THE GEORGE CATLIN INDIAN GALLERY, 457 



and pi'esehtcd the stem of it to my mouth, through which I drew a whiff or two 

 while he held the stem in his hands. This done, he laid down the pipe, and draw- 

 ing his knife from his belt, cut off a very small piece of the meat from the ribs, and 

 pronouncing the words Ho-pe-ne-chee wa-pa-sliee (meaning a medicine sacrifice), threw 

 it into tlie tire. 



He theu (by signals) requested me to eat, and I commenced, after drawing out 

 from my belt my knife (which it is supposed that every man in this country carries 

 about him, for at an Indian feast a knife is never offered to a guest). Reader, be not 

 astonished that I sat and ate my dinner alone, for such is the custom in this strange 

 land. In all tribes in these western regions it is an invariable rule that a chief never 

 eats with his guests invited to a feast, but while they eat ho sits by, at their service, 

 and ready to wait upon them, deliberately charging and lighting the pipe which is 

 to be passed around after the feast is over. Such was the case in the present instance, 

 and while I was eating Mah-to-toh-pa sat cross-legged before me, cleaning his pipe 

 and preparing it for a cheerful smoke when I had finished my meal. For this cere- 

 mony I observed he was making unusual preparation, and I observed, as I ate, that 

 after he had taken enough of the k'nick-k'neclc or bark of the red willow from his 

 pouch he rolled out of it also a piece of the " castor" which it is customary amongst 

 these folks to carry in their tobacco-sack to give it a flavor; and, shaving off a small 

 quantity of it, mixed it with the bark with which he charged his pipe. This done, 

 he drew also from his sack a small parcel containing a fine powder which was made 

 of dried buffalo dung, a little of which he spread over the top (according also to cus- 

 tom), which was like tinder, having no other effect than that of lighting the pipe 

 with ease and satisfaction. My appetite satiated, I straightened up, and with a whiff 

 the pipe was lit, and we enjoyed together for a quarter of an hour the most delight- 

 ful exchange of good feelings, amid clouds of smoke and pantomimic signs and ges- 

 ticulations. 



The dish of "ijeinican and marrow-fat," of which I spoke, was thus: The first, an 

 article of food used throughout this country, as familiarly as we use bread in the 

 civilized world. I^is made of buffalo meat dried very hard, and afterwards pounded 

 in a large wooden mortar until it is made nearly as fine as sawdust, then packed in 

 this dry state in bladders or sacks of skin, and is easily carried to any part of the 

 world in good order. " Marrow- fat" is collected by the Indians from the buffalo 

 bones, which they break to pieces, yielding a prodigious quantity of marrow, which 

 is boiled out and i>ut into buffalo bladders which have been distended; and after it 

 cools, becomes quite hard like tallow, and has the appearance, and very nearly the 

 flavor, of the richest yellow butter. At a feast chunks of the marrow-fat are cut off 

 and placed in a tray or bowl, with the pemican, and eaten together ; which we civ- 

 ilized folks in these regions consider a very good substitute for (and indeed we gen- 

 erally so denominate it) ''bread and butter.' 7 In this dish laid a spoon made of the 

 buffalo's horn, which was black as jet, and beautifully polished; in one of the others 

 there was another of still more ingenious and beautiful workmanship, made of the 

 horn of the mountain sheep, or " Gros corn," as the French trappers call them; it 

 was large enough to hold of itself two or three pints, and was almost entirely trans- 

 parent. 



I spoke also of the earthen dishes or bowls in which these viands were served out : 

 they are a familiar part of the culinary furniture of every Mandan lodge, and are 

 manufactured by the women of this tribe in great quantities, and modeled into a 

 thousand forms and tastes. They are made by the hands of the women, from a 

 tough black clay, and baked in kilns which are made for the purpose, and are nearly 

 equal in hardness to our own manufacture of pottery ; though they have not yet got 

 the art of glazing, which would be to them a most valuable secret. They make them 

 so strong and serviceable, however, that they hang them over the fire as we do our iron 

 pots, and boil their meat in them with perfect success. I have seen some few speci- 

 mens of such manufacture, which have been dug up in Indian mounds and tombs in 



