A gentle girl, magnetic, deep-hearted, large-eyed, sat after school
at her table in tears. On a seat in front of her platform were piles
of slates which she had been correcting, for she instructed all day
a succession of arithmetic classes coming to her from the different
grades. At the same time she was in charge, for all particular
purposes of their order and conduct, of about forty boys in their
early teens. Her tears were in consequence of a quarrel at recess
between two of her boys. They had settled their quarrel by a fight;
not unlikely it was a wholesome fight, for they were not boys of
the mean sort, and were friends. It is an affair of long ago, but
of a time when, in a large city, a teacher shed her influence upon
the school playground, and took account of its moral standards, its
friendships and breaches of friendship.
* * * * *
Although white men, if they take due precautions, may live and
do certain kinds of work in tropical Africa, it will never be
possible, Mr. J. Scott Keltie concludes from the results of past
experience and study, to colonize that part of the world with
people from the temperate zone. Even in such favorable situations
as Blantyre, a lofty region south of Lake Nyassa, children can not
be reared beyond a certain age, but must be sent home to England;
otherwise they will degenerate physically and morally. A plan has
been proposed of bringing Europeans down into the tropical regions
by degrees, and acclimatizing them by successive generations to
more and more torrid conditions till they are finally settled in
the heart of the continent. But the experiment would be a very
long one, if tried; and the ultimate result would probably be a
race deprived of all those characteristics which have made Europe
what it is.
UP THE SKEENA RIVER TO THE HOME OF THE TSIMSHIANS.[25]
BY GEORGE A. DORSEY, PH. D.,
FIELD COLUMBIAN MUSEUM, CHICAGO, ILL.
In a recent number of the Monthly I described some of the incidents
of a visit to the Haida and Tlingit villages about Dixon's Entrance;
now I am to speak of the Tsimshian villages on the Skeena River.
The Tsimshian Indians are one of the five great stocks which make
up the aboriginal population of the coast of British Columbia and
southern Alaska. They are shut in by the Tlingits on the north and
by the Kwakiutls on the south, while on the head waters of the Nass
and Skeena Rivers they come in contact with the great Tinneh or
Athabascan stock. The Tsimshians are probably the most progressive of
all the coast Indians, and are one of a few stocks on the American
continent which are holding their own in point of numbers.
Desiring to visit those villages which are least contaminated by
modern influence, we ascended the Skeena River to the village of
Kitanmaksh or Hazelton. The Skeena is the historic river of British
Columbia; its name signifies the "Water of Terrors." Nearly every
rock, every bend, every cañon is the scene of some mythical tale.
The scene of the birth of the Tsimshian nation lies in its valley;
the rock is still revered upon which rested the Tsimshian ark
after the flood, and the "Dum-lak-an," "the new home and place of
dispersal," is still a Mecca to which pilgrimages are made. In the
modern development of the Omenica and Cariboo gold fields the Skeena
has been the highway to the sea. For hundreds of years canoes have
been paddled up and down its waters; it has been the highway for
intertribal trade from time immemorial, and when the Hudson Bay
Company's post was established at Hazelton, and merchandise began
to pour into the upper country in a steady stream, the Tsimshians
with their canoes enjoyed for a long time a monopoly of the carrying
trade. Gradually, as they learned the ways and methods of the white
man, the price per ton of freight from the coast to Hazelton began
steadily to rise, until in 1891 the tariff of sixty dollars a ton was
declared ruinous by the company, and they decided to build their own
steamer with which to carry their freight up the river.
Port Essington is the chief port of the mouth of the Skeena, and in
Essington we found ourselves on the twenty-third day of July. The
Caledonia was up the river on her third trip, but was expected back
any hour, but so delightfully uncertain is the river voyage that, as
we were informed, "there was no telling when she would be down--in
fact, she might be caught above the cañon and wouldn't be down for
weeks."
[Illustration: VIEW ON THE UPPER SKEENA RIVER; PEAK OF THE "FIVE
VIRGINS" MOUNTAIN.]
