes his place, he is given into the charge of two powerful young men, who pass round each of his wrists a broad leathern strap, which they grasp firmly without tying.

As soon as all are ready, a signal is given, and the candidates are set running round the Big Canoe, outside the inner circle, each man being dragged along by his supporters, until the skulls and other weights tear out the skewers to which they are fastened. The bystanders yell and applaud at the tops of their voices, so as to drown the groans of the sufferers, should the force of nature extract a sound from them, and to encourage them to endure this last trial. It often happens that the flesh is so tough that the skewers cannot be dragged out, and in such cases the friends of the sufferers jump on the skulls as they trail along the ground so as to add their weight to them.

The candidates mostly faint before they have run very far, but they are still dragged round the circle, and not released until the last weight has been torn away. As soon as this occurs, the two men who have dragged their senseless charge loosen their holds, and run away as fast as they can, leaving the body lying on the ground. No one may touch the poor wretch; and there he lies, a second time in the keeping of the Great Spirit. After a few minutes he recovers his senses, rises, and staggers through the crowd to his own hut, where his friends meet him, and do their best to succor him.

The rule is absolute that the man may not be released until the skewers have been fairly torn through the flesh. Mr. Catlin relates two remarkable anecdotes illustrative of this fact. In the one case the skewer had been unfortunately passed under a sinew. The poor lad was in vain dragged round the ring, and in vain did his friends throw themselves on the elk skull that was hung to him. At last the spectators set up a cry of distress, and the master of the ceremonies stopped the runners, leaving the senseless body lying on the ground. Presently the lad recovered himself, looked at the cause of his torment, and with a pleasant smile crawled on his hands and knees to the prairie, where he remained for three days longer without food or drink, until suppuration took place, and enabled him to release himself from his encumbrance. He crawled on his hands and knees to his home, and, in spite of his sufferings, recovered in a few days.

In the other case, two of the weights attached to the arms could not be removed. The unfortunate wretch crawled to the precipitous bank of the river, and drove a stake into the ground. To this stake he fastened the weights by two ropes, and let himself down half-way to the water. In this terrible position he hung for more than two days, until the too stubborn flesh at last gave way, and let him fall into the water. He swam to the side, made his way up the steep bank, and recovered.

Such instances as these, terrible as they are at the time, are never regretted by those to whom they occur, as they offer means of proving their valor and endurance, and any one who has overcome them is held in much consideration by the rest of the tribe.

Dreadful as is the whole scene of suffering, and sufficient to kill an ordinary white man, several of the warriors have undergone it more than once, and Mr. Catlin saw by the scars left on the body and limbs that some of the chief Mandan braves had submitted to the torture no less than five times. Some part of the estimation in which such men are held is owing to the belief of the Mandans that the annual supply of bisons depends on the proper fulfilling of these ceremonies, and that the Great Spirit is gratified in proportion to the number of times that the rites are performed. Thus those who have undergone them repeatedly are benefactors to the tribe in general, and as such receive their gratitude.

A somewhat similar system prevails among the Dacotah or Sioux Indians, as they are generally called. This, however, is a voluntary proceeding very rarely seen, and one which is intended simply to raise the candidate to the rank of medicine man. A tall and slender pole is set firmly in the ground, and to the top of it is fastened one end of a rope, the other being made into a loop. The candidate for mystic honors takes his place at the pole before dawn, painted gaily, and holding his medicine bag in his hand. Just before the sun rises, two skewers are passed through his breast, as is done by the Mandans, and the loop of the rope is passed over them.

The man now stands opposite the spot where the sun will rise, fixes his eyes upon it, and leans backward so as to throw the whole weight of his body on the rope, his feet serving more to balance than sustain him. As the sun passes over the heavens, he moves gradually round, never speaking nor taking his eyes from it; and if he can endure this torture from sunrise to sunset without fainting, he earns the rank to which he aspires, together with all the valuable presents which are laid at the foot of the pole by his admirers.

