Illustrations of the manners, customs, & condition of the North American Indians, Vol. 1 (of 2): With letters and notes, written during eight years of travel and adventure among the wildest and most remarkable tribes now existingCatlin, George
History
Illustrations of the manners, customs, & condition of the North American Indians, Vol. 1 (of 2): With letters and notes, written during eight years of travel and adventure among the wildest and most remarkable tribes now existing
Catlin, George
Indians of North America
On our return to the Fort, a bottle or two of wine were set forth
upon the table, and around them a half dozen parched throats were
soon moistened, and good cheer ensued. Ba’tiste Défonde, Chardon,
&c., retired to their quarters, enlarging smoothly upon the events
of our morning’s work; which they were reciting to their wives and
sweethearts; when about this time the gate of the Fort was thrown open,
and the procession of carts and packhorses laden with buffalo meat made
its entrée; gladdening the hearts of a hundred women and children,
and tickling the noses of as many hungry dogs and puppies, who were
stealing in and smelling at the tail of the procession. The door of the
ice-house was thrown open, the meat was discharged into it, and I being
fatigued, went to sleep.
[Illustration: 11]
LETTER—No. 5.
MOUTH OF YELLOW STONE, _UPPER MISSOURI_.
In my former epistle I told you there were encamped about the Fort
a host of wild, incongruous spirits—chiefs and sachems—warriors,
braves, and women and children of different tribes—of Crows and
Blackfeet—Ojibbeways—Assinneboins—and Crees or Knisteneaux. Amongst
and in the midst of them am I, with my paint pots and canvass, snugly
ensconced in one of the bastions of the Fort, which I occupy as a
painting-room. My easel stands before me, and the cool breech of a
twelve-pounder makes me a comfortable seat, whilst her muzzle is
looking out at one of the port-holes. The operations of my brush are
_mysteries_ of the highest order to these red sons of the prairie, and
my room the earliest and latest place of concentration of these wild
and jealous spirits, who all meet here to be amused and pay me signal
honours; but gaze upon each other, sending their sidelong looks of
deep-rooted hatred and revenge around the group. However, whilst in the
Fort, their weapons are placed within the arsenal, and naught but looks
and thoughts can be breathed here; but death and grim destruction will
visit back those looks upon each other, when these wild spirits again
are loose and free to breathe and act upon the plains.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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