The town of Essington dates back to 1835, when the Hudson Bay Company
established a post there. Its only rival for preeminence on the
coast is Port Simpson. The town in summer is completely given over
to fishing, the salmon cannery of Cunningham & Son being one of
the largest on the coast, and the river for twenty miles is dotted
with canneries. In one day, while we were in Essington, the catch
of salmon on the river was ninety-two thousand fish. In addition to
the cannery the town boasts of a good hotel and a Salvation Army. An
Indian Salvation Army is worth going miles to see, for the Indian is
a natural-born salvationist; the army permits him to make all the
noise he chooses, sing as loudly as he pleases, and, best of all, he
is entitled to make a speech every time it comes his turn.
In the afternoon, about four o'clock, on the day after our arrival,
a long, shrill blast of the whistle aroused the entire town, for
the Caledonia was in sight. Down we went to the wharf, and the
entire town followed. What a motley crowd you will find on one of
these British Columbia wharves! What coloring, what a Babel of
tongues--Tlingits from Alaska, Haidas from the Queen Charlotte
Islands, Tsimshians from the Skeena, Kwakiutls from Vancouver,
Chinamen, Japanese, Greeks, Scandinavians, Englishmen, and Yankees;
men, women, children, dogs, and from two to six woolly bear cubs. The
Caledonia is the exclusive property of the Hudson Bay Company; she
is not a common carrier, and does not encourage either passengers
or freight, as the tariff rates prove. There is a feverish haste
and hustle about the movements of the steamer which are fairly
contagious. She makes her first trip early in the spring, as soon
as the ice has left the rivers, on the Stickene; then it is a wild,
eager ambition of the company to have her make four trips up the
Skeena before the river closes up in the fall.
We had as passengers two prospectors from Spokane, a mining expert
from Victoria, a native evangelist from Essington, and about fifty
Indians, mostly women and children, each one with a varied assortment
of boxes, bales, bundles, and dogs; the crew numbered twenty, and we
had about one hundred tons of freight on board.
From Essington to Hazelton is one hundred and fifty-two miles, a
panorama of unending and unbroken beauty; never monotonous, always
interesting, it presents a river voyage which is probably not
equaled, certainly not excelled, by any other river voyage of the
same length on the American continent or in the world. We began
the voyage on Sunday morning, we tied up in front of Hazelton on
Saturday night. To recount in detail the haps and mishaps of each
day's progress would take more time than I can command. In one day
we made forty-eight miles, on another day we made one hundred yards,
on another day we didn't make a foot. With plenty of water under her
keel the Caledonia could run twenty miles an hour; she could cut her
way through a sand bar at the rate of a yard or so an hour; and at
either rate of progress she burned each hour from one and a half to
two cords of wood.
For the first ten miles the scenery does not differ materially from
that which we are accustomed to in the inland sea from Victoria
to Alaska. Then we enter fresh water and for the next forty miles
steam through one long mountain gorge, for here the river has cut
completely through the Cascade Range. The mountains begin at the
water's edge and rise almost perpendicularly to heights of from three
to four thousand feet. Their lower limits are covered with dense
green forests, which seem to grow out of the solid rock. The summits
are smooth and glistening, and often covered with snow and ice. Here
and there we can trace some tiny rivulet issuing from an ice bed high
up among the clouds, and every portion of its course can be traced
down the steep mountain wall until it gives one final and headlong
plunge into the river. At times these streams, taking their rise in
some extensive glacier, are of considerable magnitude, and fairly
roar as they leap and hurl themselves downward from their dizzy
height. And here we learned a curious fact about the river: in summer
it falls when it rains, and rises when the sun shines, so rapidly
do the pent-up snows of winter disappear and rush down the mountain
sides under the heat of the spring sun.
Until noon of the second day we had been making good time, but now
the fun began, for we had left deep water and had arrived at the
first flight of the eight-hundred-foot stairway which the Caledonia
had to climb ere Hazelton could be reached. The river had been
gradually widening as one island after another had been passed, until
now it was nearly half a mile wide and flowed through four channels.