There is great risk attending this practice. Should the man faint in spite of the shouts and cheering cries of his friends, and the prayers and songs of the medicine men who sit around the pole, chanting and beating their magic drums, his reputation is lost, and he will ever afterward be held up to ridicule as one who had the presumption to set up for a medicine man, and had no power to sustain the character.

The Mandans have a curious mode of obtaining the rank of medicine man, resembling in many points the rain making ceremonies of Africa. As they depend much for their subsistence on the maize which they grow, a drought is always a great calamity, and must be averted if possible. When such an event occurs, the women, whose business it is to till the ground, come to the chiefs and doctors, and beg them to make rain, lest the corn should die. A council is then held, and the medicine men assemble in the council-house, and go through their preliminary ceremonies. No one is allowed to enter the house except the medicine men and those candidates who aspire to that rank.

There are generally ten or fifteen young men who prize that rank so highly that they are willing to run the risk of failure, and to lose all reputation in their tribe if they fail in drawing down the rain from the sky. They are called one by one out of the lodge, and take their position on the roof, when they go through the ceremonies which they think will produce the desired rain. They stand there from sunrise to sunset, and if no rain falls, they go to their houses disgraced, and debarred from all hope of being admitted into the Council of the tribe. Should, however, the rain descend, the reputation of the rain maker is assured, and he is at once admitted into the council among the chiefs and greatest braves.

Mr. Catlin relates a curious account of rain making of which he was a witness. There had been a drought for some time in the land, and the rain makers had been at work for three days. On the first day a man named Wah-kee, or the Shield, essayed his fortune, and failed. The same fate befell Om-pah, or the Elk, in spite of his headdress made of the skin of the raven, the bird that soars amid the storm. Wa-rah-pa, or the Beaver, also tried and failed; and on the fourth day Wak-a-dah-ha-hee, the White Buffalo Hair, took his stand on the lodge. He placed his chief reliance on the red lightnings with which he had painted his shield, and the single arrow which he carried in his hand.

He made an oration to the people, saying that he was willing to sacrifice himself for the good of the tribe, and either to bring rain or live with the dogs and old women all his life. He explained that one candidate had failed because the shield warded off the rain clouds; that the second failed because the raven was a bird that soared above the storm, and so did not care whether it rained or not; and the third failed because the beaver was always wet, and did not require rain. But as for himself, the red lightnings on his shield should bring the black thunder-cloud, and his arrow should pierce the cloud and pour the water on the fields.

Now it happened that just at that time a steamboat, the first that had ever been up the Missouri, fired a salute from a twelve-pounder gun, as she came in sight of the Mandan village. The sound of the gun was naturally taken for thunder, and the village was filled with joy. Valuable gifts were presented on all sides to the successful candidate, mothers were bringing their daughters to offer them as his wives, and the medicine men were issuing from their lodge in order to admit him formally among themselves.

Suddenly, from his elevated post, Wak-a-dah-ha-hee saw the steamboat ploughing her way up the river, and emitting the thunder from her sides. He turned to the chiefs and the assembled multitude, and told them that, though the sounds were not those of thunder, his medicine was strong, and had brought a thunder-boat to the village. The whole population thronged to the bank in silent wonder, and in the excitement of the time even the rain maker was forgotten. The passengers landed among the Mandans, and for the rest of the day all was turmoil and confusion. Just before sunset the White Buffalo Hair spied a black cloud creeping up from the horizon, unnoticed by the excited crowd. In a moment he was on the roof of the council-house again, his bow strung and the arrow brandished in his hand. He renewed his boastings and adjurations, and as the cloud came over the village, he bent his bow and shot his arrow into the sky. Down came the rain in torrents, drenching the fortunate rain maker as he stood on the roof, still brandishing his thunder shield and vaunting its power.

The storm continued during the night, but unfortunately a flash of lightning entered a lodge, and killed a young girl. Consternation reigned throughout the village, and no one was more frightened than the newly-made medicine man, who feared that the Council would hold him responsible for the girl’s fate, and condemn him to a cruel death. Moreover, he really considered that he was in some way responsible, as he had left the top of the council-house before he had brought rain.

