Summary

H. C. Yarrow A Further Contribution to the Study of the Mortuary Customs of the North American Indians

I have seen few things in life so touching as the spectacle of an old father going daily to the grave of his child, while the shadows are lengthening, and pouring out his grief in wails that would move a demon, until his figure melts with the gray twilight, when, silent and solemn, he returns to his desolate family. The weird effect of this observance is sometimes heightened, when the deceased was a grown-up son, by the old man kindling a little fire near the head of the scaffold, and varying his lamentations with smoking in silence.
Source: Gutenberg

H. C. Yarrow A Further Contribution to the Study of the Mortuary Customs of the North American Indians

It seems as if the savage shared in Shakspeare’s shudder at the thought of rotting in the dismal grave, for it is the one passion of his superstition to think of the soul, of his departed friend set free and purified by the swift purging heat of the flames not dragged down to be clogged and bound in the mouldering body, but borne up in the soft, warm chariots of the smoke toward the beautiful sun, to bask in his warmth and light, and then to fly away to the Happy Western Land.
Source: Gutenberg

H. C. Yarrow A Further Contribution to the Study of the Mortuary Customs of the North American Indians

Why not let him keep his custom! In the gorgeous 148 landscapes and balmy climate of California an Indian incremation is as natural to the savage as it is for him to love the beauty of the sun. Let the vile Esquimaux and the frozen Siberian bury their dead if they will; it matters little, the earth is the same above as below; or to them the bosom of the earth may seem even the better; but in California do not blame the savage if he recoils at the thought of going underground!
Source: Gutenberg

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