The captain attempted one channel, but we couldn't gain an inch,
and in drifting back again down the rapids the current carried the
boat against the rocks and, with a crash and a lurch, but minus some
woodwork, she was in the stream again. Then two other channels were
tried, but without avail, although the wheel was throwing water and
gravel over the pilot house. The fourth channel was next tried, but
the current was too strong. Then we "lined her out," and this novel
method of getting a huge steamboat up a stream soon became only too
commonplace. The method of procedure is this: The boat is forced
against a sand bar and allowed to rest while men go forward in a
skiff with a long four-inch cable, which is made fast to a tree on
the bank or to a "dead man," a long spar buried deep in the earth
of a sand bar and heaped over with bowlders. When all is ready, the
boat is attached to the capstan and the wheel begins to revolve. It
is tedious work and often provoking, as when the cable parts, or the
"dead man" gives up his hold, and the whole work must be done over
again. The boat quivers from stem to stern, and the wheel, with all
possible steam on, is simply one revolving ball of water. We fairly
hold our breath as we listen to the dull vibration of the boat, the
rumbling of the capstan, and the grating sound of the keel of the
steamer as she is being dragged through the rapids over the bar;
but above all can be heard the voice of Captain Bonser as he shouts
to his Indian pilot, "Go 'head capstan," "Stop steamboat," "Stop
capstan," "Go 'head steamboat," "Go 'head capstan!" In four hours we
have made about fifty yards, but we are in open water again and the
boat settles down to its regular chug, chug, chug.
Eighty miles from Essington the Skeena in its flight to the sea
makes its first plunge into the Cascade Mountains, and its entrance
is indescribably grand. No pen or brush can do justice to the
beauties of the Kitselas Cañon. At its mouth we are in a broad, deep
basin, as if the river had felt depressed as it passed through the
quarter-mile narrow gorge and had here spread itself out to breathe
and rest before it started anew its downward journey to the sea. It
was late in the afternoon, and the western sun threw long shadows
of the lofty sky-crowned perpendicular walls of the left-hand side
of the cañon over against the rocky islets and ragged, rock-bound
eastern shore. Once we have entered, there is no faltering; "lining
it out" is impossible here, and on and on the boat labors and climbs,
twisting and turning through the narrow, tortuous channel. A quick
eye and a steady nerve must command the wheel now, for a turn too
much or too little would be fatal. One instinctively feels that the
"Water of Terrors" is the proper name for this river, and with that
feeling comes the other--that it was never intended for navigation.
[Illustration: A SKEENA RIVER SALMON CANNERY.]
After four days' grinding over sand bars and pounding against rocks
we tie up for repairs. One of the boilers had sprung a leak which
could be neglected no longer. The delay of thirty-six hours was not
without compensation, for the country about was open, and proved a
relief after the long ride through the high-walled river from the sea
to the cañon. The banks were low or moderately high and of gravel
or sand bluffs, and we could look off over a landscape broken here
and there by solitary peaks or clustered mountains, their summits
always covered with ice and snow. To the far east were the pure white
peaks of the Five Virgins, their summits glistening under the bright
sun. Even the character of the vegetation had changed, and the dense
forests of somber firs, spruces, and cedars of the lower river had
given way to great cottonwoods and underbrush of hazel and alder.
In the afternoon we climbed a bluff near the river, from which
we could look off over a country that was wild and extremely
picturesque. To one side of us could be seen a great mountain, its
summit covered by a mighty glacier whose blue-white ice gleamed and
glistened in the sun. And there was no mistaking the power of the sun
that day; its warm rays being especially welcome after some weeks of
the cold, depressing gloom and fog of the coast.
We were now really in the country of the Tsimshians, and every few
hours we drew up in front of some quiet, peaceful village, its
almost deserted cottages guarded by the totem poles of former days.
In succession we pass Meamskinesht, Kitwangah, and Kitzegukla, with
now and then a small salmon-fishing station. The villages proved
disappointing both in their smallness and modernness, and none of
them seemed worthy of any extended visit. From time to time we passed
great black patches in the forest, the result of extensive fires,
sure signs that the rainy coast was far away.
