Huntsville gazette., 1884-09-20

fore the west winds breath like the sea-
gulls gray that swung and wheeled into
our wake. We had long talked of see
ing an Indian potlatch, and at last we
were on the way. None of us had ever
seen one of those gatherings. A pot
latch is not camp-meeting, fair. nor
a Christmas, but sort of combination
of ala sort of reunion and general
gathering, lasting sometimes for weeks;
an occasion for the exchanging Of big
presents and bigger speeches and many
Ito their minds) fitting ceremonies. We
I landed at last upon the southwest point
of the island. The potlatch house stood
upon the verge of the bluff above us. A
gentle slope led up to it from the east.
The first and last thing we noticed was
smell of smoke and fish which
wrapped us in an embrace of welcome.
When the smoke burst drifted we saw
long line of canoes-a fleet of the long,
graceful, clipper-like Chinook canoes
| pulled high and dry upon the grass.
Beyond and all along the slope moved
brilliant throng of gayly-dressed people.
We passed up through the swaying
sea Of color into the building. A plat
form, about two feet high and about five
feet wide, extended all along the wall
ON either side This platform was
divided into sections and was filled with
| families and their friends, disposed in
every lazy attitude-eating, chatting.
doing, or silently staring at their neigh
bors. Fires blazed at intervals in front
of each section. The building was
large 5arn-like affair, not very well cal
culated to keep out the cold, but it kept
in the smoke admirably. There were
large openings in the roof all along the
ridge-pole for the smoke to escape; but
very little of it went out and great
deal went into our eyes. There was
much to see, but the smoke blinded us
with tears and we could not see any
thing. But we put good face on the
matter and tried to see the funny side,
for there were some of the most comical
little dogs and comical little children.
Two little fellows, armed with big
spoons which they had obtained in some
mysterious manner, found their way
into large pan of dough, and before
being discovered by their mothers, had
plastered each others ears well. TLen
some other little wags would set fire to
the end of q long stick and slyly apply
the same to the ear of some sleeping
comrade Then the yell of the aston
ished victim would be drowned in the
shouts of glee that followed
We were much too early to witness
anv of the ceremonies, but found inter
est enough in watching the crowd
Well, we watched the crowd and We
watched the storm. We watched the
sun 90 down. We watched the Olym-
pic range in the northwest turn from
keen blue to fiery purple, then suddenly
change to dismal ashy gray, while
the lemon-colored sky in the west
slowly darkened to pale amber, against
which the tree-tops on the distant shore
stood out in jetty blackness and flung
their shade in broken bits over the
steel-gray waste of waves that came
climbing up and on. There were seri-
Gus faces as we looked across the dark
ening waters and proposed a return.
The sun had gone down, but the wind
had not. In fact, it seems to gain fresh
courage and howl the louder. The
waves flung themselves with a fiercer
swash against the low bluff and along
the gray beach. The fur tree tops
swung uneasily, and the branches
swayed and waved wilder farewell to
the days last light. The fires in the
potlatch house, the fires in the little
tents, and the fires outdoors all cleaned
the brighter. The red flames danced
and shivered and flung their forked
tongues in the teeth of the wind, and
seemed to tremble and thrill to the tune
of the weird ''Taman-a-mas" chant Of
the Indian doctors, which, with its ac-
compartment of the monotonous drum,
rang out with strange vividness on the
wavering wing of the storm and night.
In fence corner, dimly seen by the
: Pickering light of the fire, lay an old
man. Half dozen boards flung across
the angle Of the fence and a fragment
of blanket about yard square-these
were his only shelter. And here he
was, aged and toothless and sightless.
Here he lay alone and unheeded in the
midst of feasting and merry-making.
Now an then would some one stop to
listen and laugh at the low and incohe-
rent mumblings Oh, how pitiless. l
thought. Long tables in the potlatch
house were being set, where supper for
one hundred would be served up at
once We had earnest invitations to
stay. But the wind grew louder and
we thought it best to make start while
we might. And what a wet business
that homeward trip was. With two Of
the strongest of our crew at the oars
!. our boat at times would hardly hold her
own. We were tossed and tumbled
about in wild style; but who shall say
we did not enjoy it? And thinking Of
, it now / seem TO hear the chorus OF
'.Pull for the Shore and ''Life on the
Ocean Wave" ringing out across the
, storm and darkness of Squaxion pas
sage.-San Francisco Chronicle.