So, early in the morning, he sent his friends to bring him his three horses, and, as the sun rose, he again mounted the lodge and addressed the people. His medicine was too strong, he said. “I am young, and I was too fast. I knew not where to stop. The wigwam of Mah-sish is laid low, and many are the eyes that weep for Ko-ka (the Antelope). Wak-a-dah-ha-hee gives three horses to gladden the hearts of those that weep for Ko-ka. His medicine is great. His arrow pierced the black cloud, and the lightning came, and the thunder boat also. Who says that the medicine of Wak-a-dah-ha-hee is not strong?” This ingenious address was received with shouts of applause, and from that time to his death Wak-a-dah-ha-hee was known by the honorable title of the “Big Double Medicine.”

We will now glance at the medicine bag, which plays so important a part among all the tribes of North America.

When a boy is fourteen or fifteen years old, he is sent into the woods to find his medicine. He makes a couch of boughs, and then lies without food or drink for several days, the power of his medicine being in proportion to the length of his fast. So severe is this discipline that instances have been known when the lad has died from the long abstinence to which he subjected himself. When he has endured to the utmost, he yields himself to sleep, and the first beast, bird, or reptile of which he dreams becomes his “medicine.”

He then returns home, and as soon as he has recovered a little strength, he goes out in search of his medicine, and, having killed it, preserves the skin in any shape which his fancy may dictate. It is mostly sewed up in the form of a bag, and contains one or two other charms. The reader will see that the size of the medicine bag is exceedingly variable, according to the size of the creature from whose skin it is formed. Sometimes it is three feet or more in length, and often it is so small that it can be concealed under the garments of the owner.

From the medicine bag the Indian never parts. He considers its presence absolutely indispensable to ensure success in any undertaking, and even carries it into battle, where he trusts to it for protection. Should he lose it in battle, he is utterly disgraced, and there is only one way of restoring himself to reputation. An Indian can only “make his medicine” once, so that he may not restore it by another probation of fasting and dreaming. But if he can slay an enemy in open battle, and take his medicine bag, his status in the tribe is restored, and he thenceforth assumes the medicine of the slain man in exchange for his own. If a man who has not lost his own medicine succeeds in capturing one from an enemy in fair battle, he is entitled to assume a “double-medicine,” and never loses an opportunity of displaying both the medicine bags as trophies of his prowess. Taking a medicine bag is as honorable as taking a scalp, and the successful warrior has the further advantage of being doubly protected by the two charms.

Very few instances have been known where an Indian has voluntarily parted with his medicine bag, and in such cases scarcely any display of valor will reinstate him in the opinion of his tribe. Sometimes he can be induced by the solicitation of white men to bury it, but he treats the grave as if it were that of a revered relation, hovering about it as much as possible, lying over the sacred spot, and talking to the bag as if it were alive. Sometimes he offers sacrifices to it; and, if he be a wealthy man, he will offer a horse.

Such a sacrifice as this takes rank as a public ceremony. A long procession goes to the prairie, the lead being taken by the owner of the medicine bag, driving before him the horse, which must always be the best he possesses. The animal is curiously painted and branded, and is held by a long lasso. When the procession arrives at the appointed spot, the sacrificer makes a long prayer to the Great Spirit, and then slips the lasso from the animal, which from that time takes its place among the wild horses of the prairie, and if at any time caught by the lasso, is at once recognized by the brand, and set free again. Such a sacrifice as this is appreciated very highly by the tribe, and gives the man the privilege of recording the circumstance on his mantle and tent. One Mandan chief sacrificed in this way no less than seventeen horses.

In connection with the medicine bag may be mentioned the “totem,” or mark by which each family is known. This is mostly an animal, such as a wolf, a bear, a dog, a tortoise, &c. If a chief wishes to show that he and his party have passed a given spot, he strikes with his axe a chip off a tree and draws on the white surface his totem. Or, if he sends an order to a distance, he draws his totem on a piece of bark, and gives it to his messenger as a token.

