The Final Tribute to Chief Seattle

The death of the aged chief of the Duwamish tribe had been expected for several days. He was buried, according to tribal custom, with his own people. At his funeral, the altar priest and principal men of the tribe gathered about him. 'It is well,' said he. 'My heart is good. I have only one thing to ask, and that is for my good friend—always my friend—to come to my funeral and shake hands with me before I am laid in the ground.' These were the venerable old man's last words. At the appointed time, Mr. Bagley embarked on board his steamer, with many ladies and gentlemen of the place, and repaired to the burial ground to pay the last mark of respect to his deceased friend. A large concourse of white and Indian was assembled. The sun, at its meridian height, burnt through the air, beating upon the mountains that overlooked the ocean resting between the canoes. We inquired of the interpreter particularly about Old Seattle, who replied: 'Jim Seattle is 'Tyee man' now. Jim, old man's son, he tell you.' Jim then directed him to Mr. Bagley, that it was a long walk to his father's grave, but if we desired to see it he would go with us. Ascending the hill, we found the place enclosed by palings, and a large cross erected within. Each grave had some symbol placed at its head emblematical of the Catholic faith. At length, coming to the spot where Old Seattle lay, Jim, his son, spoke directly to us, and said, 'Here is the grave of my father; he is buried four feet and a half under ground, the same as all the rest you see.' And so it was. A bare clay mound with a smooth wooden cross, without a letter or other mark, stood at its head.