On Friday night we tied up to the bank within five miles of our
destination, but we had yet to pass Macintosh's Bar. That was
accomplished on the following day, after eleven hours' hard work, and
by five o'clock we had reached "The Forks," or the junction of the
Skeena and Bulkley Rivers. Our course was to the left, up the Skeena
for half a mile, and in a few moments more we tied up in front of the
stockaded post of the Hudson Bay Company; we had reached Hazelton.
The region about us was "Dum-lak-an," "what will be a good place,"
the home of the Tsimshians.
Before 1870 the town was farther down the river, on the flat at the
junction of the Bulkley and Skeena Rivers. It has had additions to
its population from Kis-pi-yeoux, and from villages down the river.
There are also to be numbered among the inhabitants the Indian agent,
Mr. Loring, the Hudson Bay representative, Mr. Sargent, and his
assistants, and Mr. Fields, the missionary. The Indian population
numbers about two hundred and seventy-five. The town occupies a low,
uneven plain, which, beginning at the water's edge, extends back for
a quarter of a mile, where it is hemmed in by a high bluff on the
face of the second river terrace. There are but few of the old houses
left and still fewer totem poles, and they are without particular
interest. Most prominent in the village is the warlike stockade of
the company's post, with its two bastions at opposite corners, and
the blockhouse in the center of the inclosure, but now hidden by the
store which stands in front of it. The stockade was put up in 1891,
when an Indian uprising was feared throughout the length of the river.
Wherever you find a trading post and a missionary you can not hope
to find people who retain much of their native life or who are of
great value to anthropology. But still Hazelton was sufficiently
primitive to be of interest in many respects. In matters of dress
the Indians are almost on a footing with the whites, but they still
make a curious garment for winter's use which is worn by nearly all
of the interior tribes. This is a blanket made out of long, narrow
strips of rabbit hide, and is warm, heavy, and extremely durable. We
were fortunate enough to find a woman who was engaged in making one
of these curious garments on a most rude and primitive loom. Other
garments are still occasionally made of Indian hemp, which grows wild
and in abundance. This is beaten and pounded and then spun into fine
thread, and woven into the desired form.
[Illustration: TSIMSHIAN SHAMAN'S CEREMONIAL BOW AND ARROW.]
In former days the Indians used large quantities of the wool of
the mountain sheep in making the beautiful _chilcat_ blankets that
formed an important part of the chief's costume, but now the Indians
buy most of their wool. Its chief uses are for sashes and belts,
which are still worn and made after the fashion of former days. Of
other garments of daily use, except moccasins, there is nothing
remaining. There are a few remnants of ceremonial costumes still in
existence, and by a bit of good fortune we were enabled to secure
the complete paraphernalia of a shaman, or Indian doctor, who had
only recently renounced his native practices and joined Mr. Fields's
band of Christians. In the outfit thus acquired were rattles, charms,
blankets, masks, and headdresses of various kinds. From another
individual we secured the complete costume of a member of the
fraternity, or secret society, of Dog Eaters. The Tsimshians have
four such societies, and the Dog Eaters stand third in rank, being
surpassed only by the Man Eaters or Cannibal Society. The chief
object of this outfit, apart from the white and red cedar bark rings,
was a long club, one side of which was ornamented by a fringe of red
cedar tassels. Of interest also was the curious cap made of plaited
bands of red cedar bark, and so ornamented as to represent the head
of the owl. Another object secured from a shaman was a peculiar bow
and arrow. These were purely ceremonials, and were only used in the
dances of the secret societies. By an ingenious device the point
of the arrow could be opened out, and in this position represented
the open jaws of a serpent. On the bow were two fins, that could be
lowered or raised at will by means of cords, which represented the
fin-back whale. The bow itself is of light soft wood, and is bent by
means of a string passing around the operator's body, the two ends of
the bow being fastened to the body of the bow by leather hinges.