To return to the medicine man. He is best seen to advantage when exercising his art upon a sick person. He wears for this purpose one of the most extraordinary dresses which the mind of man ever conceived. No two medicine men wear a similar costume, but in all it is absolutely essential that every article shall be abnormal. Mr. Catlin saw one of these men called in to practise on a Blackfoot Indian, who had been shot through the body with two bullets. There was not the least chance of his recovery, but still the medicine man must be summoned. His strange, grotesque appearance, and the wild ceremony over the sick man are vividly represented on page 1311.

A ring was formed round the dying man, and a lane was preserved through them, by which the mystery man would make his appearance. In a few minutes a general hush-h-h ran through the assembly as the tinkling and rattling of his ornaments heralded the approach of the wise man. As he entered the ring, nothing could surpass the wild grotesqueness of his costume. By way of a coat, he wore the skin of a yellow bear—an article exceedingly rare in North America, and therefore in itself a powerful medicine. The skin of the head was formed into a mask, which entirely hid the features of the enchanter. The skins of various animals dangled from his dress, and in one hand he held his magic wand, and in the other the mystery drum, which contained the arcana of his order.

His actions were worthy of his appearance. He came in with a series of wild jumps and yells, accompanied with the rattling and beating of his magic drum as he approached the dying man. Having reached his patient, he began to dance round him to the accompaniment of his drum, to leap over him, to roll him from side to side, and in every imaginable way to render his last hours unendurable. In fact, the man might well die, if only to be rid of his physician. In a short time he did die; but the man, not in the least disconcerted at the failure of his efforts, danced out of the circle as he had entered it, and went off to his lodge to take off and pack up his official dress.

A somewhat similar scene was witnessed by Mr. P. Kane, in which the mode of manipulation was almost identical, though the medicine man, instead of disguising himself in a strange dress, went just to the opposite extreme. The story is narrated in Mr. Kane’s “Wanderings of an Artist,” being as follows:—

“About ten o’clock at night I strolled into the village, and on hearing a great noise in one of the lodges, I entered it, and found an old woman supporting one of the handsomest Indian girls I had ever seen. She was in a state of nudity. Cross-legged and naked, in the middle of the room, sat the medicine man, with a wooden dish of water before him; twelve or fifteen other men were sitting round the lodge. The object in view was to cure the girl of a disease affecting her side. As soon as my presence was noticed, a space was cleared for me to sit down.

“The officiating medicine man appeared in a state of profuse perspiration, from the exertions he had used, and soon took his seat among the rest, as if quite exhausted; a younger medicine man then took his place in front of the bowl, and close beside the patient. Throwing off his blanket, he commenced singing and gesticulating in the most violent manner, whilst the others kept time by beating with little sticks on hollow wooden bowls and drums, singing continually. After exercising himself in this manner for about half an hour, until the perspiration ran down his body, he darted suddenly upon the young woman, catching hold of her side with his teeth, and shaking her for a few minutes, while the patient seemed to suffer great agony. He then relinquished his hold, and cried out he had got it, at the same time holding his hands to his mouth; after which he plunged them in the water, and pretended to hold down with great difficulty the disease which he had extracted, lest it might spring out and return to its victim.

“At length, having obtained the mastery over it, he turned round to me in an exulting manner, and held something up between the finger and thumb of each hand, which had the appearance of a piece of cartilage; whereupon one of the Indians sharpened his knife, and divided it in two, leaving one in each hand. One of the pieces he threw into the water and the other into the fire, accompanying the action with a diabolical noise, which none but a medicine man can make. After which he got up perfectly satisfied with himself, although the poor patient seemed to me anything but relieved by the violent treatment she had undergone.”

Mr. Mulhausen relates an amusing anecdote of a native doctor’s practice upon himself. He had suffered so much in a long march that he was at last compelled to ask for a day’s rest. One of his companions, a medicine man, immediately tried the effect of his art. First he kneaded the body, and especially the stomach, of the prostrated traveller with all his force. This was to drive out the evil spirit; and, in order to effectually exorcise him, he procured his drum, and seated himself on the ground.

