As to our personal bravery and courage, no race can outdo us. Even our worst enemies, those who accuse us of treachery, blood-thurstiness, crulity, and lust, have not denied our courage. But in their minds, our courage is ignorant, brutal, and fanatical. Our own conceotion of bravery makes of it a high moral virtue, for to us it consists not so much in aggressive self-assertion as in absolute self-control.

     The brave man, we contend yields neither to fear nor anger, desire nor agony. He is at all times master of himself; his courage rises to the heights of chivalry, patriotism, and real heroism.

     The Creek war chief, Weatherford, was such a man. After Jackson had defeated the Creeks, he demanded Weatherford, dead or alive. The following night Weatherford preented hinself at the general's tent, saying, "I am Weatherford. Do as you please with me. I would still be fighting you had I the warriors to fight with. But they no longer answer my call, for they are dead."

     Crazy Horse, too, was a man of true bravery and honor. It was observed that when he pursued the enemy into their stronghold, as he was wont to do, he often refrained from killing, and simply struck them with a switch, showing  that he did not fear their weapons nor care to waste his upon them.

     "Let neither cold, hunger, nor pain, nor the fear of them, neither the bristling teeth of danger, nor the very jaws of death itself, prevent you from doing a good deed," said an old chief to a scout who was about to seek the buffalo in midwinter for the relief of his starving people. This was our pure and simple conception of courage.

 

 

 

     It is well accepted that the Indian had well-developed psychic powers.

     A Sioux prophet predicted the coming of the white man fully fifty years before the event, and even described accurately his garments and weapons. Before the steamboat was invented, another prophet of our race described the "fire boat" that would swim upon the mighty river, the Mississippi.

     Some of us also seem to have a peculiar intuition for the locality of a grave. Those who possess this sensitivity often explain it by saying that they have received a communication from the spirit of the departed.

     My own grandmother was one of these. As far back as I can remember, when camping in a strange country, my brother and I would search for and find human bones at the spot she indicated to us as an anchient burial-place or the spot where a lone warrior had fallen. Of course, the outward signs of burial had long since been obliterated.

     She had other remarkable premonitions or intuitions that I recall. I heard her speak of a peculiar sense in the breast, by which, as she said, she was advised of  anything of importance concerning her absent children. Other native women have claimed a similar monitor, but I never heard of one who could interpet it with such accuracy.

     We were once camping on Lake Manitoba when we received news that my uncle and his family had been murdered several weeks before at a fort some two hundred miles distant. While all our clan were wailing and mourning, my grandmother calmly bade them cease, saying that her son was approaching, and that they would see him shortly.

     Although we had no other reason to doubt the ill tidings, it is a fact that my uncle came into camp two days after his reported death.

     At another time, when I was fourteen years old, we had just left Fort Ellis on the Assiniboine River, and my youngest uncle had selected a fine spot for our night camp. It was already after sundown, but my grandmother became unaccountably nervous, and positively refused to pitch her tent.

     So we reluctantly went on down the river, and camped after dark at a secluded place. The next day we learned that a family who were following close behind had stopped at the place first selected by ny uncle, but were surprised in the night by a roving war-party, and all were massacred. This incident made a great impression on our people.

     Many of us believe that one may be born more than once, and there are some who claim to have full knowledge of a former incarnation. There are also those who believe in a "twin spirit" born into another tribe or race.

     There once was a well-known Sioux war-prophet who lived in the middle of the last century, so that he is still remembered by the old men of his band. After he had reached middle age, he declared that he had a spirit brother among the Ojibwe, the ancestral enemies of the sioux. He even named the band to which his brother belonged, and said that he akso was a war-prophet among his people.

     Upon one of their hunts along the border between the two tribes, the Sioux leader one evening called his warriors together; and solemnly declared to them that they were about to meet a like band of Ojibwe hunters, led by his spirit twin.

     Since this was to be their first meeting since they were born as strangers, he earnestly begged the young men to resist the temptation to join battle with their tribal foes.