In all the ceremonies, both religious and civil, an important part
of the costume is the mask. These are generally of wood, and portray
all manner of real and fanciful personages. Some of them are wonders
of ingenuity, being so constructed that the eyes, mouth, and often
the ears can be moved at the will of the wearer. Some of them are
even double, and so arranged that by drawing open the outer mask, an
inner one of an entirely different character can be revealed. One of
the rarest masks which was ever brought out of the Tsimshian country
is one in the possession of the museum, which was acquired some time
ago. It is of bone and finely carved, while the teeth and tusks are
those of animals.
Hazelton is of much interest to the observer of the human
countenance, for, while the residents of the town are Tsimshians,
there is a village near by on the Bulkley River, the people of which
belong to the great Tinneh or Athabascan stock, which extends from
the Arctic Circle on the north to the Territories of Arizona and
New Mexico on the south, where it is represented by the Apaches. In
some respects the differences between the Tsimshians and Tinnehs,
or Howgelgaits, as this branch is called, are quite marked, and
these differences stand out in greater relief because more or less
of the population of Howgelgait spend a part of their time in
Hazelton, and so one sees representatives of the two stocks in close
contact. The Tsimshians, like the Haidas, are great canoe people,
and are rather short-legged, with great development of the chest
and shoulders. Like the Haidas, also, they have strong, long arms,
which bespeak familiarity with the paddle. The Howgelgaits, on the
other hand, are a pure mountaineer people, and are tall, robust, and
finely proportioned. Their hair is black, coarse, and abundant. The
eyebrows are thick and remarkably wide at the outer side. This same
peculiarity may be observed in the masks of this tribe. The beard is
sparse, but it must be remembered that the hair is generally pulled
out as it appears, particularly on the cheeks, while the mustache and
the chin tuft are allowed to grow. Among the Tsimshians the face is
wide and the cheek bones are prominent. The nose is narrow, with a
depressed root. Neither the Tsimshians nor Tinneh practice artificial
deformation of the head. With the Tinneh, or more exactly the
Howgelgaits, the forehead is broad and less receding than is usual
with the American aborigines. The face is full and broad and the
cheek bones prominent, but the nose, unlike that of the Tsimshians,
is well formed and generally aquiline, although occasionally it is
thick and flattish. Their lips are also thick and the chin is more
prominent than is usual among the Tsimshians. The eyes are large and
of a deep black color; the jaws are generally very heavy and massive.
Of traces of the ancient prevalent fashion in deformity we saw very
little. One old woman still retained the labret, but it was only
a shadow of the former labrets in size. Although the long, finely
polished bone ornament which the men formerly wore in a hole through
the septum of the nose has entirely disappeared, we saw a few old
men in whom the pierced septum was still plainly visible. With the
Howgelgaits it was formerly the custom to load down the ears with
highly polished bits of abalone shells, which were suspended by means
of brass rings inserted into holes one above the other on the outer
margin of the ear, extending from the lobe around the entire helix.
[Illustration: A STREET IN THE TSIMSHIAN CEMETERY AT HAZELTON, B. C.]
Hazelton's "City of the Dead" stands on a high bluff overlooking the
town and valley, and commands a view off over the broken forest-clad
country which is as beautiful as well could be. A trail winds along
the face of the bluff until the crest of the plateau is reached,
where it divides into a right and left path leading through the
main street of the silent city. The sight is strangely odd and
picturesque. Over each grave has been erected a neat little frame
house, often of considerable dimensions. All are painted with bright
colors, and the effect is decidedly "mixed." In one of the houses,
which was substantially built and neatly carpeted, I saw through a
glass window two chairs, a washstand with full assortment of toilet
articles, and an umbrella, while at the rear of the house stood a
table on which was spread a neat cloth, and on the table was a lamp.
On the floor was a new pair of shoes. Over the table hung a large
crayon portrait of the departed occupant of the grave beneath.
In another house I saw chests of clothing, and suspended from a cord
were garments of various kinds, including a complete costume of the
fraternity of the Dog Eaters. These five-feet-deep graves covered by
little houses are not the usual manner of burial with the Tsimshians,
for until within a very few years the dead were cremated Even to-day
in the neighboring village of Kispiyeoux the dead are buried in
shallow graves just in front of the house.