The weekly Arizona miner., 1871-06-24
A" TAR HEAD" FUNERAL.
Tale of a Digger Indians Sorrows
Graphic Account of the Affair.

ing back again in plaintive echoes from the hills all about. Beyond description wild, these walls of violent grief followed each other with regular cadence, dying away in long, despairing sobs. With marvellous rernlarity they recnrred, never varying the simple refrain. My curiosity was aroused, so far as to get me out of my blankets, and, after hurried bath in an icy stream, joined my mountaineer acquaintance, "Jerry," who was ea route to the rancheris "to see, as he expressed 1t, "them taT-hsdds howl" It seems my friend "Buck," the Indian chief, had the night before lost his wife, "Sally the Old" and the shouts came from professional mourn CTS hired by her family to prepare the body and do up the necessary amount of grief old widows and superannuated wives who have outlived other forms of usefulness gladly enter this singular profession. They cut their hair short, and with each new death plaster fresh cap of pitch and ashes, daub the face with spots of tar, and, in general, array themselves as funeral experts.
 The rancheria was astir when we arrived It was \ mere group of half dozen smoky novels, built of pine bark propped upon cones of poles, and arranged in semicircle within the edge of the forest, fronting upon brook and meadow. Jerry and leaned our backs against large tree, and watched the group.
 Bucks sbanty was deserted, the body of his wife lying outside upon blanket, being prepared by two of the funeral hags Buck himself was quietly stuffing bis stomach with breakfast of venison and acorns, which were handed him at brief intervals by several sym pathizing squaws.
 Turning tO Jerry with countenance of stolid seriousness, he laconicaly remarked: My woman, she die Very bad Tonight, sundown,' (pOinting to the sun "sbe burn up" Meanwhile the tar-heads rolled Sally the old over and over, all the while bowling the same dismal phrase. Indian relatives and friends, having general air of animated rag bags, arrived occasionally and sat down in silence at fire little removed from the other Diggers, never once saluting them.
 As we walked back to our camp, remark ell on the srolid, cruel expression of Bucks face; but Jerry, to my surprise bade me not judge too hastily; he went on to explain that Indiana had just as deep and tender at tachments, just ss much good sense, and, to wind up, 'as much human into em as we ed icated white folks"
 His own squaw had instillcd this into Jer- ry's naturally sentimental and creduluus heart, 80 l refrained from expressing my con- victions concerning Indians, which I own were formerly tingcd with the most sanguin- sry Caucasian prejudice.
 Jerry came for me by appointment just be- fore sunset, and we walked leisurely across the meadow, and under lengthening pine shadows, to the rsncheria. No one was stir ring. Buck with the two vicarious mOurners sat in his lodge door, uttering low, halfandi- be groans. In the opening before the line of huts low pile of dry logs has been care fully laid, upon which, outstretchcd and wrapped in red blanket, lay the dead form of SaI Iiv ha har -r.t folds. Upon her heart was a grass woven wster-bowl and her last pappoose basket.
 Just as the sun sank to the horizon one tar-head stepped out in front of the funeral pile, lifted up both hands, and gazed stead fly and silently into the sun. She might have been five minutes in this statuesaue position, her face full of strange, half animal intensity of expression, her eyes glitteriue the whole, hard figure glowing with deep bronze reflection Suddenly she sprsng back with one of the old wild shrieks, seized a brand from one of the camp-fires and lighted the funeral heap, when all the Indians came out and grouped themselves in little knots around it. The children of Sally the Old clung about an ancient mummy of a sauaw. who squatted upon the ground and rocked her body to and fro, making a low cry as Of an animal in pain. All the Indians looked
 A- tives, seemed supplied with grief Upon q few faces, falling tears glistened in the light of the fire, which now shot red tongues high in the air, lighting up with weird distinctness every ssssure Of the whole company. Flames slowly lapped over, consuming the blanket, and caught the willow pappooee basket When Buck saw this, the tears streamed from hi. ayas he waved his hands eloauent- ly, looking up to heaven, and uttered heart broken sobs. The pappoose basket crackIed for moment, flashed into blaze. and was gone. The two old women yelled their sharp death-cry, dancing, posturing, gesticu- iaiing, toward the fire, and in slow, measured ehorous all the Indians intoned in pathetic measure, " "Bimalayal Himalayal" looking first st the mound of fire and then out upon the fading sunset.
 It was all iDdescribably strange: monarch ptnes, standing iu solemn ranks back far into the dusky heart Of the forest, glowing and origntsning with pulsating reflections of fire nghti the ring of Indians, crouching, stand ing hxed like grave images, or swaying me chanically to and fro, each tattered scarlet and white rag oi their utterly squaiid gar. ments, every expression of barharic grief ar dull, brutal stolidity hsosgh. strongly out by the flaming fire.
 Buck watched with wet eyes that slow consuming fire burn to ashes the body of his wife of many years, the mother of his Vroun of poor frightened children Not n sfoicaI savage, but despairins hiishaad stood be. fore us. felt him to be human. The bodv at last sunk into a bed of flames. which shot up higher than ever with fountains of sparks and sucked together, hiding the remains for, ever from yiew. At this Buck sprung to