Placing the drum close to the ear of his patient, he kept up a continual rub-a-dub for two whole hours, singing the magic chant the while, until, in spite of his wounded feet, Mr. Mulhausen crawled out of the tent in sheer despair. The triumphant doctor wiped his streaming brows, and, declaring that no evil spirit could withstand such a medicine as that, gave the signal for resuming the march.

Among the Ojibbeways there is a remarkable ceremony by which an infant is received into the order of the Midés, a society in some degree resembling the Freemasons, the members of which consider themselves as related to each other, and addressing each other by the names of uncle, aunt, brother, sister, cousin, &c.

A temple, forty feet in length, was constructed for the express purpose, and built of boughs, like the bowers of the Feast of Tabernacles. It was built east and west, and had the entrance door at the eastern end, and the exit door at the western. In the middle sit the great Midés, each with his mystery bag, and opposite them sits the father of the child, dressed in his full paraphernalia of feathers, furs, and scalp-locks, and holding in his arms the child, lying tied on its board after the manner of Indian babies. On either side of him are the witnesses of the reception, and eastward of the chief Midés lies a large rough stone, which prevents the evil spirit.

The ceremony begins with an address of the principal Midé, and then the chiefs rise, and after walking in procession, each of them runs at one of the guests, presenting his medicine bag at him, and yelling in quickening accents, “Ho! ho! hohohoho! O! O! O! O! O!” As he presents the bag, the breath proceeding from it is supposed to overcome the person to whom it is presented, who falls down and lies there motionless. Having struck one person down, the Midé runs round the temple, to allow the medicine bag to recover its strength, and then presents it to another victim. This process is repeated until all the inmates of the hut, with the exception of the officiating Midés, are lying prostrate on the ground, where they lie until a touch from the same bag restores them to life and activity. This ceremony is repeated several times during the day, and is intended to show the virtue of the medicine bag.

The father then presents his child to the Midés, after which there is another speech from the chief Midé, and then follows a curious dance, consisting of two leaps to the right and two to the left alternately. After this, every one produces his medicine bag, and tries to blow down everybody else. And, as the bags are covered with tinkling bells, bits of metal, and shells, and the principal Midés are beating their drums and shaking their rattles with all their might, it may be imagined that the noise is deafening.

This completed the first part of the ceremony. In the next act, a pile of boughs covered with a cloth lay in front of the evil stone, and the chief Midé summoned all the initiated. They formed a procession of men, women, and children, and walked round the lodge, each stooping over the cloth as he passed, and looking at it. The second time they stooped closer, and the third time they were seized with convulsive movements as they approached the cloth, and each ejected from the mouth a little yellow shell upon the cloth. By the ejection of the shell (which typifies the sinful nature of man) the convulsions are healed, and, after going once more round the lodge, each performer takes one of the shells and places it in the medicine bag.

The last scene was a general feast, and gifts of amulets and charms presented by the chief Midés to the child.

One of the most pleasing traits in the character of these tribes is the strong religious feeling which pervades the general tenor of their lives, and which has raised them above the rank of mere savages. However imperfect may be their ideas on this subject, they are not idolaters, and give all their worship, either directly or indirectly, to one Great Spirit, whose aid and protection they continually invoke.

They believe in future existence and a future recompense according to their character in this life. Whatever their superstitions and ignorance, the mysteries enveloping their belief, there is running clearly through them all, these great doctrines accepted by the civilized Christian races.

To the Great Spirit they ascribe the possession of all the necessaries and pleasures of life, and to him they offer their prayers and return their thanks on almost every occasion. For example, the bisons, on which many of the tribes depend for food, clothing, and lodging, are held to be direct gifts of the Great Spirit to the red men, and asked for accordingly. The same is the case with the maize, or Indian corn, and religious ceremonies are held both at the planting and at the harvest time.

Tobacco is placed in the same category, and the smoke of the plant is considered to be a sort of incense, which is offered to the Great Spirit whenever a pipe is lighted, one wreath of smoke being blown silently to each quarter of the heavens, and to the sun, as an acknowledgment that the tobacco is a gift of the Great Spirit. Indeed, to the Indian mind there is something peculiarly sacred about tobacco smoke, probably on account of the soothing, and at the same time exhilarating, properties which have caused its use to extend to every portion of the globe.