     "You will know him at once," the prophet said to them, "for he will not only look like me in face and form, but he will display the same totem, and even sing my war songs."

     They sent out scouts, who soon returned with news of the approaching party. Then the leading men started with their peace pipe for the Ojibwe camp, and when they were near at hand they fired three distinct volleys, a signal of their desire for a peaceful meeting. The response came in like manner, and they entered the camp with the peace pipe in the hands of the prophet.

     Lo, the stranger prophet advanced to meet them, and the people were greatly struck with the resemblance between the two men,who met and embraced each other with unusual fevor.

     It was quickly agreed by both parties that they should camp together for serveral days, and one evening the Sioux made a "warriors' feast" to which they invited many of the Ojibwe. The prophet asked his twin brother to sing one of his sacred songs, and behold, it was the very same song that he himself was wont to sing.

     No doubt many such stories were altered and shaded after the fact, and unquestionably, false prophets and conjurers abounded during the times of tribulation when the white races overtook our people. But I know that our people possessed remarkable powers of concentration and abstraction, and I believe that such nearness to nature as I have described keeps the spirit sensitive to impressions not commonly felt, and in touch with the unseen powers.

 

 

 

     Our attitude toward death, the test and background of life, is entirely consistent with our character and philosophy. Certainly we never doubt the immortal nature of the human soul or spirit, but neither do we care to speculate upon its probale state or condition in a future life.

     The idea of a "happy hunting ground" is modern, and probably borrowed from or invented by the white man. In our original belief we were content to believe that the spirit which the Great Mystery breathed into us returns to the Creator who gave it, and that after it is freed from the body it is everywhere and pervades all nature.

     Thus, death holds no terrors for us. We meet it with simplicity and perfect calm, seeking only an honorable end as our last gift to our family and decendants. Therefore we court death in battle but consider it disgraceful to be killed in a private quarrel. If we are dying at home, it is customary to have our bed be carried out of doors as the end approaches, so that our spirit may pass under the open sky.

     Next to this, the matter that concerns us most is the parting with our dear ones, especially if we have any little children who must be left behind to suffer want. Our family affections are strong, so those of us left behind grive intensely for those who pass, even though we have unbounded faith in a spiritual companionship and believe that the spirit of the departed lingers near the grave or "spirit bundle" for the consolation of friends, and is able to hear prayers.

     Our outward signs of mourning for the dead are far more spontaneous and convincing than the correct and well-ordered black-clothed manners of civilization. Both men and women among us loosen our hair and cut it according to the degree of relationship and devotion.

     Consistent with the ideal sacrificing all personal beauty and adornment, we trim off lilewise from the dress its fringes and ornaments, perhaps cut it short, or cut the robe or blanket in two.

Men blacken their faces, and widows or beraved parents sometimes gash their arms and legs until they are covered with blood. Giving themselves up wholly to their grief, they are no longer concerned about any earthly possession, and oftengive away all that they have, even their beds and their home, to the first comers.

     The wailing for the dead continues night and day to the point of utter voicelessness; it is a musical, weird, and heart-pircing sound, which has been compared to the "keening" of the Celtic mourner.

     I recall a touching custom among us, which was designed to keep the memory of the departed near and warm in the bereaved household. A lock of hair of the beloved dead was wrapped in pretty clothing, something it was supposed that he or she would like to wear if living. This "spirit bundle," as it was called, was suspended from a tripod, and occupied a place of honor in the lodge. At every meal time, a dish of food was placed under it, and some person of the same sex and age as the one who once was must afterward be invited in to partake of the food. At the end of a year from the time of death, the relatives made a public feast and gave away the clothing and other gifts, while the lock of hair was interred with appropriate ceremonies.

     Even the slaying of an enemy required proper respect for the dead. Though it was considered no sin to take the life of a man in battle, still, the slayer of the man was expected to mourn for thirty days, blackening his face and loosening his hair according to the custom.

     This ceremonial mourning was a sign of reverence for the departed spirit.

     So much reverence was due the departed spirit that it was not customary with us even to name the dead aloud.