siOBX; - Smithsonian Institution

SWANTON] CHOCTAW SOCIAL AND CEREMOlSriALi LIFE 17
privations and dangers in the pathless wilderness has ended. We are now iu
the land of tall trees and running waters, of fruit, game of many kinds and
fish and fowl, which was spoken of by our good chief, who is missing, in the
far off country towards the setting sun. His words have come to pass. Our
journey is at an end, and we shall grow to be a nation of happy people in this
fruitful land.
" Let us now, like a sensible people, put the nation in a suitable condition
for the free enjoyment of the inexahustible bounties that have been so lavishly
spread in this vast country for the use and benefit of this multitude. Let us lay
aside all useless encumbrance, that we may freely circulate, with our families
in this widely extended laud, with no burtlien to pack, but such as are neces-
sary to sustain Jife and comfort to our wives and little ones. Let us call this
place ; this, Nunih Waya encampment, our home ; and it shall be so that when
a man, at his hunting camp, in the distant forests, shall be asked for his home
place, his answer will be, ' Nunih Waya.' And to establish Nunih Waya more
especially as our permanent home, the place to which when we are far away,
our thoughts may return with feelings of delight and respectful pleasure, I
propose that we shall by general consent and mutual good feelings select an
eligible location within the limits of the encampment and there, in the most
respectful manner, bring together and pile up in beautiful and tasteful style
the vast amount of bones we have packed so far and with which many of the
people have been so grievously oppressed. Let each set of bones remain in
its sack, and after the sacks are closely and neatly piled up, let them be
thickly covered over with cypress bark. After this, to appease and satisfy the
spirits of our deceased relatives, our blood kin, let all persons, old and young,
great and small, manifest their respect for the dead, by their energy and industry
in carrying dirt to cover them up, and let the work of carrying and
piling earth upon them be continued until every heart is satisfied. These bones,
as we all know, are of the same iksa, the same kindred. They were all tlie same
flesh and blood; and for us to pile their bones all in the same heap and se-
curely cover them up will be more pleasing to the spirits, than it will be to
let them remain amongst the people, to be scattered over the plains, when the
aacks wear out in the hands of another generation who will know but little and
care less about them.
" You have heard my talk. I have delivered to you the true sentiments of
my heart. When it comes to my time to depart for the spirit land, I shall be
proud to know that my bones had been respectfully deposited in the great
mound with those of my kindred. What says the nation?"
Some little time elapsed ; and there was no move among them. The multitude
seemed to reflect. At length, a good looking man of about sixty winters, arose
in a dignified manner, from his seat, and gravely said
" It was in my boyhood, and on the little river where we had the great fish
feast, that my much respected father died. His family remained and mourned
a whole moon, and when the cry-poles were pulled down, and the feast and
dance had ended, my mother having a young child to carry, it fell to my lot,
being the next largest member of the family, to pack on the long journey, the
bones of my father. I have carefully carried them over hardships and diffi-
culties, from that little rocky river to the present encampment. Such has been
my love and respect for these sacred relics, that I was ready at any time to
have sacrificed my life sooner than I would have left them, or given them up
to another. I am now growing old; and with my declining years come new
thoughts. Not long hence, I too must die. I ask myself, who in the coming
generations will remember and respect the bones of my father? Will they