Every religious ceremony is begun and ended with the pipe; war is declared, volunteers enlisted, negotiations conducted, and peace concluded, by its means. The character of the pipe varies with the occasion, the most valued being the sacred calumet, or medicine pipe, by which are settled the great questions of war and peace.

Among the Cree Indians the calumet is borne by a man who is solemnly elected to the office, and who has to pay rather dearly for the honor, from fifteen to twenty horses being the usual fee which each pipe bearer presents to his predecessor on receiving the insignia of office. These, however, are of considerable intrinsic value. They include a bear skin, on which he lays the pipe-stem when uncovered, a beautifully painted skin tent, in which he is expected to reside, a medicine rattle of singular virtue, a food bowl, and other articles so numerous that two horses are needed to carry them.

During his term of office, the pipe bearer is as sacred as the calumet itself. He always sits on the right side of the lodge, and no one may pass between him and the fire. He is not even allowed to cut his own food, but this is done by his wives, and the food placed in the official bowl which has just been mentioned. The pipe, with its innumerable wrappers, hangs outside the lodge, and is finally enclosed in a large bag, embroidered with the most brilliant colors which native art can furnish.

When it is uncovered, great ceremony is shown. No matter how severe may be the weather,—sometimes far below zero,—the bearer begins his operations by removing all his garments with the exception of his cloth, and then pours upon a burning coal some fragrant gum, which fills the place with smoke. He then carefully removes the different wrappers, fills the bowl with tobacco, and blows the smoke to the four points of the compass, to the sky, and to the earth, at each puff uttering a prayer to the Great Spirit for assistance in war against all enemies, and for bison and corn from all quarters. The pipe is replaced with similar ceremonies. No woman is allowed to see it, and if during the beginning of the ceremony a single word is spoken, it is looked upon as a very bad omen, and all the ceremony has to be begun again.

The bowl of the calumet is made of a peculiar stone, found, I believe, only in one place in the world, namely, in the Great Pipe-stone Quarry. This is situated in the Côteau des Prairies, about three hundred miles west of the Falls of St. Anthony, on the southern summit of the dividing ridge between the Minnesota and Missouri rivers, in the very middle of the Sioux territory. On this sacred spot the Great Spirit is said to have stood in the ancient times, and to have called together all the Indian nations. He broke from the rock a piece of stone, moulded it in his hands into a huge pipe bowl, and smoked it toward the four quarters of the compass. Then he told them that the ground was sacred, and that no weapon of war should be raised in it, for the red stone was their flesh, and belonged equally to them all. At the last whiff of the pipe the Great Spirit disappeared in the cloud, and the whole ground was melted, and became polished as at the present time.

In consequence of this legend, the Indians have the greatest reverence for this place. They will not allow any white man to touch the stone, or even to approach the place, if they can keep him away, saying that the stone is their flesh, and that if a white man takes the red men’s flesh, “a hole will be made in their flesh, and the blood will never stop running.”

Even the natives themselves never take a piece without asking permission of the Great Spirit, depositing tobacco in the hole whence they dug it, and promising that it shall be made into a pipe. When Mr. Catlin succeeded in reaching this sacred spot, one of the chief obstacles lay in the fact that a native had once given a piece of the red stone to a white man in order to be made into a pipe, and he had made it into a dish, thereby offending the Great Spirit, and “making the heart of the Indians sick.”

Mr. Catlin’s opinion is, that the red pipes, found among almost every tribe of Indians on the continent, were obtained at this place. His reasons are that every tribe he visited alleged this as their source; and furthermore, the stone from which they are made is different from any mineral yet discovered in America or Europe. He expresses the conviction substantiated by striking proof that the various tribes had for centuries visited this quarry, laying aside the war club and scalping knife, and smoking together in amity upon this neutral ground by command, as they thought, of the Great Spirit.

