The Seattle post-intelligencer. [volume] (Seattle, Wash. Terr. [Wash.]) 1888-1914, 1892-12-18
HERED MANS GRAVE
Dead Navajo Babies Sleep in
Cradles i'm Treetops.
oURAY ENToMBED IN A CANOE.
The sepuIture OF Black Bird, War Chief
of tho Omahas-Canoe and 6ca6old
Sculpture.

If it be true that We originally sprang
from trees, and that like those human
esque verd-antiques there is as much of
the human race under ground as ABOVE it,
then the pine tree is the true ambush out
of which the shade of the sabled Indian
sprang and back to whose closed tent he
retires when his tent on earth is struck.
The totems, the watons, the Masonry
OF the medicine bag are all inclosed in
its burial urn and the Druidical
legends of aboriginal destiny sealed in the
chronicles of is Apocryphal books. The
pine tree is the true Indian funeral tree.
1t keeps the ghost of the dead fed at its
granary and the memory of the departed
green in the tropics OF its eternal youth. 1t
mellows the sun in its midday twilight to
moon of days, and, bowed with snow,
holds in its mysterious spell the leafy shut
of summer. 1t is the ululant tree.
What weird reflection of sounds plays
in its mutfled harpi-t low sigh as the
dream breath of the zephyr stirs in it; the
pathetic moan as the swell of the breeze
phrases its rising and falling cadences:
the long drawn wall Of the wind as it
winds down the echoing canyon the howl
of the red savage as the fury of the blast
smites its.wry head and seams its twisted
trunk! 1t is furtive, stealthy, secluded.
1t listens. it points with tasselled finger
tips TO the wizardry of its black sandals on
the snowy turf. There is whisper, a cry,
a step in its strewn shadows. 1t is the
silhouette of old night. The dusk face
came out of it's dark. But there is burial
trait of the pine tree which has been
strangely overlooked, even by dendrolog-
iCal writers. 1t is the secret process of en-
balming, particularly in dry, rainiess
air, which, preserving a corpse, makes it =
true mummy cave. To this melancholy
tree the Navajo mother goes on only one
errand-to bury still-born child.
The twilight of a winter day tinged the
deep ravine as rode down the steep trail
along the dizzy precipice into the canyon
below. was superbly mounted on a
1.-the, trained horse, who, prieking his ears
and putting his nose toward the ground,
smelled out the dim trail in the evening Of
the forest like keen pointer. A little be-
hind me rode the gallant young guide.
Hunt, fully armed and fearless alike BY
day or night in the wide detour we were
making through the Indian country. Sud-
denly my horse stopped, pricked forward
his fine ears and shifted suspiciously.
HE scents something" said the guide.
I was about to give him his head and bid
him go on. when, raising my eyes little
on seeing the sagacious animal lift his
muzzle and sniff the air again, saw dark,
queer-iooking object stretched from limb
to limb about halt way up pine tree that
stood Just before me:
what is that2" L asked the guide.
pointing to it at the same time with
my whip.
The guide. following the direction Of
my hand, looked up at the tree and ax-
claimed:
THAT is an Indian grave. See, it is the
grave of child. They bury astill-boEn
child in pine tree"
Born dead" | replied; "a mothss's
strangest SORROW"
Determined to satisfy myself thoroughly
about thing which Is considered the
most curious mortuary custom OF any
Indian tribe. / dismounted from my
horse. who had secured for me
by his keen sense the opportunity
of seeing what / had heard about
but never found, and leaving the we'll
Istrained creature standing unfastened on
the trail, approached the tree. As l did
SO 1 saw that the object was plainly lit
tie partieche, blanketed and sided with
burial boards, one Of which had fallen to
the ground. / also saw that the branches
of the tree leading up to the burial
case were barked near the trunk,
one above another. as If they had
DeeD cilIuDeu ny INC Accb Va csSoHS
anxious to see such rare and peculiar OBJ
ject of curiosity. In ascending the tree.
limb by limb, reached, at last, the little
grave. A jealous crow called out over
head to me as bent over it searchingly.
Sure enough. there lay the little
whitened skeleton. Some OF the bones
were missing. but still enough re-
NAMED to tell the story. The COW
ering through which it peeped out at mo
was partially dragged apart, probably by
some persistent bird of prey, but the case
boards, with their holes, through which