After The Dancing Excellent Imitations Were Given Of The Gait,
Gestures, And Behavior Of Several Animals Under Different
Circumstances - Walking, Hunting, Capturing, And Devouring Their Prey,
Etc.
While all were quietly seated, waiting to see what next was
going to happen, the door of the big
House was suddenly thrown open
and in bounced a bear, so true to life in form and gestures we were
all startled, though it was only a bear-skin nicely fitted on a man
who was intimately acquainted with the animals and knew how to
imitate them. The bear shuffled down into the middle of the floor and
made the motion of jumping into a stream and catching a wooden salmon
that was ready for him, carrying it out on to the bank, throwing his
head around to listen and see if any one was coming, then tearing it
to pieces, jerking his head from side to side, looking and listening
in fear of hunters' rifles. Besides the bear dance, there were
porpoise and deer dances with one of the party imitating the animals
by stuffed specimens with an Indian inside, and the movements were so
accurately imitated that they seemed the real thing.
These animal plays were followed by serious speeches, interpreted by
an Indian woman: "Dear Brothers and Sisters, this is the way we used
to dance. We liked it long ago when we were blind, we always danced
this way, but now we are not blind. The Good Lord has taken pity upon
us and sent his son, Jesus Christ, to tell us what to do. We have
danced to-day only to show you how blind we were to like to dance in
this foolish way. We will not dance any more."
Another speech was interpreted as follows: "'Dear Brothers and
Sisters,' the chief says, 'this is else way we used to dance and
play. We do not wish to do so any more. We will give away all the
dance dresses you have seen us wearing, though we value them very
highly.' He says he feels much honored to have so many white
brothers and sisters at our dinner and plays."
Several short explanatory remarks were made all through the exercises
by Chief Shakes, presiding with grave dignity. The last of his
speeches concluded thus: "Dear Brothers and Sisters, we have been
long, long in the dark. You have led us into strong guiding light and
taught us the right way to live and the right way to die. I thank you
for myself and all my people, and I give you my heart."
At the close of the amusements there was a potlatch when robes made
of the skins of deer, wild sheep, marmots, and sables were
distributed, and many of the fantastic head-dresses that had been
worn by Shamans. One of these fell to my share.
The floor of the house was strewn with fresh hemlock boughs, bunches
of showy wild flowers adorned the walls, and the hearth was filled
with huckleberry branches and epilobium. Altogether it was a
wonderful show.
I have found southeastern Alaska a good, healthy country to live in.
The climate of the islands and shores of the mainland is remarkably
bland and temperate and free from extremes of either heat or cold
throughout the year. It is rainy, however, - so much so that
hay-making will hardly ever be extensively engaged in here, whatever
the future may show in the way of the development of mines, forests,
and fisheries. This rainy weather, however, is of good quality, the
best of the kind I ever experienced, mild in temperature, mostly
gentle in its fall, filling the fountains of the rivers and keeping
the whole land fresh and fruitful, while anything more delightful
than the shining weather in the midst of the rain, the great round
sun-days of July and August, may hardly be found anywhere, north or
south. An Alaska summer day is a day without night. In the Far North,
at Point Barrow, the sun does not set for weeks, and even here in
southeastern Alaska it is only a few degrees below the horizon at its
lowest point, and the topmost colors of the sunset blend with those
of the sunrise, leaving no gap of darkness between. Midnight is only
a low noon, the middle point of the gloaming. The thin clouds that
are almost always present are then colored yellow and red, making a
striking advertisement of the sun's progress beneath the horizon. The
day opens slowly. The low arc of light steals around to the
northeastward with gradual increase of height and span and intensity
of tone; and when at length the sun appears, it is without much of
that stirring, impressive pomp, of flashing, awakening, triumphant
energy, suggestive of the Bible imagery, a bridegroom coming out of
his chamber and rejoicing like a strong man to run a race. The red
clouds with yellow edges dissolve in hazy dimness; the islands, with
grayish-white ruffs of mist about them, cast ill-defined shadows on
the glistening waters, and the whole down-bending firmament becomes
pearl-gray. For three or four hours after sunrise there is nothing
especially impressive in the landscape. The sun, though seemingly
unclouded, may almost be looked in the face, and the islands and
mountains, with their wealth of woods and snow and varied beauty of
architecture, seem comparatively sleepy and uncommunicative.
As the day advances toward high noon, the sun-flood streaming through
the damp atmosphere lights the water levels and the sky to glowing
silver. Brightly play the ripples about the bushy edges of the
islands and on the plume-shaped streaks between them, ruffled by
gentle passing wind-currents. The warm air throbs and makes itself
felt as a life-giving, energizing ocean, embracing all the landscape,
quickening the imagination, and bringing to mind the life and motion
about us - the tides, the rivers, the flood of light streaming through
the satiny sky; the marvelous abundance of fishes feeding in the
lower ocean; the misty flocks of insects in the air; wild sheep and
goats on a thousand grassy ridges; beaver and mink far back on many a
rushing stream; Indians floating and basking along the shores; leaves
and crystals drinking the sunbeams; and glaciers on the mountains,
making valleys and basins for new rivers and lakes and fertile beds
of soil.
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