THE oldest style of burial was to wrap the body in mats, place it in one canoe, cover it with another, elevate it in a tree or on a frame erected for the purpose, and leave it there, burying with it valuable things, as bows, arrows, canoes, haiqua shells (their money), stone implements, clothes, and the like. After the whites came to this region, the dead were placed in trunks, and cloth, dishes, money, and the like were added to the valuables which were buried with them.

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.”