This stone is of a soft, creamy red color, rather variable in point of tint, and taking a peculiar polish. It has been analyzed, and is said to be a kind of steatite. It is cut into various fanciful shapes, those shown in the illustration on the next page being ordinary examples, though in some cases the bowls are adorned with figures of men and various animals. Some of these pipe heads have two bowls, one in front of the other.

These bowls are fitted with stems worthy of their sacred character. They are generally made of the stalk of the young ash, and are often adorned in the most elaborate manner. They are mostly flat, and sometimes are twisted spirally and perforated with open patterns in such a way that the observer cannot but marvel how the aperture for the smoke is made. After all, the mode of boring is simple enough. As every one knows who has cut a young ash sapling, the centre is occupied with pith. This is easily burned out with a hot wire, or bored out with a piece of hard wood, and the aperture is completed.

Afterward the wood is cut away on two sides, so as to leave only a flat stem, with the bore occupying the centre. The perforated patterns are next cut at either side of the bore, being carefully kept clear of it; and if the stem be then softened in boiling water, it can be made to assume almost any shape. One valued but rather rare form is a screw, or spiral, and several of the pipes in Mr. Catlin’s collection have this form.

The stems are very seldom left bare, but are almost invariably decorated with colored porcupine quills, woven into various patterns, sometimes representing the forms of men and animals. The calumet is always decorated with a row of eagle feathers, sometimes stained scarlet, and being tufted at their ends with slight plumes of hair. Indeed, this portion of the calumet is formed on exactly the same principle as the headdress of the chief, of which a drawing is given on page 1277. An example of this kind of pipe is shown in the upper figure, on page 1315. Many pipes, instead of feathers, have long tufts of hair dyed scarlet. This hair is taken either from the tail of a white horse or that of a white bison, as in the lower figure of the same illustration. The woodpecker furnishes many ornaments for these pipes, and sometimes the stem passes through the preserved skin of a bird, or through that of a particularly beautiful ermine. But whatever may be the ornament of a medicine pipe, it is always the very best and most valuable that can be procured. The stem of the pipe varies from two to four feet.

The natives do not restrict themselves to tobacco, but smoke many narcotic vegetables, whether leaves, roots, or bark. These are generally mixed with tobacco, and go by the general name of k’neck-k’neck.

The custom of sacrifice obtains among all Indian tribes and is performed in various ways and upon many occasions. Cruel as the Indian is reputed to be, none of the tribes, except the Pawnees, have ever made human sacrifices; and these many years since abandoned the inhuman custom.

Their offerings to the Great Spirit must consist of the best of their possessions: the choicest piece of buffalo meat, the finest arrow, the most costly piece of cloth, the favorite horse or dog, and sometimes their own fingers. Such offerings are erected over the great medicine lodge in the centre of the village. When Mr. Catlin was among the Mandans there was placed there beside other gifts a beautiful skin of a buffalo, the history of which he gives as follows:—“A few weeks since a party of Mandans returned from the mouth of the Yellow Stone with information that a party of Blackfeet were there on business with the American Fur Company, and that they had with them a white buffalo robe. Such a robe is a great curiosity, even in the country of buffaloes, and will always command an incredible price. Being the most costly article in the region it is usually converted into a sacrifice, being offered to the Great Spirit as the rarest and most acceptable gift that can be procured. Among the vast herds of buffaloes there is not one in a hundred thousand, perhaps, that is white; and when such is obtained it is considered a great medicine or mystery.

“Receiving the intelligence above mentioned the chiefs convened in council and deliberated on the propriety of procuring this valuable robe. At the close of their deliberation eight men were fitted out on eight of their best horses, who took from the Fur Company’s store, on the credit of the chief, goods exceeding the value of the horses. They arrived in due time, made the purchase, and leaving their horses and all the goods carried, returned on foot, bringing the coveted robe, which was regarded as vastly curious and containing (as they express it) something of the Great Spirit. This wonderful anomaly lay several days in the chief’s lodge, till public curiosity was gratified; then it was taken by the high priests, and with a great deal of ceremony consecrated and raised on the top of a long pole over the medicine lodge, where it stands and will stand as an offering to the Great Spirit, until it decays and falls to the ground.”